Home alone, I didn't eat highly nutritious, microwaveable macaroni and cheese, I investigated Clarksdale's new downtown restaurant, Yazoo Pass.
Housed in a former retail store, the entire front is glass. Diners are welcomed to comfortable booths, tables and chairs, and a long, sturdy, raised table that can seat fourteen with stools. At noon it filled up fast with a mixed-age crowd.
I bought the last piece of Quiche Lorraine. Perfect! And I told the Manager so.
They serve soups, salads and sandwiches from 7 AM until 9 PM. I had the small salad and liked that the veggies were chopped small. Kids from 1-100 enjoyed the top-your-own, $.45 an ounce frozen yogurt with a variety of nuts, crumbled cookies, candies, sprinkles and syrups. I had chocolate with Oreo bits and slivered almonds. Yum!
Breakfast offers include bagels, croissants or breads with eggs, bacon, natural black forest ham, and or, swiss, cheddar or provolone cheese; an oatmal bar, french toast with pure maple syrup and homemade granola.
There is an espresso bar. Come summer, I want to try their smoothies: strawberry, banana, mango or peach.
The price and quality is comparable to Panera's. I will be a regular. Check it out!
2012 Red Convertible Travel Series
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Sunday, January 15, 2012
The Help on the carpet
Author Kathryn Stockett exposed a Deep South way of life that sixty agents rejected. I am grateful the sixty-first saw her work's value and had the courage to do something about it. I caught up with the movie at our local library expecting the pull down screen to be the object of projection. Wrong. It was projected on the carpeted wall behind it for a larger picture.
Prejudice was not limited to the Deep South. In the Midwest, we had religious prejudice. In the 60's an African-American engineer came to our area to work for General Dynamics. It was the first time I witnessed racial prejudice.
I compared my Midwestern culture with the Deep South. Where I grew up, we were 'the help' with an outside bathroom, too. Ours was a two-seater outhouse. Jani and I learned to garden, cook and preserve our food, tend the chickens, hogs, cattle and occasional lamb, sew, entertain, write thank you notes and more. We never had a sitter or a nanny. When Mom and Dad had to go somewhere, we stayed with Grandpa and Grandma and Aunt Bobbe.
We watched Mom do it all in the house and the garden and train us to do the same. She helped Dad move livestock and kept the hogs back when he drove the tractor in with a load of corn. We sure could have used 'help', but it wasn't an option. Neighbor helped neighbor, but not on a daily basis.
We were self-contained. We grew our own food, and Mom and Dad did our comforting, guiding and inspiring. We knew we were loved. She belonged to Seven-O-Sals extension club that met monthly for practical household tips and homemade cake the hostess took great care preparing. At home chocolate with chocolate frosting was Jani's and my favorite. Mom's favorite was angelfood with strawberries and whipped cream. She knew exactly how many cobs to put in the cookstove to bake a perfect angelfood. Couples played Pinochle and Canasta and Square Danced.
Our lives were full and complete. We always had 'enough'. Extended family helped harvest the garden, clean chickens, and came in emergencies. One summer Saturday Mom knew something was up when three-year old Janis asked for soap and water. Mom searched and discovered she had dipped the black and white kittens in tan (ugly to me) porch paint. By the time Grandpa arrived, the kittens were stiff. He and Mom worked the rest of the day cleaning them off with paint thinner. They all survived.
Without hired help, willing neighbors were a treasure. They helped each other put up hay, harvest, and do what ever was needed. We were a tight-knit, small community that revolved around a country school.
Every community has its own culture. I enjoy learning what's held sacred, how they worship, care for one another, what works and what doesn't. Learning about our differences leads to understanding, tolerance and peace. Whatever works.
Goodnight y'all.
2012 Red Convertible Travel Series
Prejudice was not limited to the Deep South. In the Midwest, we had religious prejudice. In the 60's an African-American engineer came to our area to work for General Dynamics. It was the first time I witnessed racial prejudice.
I compared my Midwestern culture with the Deep South. Where I grew up, we were 'the help' with an outside bathroom, too. Ours was a two-seater outhouse. Jani and I learned to garden, cook and preserve our food, tend the chickens, hogs, cattle and occasional lamb, sew, entertain, write thank you notes and more. We never had a sitter or a nanny. When Mom and Dad had to go somewhere, we stayed with Grandpa and Grandma and Aunt Bobbe.
We watched Mom do it all in the house and the garden and train us to do the same. She helped Dad move livestock and kept the hogs back when he drove the tractor in with a load of corn. We sure could have used 'help', but it wasn't an option. Neighbor helped neighbor, but not on a daily basis.
We were self-contained. We grew our own food, and Mom and Dad did our comforting, guiding and inspiring. We knew we were loved. She belonged to Seven-O-Sals extension club that met monthly for practical household tips and homemade cake the hostess took great care preparing. At home chocolate with chocolate frosting was Jani's and my favorite. Mom's favorite was angelfood with strawberries and whipped cream. She knew exactly how many cobs to put in the cookstove to bake a perfect angelfood. Couples played Pinochle and Canasta and Square Danced.
Our lives were full and complete. We always had 'enough'. Extended family helped harvest the garden, clean chickens, and came in emergencies. One summer Saturday Mom knew something was up when three-year old Janis asked for soap and water. Mom searched and discovered she had dipped the black and white kittens in tan (ugly to me) porch paint. By the time Grandpa arrived, the kittens were stiff. He and Mom worked the rest of the day cleaning them off with paint thinner. They all survived.
Without hired help, willing neighbors were a treasure. They helped each other put up hay, harvest, and do what ever was needed. We were a tight-knit, small community that revolved around a country school.
Every community has its own culture. I enjoy learning what's held sacred, how they worship, care for one another, what works and what doesn't. Learning about our differences leads to understanding, tolerance and peace. Whatever works.
Goodnight y'all.
2012 Red Convertible Travel Series
Sunday, January 01, 2012
Ready or not, 2012 is here!
We came home late and got up early New Year's Day. JB went hunting. I went back to bed to sleep off drinking to much water. Yes, water. Buckshot parked in my left arm. Madchen parked in my right with big round, scheming eyes, a scowl and bent out ears. Peace was not on her mind, when she reached across and slapped him. He yelped. I jumped up, put her in the hall, him in his crate and shut the bedroom door!
This afternoon Madchen parked her ample, orange-haired personage by the hall door daring Buckshot to cross the threshold. He took one look at her pissy owl face and backed off. I suspect she's made it her New Year's resolution to get him out of the house!
It's a Southern tradition to have black-eyed peas and cornbread on New Year's, but JB asked for the beef stew I cooked the day before. That was easy.
I don't do resolutions well. My only plan is to better manage these pets. I, too, have a dream of integration. I will try to stay a step ahead of Buckshot. He can reach the kitchen table; ballpoint pens are his current chomp of choice. I'm finding detached screws and other bits of hardware around the recliner. If it falls apart, I know where to place the blame. On a personal note, I think I'll let my hair grow so I have more to pull.
I hope your New Year is off to a great start and the rest of the year is the best ever! May you receive more blessings than you know what to do with!
Love,
MJ
2012 Red Convertible Travel Series
This afternoon Madchen parked her ample, orange-haired personage by the hall door daring Buckshot to cross the threshold. He took one look at her pissy owl face and backed off. I suspect she's made it her New Year's resolution to get him out of the house!
It's a Southern tradition to have black-eyed peas and cornbread on New Year's, but JB asked for the beef stew I cooked the day before. That was easy.
I don't do resolutions well. My only plan is to better manage these pets. I, too, have a dream of integration. I will try to stay a step ahead of Buckshot. He can reach the kitchen table; ballpoint pens are his current chomp of choice. I'm finding detached screws and other bits of hardware around the recliner. If it falls apart, I know where to place the blame. On a personal note, I think I'll let my hair grow so I have more to pull.
I hope your New Year is off to a great start and the rest of the year is the best ever! May you receive more blessings than you know what to do with!
Love,
MJ
2012 Red Convertible Travel Series
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