Eastern Kentucky

As I travel through the magnificent mountains near Pineville, Kentucky, two things are very clear to me:
1. It is breathtakingly beautiful.
2. It is devastatingly poor.
I wonder if we will ever reconcile these glaring contrasts.
As a child in a one room school, I was graced by the Save the Children Federation. I only knew beauty, I did not understand the concept of poverty. I thought we were priviledged. I still do. Later in life, and noted by my oldest son, I became vocal, perhaps militant on the stereotypical portrayal of the undereducated. I
must admit, it is hard not be protective of the people from this incredible landscape. It only takes a few guffaws or pointed grammatical corrections to set me aflame. I wear my heritage with enormous pride. I am looking out the windshield into a deep hardwood forest, morels are there waiting to be dry land fish for supper. Wildflowers are dotting the south banks of creekbeds. Trees in the distance are pale green, red and gray. Birds are nesting. Someplace in a hollow, a baby's foot is touching green grass for the very first time. The timeless ritual of life in the mountains on a spring day is humming to my soul.
I honor the past, I am hopeful for the future of this remarkable corner of the world.

Gardens, Yew Dell and Sarah Belle

The soft rains came yesterday, Nothing blustery. Just a billowy wind and rain. The good ground soaking kind. The rain was much needed. Though my seedlings had popped through the ground, they seemed to be patiently waiting for the final element for success, rainwater. Somehow, watering with a garden hose never brings the results of a good, steady, spring rain.
Last night, I drifted off to sleep listening to the rhythmic sound of water splashing on the earth. I went out on the pavilion around 10:00pm to take a deep breath of the rain soaked air. The smell of the earth receiving the rain is one I dearly love. One must take time to smell, not only the roses, but the wonderful smell of the earth as it inhales and exhales in the still night air.

Recent Dining

Well I have been hitting the dining trail quite hard in the last month and have some nice additions to the dining dossier and some nice re-assurements to some seasoned restaurants. Just from time to time I like to remind our readers how lucky we are to live in a city with such high marks for good restaurants and a standard of appreciation amongst the diners of Louisville. Having first hand knowledge of all major markets in the US, there are not more than five cities which exceed the river city's quality.

I will start with the new Zapata's on Shelbyville Rd where the old (real old) Mazoni's was. One of the few "institution" restaurants had left a void in our landscape, but that story was posted a while back. So I must say Zapata's breaks the mold that nearly all mexican restaurants in America hold. They bill their fare as authentic, and I somewhat agree, but the food is excellent regardless. The very colorful dining room, in which the servers wear VERY traditional small town garb, is sure to awaken your senses. The chorizo fundido was excellent, but the coctal de camarones was hands down off the chart. The quesadilla was huge and wonderful, the carne azada skirt steak was large and tender, and the Tacos of steak were served in excellent corn tortillas served in a festive sombrero. This place will find a devout following quickly! *** 1/2

I had eaten brunch at Rivue a year or so back, but had never been for dinner. My brother works for the Schneider Co, who owns both the Galt House and the Crowne Plaza, and he had repeatedly requested I fit the revolving restaurant into my rounds. On a Thursday night in April the time came, and we took the express elevator to our perch over the Ohio, looking out at the new arena as it takes its shape and the wall of glass facing the river is installed. Tim played very soothing music on the piano as we walked past the small bar to the hostess stand. We were shown to our table in the eastern revolving room and were greeted by our server Andre. While I touched on the attributes of diners in Louisville, I must not overlook the high standard of servers in this city either. Within 10 minutes I had already rated Andre to be in the top ten of Louisville. He was concise in his knowledge of the restaurant, the menu, what accentuated each dish and was excellent at conversing in general, as my brother loves to talk to everyone. We started with glasses of Cambria chardonnay ($14), that although slightly overpriced were served chilled perfectly tableside from the bottle. We enjoyed the white full bodied wine as the river became our scenery. Our first course we were to split, and we decided on the trio of sea scallpos. One was served atop red tomato sauce, one atop yellow tomato sauce, and the final atop an asparagus sauce. The yellow tomato, topped off with crunchies, was the only disappointment. The flavors did not meld in harmony, hiding the natural excellence of the plump scallop. The bread was good, but the butter should be commended. One accutrement this city has not mastered is the importance of butter quality. For our main courses I had the filet with a potato gnocchi-like seared pasta. These were a welcome respite from the usual servings of starch found around town. The filet was very tender and flavorful, but I could not keep from thinking about my recent steak experience and this was simply playing second fiddle. Rivue gets the review, ***1/2

So I guess the introduction for the best steak in Louisville has already been written. Now the question is which spot is going to knock Pat's off their perch? Is it the ultra sexy Jeff Ruby's, where the bar scene is the place to be seen on the weekend downtown?? As excellent as they are, especially to get fresh stone crab back in December this far from South Florida, that is not the answer. The answer lies atop one of my favorite buildings anywhere. That building would be the Kaden Tower. The Frank Lloyd Wright designed building creates as air of specialness to me as I enter the elevator past his portrait. As we leave the cold lobby after a UL basketball game, we are greeted with the warm wood, carpet, and overall decor of a steak worshipper's home. As we sat at the bar to watch more basketball, we ordered a shrimp remoulade. The four jumbo shrimp were great, but the remoulade was just a tweak off. Although Ruth Fertel originated this well-run chain in New Orleans, the recipe for this sauce must have gotten lost in the move. Not bad, just not where it could be. But redemption was on the way. Oh sweet redemption, when it comes in the form of a 9 oz. sizzling filet mignon on a plate that could fry an egg. The perfectly bloody center mixed with the bernaise sauce in a harmony that made my mouth smile and my eyelids slightly close as if to say- wow. Me picking a chain as the best steak in Louisville means it already overcame a large hurdle. But however many there are in the country does not matter to me at this point. The flavor of that meat served scalding hot and the well-executed cooking does. On another trip shortly after the first left our cravings unfinished, we started with a crab cake, and I would order that in lieu of the shrimp remoulade on subsequent trips. Ruth's Chris is where it has been for some time now, it just took me a few years to allow a chain to receive such high status from me. They have paid their dues ****

Recent musings also included a wonderful foie gras hand delivered by Kathy Cary at Lilly's. The chef knows how to do foie gras. All renditions here are excellent, and paired with unique tart or sweet flavors. The service here was good and the restaurant looks to be doing well in the downturned economy. Also on a Friday night we went with friends to the Come Back Inn. After trying a few of the pastas and leaving with a grin and not a smile, I found what I needed to bring me back to the genial spot tucked away between Bardstown Road and downtown. An entree that would keep me coming back with a dish in mind, instead of a warm spot for a cool evening. The pizza rocks at the Come Back Inn, but don't tell everybody, because you can't hardly get into the no-reservations dining room easily even if you are life long friends with the owner's dad. Geena can flip a table with speed and talk about the daily grind with a no-nonsense style that is genuine and makes a diner happy to know their money is going to the propreitor who is bussing tables and expediting orders. The final restaurant I recently dined at was El Toro on Shelbyville Rd. I was introduced to a new drink, consisting of beer, tabasco, worcestershire sauce, salt, pepper, and some fruit drink. called an enchilada. There was a hispanic contingency that had the tall bartender rocking out the enchiladas. The quesadillas were great, but the tacos carne asada were less than desirable. Probably won't go back to this spot.

So get out there and enjoy the dining this city has to offer! Your favorite restaurant is probably having trouble in the hard times. Go have a nice dinner and support the local owners in their businesses. Or you may not be able to when you start craving that dish you love.

AE

TREES

Today at 7:00am I began my day. A huge truck delivered a gigantic mound of dirt. I love a pile of dirt. This was especially good dirt. Compost and earth, nothing better! We started moving dirt to my new raised bed and to my herb garden. After 4 back breaking hours, the dirt was where it needed to be and the new lacy bark elms were in the ground. I have decided to name the trees Lacy & Lucy. After a certain stylish cat I know! I am too tired to bring more news, except, the lettuce is planted and I will be able to cover my bed if/when freezing temperatures arrive. That is a given in the Ohio Valley!

DEATH OF A MOTHER

A dear friend's mother died early this morning in LA. We have shared our experiences with the decline and loss of our mothers.
These words literally fell out this morning. I think it is Dan and I in the last moments. However, it is for Stephanie Shane Parkin, daughter of Betty Shane.

Death of a Mother

Silence takes a moment
it's there
you wait and still,
still is the calm.
A flutter takes you
to all the times,
fraught and final.
The hand relaxed,
the jaw set
it is the moment
the silence
it is death.

Home

Home has its own sweetness. I spent the day reorganizing and cleaning. to most, this is drudgery, to me, exhilarating. By late afternoon, I had things orderly. Dinner.I made polenta, baked golden crispy with a very creamy center and topped with black beans, red onion and roasted red peppers...a little finish of cilantro and a warm fire made for a great ending to the day~~
The photo was made at Fort Clinch, Fernandina Beach, Florida. WFS was walking ahead on our only rainy day and this shot presented itself. We started out with low clouds through the hammock, by the time we reached the beach it was a downpour. Walking in the rain was such fun.
We made it to the old fort, as my mom would say, looking like water soaked rats. We stepped inside the old bakery and found a lovely fire in the fireplace and a long row of nice wood. WFS stoked the fire, and we warmed our wet bones. One of the more perfect adventures of Sally and Bill.

CHLOE & WFS

EARLY MORNING HIKE, OUTBACK FLORIDA

Fare Thee Well

Tempatures dipped to 34 last night. We had a roaring fire in one of the most serene settings we've ever camped in. Barely a sound except the rustle of palmetto and the night bird calls. We had a great dinner of leftover white chili, toasted jack cheese, avocado and green chili sandwiches. I finished with hot tea and a chocolate. WFS had a hot shower and I washed the dishes. By the time we got inside, we were both grateful for our cozy little bed & a very warm TinCan.
Yesterday we explored a radius of fifty miles. We hiked two state parks and one federal preserve. Rivers, marshes and estuaries, deep hammocks and golden sandy beaches. This was the land of native people and so pristine. We relived their lives in every hammock and midden. The Timucuan were decimated not by war, but by disease. We stood on the banks of the Tomoka River, just before it flowed into the sea, imagining a world of peace and content under the huge live oak trees.
Our next park was an old sugar plantation. This hidden jewel was so far off the grid we were fearful we were heading to no man's land. After 10 miles on sand roads we found the old ruin. Deep in the hammock, forgotten by time, we walked through the ruins knowing this whole world succeeded on the backs of slaves. A sobering moment in a beautiful setting. As we drove back through the wooded lane, we spoke of how little the world has changed.
Fortunately, we can speak out, reach out and hope.

THE REAL FLORIDA

Clouds were white and billowy as we left sweet Fernandina, Cumberland Island. As we packed our gear, some folks from upstate NY stopped for a chat, then a sweet man from Frankfort, Ky said he had to stop and ask, where in Ky? And why did we have Ky plates on the rear and New Mexico plates on the front.. At that same moment, he spied our duckies and seemed( in a friendly way) to get it! We are kitschy! Finally, we pulled out, stopping briefly for provisions and a Starbucks. We headed down the coastal highway A1A toward a State Park that heralds: The Real Florida. Clouds were thickening as we drove, at a snail's pace, down the coast. We drove off the main road across sand roads and a washed out bridge to soaring long leaf pines and the uncluttered quiet of the hammocks. As WFS set up camp, I quickly made white chili for dinner. It was very, very good about two hours later.
We donned our rain gear, as big raindrops plopped on the sand. We headed into the dense hammocks where the Timucuan Indians dwelled( many, many years ago)along the marshes. We had been hiking about 45 minutes in the rain, when I heard a rustle up ahead. A small herd of young, feral pigs dashed in front of us, scurrying into the palmetto. We could hear the sow calling them in the distance. They were incredibly fat for feral pigs, with rough graphite colored hides. We stood in the drizzle, amazed. We walked on to the salt marshes. It was still, except for birds calling and the rustle of palmetto. We soaked up the feeling of being in a very undisturbed corner of the world. Yes, it does exist, even in overrun Florida.
This morning brought high, blue skies and classical music. We ate our croissants and tupelo honey for breakfast. Between sips of coffee, we planned our wilderness day.
Shall I say, it will be an adventure? Stay tuned.

Cumberland Island

WFS & I boarded the boat around 5:00, Cap't Dave( A REAL SEA GUY)navigated past the Fernandina shrimping fleet, up the St. Mary's River. WFS found Cap't Dave very good company. He guided us through the Narrows, pass Fort Clinch( near our campsite) and around the point. Then, we turned west toward Cumberland Island, just as the sun slipped over the horizon. To say this was magnificent would be an understatement. Cap't Dave took us to the point of
Cumberland Island where the wild horses roam. He explained it isn't often you can SEE them, but he had a good feeling...We hovered the shoreline watching birds wading along the shore, the sun casting unearthly colors against the shore and sky.
suddenly, our captain said, in a near whisper, look, look...just over the dune to your left. Behold, the herd ambled into our view...slowly they ascended the dune and we gasped! Time to break out our split of champagne! We sipped our champagne, wrapped ourselves in polar fleece blankets and moved out far enough to watch the dolphins, gracefully off the prow~
Every picture tells a story, but I am not sure the photos or my words can do this evening justice.