Province meal

Amuse-bouche

Carlos

White bean puree and homemade cornbread and crackers

Tortilla Soup | avocado, roasted chicken

House Smoked Sable Ceviche | hawaiian papaya

Farm Raised Shrimp and Anson Mills Organic Grits | manchego cheese

Best lamb eva

aka: Ten Hour Braised BBQ’d Lamb | smoked onions, chorizo, cornbread

Chimichurri Rubbed Flatiron Steak | roasted garlic rapini, house steak sauce

Bittersweet Chocolate Brownie

salted-caramel ice cream, mocha crema

Matty J at the bar mixin'

Vya Chicago

North Shore Distiller’s Gin No. 6, Quady 'Vya' dry vermouth, thai basil syrup, lemon

Pimlico Grid

Pimm’s No. 1, Hendrick’s Gin, lemon-lime juice, ginger beer, cucumber slice

Lapsang Sazerac

Old Overholt, Herbsainte, Peychaud’s and Angostura bitters, lapsang souchong syrup

(ok in the picture he is just pouring water, but he did make us all those drinks)

Very happy and full guests with their favorite Chicago bartender

The bald eagle and wee sparrow land

Saturday, September 12, 2009 and Sunday September 13, 2009

The road trip ended as it began: a loop to Michigan then Akron to retrieve our cats. However, our trip does not end, it begins tomorrow. We will arrive in our new home in Newport, Kentucky to begin our next journey. Whether it be on the road or not, we feel humbled and eternally grateful to have been able to experience part of our country as we have and again with the thanks of technology, share it with you along the way (barring extended periods without Internet access).

Not everyone will be able to take a trip like we did, but if you are able to, go. As you watch the trees turn from evergreens to cactus to palm trees and back, something happens to you and your entire purpose of going on this trip re-focuses. You realize that the world is much bigger than you. It continued to live on as we traveled across it. History happened, flames devoured homes, people were laid to rest, words of hope were broadcasted nationwide, and we drove through it all.

For those of you who might not be able to cross the country in a fully loaded Chrysler Town and Country named Richard Hughes, I can tell you that you do not need to go. We sought out to see the "sights", but we also learned quickly that the best sights were in those people we loved and cared about. The people that we found at each of our layovers or destinations gave us the gift of hospitality, food, shelter, love, kindness and true friendship in the most rare form. We again thank our friends and family that took the time to visit with us along our trip. It is you who really made the trip, you who were the sights we were seeking to see. Life is too short to wait too long to spend time with the people you love. So if you are unable to travel, take time to visit with someone you love, for no reason, except just to enjoy the feeling of good company. It might just be a phone call, but it also might just be the sights you needed to see. Also, remember you will always find a home to welcome you here in Newport, Kentucky. Please stop by and see us. We have a lot of hospitality to return.

In deep admiration of our country and human generosity- thank you again.

j and j

Home stretch

Friday, September 11, 2009

Today you wake up to realize that a cat has doused your cell phone with saline solution. And then, for a slightly embarrassing amount of time, you stare at the blank face of the phone, thinking that it’s going to be one of those days. Until it finally kicks in that today is bigger than you. Today – to make a terrible and yet an accurate oversimplification –marks the anniversary of many deaths.

So you’ll go out and do the least you can do; you’ll be thankful for anyone and everyone who loves you. You’ll eat a nice breakfast with your friends in St. Louis. You’ll have a bagel sandwich. You’ll explain why you drink decaf and pose for pictures before the honest eye of an expensive camera. You’ll listen to NPR on the way out of town and wonder what the President’s eyes looked like when his voice cracked during his speech in front of the Pentagon. You’ll drive through cornfields. There will be signs poking up along the edge o

f the corn. One will read Don’t forget, Sonny and the next will read That lucky rabbit’s foot won’t save you and the last will read so get a gun and protect your money. And you’ll try not to let those words speak for an entire state. Then your wife will fall asleep in the passenger seat and she’ll look so nice sleeping there and your breathing will stretch out as if to join hers and your head will jerk and suddenly you’ll hate the road for keeping you awake, for forcing its will on you, for its awful speed and monotonous danger. Then you’ll get stuck in traffic heading into Chicago, but the hour of stop and go and stop will be worth it, because you’ll finally make it to your friend Matt’s restaurant downtown. You’ll sit at his bar. He’ll make you feel comfortable. He’ll smile and make you a cocktail with gin and lemon and thai basil. You and your wife will do what you do so well. You will eat until you are quite ful

l. This time it will be tortilla soup and shrimp and grits and ceviche and braised lamb and chimichurri steak and it really does sound like a gluttonous amount of food when you list it all out like that. Other people won’t be eating like this today. You’ll feel guilt over this. Briefly. Then it will flash away. Before long, you will drive north. You will return to Michigan. You will pull the car into their driveway and the odometer will tell you that it has been exactly 8888.8 miles since you pulled out of that driveway in Michigan two weeks ago. Your wife’s father will be waiting for you in the kitchen even though it is past midnight. You will show him pictures and he will smile. You will go to bed, completely sure that you will wake up.

Showers in Salina, KS

Thursday, September 10, 2009

Showers are good, really good. J and I woke up at “America’s Best Inn” in Salina, KS. We took advantage of hot showers and the free continental breakfast. After our contribution to the Boulder economy, there was little room to fit ourselves horizontally across the van, nor did we want to be that close to each other without showering for that long. I know we are suppose to be on our honeymoon, but sometimes you need to draw some boundaries. We even got separate beds as we did not plan to shower until the morning- ok, they only had separate beds left, but it was probably for the best. Sometime along this trip we heard that “everyone should have a complicated relationship with the place their from.” The cloudy overcast in the sky reminded us of the complication we have with the Midwest- Northeast Ohio has as many cloudy days as California has sunny ones. Thankfully, the sun came out mid-day and kept our good fortune for amazing weather going.

Kansas City was our mid point and the home of “Stroud’s” where they boast the best friend chicken. Let down by missing out on Lovelock, NV’s broasted chicken, we set our sights for Stroud’s en route to St. Louis where Carla, Anthony, LeBron James and David Bowie awaited our arrival. The mountains were suddenly replaced by corn- lots of corn, the good news is that the road became flat and more driver friendly.

Off I35 in Kansas City, we approached Stroud’s and J was struck by a wave of “sangry.” According to J, "sangry" is a combination of sad and angry. We looked at the Stroud’s hours and realized that they were not open for lunch any day but Friday and Saturday. We checked the day twice and cut our losses realizing we were not meant to eat chicken. However, my belly would not let the thought of chicken go, so we re-routed to the Church’s chicken down the street and satiated the craving. It was good, but as far as fast food friend chicken goes, I would have to give the title of the best to Popeye’s.

St. Louis welcomed us round 6:30pm. AT&T and iPhone provided a barrier between us, our friends and our dinner. Twenty minutes of not being able to get through or get in Carla and Anthony’s condo, we decided to head to the loop where “Vintage Vinyl” lived. J made a B-line to the listening station, and commerce called me. In the dressing room, Carla called letting me know she was going to kill her phone. She had been waiting inside her home as we were waiting outside.

No harm done as I gained a shirt and J a CD, and a few minutes later we were reunited with our friends at p (this was the symbol for pi as in 3.14..., but cut and paste did not translate) a pizza place recommended by Obama. Pizza and a trip to “FroYo” (we have learned that the nation loves frozen yogurt), satisfied our traveling bellies and we headed back to visit with LeBron James and David Bowie, direct descendants to our beloved cat, Cambridge. Though we did not see the arch this trip, we improvised.

Ttomorrow we start our loop back towards Flint, MI to trade in Richard Hughes for Snowball, my white Rav4 and Akron, OH to retrieve our cats from grandma's house.

jb

Strung Out on Burritos in Boulder

Wednesday, Sept. 9, 2009 (Happy B-day Ashley!)

“Goodbye Ro-O-sey, the queen of Corona…” Paul Simon’s voice and jangly guitar echoed in the truck stop bathroom where I stood brushing my teeth at 5:30 in the morning. “Me and Julio” is one of Jenny’s all-time favorite songs; I decided that hearing it on the speakers at this Pilot station somewhere in Wyoming was a good sign. I took the wheel in the black night and headed east into the sunrise. Jenny slept in the back of the van. The sky went

indigo and pink on the horizon. I tried to snap a picture of a huge line of windmills stretching across those colors, but that’s no easy task at 85 mph. NPR broadcast forums about Obama’s upcoming health care speech and the day came alive around my windshield. Jenny took over the driving somewhere around Cheyenne, and three hours later, I woke up dazed and confused in Fort Collins, CO. There were still peppers hanging in my face.

An hour later we were parking the car on Pearl Street in Boulder. Clean-cut hippies were in the majority, but there were some crunchier hippies too, as well as some business-folk and tourist types like us. Just about everyone was smiling, and considering the perfect weather and the constant Rockies holding court on the horizon, I could see why. After getting a recommendation from our former first mate, Matt Stipe, we settled on Illegal Pete’s Burritos for lunch, where we split a Pork/Chipotle Ranch burrito that we agreed ranked in our top five all-time burritos. The key, as Stipe had told us, was Pete’s technique of mixing up all the burrito ingredients before rolling the tortilla. That way, all your bites are even; no more full bites of just rice, or just sour cream (is it just me, or does the sour cream always seem to go to the ass end of the burrito?). Then Pearl Street apparently took a closer look at us, smelled consumerism, and decided it wanted to squeeze some cash out of us. So I bought some duds at a vintage clothing store, tried to avoid going into a record store but of course could not, and when all was said and done, my wallet had definitely cut some weight. Jenny, the more thoughtful member of our dynamic duo, bought her usual barrage of postcards, as well as a few gifts for other folks. We took it easy at a coffee shop called the Laughing Goat for a little while, where we buzzed Larisa from CFFC in Cambridge; she gave us some much-needed technical support regarding our bliggity-blog here (many thanks, Larisa).

Then it was back on the road. Jenny took the helm as it was still light out and she doesn’t exactly thrive on night driving. I read Franny and Zooey by Salinger and decided that Zooey deserved a swift kick in the arse. Jenny ended up getting in the groove, and even after the sun went down, she stayed on the wheel and took us deep into Kansas. Soon after I took over, a 100-square-mile blanket of fog draped itself over the low hills and valleys of the plains. I could barely see the road. I gripped the wheel a bit tighter, leaning forward so as to better see the steady white tick of the broken centerline gliding into the hood of the van. As Jenny said, it was the type of road you saw in your dreams.

Broasted Chicken on a scone in Lovelock, UT

Tuesday, September 8, 2009

Driving, driving, driving.

I would like to take a minute to thank technology. Without it, this trip would have happened, but wouldn't have been as comfortable. J and I laid head to toe in the back of Richard Hughes, our trusty vehicle and now shelter, which was parked in the Motel 6 parking lot (because it seemed safer than parking at a dark, empty rest area overnight).

It was difficult to believe just 14 hours ago we were enjoying Lake Tahoe: blue waters and matching mountians listening to Obama tell kids to stay in school. We left the lake around 11am, programmed the GPS, turned on the XM Satellite Radio, plugged in our cell phones to charge, adjusted the electronic

pedals which move forward and back (very handy when you are 4'11'' and your co-pilot is 6'4''),

placed the digital camera in place just case we drove by the must-not-miss shot, and reminded each other to pick up another DVD to watch in the van later when we finally park for the night.

Our goal was to make it to Salt Lake City by dinner time.

Though the only rule on this trip is "no itinerary," it is good to set goals. The drive out of Lake

Tahoe was picturesque. The road quickly turned to desert and we found ourselves in Lovelock, Nevada. Lovelock seemed an appropriate stop since we are on honeymoon #1. We saw a sign for the "Cowpoke Cafe" boasting its famous "Broasted chicken." What is broasted chicken? We will never know. The girl at the counter kindly let us know that the "broaster" was down. So we settled for sandwiches and fresh cut fries with homemade "fry sauce," which is popular here (my guess is thousand island- the base for all secret sauces).

After a detour off of Route 50, the loneliest highway in America, we reached Salt Lake around 9pm and found ourselves at "Squatters," the local brew pub. Still serving food and drink, we again, felt fortunate at our timing and good fortune. Baja tacos, ahi tuna salad and a local beer set us up for the night. With a 6-pack to go for our friend, we were on the road

again. Right before we got back on the highway, we saw "Sconecutters." Since we were at a red light right in front of the 24-hour drive thru, we decided it was fate and pulled up to see what Sconecutters had to offer. It was everything you could imagine, on a scone. Scones used anywhere any grain would be used. I asked the talking box what a "Sconenut" was, "it's like a donut, but a scone." So we took two, one chocolate and one maple. And our kind counter guy was right, it was a pillowy donut, that was a scone. Thank you Utah, yes everything may just be better on a scone.

Driving at night can be very dangerous and interesting. That can be a difficult line to distinguish. I took the post-dinner shift and took my time weaving around the mountains. When you are tired while driving at night, you start to see the things you want to see. I knew it was time to stop when I saw signs that said: "Exit 142 No Services" and thought to myself, "I'll stop there, there are a number of services. I wonder why they abbreviated 'number' to 'no'.?" Shortly after that, and seeing a few things floating across the road, I pulled over quickly and we settled at the Motel 6- parking lot. I drifted to sleep thinking about Obama telling us that we should not define ourselves by our failures, but learn from them. Tonight, I learned that I will not eat a chocolate "sconenut" right before bed again.

Tomorrow we have Boulder, CO in our sights as the east coast draws near.

jb

The Road to Tahoe goes through Ribs in Reno

Monday, Sept. 7, 2009 – Labor Day (and Catie Nasser’s B-day!)

Top 5 Most Comfy Beds of the trip; Jared’s is up there. As hard as it was to get up, the sun – which has been with us almost every day of our voyage – made it quite a bit easier. T-Rex and I recounted JCU Glory Days over some coffee (Rex, we left out the RA Lip Sync where we won it all on "Bye Bye Bye" by NSync, due in part to shameless me dolled up in a slinky dress) and then we rolled out to the Wild River Grille in downtown Reno for some lunch. Reno is a study in juxtapositions, let me tell you. You have all these gritty casinos and hotels next to this beautiful river walk area. We feasted on a great turkey burger, some scallops, and some Ahi tuna as the Truckee River chugged alongside us. For maybe the second or third time in our lives, Jenny and I did not overeat. I’m still proud of us. After lunch we walked around the river, envious of the tubers bouncing through the little rapids. But today we had an agenda, so we bid farewell to the man, the myth, the legend: Diesel/Jared/T-Rex.

Next stop: the Mustang Ranch, the first legal brothel in the U.S. And all you Puritans, calm down, we just got a tour. Of course I can’t tell the whole story here, seeing as this is a family blog, right? (I have this image of my niece reading this before she goes to bed, and then asking “Mommy, what’s a Kama Sutra chair?”) I’ll just say that Mandy, our tour guide, was spectacular. For other interesting details, buy me a beer the next time you see me.

Speaking of beers, they were 2 for $5 at the Nugget Rib Burn-Off back in Sparks, and I must say that Negro Modelo in a plastic cup was one of the best beverages I’ve ever quaffed on a hot day. The sun beat down on my dome and I bought a $5 cowboy hat to save my scalp. Jenny, queen of the hard bargain, got a $40 Derby hat down to $20. A cover band ripped out Joplin and Zeppelin tunes, and the female singer made me realize just how similar Janis’s voice was to Robert Plant’s. And the star attraction, the ribs themselves, did not disappoint. We had ourselves a few wet bone samplers, bartered for some pulled pork when our money started to run low, and finished it all off with the dessert of all desserts, Funnel Cake.

Then it was off to Lake Tahoe, where the views are nothing short of extraordinary. Blue mountains, clear water, huge evergreens; I’ll let the pictures do the talking. (And really, here on the ol’ blog with its low resolution and small pics, they might just be whispering. If you want the full tour of the 2500 (and counting) pictures we’ve snapped, just give us a shout the next time you’re in Newport, KY.) We found a beach and watched the sunset from an empty lifeguard chair. Then it was my turn to sweet talk a lower price out of the hotel receptionist. Jenny gave me a slap on the butt and told me to go work my charm. I got the young woman’s price down to the point we were willing to pay, and when, fifteen minutes later, we first sank our toes into a bubbling Jacuzzi, we knew we had made the right decision. For a while, we had the whole pool area to ourselves, but then three nice folks from Philly joined us in the hot tub. They had just come from Burning Man out in the desert, and the stories they told us about that spectacle were amazing. As the one guy said to me, “it was total freedom of expression. Some people aren’t ready for that level of freedom. They think they want freedom, until they realize that being able to do anything you want means that everyone else is able to do anything they want.” Anything. That got me thinking about the way we all define freedom. And I’m still thinking about it. Taking that to be a good sign, I’m happy to have found a new writing prompt for my students in Freshman Comp this fall. Let freedom ring, people, any which way you can bang it out.