Atworth At Large

Inside Nick's for an Outside Beef Sandwich

2009-03-01T03:49:00.000-08:00

The narrow streets of South Philadelphia are one way and just wide enough for four cars side by side. Only one lane is open, however. On one side, cars are parked along the curb as they might be anywhere; on the other side they are completely double parked. At eleven in the morning there were plenty of gaps along the curb while the middle of the street was still chock a block. How did the inside cars get out? It was a mystery. The system must work, somehow.

"Tony, what's your favorite sandwich shop?"

"For beef, it's Nick's. They start with prime steamship round, roast it and serve it on a kaiser roll with aged provolone cheese. You want it wet."

Tony Catelli's father's shop was located at the same intersection of 20th Street and Jackson in South Philadelphia. Tony knew what he was talking about.

From the street, Nick's looks like a neighborhood bar. We parked nearby on the single file side of the street. Inside it looks like a neighborhood bar, except for the carving station between the bar in front and a small seating area in back. Two guys were prepping the roasted steamship rounds for lunch.

"Can I order an end cut?"

"Ask for an 'out.'"

We sat in back and ordered french fries with gravy, broccoli rabe, peppers, and wet beef sandwiches all around. Sandwiches with and without cheese and one with outside beef. Our waitress was concerned about the order for the 'out.' First, it wasn't always available; second, it was spicier. It was available, it was spicier and it was excellent.

I would go back to Nick's just for the fries with gravy with broccoli rabe on the side. But I would be thinking about that outside beef.

Vicky Emerson at the Carpe

2009-02-08T12:05:00.000-08:00

"Sage." Fred Scherrer makes single vineyard chardonnays in French oak, sometimes leaving them there for 18 months. When the wines are still young and the oak too pronounced "add some crunchy fried sage to the chicken (or whatever) and it will cancel the oak."

Vicky Emerson performed at the Cafe Carpe on Friday night. She looked and spoke a lot like the girls I wished I had known at the Ole Store in Northfield when I was in college. She played guitar and piano and sang her own songs beautifully. Bluesy country drawn from her life in rural Wisconsin, the Twin Cities, New York and on the road. She drew in the small audience in the Carpe's listening room with stories between each song. While the chattiness was humorous and sometimes edgy, it did not resonate nearly as strongly as the singing. The lyrics were unmistakably heartfelt; the patter needed some crunchy sage.

Conch Chowder at The Strip

2009-02-02T07:56:00.000-08:00

"For the first time in my life, I envy my brother." Colin sat at the bar in the Strip House; his brother was chef de cuisine in the restaurant. I like eating at bars: the conversation is usally good and sometimes the food is exceptional. The bartender recommended the beef but I was in the Conch Republic and in the mood for something local. Conch chowder. The New York chef started with a Manhattan chowder base, spiked it with bacon and toasted corn. The toasted corn was magic.

So Colin ditched New York in January to hang out with his bro at The Reach Resort in Key West. Good call.

Hawks Jumbo Boiled Peanuts

2009-01-25T21:30:00.000-08:00

Years ago I worked with a guy in Taiwan who was born in Africa. Deschler grew up eating native foods, including grass hoppers. When he visited Bangkok as an adult, he saw a street hawker selling deep fried grass hoppers. The vendor did not want to sell any to him. Westerners don't eat bugs.

As I was driving North through the Keys on US 1 (at a flea market somewhere near mile marker 60), I saw a sign for boiled peanuts. The Cantonese have something similar. I used to have them for lunch. Roast duck on top of steamed peanuts, steamed white rice with duck broth, sauteed greens. I pulled over. The vendor was incredulous: Northerners don't eat boiled peanuts. Three flavors were simmering in Nesco roasters: Regular, Cajun, Jalapeno. I tried all three and left with the Cajun. Hot on the fingers, hot on the taste buds. Satisfaction all around.

Apres midi sur la plage

2009-01-25T20:47:00.000-08:00

Frank Riley insulated my grandfather's attic with seaweed. The house was built in the early thirties. When he designed my house a decade later, the state of the art had changed; Riley spec'd glass fiber insulation in my attic.

The beach at Bahai Honda State Park off US Highway 1 in the Florida Keys claims to have the best beach in the continental US. It might. It is about a mile and a half long. The sand is white and fine, the water warm and several distinct shades of blue. The beach was littered with shells and native sponges and seaweed and that's all. No trash. There were families spread up and down the entire length but everyone had lots of space. Les Canadiennes were well represented. The last thing they were thinking about was insulation.

A Penny and Pieces of Eight

2009-01-25T18:39:00.000-08:00

There was a party at the Earnest Hemingway house in Key West last night. The chance of rain was nil but there was a tent anyhow. I suspect the same reasoning that went into that decision was also present when Mrs. Pauline Hemingway replaced all the ceiling fans in the house with chandeliers. An elegant flourish perhaps, but out of touch. The band was damned good.

The tour Stan gave this afternoon was almost as good the music had been. Short on canned humor, longer on interesting tidbits. The house was built in the 1850s by a Connecticut sea captain who made his fortune scavanging the frequent ship wrecks in and around the Keys. Hemingway bought it in 1931 for $8,000. He converted the attic of the carriage house into a studio and built a cat walk to reach it from his bedroom. He worked from six in the morning until noon and then he went fishing. He liked to sit in birthing chairs; there were several around the house. Hemingway had a six toed cat; dozens of its descendents still live in the compound (the bookshop under the studio is redolent of them). Picasso gave Hemingway a ceramic sculpture of a cat; it sat on top of a Spanish armoire in the master bedroom until December 2000 when a visitor swiped it. Pauline ditched the back yard boxing ring and replaced it with a $20,000 swimming pool; Earnest, in a rage, said she would spend his last penny and took one from his pocket and cast to the ground (she imbedded it in the terrace by the pool). Later he added a pool of his own: a urinal from a local bar set horizontally in the ground as a water fountain for the cats. Two thirds of everything Hemingway wrote was produced during the eleven years he spent in Key West.

Another larger than life Key West character can be visited at the other end of Whitehead Avenue. Mel Fisher's story began when the galleon Nuestra Senora de Atocha sank in a hurricane one day after departing from Havana on September 5th, 1622. Fisher spent 16 years hunting for the wreck before discovering the "main pile" in 1985. Pieces of eight, gold bars, emeralds as well as astrolabes, cannons, crockery were part of a trove estimated to be worth $300 million. A small portion of the find is in the Mel Fisher's Maritime Museum . Visitors to the museum are encouraged to heft one of the gold ingots recovered from the wreck. I bet Fisher didn't need a tent for the party he and his crew had after finding the Atocha.

The Reach, Key West

2009-01-24T12:05:00.000-08:00

Arriving in Key West after dark is less than ideal. After all, isn't it all about the sunset? Not really. The town was hopping. The music at the Green Parrot made me pull over at the next available parking space. After making a few calls for hotel reservations and coming up empty handed, I went back to the tourist information office I had passed on my way in. Maria Bennett quickly made a reservation for me at The Reach Resort.

The hotel is located in town and on the only natural beach. That's something. The clerk was busy when entered the lobby, so I walked into the courtyard. Three guys were playing cards near the pool. The place was quiet. You could hear the waves on the beach. I checked in and went up to the room. On the fourth floor, reached by cat walk. Very nice. High ceiling, great beds, Nespresso coffee maker, desk, ample balcony with a nice view. All new.

Crossing the courtyard on my way back to the lobby, the guys were still playing cards. I wondered how they could see. I checked out Duval Street. Apparently, it never sleeps. Neither did those guys playing cards. They were still at it when I went to breakfast.

A J. Seward Johnson sculpture entitled "Fourth Hand"... Clearly, I needed to unwind.

Craig's World Famous Super Fish Sandwich

2009-01-24T10:35:00.000-08:00

The Garmin navigator had me going in the right direction for about an hour. Somewhere outside Fort Lauderdale it redirected me north (and probably back to destination from the night before). The cheerful lady at the toll booth confirmed my suspicions and I turned navigator off and turned the car around. So I lost the better part of an hour on my way to the Keys. South of Miami I started looking for a place for lunch. The billboard in Islamorada heralding a great fish sandwich was the sign I was looking for.

The mid afternoon traffic was light at Craig's but the place looked promising.

CRAIG'S WORLD FAMOUS
SUPER FRIED FISH SANDWICH (6 oz.) 10.95
Dolphin or Catfish on grilled whole wheat bread,
with American cheese, tomatoes, and tartar sauce.
Grilled or Blackened Add $1.00
Fresh Local Grouper or Yellowtail Add $5.00

A young couple sat at the bar. "I don't want dolphin."

"Don't worry, it's not Flipper. It's Mahi Mahi. A fish, like the one in that picture." They ordered dolphin.

I ordered grilled local grouper, without cheese. The sandwich arrived standing up and with good reason. Hauling it in required the same finesse needed to fly fish. The grouper fillets, tomatoes and tartar sauce were devilishly difficult to handle but totally worth the effort. Hot grouper, cold tomatoes and warm tarter sauce on crispy whole wheat toast is excellent. Maybe the cheese is recommended to hold everything together. I'll stop in on my way back to find out.

Craig's is located at mile marker 90.5 on US Highway 1 in Tavernier (Plantation Key), Florida; telephone:(305)852-9424.

Good Food, Bad Cork

2009-01-14T05:36:00.000-08:00

"Have you ever returned a bottle?"

"I don't think so."

The wine list at Olivia's is nice. Sparkling and whites on one side and reds on the other; arranged on single spaced line by weight rather than region or variety or price. Lots from Italy, some from France and Spain, a few New World; all new to me.

We ordered two appetizers and two main courses: mussels in a roasted garlic pesto sauce and beef carpaccio with toasted capers, shaved Parmesan and arugula; pork sugo and beet spaghetti.

"How about a white with no oak and a little buttery?"

I ordered a verdicchio from Jezi.

"Woman have finer palates. Why don't you taste it?"

A swirl, a taste and a quizzical look.

"There's a lot going on here. I have never had this before. It's okay."

A mountain of mussels arrived along with a platter of carpaccio. The mussels could easily have been a main course, especially with the three wedges of toasted foccacia to soak up the broth. Better if shared at a table for four. The toasted capers added magic to the excellent carpaccio.

"The wine tastes... musty."

"I'm not getting that. Let's let it open a little more."

The pork and the spaghetti were served.

"I really don't like this wine."

"You were right. Smell the cork."

John, our waiter, confirmed the bottle was indeed corked and offered to replace it or simply remove it from our bill. So there. Sometimes a bottle does go back. John handled the matter as naturally as he picked up and folded a napkin.

Dr Lowry's Sweet Salmon

2008-12-29T20:16:00.000-08:00

There was a period of my life when peanut butter and jelly sandwiches were a staple. Then one day, around the age of fourteen, I had had enough. Overnight I went from a daily PB&J to eating them a handful of times ever since. About ten years ago the same thing happened with fresh salmon. I went from eating it several times a week to almost never.

Luckily, that wall that blocks fresh salmon has a door for smoked salmon. And Dr. L's version was a sweet holiday treat. I served it cold with a wedge of lime and Veuve Clicquot Ponsardin Vintage Reserve 1996 at cellar temperature.

The secrets to Dr. L's excellent salmon, I am told, are fresh skinless salmon fillets from Costco and cherry hardwood logs in the Pitts and Spitts model U1830 smoker.

Ingredients:

Fresh skinless salmon fillets (skin off allows maximum brine absorption).
Dark brown sugar
Kosher salt
Apple cider
Cinnamon sticks
Bay Leaves
Black pepper corns
Red pepper flakes
Fennel seeds
Allspice
Fresh thyme

Preparation

1. Rinse salmon fillets in cold water; pat dry with paper towels.

2. In a saucepan, combine 1 cup of dark brown sugar, 1/4 cup of kosher salt, 4 cups of apple cider (100% natural) and slowly bring to a boil (make sure all solids (sugar and salt) are dissolved. Then add 2 cinnamon sticks, 2 bay leaves, 2 teaspoons of black peppercorns, 1 teaspoon of red pepper flakes, 1 teaspoon of fennel seeds, 1.5 teaspoons of whole allspice, 6 springs of fresh thyme.

3. Chill brine until cold to the touch.

4. Submerge salmon fillet into chilled brine for 6-8 hours or overnight in the refrigerator.

5. Remove fillets and place on wire rack on a cookie sheet. Put back in refrigerator for 6 hours or overnight. Some of the dry spices (peppercorns, allspice, bay leaves) will stick to the fillets.

6. Soak cherrywood logs in water for two hours prior to starting smoker.

7. Using damper, establish smoker temperature at 150 degrees Fahrenheit.

8. Smoke fillets for 1 hour; then chill overnight in refrigerator.

Mrs. Longcope's Punch

2008-12-20T19:46:00.000-08:00

Ann's Christmas party was anchored by her enormous piano at one end of the house and an enormous bowl of Mrs. Longcope's punch at the other. Her brother, Robert, was kind enough to share the punch recipe with me.

4 bottles Mount Gay rum
4 bottles Bacardi rum
4 bottles Courvoisier
3 bottles lemon juice
2 cups peach brandy
and equal amount of Earl Grey tea
1 block of ice

Serves 120

As always, the punch was excellent, conversations flowed and the carols were a joy.

I-80 Bookends

2008-09-07T07:52:00.000-07:00

Rest Stop View of Delaware Water Gap

With the George Washington Bridge at one end and the Bay Bridge at the other, Interstate 80 must have the most elegant ends of any American highway. And there is no shortage of points of interest along the way. John McPhee distilled his passion for I-80 road cuts into Annals of the Former World.

Sidney, Nebraska

Three weeks ago I was in New Haven, on Friday I was in Berkeley; I stopped in Nebraska on the way.

Bay Bridge, San Francisco

Barrel Conditioned Beer at the Toad

2008-09-01T23:48:00.000-07:00

Barrel conditioning meant nothing to me in 1978. What will remain with me always is the taste of a cider drawn from a cask at a farm in Dyfed, Wales late one afternoon that summer. Father Doxsey had volunteered a bunch of boys to help a local farmer put up hay. It was a day much like today: hot, sunny and dry. Our reward was an elixar. Cool, frothy, sour, sweet and an aftertaste which has lingered for decades.

Paul Stokeld's beer engine caught my attention as soon as I walked into the Toad in the Hole in Santa Rosa, California. It was a little early in the season for room temperature beer, but I could not resist. Paul drew a pint of Big Bear Cask Conditioned Stout. It quenched my thirst nicely.

The Toad was a convivial place. There was a long bar populated by several groups engaged in animated conversation. A good selection of vintage British rock was on the sound system, loud enough to be heard but not so loud you had to raise your voice to talk over it. Futbol was on one flat screen, football on the other. A dozen beers were on tap.

Paul's menu featured quintessential pub fare. There was a cornish pasty at the top and I wavered. Ultimately the scent of malt vinegar tilted me toward the fish and chips. I was not disappointed. For dessert I drank a cold draught of Eric's "Lips of Faith" Ale from New Belgium . The peach infusion was magic.

Rokket and Kavod at Rush Creek

2008-09-01T21:15:00.000-07:00

After the first twenty five mile loop of the Fifty Mile Labor Day weekend Reunion Race at Rush Creek Ranch in Lisco, Nebraska, Rokket and Kavod were about even. Riders Karen Kroop and Sue Horne had had a very tight finish in the 50 race the previous week at the Colorado Horse Park. There were whispers of unfinished business. When the race began at 6 on Saturday morning the air was clear, cool and still. By noon the sky was cloudless, the temperature in the eighties and wind about 15 knots: excitement was high.

This year, Rush Creek hosted its third endurance race and the second of what should become an annual Labor Day weekend event. Dozens of riders, mostly from neighboring states (and one, Robert Barkley from Pennsylvania, who has been to all three Rush Creek races), came to the home of endurance racing legends Rushcreek Ladd and Rushcreek Mark, both now in the AERC Hall of Fame.

The Rush Creek Land & Livestock Company was established around 1890 by Thomas E. Wells. It is a still a family owned cattle ranch. Arabians first came to Rush Creek in the 1940s after Chicago banker A.W. Harris persuaded his friend Preston Wells (son of T. E. Wells) to consider Arabians as ranch ponies. Preston reasoned that the size and disposition of the breed might enable cowboys to train their horses more quickly with fewer injuries. Over the ensuing decades, Rush Creek bred Arabians solely for ranch work.

In the early 1980s, Preston's nephew, Tom Wells was offered over $5,000 for a seasoned Rush Creek horse. “No horse is worth that much,” he observed and decided to accept the offer. At the time, Rush Creek provided each ranch employee four horses to work with. That meant there were potentially dozens of well trained horses to choose from. But at Rush Creek, once horses were turned over to employees, the animals remained in their care for as long as they remained employees. Tom would not pressure anyone to give up his or her horse. So he gave up one his own, Rushcreek Ladd.

Now Rush Creek actively breeds horses with endurance riders in mind. The Reunion event was conceived to showcase Rush Creek Arabians. Ranch Manager Lyle Sherfey and his wife Teresa hosted the event. This weekend four Rush Creek horses competed. Rushcreek Rising and Rushcreek Pesto finished first and second in Saturday’s Twenty Five Mile race. Both are still owned by Rush Creek and were ridden by Kim Ebb and Beau Larson. Deb Kolegraf returned to Lisco from North Dakota with Rushcreek Jerdee last year for the Twenty Five Mile race and this year finished fifth in Saturday's Fifty Mile race. On Sunday, Rushcreek Pinon competed in the Twenty Five Mile race.

Three veterinarians, Otis Schmitt(Tennessee), Art King (Canada) and Rich Palmer(Nebraska), supervised the races. Their goal was to ensure the "fitness to continue" of each horse in the competition (riders' health was a secondary concern). They looked for rapid pulse recovery (below 64) and then checked to make sure it was stable by having the rider trot the horse before checking the pulse again. They also listened for gut sounds and did pinch tests to see that the horses were properly hydrated. All horses were checked half way through each loop and again upon completion of the loop; there was a mandatory rest period after each vet check.

Cheryl Winter crewed for Karen Kroon and explained that well conditioned horses have highly visible veins and arteries which help the animal dissipate heat quickly. After the first half of the Saturday race, Rokket was at ease, his muscles clearly defined with a pattern of veins and arteries superimposed above them.

Typically after 50 miles, horses are spread out. But not at the 2008 Reunion race. The star performers in this year's first Fifty Mile were Rokket and Kavod. Rokket was a handsome fourteen year old with seven or eight years of endurance racing experience. Kavod was ten year old with five years of racing experience. After 50 miles on the trail they trotted up the slope approaching the finish line side by side. With a couple hundred yards to go, they broke into a full run. Kavod won the race by a nose. Rokket won the Rushcreek Mark Memorial Cup for finishing the race in the Best Condition.

Boulder Breakfast

2008-08-29T07:20:00.000-07:00

"Would you like a piece of toast for breakfast? We have it with peanut butter and sprouts."

"Um. Okay. Sure."

I was doubtful. I should have known better. Boulder does not disappoint when it comes to interesting food. The key was the fresh pea sprouts (a little maple syrup in the peanut butter didn't hurt). Crunchy bread, crunchy sprouts. Great breakfast, dudes.

El El Frijoles Rocks

2008-08-29T05:49:00.000-07:00

On the wrong side of the highway in Playa del Carmen, on the Riviera Maya, El Oasis Mariscos serves excellent tacos de camarones. The dining area is under a pergola and has about a dozen crudely fashioned wooden tables with deceptively heavy matching chairs. The menu is in Spanish and is short and shrimp tacos are the specialty. While they are sold individually, a typical order would be three. They arrive at the table quickly: small batter fried shrimp on small freshly made soft taco shells. The soft crunchy hot slighty sweet shrimp with one of the house salsas is always a delight. When I am heading south toward Tulum, I plan my day around passing that taco stand at noon.

Taco joints north of the border seldom have that appeal. El El Frijoles on Route 15 in Sargentville, Maine was an exception. I liked everything about this place. Driving past heading toward Deer Isle, I caught only the name and I laughed out loud. On the way back later in the afternoon, I got a better look at the sign, the art gallery in front and the picnic tables. Two miles further up the road I turned around and went back. The name and promise of lobster tacos were too much to ignore.

Behind the main house/art gallery facing the road was a small barn which had been converted into a taqueria. Driving past, I had not noticed how many cars we parked under the trees. Most of the picnic tables were occupied. Things were looking promising. Inside there were four very small tables (total seating for nine only); we snagged one just as the evening rain started. We ordered the daily special, haddock tacos, as well as the lobster tacos and a couple ears of native sweet corn. Memories of the taco stand in Playa floated by as we waited. My expectations were high and they were exurberantly exceeded. The taco shells were fresh, hot, and home made. The haddock was grilled then topped with a mild green chili sauce; the lobster was topped with a sweeter red chili sauce. Both were world class. And the corn was the best I had eaten all year. Since it will be a while before we can return, we ordered seconds.

Tobacco Barns in the Corn Fields

2008-07-13T11:57:00.000-07:00

Tobacco barns still populate the countryside in Southern Wisconsin but the leaf itself is less evident. Corn seems to have taken its place. I suspect something more complicated than crop rotation is responsible for the changing landscape. Perhaps the end of tobacco subsidies in 2005 and misbegotten ethanol policies bear some responsibility. I would feel a lot better about ethanol if the U.S. government eliminated subsidies for corn and the plants which convert the crop from food to fuel.

The Shell station in Cambridge used to have a sign in front advertising NO ETHANOL. Not anymore. (This struck me as a bold statement, considering its proximity to the corn fields.) Apparently, the station is now required by Wisconsin law to supply gasoline with ethanol. So now only the Shell V Power 93 octane fuel is unadulterated. It costs $0.30 (about 7%)per gallon more, but yields about 9% better mileage (29.2 mpg versus 26.7 mpg as tested this morning on Interstate 39 in my 2003 Passat V6 4 Motion Wagon--I filled up with gas without ethanol for my trip and drew the tank down to empty before refueling with 89 octane 10% ethanol at a Kwiktrip in Stevens Point).

Briq's Root Beer Float

2008-07-11T13:20:00.000-07:00

Visits to the A&W Drive In were always a treat. Those heavy chilled mugs with frothy root beer more than compensated for the mediocre burgers. A scoop of vanilla ice cream added to the suds was transcendent. Both were changed in delightful ways: the root beer lost some of its heavy sweetness and the ice cream grew a crunchy crust.

I don't know if A&W still uses glass mugs. I was about to find out when I ran across Briq's Soft Serve on the north side of Wausau, Wisconsin. Classic walk up joint with picnic tables under shade trees. Since I was already primed for a root beer float, I ordered one at Briq's. Apparently the creator of the Briq's version had a passing familiarity with icebergs: the vast majority of the Briq's soft serve ice cream lurked below the surface. No surprise coming from a place which is the "home of the one pound ice cream cone." I ordered a small and it was enough for a small family.

At some point, I will investigate the use of glass mugs at A&W, but only if I don't pass an independent drive in on the way.

Briq's is located just off US 51 on Merrill Road in the general direction of the A&W.

Cajun Chowder in Coloma

2008-07-11T13:03:00.000-07:00

There are no gators in Coloma, Wisconsin and nothing remotely like a bayou. But somehow the magicians in the kitchen at the Coloma Coffeehouse figured out the cajun thing anyway. Maybe it has something to do with the humitidity this summer. The chowder was packed with seafood; the broth was thick; the pepper was spot on; I had to hunt for the rice. I wish I had ordered the bowl.

Coloma Coffeehouse, 157 N Front St,, Coloma WI 54930 715/228 JAVA (5282)

Cousin Ruth and the Stone Bones

2008-06-29T11:46:00.000-07:00

Years ago, Ruth discovered fossil camel and rhinoceros bones exposed in a mound in western Nebraska. This was no idle claim: the bones were properly identified, catalogued and displayed at the University of Nebraska in Lincoln with full credit given to the finder. Yesterday, we returned to the site of her discovery.

A Brule clay mound rose about 100 feet above the surrounding terrain. Ruth said the fossils she found were "just lying on the ground." I was incredulous. "A tooth was exposed, and then we dug out the jaw." The mound was located about two miles north of the North Platte about 200 feet higher than the current highwater mark but still well within the wide valley the river has cut over eons. The ground was littered with smooth, flat granite and basalt stones which had been carried from the mountains several hundred miles to the west and then deposited here when the channel shifted south.

William, Ruth's son, made the first new discovery. It was a rib fragment which "chinged" when he tapped it against another rock. He thought it was metal and was prepared to discard it. Soon his brother Edward found some fossil bone fragments. They were indeed just lying on the ground. They were near the top of the mound and somewhat protected by thick slabs of limestone which originally capped the oligocene clay mound and inhibited erosion. The age of clay suggests the bones we found protruding from it were 25-30 million years old.

Matt from Galesburg

2008-06-27T16:25:00.000-07:00

Matt climbed into the Hertz Subaru Outback outside Hot Springs, South Dakota. He was on his way to New Mexico via the Four Corners and Grand Canyon. Originally from Galesburg, Illinois, he has worked as a day laborer and made his home in Texas, Florida or on the road. When I met him, he was seeing "a bit of the country."

If he still had his scooter, I would not have met him. It was impounded in Florida. Matt was passionate about scooters. He could get over 100 miles per gallon. He had traveled from Texas to Illinois on about six gallons of gas. He could carry his pack on the running board. He had nothing good to say about the police, especially the police in Louisiana. They harassed him and confiscated his scooters; his driver's license too. He was on his way to New Mexico because he had heard it was easy to get a new license there.

Matt's backpack was stretched drum tight. He claimed it weighed 100 pounds. Having seen the effort required to heft it, I had no reason to doubt that figure. He carried his life in that pack. He had foot long spikes to secure his tent and a hatchet to cut firewood.

He was dressed in shorts, heavy boots and wore a camouflage baseball cap. On the road, he was called Willy for obvious reasons; he even had the ponytail. He was lean and tanned like a Gulf Coast fisherman. He had professional tattoos on his arms and chest and amateur ink on his fingers. He complained that he could no longer hike 20 miles with his pack due to a bad back.

We crossed the North Platte in Bridgeport, Nebraska and stopped at Runza for a late lunch. He remembered having something like a Runza in LA about 20 years ago. It was a calzone. I had wolfed down half my Runza before I noticed how slowly and deliberately he ate. We returned to the bridge over the Platte and I dropped him off; 140 miles closer to the Grand Canyon than he had been a couple hours earlier. He would make camp under the bridge.

Matt turned 49 last week; he was born on June 18, 1959.

Breakfast at Bully's

2008-06-27T12:31:00.000-07:00

Presidents are a big deal in Rapid City. Bronze statues of greet pedestrians in the historic district. At Mount Rushmore, Teddy Roosevelt may literally be in the shadow of Washington, Jefferson and Lincoln, but he is remembered with exceeding warmth in town. Bully Blends Coffee & Tea Shop is a case in point.

For breakfast I had an excellent Bullrito. Offering a half portion was a fine idea because it allowed me to rationalize the purchase of a dangerous Bullrownie. (You can't be too careful when venturing out across the high plains.) Everything is made in house and the staff is gracious to a fault.

Granite Faces in the Black Hills

2008-06-27T08:53:00.000-07:00

A Glass of Your Own

2008-06-26T21:03:00.000-07:00

Barely Blond might describe the woman behind the bar or the draft she drew from the keg. Tonight the Firehouse Brewery had five of their own craft brews on tap. The jolly couple to my right proposed the Blond and Megan, the bartender, seconded the motion. Barely Blond was a voluptuous ale: great body with Eastern European hop sass. If I were a local, I would have enjoyed it in my own numbered glass.

Sullivan's Brontosaurus

2008-06-25T20:38:00.001-07:00

Jurassic Park reinvented dinosaurs. Before Steven Speilberg brought them back to life, however, they were dusty skeletons in natural history museums or Emmit Sullivan sculptures in South Dakota's Dinosaur Park.

Dimetrodon

Sullivan rendered tail dragging, reptilian behemoths life size in concrete over steel mesh and then painted them bright green. Today they look cartoonish, but I suspect that has more to do with what has happened to dinosaurs over the seven decades which have passed since Sullivan and his WPA crew were at work.

The fate of two iconic dinosaurs, brontosaurus and trachodon, tells part of the story. They were demoted. Brontosaurus has been reclassified as Apatosaurus; Trachodon is now Hadrosaurid. Both were the creations of early bone hunters. Later research has shown they were cobbled together from two or more creatures. But they captured the imagination and became real for generations of enthusiasts.

Trachodon and Brontosaurus

Paleontologists have a much deeper understanding of dinosaurs now than they did in Sullivan's time. The closest living relatives of dinosaurs, we are told, are birds, not reptiles. Most probably were not green; they probably did not drag their tails. Contrary to conventional wisdom, they were survivors and ruled the planet for over 100 million years. Only recently did we learn their tenure was abruptly terminated when the Earth collided with a very large rock (estimated to be about the size of Mount Everest) 63 million years ago. Otherwise, they might still be in charge.

Stegosaurus

None of that serious scholarship detracts from the charm of the Dinosaur Park. Sullivan's sculptures will continue to inspire. Kids at least. Riding Triceratops beats peering at presidents on Mount Rushmore any day.

T. Rex and Triceratops