This and That

I have been meaning to blog about this stuff for days now and just didn't have enough material for a whole blog, so I'll just lump them all together...

Over on Speaker Tweaker's blog http://speakertweaker.blogspot.com, "Where Sometimes Things Go BANG!", he was talking about a food he loved as a child. And that reminded me of a food I loved as a child... pimento cheese. I had lunch with Claudia and Dian last Friday. We all had sammies. Claudia had pimento cheese on buttered, toasted sour dough. I was sorely tempted, but I finally decided on the Fried Green Tomata sammie. With big thick waffle fries. Oy! My Gatos, we're talking foodgasm, y'all! The tomatas were big ole thick ones. and I had 'em serve it on sour dough instead of the baguette the menu called for. And it came with melted jack cheese. It was nothing short of divine.
If the pimento cheese had been on my fav bread for PC, I would have ordered that, but they didn't have any Cinnamon Raisin bread. Now, just STOP right there! I know you're about to say, "yuck" , but don't knock it 'til you've tried it. The texture of the cinnamon bread is so different from the smoothness of the PC, and the spiciness of the cinnamon just sets off the taste of the cheese flavor to perfection. Try it sometime.

Oh, back in January, I went to Red, Hot and Blue a place that bills itself as Memphis Pit Bar-B-Que in Dallas. I've never been to Memphis...but if that's indicative of their bar-b-que, I haven't missed much. But, their sauces DID have catchy names. VooDoo Child was Carolina Mild. Way too much vinegar in that one. Hoochie Coochie was their hot Bar-b-que sauce. Yeah, it was hot, but not much other taste to it. Mojo Mild...mild and sweet. And Suffering Sweet, too much sugar and vinegar, and way too thin.

The other story has been rattling around since Marko posted over on Munchkin Wrangler http://munchkin wrangler.blogspot.com that Quinn, his toddler, is somewhat dubious about sharing Mom and Dad's attention with the new baby Sister who arrived on Thursday last.
When we brought Son home from the hospital, Angel Baby Girl was sitting across the room on my MiL's lap. Son got a little fussy, so I started to nurse him. ABG shot across the room like a rocket and pulled Son's head away from my breast. She shook her finger at him, admonishing, "No, no, Baby! Don't bite Mama's titty!" It was the beginning of a life full of instructions she was to impart to her little bro.

And that's all that's been rattling around in what passes for my brain cavity for the last couple of days.