Rare, Collectible, & Otherwise

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Been there? Seen that?

It’s a feel-good moment when a place you’ve visited appears unexpectedly and you can say, Hey! I’ve been there! It happened for me when Tom Cruise traveled to a Caribbean island in his lawyer movie, The Firm. I briefly spotted a big hotel, and called out Hey! I’ve been there!

Anyone living in the Tulsa area will recognize a number of setting elements in William Bernhardt’s novels featuring attorney Ben Kinkaid, like the scene-setter in Blind Justice: “It took Ben over half an hour to return to his office. Most of Tulsa’s law firms, courthouses, government facilities, and business offices were in the central downtown area. The outer border was First Street, and north of First Street, there was nothing.”

Of course, that was pretty much true twenty years ago, when Blind Justice was published. There have been plenty of additions north of First since then, including ONEOK Field – the downtown home of the Tulsa Drillers, and all the new restaurants like McNellie’s Public House around the Blue Dome District. Still, you know EXACTLY where Ben Kincaid is headed, if you know downtown Tulsa.

I had a New York Times Aha! this morning. I was scanning a Food and Travel blog by Sadie Stein in which she was recalling the traditional old restaurants of NYC:

It’s easy to romanticize what’s past, to lament restaurants we never knew, dreaming of watching cooks make butter cakes in the foggy windows of Childs, waltzing into Le Pavillon for coq au vin or Luchow’s for sauerbraten, and taking ladies’ lunch at Mary Elizabeth’s. The remaining institutions take on a definite luster, a sort of faded chic. Part of it is, paradoxically, novelty: certain old restaurants, because they have not changed, now feel increasingly special, almost like stage sets come to life.

Luchow’s! Hey! I’ve been there!

I remember when we headed out that evening – so many years ago – Ed mentioned the limited number of opportunities to visit a true five-star restaurant, and Luchow’s German Restaurant, he said, was a Manhattan landmark. It was on East 14th near Union Square, and when it first opened in 1882, the area was mostly residential. It lasted there for one-hundred years. Shortly after we visited – within a couple of years of our schnitzelfest – the owners moved it to a new location closer to the theater district. The change failed and they folded.

The food? I don’t remember it so much as I recall the old-world atmosphere. Luchow’s was known for its wienerschnitzel and sauerbraten, but I wasn’t known for eating furrin’-sounding-food back then. Tastes change. I’m more familiar with Octoberfest feasts these days. Remember, though: It was five-star. It must have been tasty.

If there is anything in the Rose District that has been present for one-hundred years, someone will have to point it out to me – but traditions have to start somewhere. In the case of McHuston Booksellers & Irish Bistro, it starts every morning with a passel of fresh carrots, potatoes, and onions. Peeled (as you can see in the image), then diced, seasoned and stirred.

Irish Stew.

Great weather for it, and Shepherd Pie was Monday’s order of the day: freshly made stew topped with hand-mashed potatoes, grated cheddar, and roast beef gravy. Sold out.

But, there’ll be more prepared in the morning. Could be a tradition in the making, although I’m not going to trust myself with a chef’s knife a hundred years from now.

Come visit!

McHuston

Booksellers & Irish Bistro
Rose District
122 South Main St. Broken Arrow OK!

Five snow lessons learned.

It sometimes takes a little snow to warm up to learning. Here are some things I discovered over the past twenty-four hours:

1. I wouldn’t make it as a Mountain Man. Sure, I could work up the grizzled beard, the gravelly-voiced mumbling, and a campfire. But all the movies show the solitary outdoors-man tromping around in snow up to his kneecaps. That kicks me right out of the Mountain Man fraternity. Keep your snow. Take my share while you’re at it.

Besides that – where does the Mountain Man get his hot shower? There are few things more enjoyable than standing under that steamy blast when trying to pry the eyes open of a morning. Maybe the Mountain Man dunks his face in campfire coffee, I don’t know.

2. Snow has the effect of placing a red flashing beacon on the roof of any car driven by Joe Knucklehead, or any of his many cousins. When the weather is fair and the pavement is dry, the Knucklehead family tends to blend in until the last minute – when they shoot through a long-red light, make a four-lane U-turn in full-blown traffic, or weave across lines and lanes while texting. In the snow and ice, they are easier to spot – like this morning, when young-knuckle passed me in the opposite direction, grinning like crazy after wrestling his SUV back under control. When I first crept around the icy corner, Little Joe was skating down the street sideways after narrowly missing a curbside mailbox. That’s knuckle fun.

3. There is a distinct pleasure in having a reasonable excuse for a day off. Call it a Snow Day (everyone else does). It’s really a sick-day without the fibbing and the fake-cough-phone-call. It’s an alarm-off dismissal instead of snooze-button. And it’s guilt-free (pretty much). Having a collection of snow on the ground is like an open invitation to craziness; things like hot chocolate at mid-morning, a bundled-up snowdrift romp with the kids, or feet propped up in front of the fireplace. Kids love the snow. I think adults like the scrambling of life’s routines, with minimal consequence. Break out the Yahtzee!

4. It just takes a little accumulation of snow to separate out the human temperate zones. When I finally ventured outside, half-halfheartedly, to clear enough glass to get the car in a drivable state, I discovered my young neighbor happily shoveling the steps leading up to his apartment. Removing the snow was a necessity for him, I suppose, from a safety point of view – but he was clearly ENJOYING it! In fact, when he came over and helped me scrape the ice that I found under the collected snow, he admitted it outright. He likes everything about snow. Walking in it. Shoveling it. Playing in it. All that I dislike about snow (which is almost the entire experience), he treasures as a rare seasonal event. If he had not mentioned snow at the beginning of our conversation, I would have assumed he was talking about sand and sunshine and the Caribbean. That’s MY idea of a rare seasonal event.

And finally:

5. We are prone to taking a good night’s sleep for granted. My first thought at awakening this morning:

Ahhh, that was a good sleep…

Laying there with the quilt pulled up underneath my chin, feeling all warm and rested while sensing the coolness of the room, it was a distinct pleasure to appreciate a soft bed and pillow and a long night of restful sleep. It felt all the better after having spent the previous night trying to sleep atop a half-dozen conference table chairs pushed together in the bookstore. (A sleepover with the giants of literature. Otherwise called fear-of-snow-driving.) Sort of like relaxing for the night on a wooden picnic table, except the chairs scoot around and threaten to open a crevice that would drop a body straight to the floor. It’s too easy to wake up and complain to yourself about the hour, or the day of the weak (day of the week too…), or thirst, or a need to scamper to the bathroom. We take the bed and the sleep for granted, I think. I’m making a snow-pledge right now that I hope will carry over – even through next summer and fall. When I wake up, I’m going to enjoy having completed a night’s respite in a bed. With a pillow.

Personally, I like to learn something new every day, no matter how important or insignificant.

I like it better, though, when I can take my lessons without the snow drifts and ice scraping.

Folks are out and about even though it’s a frosty Saturday! Come visit!

McHuston

Booksellers & Irish Bistro
Rose District
122 South Main St. Broken Arrow OK!

The Nose knows. The Rose froze.

I’m not exactly trapped inside the shop, but I might as well be. Looking out the front door – unlocked, by the way, waiting for a delivery – it shames me that such a small amount of snow can cripple us here in Oklahoma.

A fellow did wander in a few moments ago, and there are cars and trucks grumbling up and down Main Street. It hasn’t been plowed or scraped. The sidewalks have not been shoveled. The tire ruts don’t even reach down to the pavement. There is activity out there, but it has little to do with commerce.

It was a judgment call this morning, trying to decide whether to prep up for a lunch service that might happen, or not. The parking spaces out front show a couple of tire tracks, but only a couple. There wasn’t a crowd at the door.

There is no weather vane, so I don’t know which direction the wind was blowing during the snowfall. I’m guessing it came out of the north, where they cook up this cold weather. That’s why the back door shows the car buried in the white stuff. I ought to get out there and dig it out but frigid temperatures and I don’t get along as well as we used to.

So, probably won’t be going for a spin in the next few hours anyway.

In the meantime, I’m sitting in the office waiting for a book delivery, trying to stay warm and wondering how long this winter snap will last.

We were just getting back on track ‘round here, as the construction gets closer to completion.

But for now, the Rose is froze.

Be careful out there.

McHuston

Booksellers & Irish Bistro
Rose District
122 South Main Street Broken Arrow OK!

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