WANT SOMETHING DIFFERENT?

Elise Did Want Something Different; She Wanted A Piece Of Cake
2008 | acrylic on wood | 8.75 in. x 8.75 in.
Contact David Lusk Gallery

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As it turns out, I came home from Baltimore with quite a lot of thrifted loot in my suitcase--more than I thought, actually. And, while I haven't really offered up an inventory of all of my new treasures, it looks as though I'm starting to do that by writing about these new paintings. First the vintage pancake recipe, then the embroidery floss, and now a 1931 cookbooklet of Jell-O recipes. This little gem of a book was impossible to resist not only for its incredible cover, but for the charming illustrations and recipes inside. With things like "Sea Dream Salad," "Daffodil Sponge," and--my favorite--"Nippy Tongue Combination Plate," dare I say, I'm inspired to stock up on some J-e-l-l-O.

Part of the reason my friend Katie and I ventured into an antique mall in Baltimore was that I was looking for some new inspiration for paintings. My husband would be quick to argue--and has already--that there's no possible way I've painted every single tchotchke in the house and why, pray tell, do I think I need more. But, even though I have more than my fair share of personal clutter, a gal can always use an extra little jolt of inspiration, wouldn't you agree?

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SEA DREAM SALAD

1 package Lime Jell-O
1 cup boiling water
1 cup cucumber, grated
1 tablespoon vinegar
1 teaspoon onion juice
Dash of Cayenne
1/2 teaspoon salt

Dissolve Jell-O in boiling water. Add cucumber, vinegar, onion juice, Cayenne, and salt. Force through sieve. Turn into mold. Chill until firm. Cut in squares and serve on crisp lettuce. Garnish with Hellmann's Mayonaise. Serves 6.

FOR THE LOVE OF OYSTERS...AND SYMBOLS

Once Clara and Ben Were Back in New Orleans, They Tried Everything 

2008 | acrylic on wood | 6 in. x 6 in.

Contact David Lusk Gallery

* * *

Oysters have been cropping up in my paintings for a little while now. It all started with an oral history project to document the seafood industry in Apalachicola, which I conducted back in 2006. You have to know that, before I left for Apalach, as the locals call it, I was pretty ambivalent about oysters. I'd eat them, but I never particularly enjoyed them. That is, until I spent some time on Florida's Forgotten Coast. There, I met the most incredible, generous, down-to-earth people, who shared their lives and their stories with me and, well, quite a lot of oysters. Now I don't know if many of you out there have ever tasted an oyster, for one, the moment it came out of the water or, more importantly, the moment it came right out of the Apalachicola Bay. I've never experienced anything quite like it, before or since. These oysters are plump and salty with a little sweet spot when you bite into them. I was hooked immediately. And I was also spoiled. The last time I was there, my friend and oysterman A L. Quick plucked a cooler-full of oysters out of the bay for me to bring home to Mississippi. And now this is something that you have to try and wrap you're head around: If you live in Apalach (or Eastpoint, where A.L. lives), oysters are right in your front yard and, if you have a boat and a bucket, you can have a feast of bivalves any time you want. It's like going to the grocery store for a loaf of bread, only it's not a loaf of bread. It's oysters. And they're free.

A couple of months after an SFA field trip to Apalach, my friends Ann & Johnny in DC commissioned me to do a couple of paintings for their restaurant, Johnny's Half Shell. Ann, already a fan of my work, was inspired by her time in Apalach, knew that I was too, and put two and two together. So what do you use as subject matter in a painting that's going to hang in a seafood restaurant? Oysters, of course. And crabs. I thought about Apalach the entire time I worked on those paintings. And I'm still very fond of them, despite all of the time that's passed since they were created.

A year later, I was asked to do another commission, this time for some Amy Art fans in Maine. They asked me to do a painting to commemorate a family oyster roast that happens in Georgia every year around Thanksgiving. Again, I thought of Apalach. 

I must also add here that oysters are super satisfying to paint. I geek out about all the layers of light and color inside those shells. I really hit my stride with the shells when I did the Maine commission. After painting one meaty oyster in its shell, I realized how much color was in the shell itself and decided that the other oysters in the painting would be shells only, no meat. A very good decision, I think.

So when I sat down to start working on a new body of work for this show at David Lusk Gallery, I spent some time combing through my house, looking for objects to paint. One of the first things I picked up was a bottle of Marie Laveau's Venus Oil. Believe it or not, I've had this bottle of Venus Oil since high school. My friend Lida brought it back as a souvenir from a family trip, and I've managed to hold on to it all this time. When I picked it up, I immediately thought of New Orleans, of course, and then, what else, oysters. It took no time to figure out what this painting was about. 

So Clara and Ben did go back to New Orleans, and they did try everything.

* * *

A note on the letter "f":

Those of you who know my work, know that I am fond of incorporating words and numbers in my paintings. There are a lot of reasons for this, explanations for which will come up when talking about some of my other new paintings, I'm sure. But for now, let's talk about the letter "f".

It all really started with the crab and oyster paintings for Johnny's Half Shell. When I began sketching out ideas for those paintings, all I could think about were antique prints. I have a degree in printmaking, you know, and I still have an affinity for the craft. A lot of antique prints were made as illustrations--or "plates"--for books. Here's a wonderful example of some antique engravings--again, plates--of seashells. You'll notice that the engravings are titled "Plate VI," "Plate XIX," et cetera. And on each plate, there are individual images of shells, which have corresponding letters (or numbers), which are part of a key, if you will, to the illustration. So, for instance, "Plate VII, Figure f" might be a scallop shell. It's all about identification.

Now, if you'll look again at the  crab and oyster paintings, the reasoning behind the incorporation of these single letters starts to make sense. It might also help make sense of the "Plate 32" and "Plate 57" that appear in the upper right hand corner of each painting. And then, to take it even further, you should get a laugh at my inclusion of an actual dinner plate--a play on words and a little play on the fact that the paintings were for a restaurant.

I included an "f" in the painting above for many of the same reasons. But here, especially, the "f" serves as another little element to further round out the image. It's not just a still life anymore, and it's not just a story about Clara and Ben. It has that little something extra that, really, can mean whatever you want it to mean.

Amy Art demystified! Wait a minute, is this a good thing?

MA VIE EN ROSE

Katie's soon-to-be four-year-old daughter, Isadora, drew this picture of me during my visit to Baltimore last weekend. I think it's a pretty good likeness. 

Thanks, Isadora! I sure wish I could climb a tree with you today!

A TALE OF THREE APARTMENTS

Before Katie and I hit the bricks in Hampden, we wandered the alleys of our old neighborhood, Bolton Hill.

1. 1508 Mt. Royal Ave.: Our class (the graduating class of 1993) was the last class to be assigned a block of brownstones as freshman student housing. We all really felt like we were truly on our own, living in awesome apartments, and surrounded by friends. I shared the third floor of this joint with a couple of women I haven't managed to keep up with (one, quite honestly, I was glad to see transfer after only a year at MICA). Katie was living large at the end of the block in an apartment all to herself. I ended up over there a lot to eat spaghetti, gossip, and listen to Everything But the Girl.

2. 1403 Park Ave.: As soon as our freshman year was over, Katie and I conspired to rent a place together. We enlisted our friend Gene to share the lease with us. It was a cover up for his parents back in Miami; Gene was really shacking up with his boyfriend a few blocks away. The ruse definitely worked in Gene's favor but ours too: Katie and I enjoyed a huge apartment on the third floor for just the two of us and cheap rent. That summer we got another roommate: our dog June. Katie and I lived here for two years and in those two years we hosted many visitors and a ton of friends. Lots of memories were made on Park Ave.

3. 1519 Bolton St.: After two years on Park Ave., Katie and her sister, Heather, moved in together, and I had a chance to take over a friend's apartment on Bolton Street. I needed someone to share the rent, so I roped my dear friend Brian into leaving his efficiency apartment on Mt. Royal to share digs with me for our senior year. I think he made the right decision. Brian, got any pics of the voodoo corner?

The moral of this story is that Baltimore walk-ups are perfect digs for the art school crowd, but this thirty-something sometime painter likes to hang her hat in a little house on a handful of acres in rural Mississippi. It sure took a while to get here, but I'm damn glad I did. Still, I wouldn't trade those Charm City memories for anything.

A PRESCRIPTION FOR PANCAKES

After a week of collecting wine oral histories in Virginia and before the Cornbread Nation dinner in DC, I spent some time with my college roommate, Katie, and her family in Baltimore. And I have to say here that her husband, Dan, made some killer pancakes on Saturday morning that went completely undocumented, and I feel bad about that. But sometimes you want to just participate and not document, if you know what I mean. Such was my state of mind on Saturday morning in their kitchen, playing with their kids, and watching pancakes rise on the griddle. So, sorry, Dan. Your pancakes were definitely blog worthy.

Little did I know, though, that there would be more pancakes later on that afternoon. After lunch at the super awesome thrift-decorated Golden West Cafe in Baltimore's Hampden neighborhood, Katie and I did a little thrifting of our own. We browsed the isles of an antique mall just down the block, and I walked out with a handful of treasures. An inventory of those treasures will come later. For now, know that my thrifted bounty included a couple of pages cut from vintage cookbooks: one of cake recipes, one of pancakes (pictured above). I gravitated to them for the wonderful illustrations. When I unpacked them and spent some time admiring their simple beauty and my awesome find, I decided to try one of the recipes.

This morning, I made pancakes. How could I resist, right? The Sour Milk Griddle Cakes seemed like the perfect way to start my day. So I got out a bowl, sifted some flour, added some salt and baking soda, and then I opened the refrigerator for an egg. After a week away, wouldn't you know it, there wasn't an egg in sight. Oddly, however, we did have some shortening and buttermilk in stock, which I had laid eyes on earlier and which inspired confidence in my task in the beginning. But you can't make pancakes without an egg, so my hopes were quickly dashed. I was about to resign myself to a breakfast of plain yogurt when I decided to tromp down the driveway to my neighbor's house and borrow an egg. I was going to have Sour Milk Griddle Cakes, dammit.
As I made my way down the driveway, I noticed that our blackberry bushes we not only full with fruit, they were full with ripe fruit. Blackberry Sour Milk Griddle Cakes! I picked up my pace to reach my neighbor's house. Melanie was home and more than happy to let me have an egg. After I got the egg safely to my kitchen, I grabbed a bowl and headed back out to the driveway for a blackberry harvest.
Soon, there were Blackberry Sour Milk Griddle Cakes on a plate and drenched with syrup. Dare I even say, these were the fluffiest, tastiest, most satisfying pancakes I think I have ever had. I don't know if it was the scavenger hunt that it took to put them together, the simple addition of the fresh berries, the classic recipe or, I admit, my appetite, but I do know that at approximately 10:30 a.m. this morning I was in heaven--Blackberry Sour Milk Griddle Cake Heaven.

Unfortunately, though, there's no butter in heaven. Someone needs to go to the grocery store.

* * *

UPDATE: Miss Lara requested the recipe, so here it is in an easy-to-read format.

SOUR MILK GRIDDLE CAKES
Via a random page torn from a vintage cookbook, verbatim

2 cups sifted flour
1 teaspoon Arm & Hammer or Cow Brand Baking Soda
1 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon sugar
2 1/2 cups sour milk or buttermilk
1 egg, well beaten
1 tablespoon shortening, melted

Sift flour once, measure, add baking soda, salt and sugar and sift again. Combine milk, egg and shortening. Add to flour mixture. Stir only until smooth. Bake on hot, greased griddle. Makes 2 dozen cakes.


NOTES:
--I halved the recipe (everything but the egg, of course), and they came out beautifully. But FYI, half of the recipe only made five pancakes about five inches in diameter, not a dozen.
--I only sifted all of the dry ingredients once.
--I never grease my griddle.
--Definitely add fresh berries!
--Cow Brand Baking Soda was, evidently, the very first brand on the market. In 1896 the brand was absorbed by Arm & Hammer. History here. Great image here.

FATHER'S DAY IN CHARM CITY

I arrived in the Mid-Atlantic on Sunday and spent some time with my friend Fletcher, before heading to Virginia wine country. Fletcher and I met in 1989, just before I left Houston to attend art school in Baltimore. The last time we saw each other was just before I left Houston for Mississippi, which was in 2001. Now I'm in Mississippi, and he's in Baltimore--a crazy circle that has brought us back together again.

Fletcher teaches at my alma mater, the Maryland Institute College of Art, so we met at one of the buildings on campus, the Station Building. It was surreal to have two worlds--Houston friends and college days--collide in that parking lot. Somehow, though, it all made sense.

We enjoyed an incredible Thai lunch downtown (oh, my, how Baltimore has changed), and then went gallery hopping. At one opening, in another strange and serendipitous encounter, we ran into Rebecca, who was at MICA with me and founded a wonderful community arts organization in Baltimore, Kids on the Hill, in 1997. Then we wandered the galleries--and the gift shop--of the American Visionary Art Museum (!), hit the bricks in Fells Point, and toured the MICA campus. It was the perfect prelude to a week of work on the road.

Thanks, Fletcher, for a fabulous afternoon. Now, get your butt to Mississippi!

ON THE ROAD AGAIN

Wines, originally uploaded by niznoz

I'm hitting the road tomorrow, this time for Virginia. I'm embarking on a project to document Southern wine, which should be both fun and, ahem, intoxicating. I'm looking forward to being a little closer to the Mason-Dixon line for a change, as well as enjoying a little break from all things barbecue.

I'm also looking forward to seeing a few friends. I end my travels in Washington DC, where I get to hang with my college roommate, the one and only Katie Morris, whom I haven't seen in more than a decade. That us in the photo above, goofing off in front of the Main Building at the Maryland Institute College of Art in Baltimore after the year's first snowfall, circa 1989. And yep, that's me wearing red glasses AND red ropers. You can take the girl out of Texas....

I'm also sneaking in a visit with an old friend from Houston, Fletcher Mackey, who, as luck or fate would have it, is now teaching at my alma mater. Fletcher is a friend and mentor. We've worked together, taken road trips together, and he was one of the key people who supported my crazy idea to go back to school...in Mississippi.

And then, to cap off the week, I get to see friend, Amy Art collector, and super talented chef, Ann Cashion, at one of her DC restaurants for a celebration dinner in support of the release of the SFA's recently published collection of food writing (and Amy Photographs) Cornbread Nation 4. And I'll let you in on a little secret: there's gonna be red velvet cake!

I plan to post from the road, so check in for updates on wine, friends and, of course, cake.

A SPICY WEEKEND

Behold an example of some of the shenanigans I got into while attending the Franklin Food & Spirits Festival. This photo was taken by my friend Jeff Moore (thanks, Jeff!), who happened to step up to the window for an order of hot chicken, while I was in the truck taking photographs as part of the oral history interview I did with Bolton's Spicy Chicken & Fish of Nashville. Below is a photo of their spicy chicken-on-a-stick. Yep, it's pretty darned hot. Almost as hot as it was at the festival. 

A STORY ABOUT VERMICELLI

I love Vietnamese food. You know that. When I moved to Mississippi from Texas, I thought I'd miss all of my favorite Tex-Mex restaurants the most. I was wrong. I missed Van Loc. 

A couple of weeks ago, Van Loc came to me. Kind of. Poppy and Liz, two of my high school girlfriends, came to town. (That's the three of us pictured above: Poppy, Liz, and me.) One night, Poppy made us dinner: Bun Heo Xao (stir-fried pork with vermicelli). It was awesome. Somehow I never realized that vermicelli noodles could be found at our local Kroger. I had to catch my breath as Poppy picked up a package of vermicelli from the bottom shelf on the Asian Food aisle. I had never--not once--noticed vermicelli in my Kroger. I felt like an idiot but was certainly glad to know vermicelli could now be had any time I wanted it. What a revelation.

 So last night, after Kurt and  went grocery shopping, I came home and made Bun Tom Xao (stir-fried shrimp with vermicelli, pictured up top). It was awesome, too. There are a couple of things I'll do differently next time, but for my first time out of the gate, I must say, it rocked. 

Kurt and I ate our supper of Bun Tom Xao on the front porch and had this captive audience drooling the entire time. Jerry Lee has only appeared on the blog once before. He's settled into things here at  the homestead quite well, as you can see. Although Jackson still doesn't understand why Jerry Lee insists on nipping at his butt all of the time.

Also last night, I made some marinated carrots. Something inspired me to recreate the spicy marinated carrot salad they have at one of my favorite taquerias in Houston, Taqueria Tapatia on Richmond. I have to say, I don't know why I never tried this before. It's so very easy and so super awesome. It'll be just the thing to go with the Ninfa's chicken fajitas I'll be making tomorrow night. I'll also be trying my hand at making homemade tortillas. Wish me luck.

Okay, so I do miss the Tex-Mex.

BABY DONKEY SAVES THE DAY

There's a very good reason for the long silence here at Made in Mississippi. All I'm going to say about that, though, is that it took a picture of a baby donkey to inspire a new post after my two weeks away.  

My friend Katherine emailed this precious photograph to me a few weeks ago, not long after my trip to Portland. I happened to visit Katherine--and her donkeys and sheep and chickens and goat--while I was in Oregon and, as you might imagine, we had a lovely visit. It did rain and the barn was muddy, but there was also laughter and pie. In fact, Katherine has told the whole story on her blog. I was going to do the same, but she beat me to the punch. I'll let her telling of my visit suffice. The only thing I'll add is that I am even more obsessed with the idea of having a donkey--okay, a couple of donkeys--of my own after spending an afternoon on her farm with Pino, Paco and sweet, sweet Lucia.

This little guy here was born, as I said, just after my visit, to Katherine's donkey-raising friend down the road. I wish they could pack him up and send him on down to Mississippi. There's really nothing cuter than a baby donkey.

Thanks, little fella, for bringing me back.

ROAD TRIP REWIND: FROM THE BEGINNING

Please know that this photo in no way represents the time I spent with my mom in Portland. It just happens that this is the very first photo I took. It's going to take me a while to sift through the 200+ images from our trip, so I thought I'd start off simple--from the beginning.

I saw this sign on our walk from the hotel to the Chinese Classical Garden early Friday morning. I took the photo for my friend Mary, creative gal and mother of one. She got a kick out of it, as you might imagine.

By the way, the Chinese Classical Garden was incredible. And yes, there are plenty of pictures. Stay tuned for tomorrow's installment: The Tao of Tea.

PORTLAND BOUND

Hard to believe I'm about to be on the road again. Even so, I'm excited about catching a plane to Stumptown.

My mom and are taking a little girls' trip. Last year, we went to Santa Fe (and Truchas and Chimayo and Bandelier). This year, we thought we'd go somewhere we've never been. Oddly enough, it seems Portland is all the rage these days, so we're pretty happy with our destination of choice. We're also looking forward to some yummy food, pretty scenery, and a visit with friends. I'll spill the beans on the details of our itinerary upon my return--with pictures, of course.

Still, I'm bummed about all the great goings-on that I'll be missing while I'm away: my friend Leyla's play, Secret Histories: Oxford; another friend's wedding; the Juke Joint Festival in Clarksdale; the Crosstie Arts Festival in Cleveland; and probably a slew of other fun springtime-in-Mississippi happenings that I don't even need to hear about. If you're reading this, and you're in Mississippi, please take advantage of all the cool stuff going on this weekend.

For the rest of you, I'll see you back here next Wednesday.

LIFE IS GOOD...

...When you own a canoe.

Saturday, Kurt and I took a little road trip to Memphis to pick up our new toy (and some Thai food). We'd been wanting a canoe ever since our friend, Nick, brought his over to our house for a little yard party that we had last year. Needless to say, it was a big hit--with our guests and with us. Now that we have what amounts to two ponds, it seemed obvious that we were in need of a canoe of our own.

We christened our new Old Town with the help of our friends April and Chris and their son, Jonah, Saturday night. I'm telling you, there's nothing like a campfire and dinner by the pond, prefaced by a little paddling in the canoe.

And so you know, Jerry Lee has taken to riding in the canoe. He's a good little passenger, too. Jackson, on the other hand, is content to sit in the yard and watch.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, CAMEY!

Actually, Camey's birthday was yesterday. But just this afternoon, as I was digging through my wallet, I flipped past this picture of Camey and was reminded of her big day.

Camey is daughter to Liz, one of my high school girlfriends. She also happens to be named after me: Cameron, which is my middle name (you've been wondering what the "C" stands for, haven't you?). The picture here is pretty old, oh, by about nine or ten years. Notice the cute rocking chair she's sitting in; I painted that.

So now Camey is a pre-teen. I can hardly believe it. And God help me, Liz, if you post a comment here, telling me that Camey has actually turned thirteen. I think I might lose it.

Anyway, all this is to say that, Camey, I wish you the happiest of birthdays. May there be lots and lots of cake!

CAKE OR PIE?

Two friends have blogged about my preoccupation with both cake and pie in as many days.

Sara's post, Porn Pie Wars, on her blog, Gumbo & Other Tales, is a funny analysis of some cream-topped pie she encountered while in Arkansas. It's also a little jab about me torturing my own readers with photographs of pie. After you read about the chocolate cream concoction pictured here, take some time to devour some of Sara's other posts. They'll make you hungry for more than pie.

And then, just today, Miss Linda over at Abby Creek Art, took the time to make mention of me and my dessert obsession in her wedding anniversary post, of all things. There's a funny story about this fabulous-looking Italian cream cake, so hop on over and read all about it. And do take the time to eat up some of Linda's fabulous paintings, while you're there.

Thanks for the cake/pie love, ladies! If pounds were gained by looking at pictures, I'd definitely say y'all owe me one--or two.

And so you know, if I have to choose, it's pie. All day long.

QUEEN MARY

So yesterday was Mary Shepard's last day as owner of Club Ebony. They were calling it a retirement party, but it was really a tribute to the place and, most of all, the woman. Mary Shepard was crowned "Queen of the Jook" and sat in a throne at the foot of the bandstand to receive flowers and gifts and words from friends. Mississippi Governor Haley Barbour even issued a proclamation, naming April 6, 2008 Mary Shepard Day. There was music. There was cake. And yes, a few tears.

Even though Ms. Shepard is no longer at the helm of this legendary blues club, she'll still be a fixture. She's been given the title of honorary griot for the soon-to-open B. B. King Museum down the street, and you can be sure she'll be popping into her old club from time to time to hear some of those down home blues. And, as she joked to the crowd yesterday, she's got a little something else up her sleeve.

Mary Shepard may have retired, but she's sure not going to quit.

ONE MORE CLUB EBONY STORY

Kurt and me with Mary Shepard at our wedding after-party at Club Ebony, March 2005


A couple of months ago, I received this email:

-----

Subject: With joy and sadness I found your blog
Amy--

I have been meaning to send you a note for the last few weeks...I Googled David Lee Durham a few days after he passed away, and I found your blog entry. So many folks were touched by his music and his character, he will be missed...Everyday...

What struck me was your photo. I was there that night, your Wedding Night...don't you remember(kidding, sometimes I think I am really funny)? Seriously, it was my first time seeing David and my first trip to Cub Ebony. I had only been in the Delta for a few weeks, working on a new business in Sunflower. Someone mentioned that if I loved live music, I had to visit Club Ebony. So, there I am the only Canadian white boy in the place, making some friends(or enemies) at the pool table... Next time I look up there is a mess o'white folks, cuttin it up the dance floor wearing green dresses and suits. I turned to my partner at the pool table...

Did the tour bus just pull in to town?
Um ya... Well...they have a bus.

The picture in my head of you dancing with Willie(I think) he had on his full suit, matching shoes and hat... Beautiful.

The waiter walked up to me and asked if I was with the wedding party?
I said no and continued to play.
When the waiter returned I stopped him

If I had said YES to being with the wedding party... I would have been
drinking for free?

Head nods and begins to walk away...

I should get ONE for being honest???

I stayed at the pool table as long as I could, playing all the locals and most of the Wedding party... the beer just kept coming and coming, complements of the house. Hands down the best time I have ever had in a bar with complete strangers. One of the many reasons I love the Delta..

-----

Amen.

IT'S A SMALL WORLD AFTER ALL

When I was in Chicago last week, my friend Mary Beth emailed me an article announcing that Club Ebony finally sold. B. B. King, Indianola native and frequent performer at the club, bought it. The previous owner, Mary Shepard, has been a friend of mine for a handful of years. She's owned and operated Club Ebony for longer: more than three decades. It's definitely the end of an era. And while it's pretty fantastic that Blues legend B. B. King now owns the place, there's no telling who's going to run it. I guess we'll just have to wait and see.

Also while I was in Chicago, I conducted an oral history interview with James Lemons, owner of Lem's Bar-B-Q. Mr. Lemons is originally from Indianola, B. B. King's hometown. So we got to talking about the famous bluesman, Club Ebony, and his cousin, Mary Shepard. Imagine my surprise.

So Ms. Shepard's last day at the club is this Sunday. I'm going to head on down to Indianola and Club Ebony to help send her off to retirement in style--and pass along a hug from her cousin in Chicago.

UPDATE: Indianola native, lawyer and friend of both Mary Shepard and B. B. King, Carver Randle, is serving as Club Ebony's general manager.

SO YOU KNOW I'M ALIVE AND WELL. AND FULL.

After a grueling but productive work trip to Chicago that was filled with lots of pork and lots of cake, I came home and had more cake. Pancakes, that is. A lazy Sunday morning after a long week away definitely calls for pancakes.

Usually, I'm a pancake purist: made from scratch, preferably buttermilk, with lots of butter and syrup. Sunday, I felt like getting a little fancy, so I broke out the lemon ricotta pancake recipe and served them with a maple cream (equal parts syrup and yogurt) and fresh strawberries. Pure heaven. I guess all of that on-the-road-eating inspired a little time spent in my own kitchen. Eating the pancakes on my grandmother's Fiestaware, with a perfect view of the pond and, of course, my husband across the table, made for a fantastic start to the day. Because you know what comes after pancakes: Nothing.

I must confess, though, that my time in Chicago wasn't just filled with pork and cake eaten on the run. My fabulous hosts, Leslie and Mike, treated me to more than a few fine meals. Leslie made some incredible homemade pizzas, we had ceviche, and there was Thai food. Thanks for the warm--and filling--hospitality, y'all. And Mike, thanks for stepping up to the barbecue plate and helping me with all of those rib tips.

I definitely look forward to another jaunt on up to Sweet Home Chicago, but for now, I'm really glad to be home.

CHICAGO BOUND

While Kurt continues digging in the dirt, planting seeds and enjoying spring in Mississippi, I'll be heading for chilly Chicago, where there's fresh snow on the ground. As always, though, it will be a wonderful trip, filled with great people, interesting stories and plenty of photographs.
















The photographs here are from my last trip to Chicago, which was back in 2001. It was the spring before I moved to Mississippi. My friends Claire and Russell few me up to the Windy City, where they were living at the time, for my birthday. It was a fabulous weekend. And if memory serves, even spring in Chicago is pretty darn chilly.

I'm looking forward to being in the big city, but it's going to be hard to miss a week of this glorious weather we've been having here. I just hope I don't miss the dogwoods.