Smoky Joe

I'm not entirely sure what happened to the one we had in college. My mom gave it to us for Christmas one year, and we used it quite a bit. Then we moved back to Memphis and we didn't really have a good place to cook out, if you see what I'm saying. I remember, there right after we moved back, that there were two Smoky Joe's at my mom's house. One belonged to my sister Julie.

I took one of them to my friend Jennifer's house one Sunday to cook out. As far as I know she still has it. I wonder if that one was mine or Julie's?

Anyway, we've got one now, so Monday night I cooked out - nothing fancy, just hamburgers and chicken legs. It went well, except that...well, you know, there's the grill you cook on, and then there's another, smaller grill that goes down below. That's what the charcoal sits on. Well, I forgot to put the little grill in there. Hell, I didn't even realize there was a little grill 'til Sonya brought it out and showed to me, and by then the starter fluid-engorged flames were leaping merrily.

Therefore, we had slow-cooked burgers and chicken legs. They were still very tasty.

Yesterday, Sonya was afraid that she might catch the agoraphobia if she didn't get out of the house. So we got out last night. We had some high-quality Indian food at Nirvana, right down the street from our apartment. I parked out front.

"Are they open?" Sonya asked.

"Let me check," I volunteered.

I walked up to the door and looked inside. I still couldn't tell. So I opened the door and asked the three tuxedo'd waiters if they were open.

They assured me that they were open for business.

The service was attentive, the food was excellent and there was no beef on the menu. Just like and Indian restaurant in London!

Then we went down to the Quarter and rode the ferry across the river. The ferry crossed the wake of a massive freighter just after it had passed; we were standing on the forward rail and were sprayed with river water.

We both made nasty faces and wiped our mouths quickly; we are from this part of the country, you see, and know just how filthy the Mississippi is.

Afterwards we went to Virgin and shopped for a while, then drove around for a bit and closed the evening at Cafe du Monde, eating beignets and huffing sugar all over the place. It was a nice night; Sonya got out of the house and I was reminded, hey, dumbass, you live here. You should enjoy it.

And we'll get out again tonight, as the Psychedelic Furs are playing at Tipitina's this evening. First Furs concert, first trip to Tipitina's. I'm excited.

Hell, one of the reasons I moved here was the excellent music. There's this show - and the Lords of Acid are also playing at the House of Blues tonight. I'll catch them next time - they seem to play here every few weeks.

Later on in the month both the Iguanas and the Cult will be playing gigs in town. Cool.

Addendum

Well, the Wife and I decided not to go to the Furs show tonight. It was mutually decided that the family was just as happy staying home, watching Survivor and eating spaghetti.

I walked down to the A & P earlier for some Coke. Our neighborhood is very interesting. Our little stretch of Magazine Street in very much small-town Main Street - hardware store, antiques, drugstore, grocery store, bars, restaurants, coffee joints...well, a small town with a drinking problem, anyway. What I mean is it's all very comfortable and chummy and home-like.

But you go a couple of block back towards the river and you're (as Elvis used to say) "in the ghetto." Sonya and I drove through it last night and it is quite unsavory. However, you go a block or two toward St. Charles and, if you have a few million dollars lying around, you can get a Civil War-era mansion. Neat neighborhood.

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