A couple of weeks ago, when Judy was here, we stopped at Gullah Grub. It's a very nice restaurant in an old white house at the crossroads in Frogmore. (I say "the crossroads" because I don't really think it's big enough for more than one.) While we were there, there was a DVD playing with the chef showing you how to cook several dishes, including fried chicken. Unfortunately, fried chicken wasn't on the menu. As we were leaving, Judy commented that they would either have to change the DVD or start offering fried chicken. The young man behind the counter, who turned out to be the chef's son, went to get something for us and came back saying that he had told his Dad about our comment and Dad had said if we would call a day in advance, he would see that there was fried chicken for us.
We didn't make it back while Judy was still visiting, but I decided I would do this research on my own. I called to ask if the offer was still open. It was. I explained that there would be only one for fried chicken and that if it was too much trouble for just one person, I would completely understand. No, they said. They remembered the conversation and would be willing to make fried chicken even if it were just for me.
That, of course, could not be resisted. Yesterday I drove out to Frogmore again and was welcomed hospitably. The fried chicken duly appeared, along with butter beans and collards, as requested. I had to make myself slow down so as not to gulp it all down in a rush. It was that good. The collard greens and butter beans were better than I believe I have ever had, except maybe back when I was a kid visiting relatives in the South. I even got an explanation of how they got the chicken so crisp but light. I doubt I'll ever be able to come close to replicating it, but I will certainly remember it. Not to mention the good folks who were so kind and obliging.
Tuesday, April 22, 2014
Sunday, April 20, 2014
Labyrinth or The Way in is the Way Out.
I've always liked puzzles so it isn't particularly surprising that I've read a little about labyrinths. They seem to me to be a rather intriguing type of puzzle. They are not Theseus and the Minotaur type labyrinths, of course. They are a pattern laid out on the floor or the ground. In a sense there is no puzzle because it's all laid out in front of you. No secret to discover. Just the center.
Nevertheless, I was interested in the idea of the labyrinth being a tool, a means to examine things and perhaps know a little more at the end of the process. So when I was checking the internet for a local church for Holy Week, I was surprised that a local Lutheran church had a labyrinth and was inviting people to walk during Holy Week. The idea at that point was, of course, irresistible.
The church was relatively new - about 50 years old - and the labyrinth was a path on a canvas, a copy of the one at Chartres, spread on the floor of a room that looked as though it were for overflow crowds on days like Easter. A very welcoming lady talked with me a bit about the labyrinth and provided me with some prayers and psalms if I cared to use them as an aid while walking the path.
A labyrinth is a convoluted, complicated circle maze that leads to the center and back out to the entrance. There were two people walking the labyrinth. I began walking as well. Labyrinths do not require you to solve the maze, only to follow it. It's the simplest thing in the world. Right? So I progress slowly, stopping to think, to look at the church banners decorating the walls, to read one of the prayers or one of the psalms. All very solemn. All very 'intellectual'. Then I look up and see that one of the other walkers is on the same section of path but heading toward me. How could this happen? I run my eyes quickly and as accurately as I can over the path that I have taken. What did I do wrong? Where did I make a misstep? And what on earth do I do now?
The first thing I did, of course, was to step out of the way and let the lady continue on her path. Then I tried once again to visually go over the path I had taken up to that point. Still can't see what went wrong. Can't figure it out, so I step quickly over to the beginning area and start over. Going more quickly and still trying to figure it out. Then it hits me. The way in is the way out. The path takes you to the center and then it takes you out of the center and back to the beginning. No one was wrong. No one had made a misstep. "And I am right and you are right and all is right as right can be. " There is truth in Gilbert and Sullivan and there is truth in the labyrinth.
Nevertheless, I was interested in the idea of the labyrinth being a tool, a means to examine things and perhaps know a little more at the end of the process. So when I was checking the internet for a local church for Holy Week, I was surprised that a local Lutheran church had a labyrinth and was inviting people to walk during Holy Week. The idea at that point was, of course, irresistible.
The church was relatively new - about 50 years old - and the labyrinth was a path on a canvas, a copy of the one at Chartres, spread on the floor of a room that looked as though it were for overflow crowds on days like Easter. A very welcoming lady talked with me a bit about the labyrinth and provided me with some prayers and psalms if I cared to use them as an aid while walking the path.
A labyrinth is a convoluted, complicated circle maze that leads to the center and back out to the entrance. There were two people walking the labyrinth. I began walking as well. Labyrinths do not require you to solve the maze, only to follow it. It's the simplest thing in the world. Right? So I progress slowly, stopping to think, to look at the church banners decorating the walls, to read one of the prayers or one of the psalms. All very solemn. All very 'intellectual'. Then I look up and see that one of the other walkers is on the same section of path but heading toward me. How could this happen? I run my eyes quickly and as accurately as I can over the path that I have taken. What did I do wrong? Where did I make a misstep? And what on earth do I do now?
The first thing I did, of course, was to step out of the way and let the lady continue on her path. Then I tried once again to visually go over the path I had taken up to that point. Still can't see what went wrong. Can't figure it out, so I step quickly over to the beginning area and start over. Going more quickly and still trying to figure it out. Then it hits me. The way in is the way out. The path takes you to the center and then it takes you out of the center and back to the beginning. No one was wrong. No one had made a misstep. "And I am right and you are right and all is right as right can be. " There is truth in Gilbert and Sullivan and there is truth in the labyrinth.
Saturday, April 5, 2014
Beaufort Grows On You
Having spent a bit of time seeing the beautiful sea islands, I decided to concentrate on the center of Beaufort itself. This is, of course, another old, old town with a history to almost every building. In the "town house" where I'm staying there is an excellent book on Beaufort with several walking tours and lots of details on houses and buildings. Even the ones that look ordinary for this area (if there is such a thing) have histories and this book gives a few words on a whole lot of them.
Even the downtown shops go back to warehouses and stores that were here longer than you would think. In some cases, the old tabby walls have been carefully exposed so that you can see something of the original construction. I don't recall all the ingredients in tabby but it is a sort of concrete with sea shells as part of it and the shells are visible as shells in the structures.
I wandered in and out of shops and found in the process that there is an old fashioned ice cream parlor called Southern Sweets. Cute and it even has lemon custard ice cream, one of my all time favorites. I can see myself making quite a few stops here.
Continuing my walk, I found Waterfront Park. It seems to be the place of choice for walking your dog and, of course, in the good old Southern fashion, everyone has to say hi and ask how you're doing today. So I just sat in the sun.
What, by the way, is it about sunlight? How does this simple, normal, everyday thing make you feel so good? You sit there on the bank of the river, with the wind off the water and the warmth soaks into you. Muscles relax. Shoulders settle back. Even the "bad leg" feels the warmth and eases. Thoughts drift away. Winter and cold and the idea that you'll never get warm again are gone. There's healing for a lot of things in that warmth.
Even the downtown shops go back to warehouses and stores that were here longer than you would think. In some cases, the old tabby walls have been carefully exposed so that you can see something of the original construction. I don't recall all the ingredients in tabby but it is a sort of concrete with sea shells as part of it and the shells are visible as shells in the structures.
I wandered in and out of shops and found in the process that there is an old fashioned ice cream parlor called Southern Sweets. Cute and it even has lemon custard ice cream, one of my all time favorites. I can see myself making quite a few stops here.
Continuing my walk, I found Waterfront Park. It seems to be the place of choice for walking your dog and, of course, in the good old Southern fashion, everyone has to say hi and ask how you're doing today. So I just sat in the sun.
What, by the way, is it about sunlight? How does this simple, normal, everyday thing make you feel so good? You sit there on the bank of the river, with the wind off the water and the warmth soaks into you. Muscles relax. Shoulders settle back. Even the "bad leg" feels the warmth and eases. Thoughts drift away. Winter and cold and the idea that you'll never get warm again are gone. There's healing for a lot of things in that warmth.
Wednesday, April 2, 2014
Navigation
When Judy and I were in Charleston, navigation was not so much a matter of finding the place or thing we were looking for (witness finding the pineapple fountain while finding the ice cream shop). It was more about finding parking. Charleston is an old city and that makes for narrow streets, few parking lots and generally adding in extra time to find a parking facility or other place to leave the car.
But Judy seems to have a gift for finding on street parking that may rival Nate's gift for the same thing. Even on Broad Street so I could pick up another needlepoint project. And King Street and Tradd where we had the House and Garden Tour. Best of all was the one that was steps from the Huguenot Church where the concert was. That one was so unlikely and we were so delighted that we grabbed it even though we had over half an hour before the concert and sat there talking about how we had probably just used up our luck for at least the next six months.
Apparently the gift has shifted a bit here in Beaufort, but not disappeared. It's now concentrating on grouping everything conveniently for us. Example: We had driven out to Hilton Head to take a look around and managed to find a restaurant right on our route that had good reviews. The reviews were right and we had a perfect lunch on the terrace. Checking our iPhones (what else do you do at lunch), we found a bakery/cafe that looked interesting and decided that that would be our next stop to get some goodies for breakfast next day. I entered the address on Arrow Street and looked at the map slightly puzzled. It was hard to see exactly what I was supposed to do next. Changing the range revealed that the bakery was right around the corner from our current position on Archer Street. Should have known.
Then there was yesterday when we decided on a visit to a yarn shop to get yarn for a Fiona project, a visit to check out an old synagogue, and a spa visit. All of them were on successive blocks of Scott Street. I do like how Beaufort seems determined to make things easy for me. And seems to know exactly what we're looking for.
But Judy seems to have a gift for finding on street parking that may rival Nate's gift for the same thing. Even on Broad Street so I could pick up another needlepoint project. And King Street and Tradd where we had the House and Garden Tour. Best of all was the one that was steps from the Huguenot Church where the concert was. That one was so unlikely and we were so delighted that we grabbed it even though we had over half an hour before the concert and sat there talking about how we had probably just used up our luck for at least the next six months.
Apparently the gift has shifted a bit here in Beaufort, but not disappeared. It's now concentrating on grouping everything conveniently for us. Example: We had driven out to Hilton Head to take a look around and managed to find a restaurant right on our route that had good reviews. The reviews were right and we had a perfect lunch on the terrace. Checking our iPhones (what else do you do at lunch), we found a bakery/cafe that looked interesting and decided that that would be our next stop to get some goodies for breakfast next day. I entered the address on Arrow Street and looked at the map slightly puzzled. It was hard to see exactly what I was supposed to do next. Changing the range revealed that the bakery was right around the corner from our current position on Archer Street. Should have known.
Then there was yesterday when we decided on a visit to a yarn shop to get yarn for a Fiona project, a visit to check out an old synagogue, and a spa visit. All of them were on successive blocks of Scott Street. I do like how Beaufort seems determined to make things easy for me. And seems to know exactly what we're looking for.
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