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She served the champagne warm but over ice with a single grind of white pepper and a drop or two of Avery Island’s Finest, a concoction she called “Modern Byzantine” and, when she first served me this beverage, I raised my flute to her and uttered “Et tu brut?” to which she smiled with a… — read more

Out on the Plain of Montiel with lance unholstered and distant Windmills grinding their grind, one traverses a Golden Path offering the promise of Infinite Paella and a wine of good vintage from La Mancha, which to consume would set the World right and cause the Universe to take note at least for the moment… — read more

I’m fifteen klicks out from Bone Town on the Old Barrier Road. Her shade’s with me now, distant. She comes and goes, bending reality with each step she takes like a wayward dream unwayward’d. I carry with me a worn digital facsimile of the “Aeneid, Book VI.” The Styx looms in my consciousness, the Ferryman… — read more

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“Smoke ‘em if you got ‘em” was the refrain from an all-too-almost-irreverent time when you carried twenty Marlboro Class A’s in a polished silver-plated case and a Zippo that reeked of butane and flint and you would pocket the half-smoked butts “for later” and maybe you had a whiskey flask in one pocket of your… — read more

Good evening meal. Good evening vino. Now is the time for Reflection on Chef Boyardee Ravioli and how I believe it was the Chef’s love that made that damn stuff so good. I.M.H.O., as always. — read more

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