As we had passed by the Lucky Wishbone many times over the
years, it was deemed appropriate that we actually stop in
for a change, especially as every time I have asked the
driver "how's the Lucky Wishbone?" It's a fried chicken
place and another of the oldest restaurants in Anchorage.
At this time, it was jam-packed with recent attendees of
the various local churches, all in their Sunday best,
which largely consisted of checked flannels and jeans, for
both sexes, not seriously unlike what I wear on a good day.
Bill and Connie ordered chicken, which comes with cornbread
and honey; I got a plate of giblets (hearts, gizzards, and
livers), which were pretty good despite being covered in a
Bisquick batter, done about twice as long as I would cook
them, and very salty. Lots of French fries, which were
pretty good, crisper than the norm.

And then to the Anchorage Museum, which in its renovated
condition is pretty impressive, bigger and better than one
would expect from a city of this size, but of course it's
a whole lot more interesting than many cities of this size.
We spent an inordinate time in the discovery room, a sort of
mini-science museum, where we were as fascinated as children
by the explications of such phenomena as earthquakes, tides,
and best of all, surface tension. Other exhibits included
native basket making, tribal anthropology, 19th century art
(mostly painting, European-style if not made by Europeans),
20th century art (mostly three-dimensional, mostly local),
Anchorage history, mining and metallurgy, and so on. After
we'd had a sufficient dose of science and culture, we tried
another trip to the Bird House, which this time was open for
business. The theatrically slatternly bartender happily
poured us some fine beers (the same dichotomy as before) and
for Connie a glass of wretched red wine, and we inspected
the somewhat bizarre and mildewy decor, consisting of both
business cards and pieces of underclothing tacked to the
walls and ceiling, depending I'd guess on whether the donors
had come here on business or pleasure.

For dinner we got takeout from Smokehouse Barbecue: ribs,
brisket, requested extra fatty, and pulled pork. The food
was quite respectable - not the Salt Lick by any means, but
good. The brisket was somewhat tender but not indeed very
fatty; I'd say the pulled pork was the best of the three.

--

I don't know why Connie wanted to show me the Anchorage
Market, a weekend arrangement of fossil traders, jewelry
and craft vendors, sellers of all cheap Chinese goods some
of which have undoubtedly fallen off the back end of a
truck, and foodmongers. We budgeted I think 2 hours for
this; it was 1 1/2 hours too much. By way of consolation,
there was a Smokehouse truck, where I ordered a brisket
sandwich extra fatty. They gave me the sandwich for half
off, since it was being made with parts that they normally
would have thrown away. It was very good, and I felt blessed
that they haven't figured out the beauties and profitability
of burnt ends. Which leads me to a rant about this dish.
I believe it was Calvin Trillin who brought them to the
attention of the hungry public, in a review of Arthur Bryant
say a third of a century ago, maybe more now. He let slip,
damn his eyes, that despite the unprepossessing appearance,
they are in fact the tastiest part of the brisket, and (at
that date) were being given away free by fine restaurants
everywhere in Kansas City. Since then the demand especially
among the effete snobs and nattering nabobs of positivism
has increased exponentially, and now not only are burnt ends
at least as costly as the sliced brisket, the bbq joints are
making artificial ones, which now are seldom burnt and often
not even ends - they take yesterday's brisket, hack it up,
put sauce on it, and voila. There's not more fat nor more
smoke than the regular stuff, and the dining public loses
out on the true experience. Further, I suspect that they
throw out the real ends and fatty bits, as people don't like
authenticity - it's threatening both to the ego and to the
cholesterol count. The same phenomenon has been visited
again and again with such things as Szechwan food, debris
at Mother's (last I had one, it was just like a brisket
sandwich anyplace), rare beef, and so on.