US1569 BOS PHL 1630 1805 E90 4A

I was greeted at the club with the (everlasting) news that
owing to a change in catering, there was no alcohol for
sale. No biggie; I was planning to Glenlivet it on the
plane anyway. The cranberry nut mix in bulk seems to be
better than that that comes in the packets. No wi-fi. The
news on all the TVs was about Farrah Fawcett.

Much gate lousing at gate 4 - from zone 1ers to zone 4ers
that I saw. I gave up swimming through and just boarded
with the zone 1ers. The flight was totally packed.

A beautiful rather exotic-looking, perhaps mixed-race FA;
she was, well:

Despite this being her fourth trip of the day, our
FA was cheerful, solicitous, and energetic. It is
employees like her who are the reason I have let my
Airtran status expire and am keeping my status on
US Air.

It's hard to fit that much text on an A&B, but possible.

Two Glenlivets and I was in the land of nod.

I stayed on the plane and napped fitfully: heard the
cleaning crew refusing to clean the plane, whereupon my
FA called up the union office and complained, saying that
all her other trips had had a cleaning crew, why not this
one. She did not get satisfaction.

US1569 PHL BWI 1850 2003 E90 4A

Same crew for this 25-minute flight (not of course counting
half an hour or more waiting in line in Philly). My FA gave
me a double Glenlivet without my asking.

We landed 20 early.

As there wasn't any MARC service for an hour, and as I
got this promo for something like 100 bonus points per leg,
I booked onto Amtrak.

2V 193 BWI WAS 2030 2100 Y

On time. I went to the quiet car, put my ticket sticking up
in the pocket, and went to sleep. Nobody collected the
ticket. How do I get my miles?

=

In addition to doing chores at the house, I had wanted to
go to the Barbecue Battle, but various people warned me
against this, and I decided to trust their judgment over
the corporate hype. Wanted some Q anyway, so I trekked
down to Capital Q and had the brisket. Asked for it extra
fatty, and it came extra fatty, but it was dead tasteless -
very little smoke flavor and no salt at all in the meat.
Adding salt doesn't have the same effect. A disappointment.
The hot bbq sauce, however, is quite spunky, rather nice.

A few doors down is R.F.D., and as it was about 8 million
degrees out, a few beers seemed to be in order (and the
place is an iDine place). A truly gorgeous brunette
bartender poured me:

Flying Dog Schwarz Rauchbier - this wasn't very rauch at
all and tasted rather like a Guinness with a teaspoon of
Johnny Red as a floater. Was this a relief, after my
experience with the Aecht Schlenkerla in Nuremberg? No.
I called the bartender over and even as I started to speak
she interrupted me and said that, yes, it's a really subtle
smokiness, and I didn't brew it, so don't ask me why. If
she'd been a grumpy old graying guy with a pot, I'm not
sure I would have found the encounter as charming as I did.

Next: two IPAs from Dogfish Head:

60 Minute - this is your standard citrusy floral hoppy
IPA, bitter but not impossibly so, a bit of sweetness,
some body, quite nice; contrast with

Burton Baton Oak Aged - enormously bitter, quite sweet,
thick, almost honeylike, 10% alcohol as well; a big big
beer, and I'm not sure if I liked it or not.

Both of these were really low in carbonation and more
like drinking syrup than beer.

As I'd wondered how an Indian chef (as opposed to Indian
chief) would make a beer:

Brooklyn Cuvee De Cardoz Indian spiced ale - a standard
Weizen whose banananess and cloviness was augmented by
(things I tasted) cloves, nutmeg, ginger, cinnamon,
cardamom, fenugreek and (things I didn't detect) coconut,
chiles, fennel, black and red pepper, tamarind. Interesting
but not something I'd want to drink every lifetime. I'd have
been interested to try it with Asian food, though.

To finish I had Bell's Oberon summer ale, a light, almost
tasteless by comparison, Weizen with a touch of the esters
common to the type.

Mai Thai with my friend Susie

This and Malaysia Kopitiam are about the closest reputable
Asian places to her workplace, and as the weather was
dubious at best, we ducked in here and ordered a meal of
appetizers and beer. Not a bad choice as it turns out.

Spaten Pils is on draft, and it's fresh and good.

We would have started off with the vegetarian spring rolls,
except they didn't come. They did show up on the bill, but
that was easy enough to remedy.

Fried tofu was delicious - light and tender, with a peanut-
enriched dipping sauce. Not so the fried calamari, which
could have been from a frozen foodservice bag; no tentacles,
either.

Steamed pork dumplings I believe did come from a frozen
foodservice bag.

Golden bags, perhaps made in house, were stuffed with taro,
not the usual meat filling, which I like. Luckily, we both
also like taro.

Duck salad was excellent - not dumbed down, a little fatty,
quite sour, quite spicy. Lots of cilantro.

This was a quite sufficient meal for two, even without the
spring rolls, beer being the main carbohydrate, but black
sticky rice with custard was on the menu, so we asked for
one with two spoons. The pleasant and deferential waiter
came back with the bad news that custard was off. Okay, we
said, sub mango. It was pretty good black sticky rice, not
quite as delicate in texture as I like, salty-sweet, with
a blob of coconut milk sauce on top. The mango was ripe and
delicious.

=

Old Glory with my friend Alysia

As I'd not been satisfied in my barbecue desire, I steered
Alysia to this place not noticing that the advertised whole
pig roast was for Sunday, not Saturday. Ah, well, I'd had
enough whole roast pig in Nuremberg a couple weeks ago.

She had pulled chicken, cole slaw, mac & cheese; these
didn't appeal to me that much, though I did taste the last -
very cheesy in an American sort of way, better than Kraft
Dinner anyhow.

I ordered as usual the brisket extra fatty, expecting burnt
ends; ribs; collards; and fried okra.

The brisket came sort of dry, lean, and yucky, so I called
Sam the waiter over and allowed as I'd be grateful for a
piece of fat to go with. He gushed mightily (working for
tips has interesting behavioral manifestations at times)
and said words to the effect of "good choice." But why had
the order been munged at all - it's not as though I was
asking for something impossible. While waiting, a
substantial time, I chowed on the ribs, which were fairly
smoky and very tender, pretty nice, especially with the
Texas-style cumin-and-red-pepper sauce. Eventually a dish of
burnt ends came over, and I pointed out to Sam that I would
have been pleased with this the first time round, and you
guys could have kept your dry yucky brisket. Why do people
tend to doubt me when I ask for the fatty bits? He replied,
it's all good, you now have two servings of brisket.Okay,
but I ate the fatty portion with pleasure and ended up
leaving almost all of the dry stuff. Which they could have
sold to some other unfortunate customer. And alienated them
for life.

The veggies were true to type.

The house amber went well; it tasted sort of like Yuengling.

Despite a hard sell, we passed on dessert. Sam gave us two
Tootsie pops each. I got blue and purple.

After this tasty but rather heavy meal we wandered around
Georgetown for a bit, noting some storm damage from the
rains the night before. Some poor soul had had a big limb
fall on his car. A guy taking photos of the mess said that
up on Q St. there was more damage, with a tree falling on
somebody's roof.

To the Old Stone House, one of the oldest extant structures
in the city: built as a one-room hovel in the 1760s, it was
added upon, and after a stint as Washington's mythical
headquarters, was preserved, bought by the Park Service, and
turned into a minor tourist destination in the middle of
Georgetown. The garden out back, though a little neglected
in spots, was a quiet oasis.

Said goodbye to Alysia, who told me to watch American Greed
the next day, picked up a six of Yuengling for the price of
one draft at a bar, and went home.

In the morning I discovered that it's really easy to take
public trans to BWI on Sunday - the infrequency of service
is made up for by the crowd-free experience.

The Greenbelt bus had the spooky next-stop display UNKNOWN.
Be that as it may, we got to the airport right on time.

I wanted a burger so went to Bill Bateman's and got the
unwelcome news that the grill wasn't on until 11. I wasn't
willing to wait half an hour and risk a bollox at security.

US4532 BWI LGA 1200 1309 DH8 4F

My TSA line was the slowest. I counted 23 people go by the
next line while 5 of us were processed. Numerous rescans -
I wonder what was suspicious about a naked Dell laptop,
which got scanned I think 3 times -, bag checks, and a male
assist or two. When my turn came, ten seconds.

The flight boarded at about a quarter to, took off right
on time, and landed a little early. Our FA was the famous
Piedmont girl who says the whole safety spiel from memory
but runsthwrdsinlikthssoyoucanttellwhatthehlshesaying, so
she's done with it in just a few seconds.

US2130 LGA BOS 1400 1511 319 2F

I was late getting to the gate from the club, despite the
concierge trying to impress on me that I should hustle down
there early. When I got there, the TSA was prowling in
force, and I got nailed. I was carrying a cup of coffee and
two magazines, and I let the guy try to inspect my bag
while it was still on my shoulder. This didn't work (he did
try), so I got out of line, and he opened the bag, and
everything was done in under a minute, but by this time
"all passengers" had been called, and it was a bit of a zoo
at the reader. Once on the plane, we were greeted with the
news that the ground crew had forgot to fuel us (!!), and
further, there was weather in Boston, and we would be late.
I suspect the real reason was the meltdown that 1C was
having - a serious and acute case of fear of flying. She
would get to her seat, no great distance from the door, and
then retreat out the door; be coaxed back in by her ?mom,
?boyfriend, the flight attendants, and a plainclothes
US staffer; then the whole thing would repeat itself. This
happened several times. At one point she scanned the cabin
and asked, isn't anyone here afraid? She made eye contact
with me, and I smiled and shook my head. She got into her
seat again, and I returned to my magazine. Next thing I knew
she had shot out of the plane again. Another repeat or two,
and it was 10 past, and her entourage and she disappeared
not to return. I wonder if she was someone famous or
notable. The door was closed, and off we went.

An uneventful flight.

One of my favorite FAs was working; unfortunately, she was
working in back. I asked her why: she said that she had
chosen to, probably to avoid me.

My Bud Light (I was thirsty) had an expiration date of
07 May 09. My Glenlivet (I was hot and bothered) did not
have an expiration date.

=

Dinner with my friend Linda at Winsor Dim Sum.

One of my music buddies wanted dinner, so I suggested
Chinatown, where she had never been, depite having lived
in the Boston area for some years. We wandered about a bit,
as much perhaps as one can wander in this vibrant but tiny
neighborhood, and ended at Winsor, a newish restaurant in
the space formerly occupied by the late lamented Lucky
House, which, for me anyhow, is no longer lamented. I had
some of the best dim sum I've had outside Asia. As good as
or better than anything I've had in Washington, New York,
or San Francisco.

Shrimp dumplings were delicate and probably the best
example I've ever tasted - an auspicious start. The shrimp
and chive dumplings, though, were standard though clearly
made in house or at least locally; these would have
benefited from a little sauce, perhaps A-1, aside from the
soy, red vinegar, and hot oil that go on all the tables
(none of the dishes came with any ginger sauce or anything
like that, except the turnip cake had a squeeze of hoisin
- which should have been oyster sauce).

Fried bean curd sheet rolls with shrimp and celery were
impeccably done, though the celery was strong-flavored and
might have done with a blanching beforehand.

Fried eggplant stuffed with shrimp - excellent.

Steamed bean curd sheet rolls with mushroom - excellent.

"Shark fin" pork dumplings - also very nice but heavier
than the other things and approaching the lowly status of
other dim summeries.

Turnip cake (also called carrot cake in many places) is a
take it or leave it thing, a white slightly cabbagey goo
lightly fried so it's no longer gooey on the outside, the
interior studded with occasional savory bits, usually dried
shrimp fragments but here tiny dice of lop cheong. I liked
this version a lot but would prefer fishy bits to fatty pork
bits in the context (I usually like fatty pork bits).

Char siu bao is a vice I retain from my childhood. These,
downrated in the press for not having enough pork, were just
like the ones I loved fifty years ago.

We got out for thirty, which isn't much considering how much
we'd eaten, and decided to spend the rest of our dinner
budget on booze.

We wandered about some of my old haunts, so our path in the
mist included the theater district (much has changed since
the '80s, when I last worked here regularly) and Bay Village,
probably the first completely "out" neighborhood in Boston
- a nostalgic pilgrimage for me, as I used to be fond of
Nine Knox, the beef Wellington restaurant, and its eccentric
but talented proprietor Jeffrey Davies. We ended up at
Flash's Cocktails, where we spent considerably more than we
had for dinner, mostly on beers; but after I'd seen this
mysterious blue beverage go by, I asked for one. Turned out
to be the Gummy Bear Goblet, which tastes like a weak
appletini on the rocks and which was not nearly so blue as
the one we had seen made, a great disappointment. Eventually
it was time to toddle off to find a TV and watch American
Greed, as recommended by Alysia the day before. This turned
out not to be about my eating habits but rather about a guy
named Barton Watson the Third, with whom I and some of the
others of us had had an acquaintanceship many years ago.

-33-