My jaw muscles are still throbbing from the truck stop jerky I ate yesterday and I'm pretty sure that motel room coffee has etched a relief map of I-95 into my esophagus. I've been away from my dogs for days and I just want to get back home to snow-buried Brooklyn if we can get anywhere near it.
There have been a few food adventures during this recent Christmas slog to North Carolina - homey scrapple and eggs at the Bel Loc Diner in Towson, Maryland, punishingly salty country ham shards on a tender biscuit from a drive-through in Chapel Hill and Ruth's brand pimento cheese gobbled down with Captain's Wafers in the parking lot of a Roses department store. Mostly, though, we've just been trying to fuel up and move on.
We've had it better than many, though, who have been stuck on tarmacs and pleading for scraps at overtaxed, under-supplied airports, or run up against store closures due to inclement weather. Yes, I am typing this from my car, somewhere north of Baltimore, and holy heck do I want to get home and make myself a proper dinner, but I'm not complaining ... much.
Next entry »5@5 - Chef Josh Thomsen