Bow Tie Pasta

I cite it often as the best meal I ever had. Although, in all honesty, the claim is probably not true. More likely than not, it is merely the clearest example of a memorable meal in my mind.

There have been others, along with their stories I have not yet told. There was the pork loin, forked off of Carl's grill, one warm summer day. There was Indian Stew, cooked over open fire at Indian village in the 6th grade. There was the McDonald's orgy after a long foodless day at church camp. Oh, and, the Thanksgiving when I set the centerpiece on fire...

Many memorable meals.

But the one that comes most easily to mind, was the corner stone of a weekend, rich in lore. And tonight, as I stirred the diced tomatoes into my red sauce, and poured the bow tie pasta into the boiling pot, I wondered why I had not told the tale before. At least, not here at the Lounge, where I mostly just tell stories.

In person, I have probably told most of you most of the tales from that adventure. They are some of my best ones. Most of you have heard the toothless crack whore tale. You've heard about the homeless hamburger guy. I've shared the one about undercover police woman on the street corner, the tour of the Castro and the maniacal hotel limo driver. But I have never written about these things on the Lounge.

What you probably don't know, what I have not likely mentioned to anyone before, is that the weekend in question, was also the first time that I ever tried a gin and tonic.

I think, perhaps, that the entire tale, filtered as it is through the haze of memories and the embellishment of retelling, is worth its own week of pieces. So, this week will be a series. A telling of the whole tale of the grand journey to San Francisco. I am sure to have some help from Tom and Dr. B, for they were there too.

Stay tuned.