What do You Mean, Ginger????

February 12th – Huntsville, AL

After a leisurely start to the morning, we loaded ourselves into Abe's CRV and headed for Huntsville's newest "now-in-trouble-after-the-economic-downturn" upscale mall, Bridge Street Town Centre. It features stores like Apple, Bebe, Coldwater Creek, Kate Spade and Victoria's Secret. The site includes a small manmade lake with authentic Venetian gondolas, an elaborate carousel, and a 14-screen cinema that offers plush leather lounges and bar service during the features.

After a stroll down the plaza (including an examination of the now-drained lake to repair leaks), we were seated in the Cantina Laredo. A lovely lunch, starting with a tableside-prepared guacamole, followed with thanks to Abe & Janet. I stuck my head in the Apple store on the way back down the plaza, but was happy to escape without purchasing anything, as Apple's pricing policy makes buying in Canada a much better deal. I don't think Mom and Janet tempted themselves at all, nor did Dad or Abe.


I did, however, step into the Chocolate Crocodile. Janet had mentioned her love of mint truffles the day before, so I got her six large truffles for Valentine's Day, as well as a box of chocolate for Mom.



It's a curious thing to be a couple of weeks from 59 years of age and to feel like a teen again. The reason for this situation? Well, take your parents to visit an aunt and uncle. They have their history together. We're there with Dad's car. We go out together in a CRV. I sit in the back between my mother and aunt. I ask – out of courtesy – to use Dad's car and get an attenuated response. I think I may have to act out here. Maybe I can join that little kid in the corner of my aunt's house.

When we got back to the house Mom and Janet relaxed on the porch, southern-style, while I fixed a wobbly dining room chair and was rewarded with a dinner of chicken noodle soup. Janet has based her broth on my mother's recipe and, I have to say, she has done a stupendous job of putting her own mark on the dish.

Then There's the Ginger.
Ohhhh yes. And then there was cruel irony for dessert. As we were enjoying the soup, I began to tell Abe & Janet about my decades-old theory that Mom has been holding out on me regarding the ingredients of her chicken soup broth. Janet and Mom began rhyming off the spices... yes, yes, yes, yes..... "WHAT???? GINGER????," I roared. "When was ginger added to the recipe?" "Always has been," Mom replied. "That's right," Janet confirmed. "Not for me," I retorted.

Who has been my Mom's biggest chicken soup fan? Me. Mom will confirm this. Who's the last to know about a hunk of fresh ginger being one of the spices? Me. So, after decades of suspecting that I didn't have the full recipe, it takes a 1,500 mile trip – WITH MY MOM IN TOW, NO LESS – to find out that my theory has been fact all along. How many more years before I find out that Mom, Janet, bro Bob and others have been part of a grand and subversive plot to hide the ultimate recipe from your poor, bereft blogger? My heart is heavy... and it's not heartburn. And to think I told them about my little addition of a pinch of tarragon.

After dinner, we sat down to watch Evan Almighty. Unfortunately, even the combined born-again Christian fervency of my folks and Abe and Janet couldn't get the DVD player to function properly. Abe's less-than-judicious applications of the fist to the equipment didn't improve playback. So, with heads nodding all over the couches, the group disbursed for respective bedrooms. Dreams – and a new DVD player – to follow. G'night all.