Good Dog

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I love good hot dogs, but I hardly ever eat them because, well, I think we can all agree that good hot dogs are a rare breed. So when a restaurant proclaims that it serves a Good Dog right in its name, that’s a challenge I’ve got to check out. Happily, I can report that Good Dog, in the hip and happening area of Northshore in Chattanooga, Tennessee, does indeed serve a good dog. A fantastically wonderful hot dog, in fact.  And I went for the veggie dog, too — and would rank it right up there with some of the best I’ve ever had. Probably because it’s cooked on the same grill right next to the beef dogs, but oh well. It’s the effort that counts. The menu boasts several versions of classic hot dogs (Chicago, New York Street Cart, Cleveland Ballpark) or you can order a plain dog and add whatever toppings you want. Ordering at Good Dog moves fast — there’s almost always a line — so know what you want before it’s your turn or you risk the wrath of everybody behind you. Due to the owner’s Dutch heritage, Heineken is the beer of choice here. And definitely go for the handmade frites, which are served hot and salty in a paper cone you then slip into circles that have been cut in your table. Good Dog is a condiment lover’s dream, as you can see from the photo, which shows only half of the condiment-gallery shelves. Also: When you order the frites, actually say the word “frites” instead of “fries” so you’ll seem like a regular. You’re welcome.

In Which I Bring Two Entirely Unrelated Topics Into One Blog Post

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You know how you open up the newspaper every morning (you do open up a newspaper every morning, don’t you???) and read it and then shake your head and complain, “There’s never any good news. Why don’t they print any good news?”  You know news people say that this happens because “good” news isn’t news since good things happen all the time and we’re only startled by “bad” news that’s outside of the norm. But we all know that “good” news can be as rare as … well, say, a coffee shop owner remembering that he overcharged a customer on her previous business and so without asking gives her her favorite drink for free on her next visit. That just happened! To me. And I wrote about it in my weekly newspaper column. Just, you know, to sneak a little good news in.

Spring’s arrival means several things: 1) Horror as we peel off our wool socks and take a look at our feet for the first time in months — emergency pedicure! 2) All basketball all the time as March Madness takes over — although my bracket is sinking so low that it’s fallen off the listing at the online bracket-game I play. And 3) we start inexplicably hungering for such treats as fresh tender asparagus and juicy sweet strawberries. In my weekly newspaper food story, I found out when spring arrives at local farmers’ markets and previewed what to look for — and when — although we’re lucky here in northwest Alabama since we’ve got Jack O’Lantern Farms, a hydroponic farm which grows lovely fresh veggies year-round. I’ll bet there’s someplace close to you where you can get a taste of spring soon.

Friends, Books and Ice Cream All are Good for You

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My friend Susan is the most amazing cook and hostess ever. Our four-woman book club met at her house this past week and she served us a meal so healthy and delicious we didn’t want to stop eating long enough to discuss the book — which was Winter’s Bone, by the way, and excellent. Susan started impressing us with bruschetta (roasted garbanzo beans, onions, tomatoes and other fresh veggies on grilled bread) and then went on to a cup of chicken soup with pita-chip croutons. Entrees were beautifully grilled salmon steaks with roasted potatoes and vegetables. And then there was dessert. And I know you’re thinking when you look at this ice-cream delight, “But I thought this was a healthy meal.” It was! Susan, with her shopping skills, found these low-fat and 140-calorie ice-cream sandwiches from Skinny Cow and topped them with heart-healthy walnuts, strawberries and blueberries. I’d never had any Skinny Cow products before since I tend to walk very fast past the ice-cream aisle at the grocery to prevent being irresistibly drawn to the Ben & Jerry’s section, where I usually stand there with the cooler door open wondering how many calories and fat grams Chocolate Fudge Brownie ice cream actually can have. (Denial. I’m in denial.) And I have to admit I’ve had unpleasant low-fat, low-calorie, low-whatever ice-cream experiences. Haven’t we all? But I’m telling you: Skinny Cow is good. And when it has the Susan seal of approval, you know it’s a winner.

Yard Art

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I pass by this house every day going to work, and I always noticed it and always sort of thought to myself, “Huh. There’s a red caboose in their backyard. That’s mildly interesting.” Until one day the full import of what I was seeing finally hit me, and I practically slammed on the brakes as I passed and I thought, “Dang. These people actually have a real live red caboose in their backyard!” I mean, this is the real thing — exactly what you might see on real live railroad tracks. But it’s just sort of sitting there in these folks’ backyard. And I immediately want to know: Why? And, how? And, of course, where can I get one, too? Because I know I would be the Best Grandma Ever in the Whole Wide World if I could score one of these.

Camouflage Style

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My husband looked at me contemplatively as I got dressed that morning. “Sweetie,” he said, “why are you wearing a camouflage shirt?” I didn’t think I’d heard him correctly. “A what?” I said. “I’m wearing a what?” He nodded his head as if to confirm his fashion diagnosis. “Yes. You’re wearing a camouflage shirt and I just wondered why.” I could not believe what I was hearing. “What’s wrong with you?” I said. “This is not a camouflage shirt. It’s an abstract floral pattern in earth tones — very ‘in’ for spring, I’ll have you know.” He just smiled. “Sure, dear,” he said. “Whatever you say. But it’s a camouflage shirt.” And, really, looking at these photos now, I can sort of see what he means. Just as long as y’all know it is not a camouflage shirt but it a highly stylish piece of fashion art. Or something. Also: I blame the neck wrinkles, tummy bulges and droopy boobs you see here on my husband’s photography and the fact that he would not let me do the half-turn hand-on-hip camera-friendly celebrity pose.  And those are streaks of blonde in my hair, not streaks of gray. Other than that, though, this is pretty much me. Minus the camouflage shirt.

Of Food, Clocks and Men

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Here are some things I’ve written lately — a couple of food stories and my weekly newspaper column — that you might like to read. And this does not mean I’m too lazy to put up a blog post this morning. No, it does not mean that at all. Nope. Definitely not.

Did you know that food can help you deal with the stress of this weekend’s time change? It’s true. Studies show that the first few days after springing forward (and you have to do that this Sunday morning, remember) can be stressful as folks adjust to the changing routine. But using mealtimes as a way to combat the effects of eating breakfast in the dark and supper at 10 p.m. can help! (This story includes some fun and easy breakfast ideas.)

And don’t forget that St. Patrick’s Day is Thursday. Even here in northwest Alabama, where leprechauns are pretty rare and Guiness is considered an exotic brew, there’s a deep Irish connection we can honor with food.

I’m almost 54 years old. I still do not always understand men. And by “men,” of course, I mean my husband. But when the “men” are a precious 3-year-old who’s cute and sweet and has a smile that makes me melt and say things such as “Sure, sweetie, I’ll read ‘Cat in the Hat’ again for the fifth time,” I understand completely.

Retro + Politan = Really Cool Stuff

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Oh, yes. I’ll have one of each, please. Although, truthfully, that would be a lot of lamps. And pillows. Anyway, this is the home decor/interior design shop retropolitan, in Nashville, Tennessee‘s hip Hillsboro Village. Thankfully, you don’t have to be hip to go in and look around, which is what my husband and I did recently. We are in a continual dialogue about furnishing  and decorating our new house – it’s the first house we’ve bought and lived in together and we want it to reflect both of us. And by “dialogue,” you know I mean me saying, “Oh, this is wonderful! It would look so cute in our living beside the front windows” and him saying, “Uh, how many zeros are on that price tag again?” But retropolitan is the sort of place where you so wish you had lots of zeros to spend.

Mississippi Grocery Stores

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I don’t know what it is about Mississippi and restaurant names, but any eatery in the Magnolia state that has the word “grocery” in it is bound to be a winner. Examples: City Grocery in Oxford, Pizza Grocery in Corinth. And Romie’s Grocery in Tupelo. A meat-and-three by day, Romie’s turns into a warm and friendly dining experience at night featuring a creatively eclectic menu of fresh Southern favorites. And then of course there is the ladies’ room — you know that’s one of my top priorities for a restaurant. And Romie’s gets top grades for its home-like decor, cozy lighting and whimsical art work. Also: I sort of want to take this sink and the bathroom counter home with me, but a) that would leave a huge hole in the Romie’s ladies’ room and b) my Dear Husband consistently turns his nose up at bowl sinks. I say they’re an imaginative way to add some personality and style to a bathroom. He says, “They’re just weird. And wrong.” But I believe, with all due respect, that in this instance he is wrong. I mean, doesn’t the contrast of textures among the sink and the mirror and the counter just make you believe that the whole world should be this cool?  Imagine, if you can, what it would look like with your typical white bathroom sink. Ugh. However, Dear Husband and I do agree that Romie’s is delicious and we should eat there as often as we can.

The Slide ‘N’ Nap

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This is the smile I cannot get enough of. Well, one of them, anyway. Almost 3-year-old grandson Capt. Adorable has a complete repertoire of smiles but I’m especially delighted with the one that says, “Okay, Kacky, it’s your turn to go down the slide now.” We were playing in his backyard on a recent warm and sunny day and, as usual, he was in charge of the schedule. First we do sand-box construction work, then run around the yard for a couple of laps, then fall on the grass laughing with Roxie the Dog, then try to climb up and over the 7-foot-high fence and then try to surreptitiously fill up water in the red plastic bucket and tote the water to the sandbox to turn the construction zone into waterfront property despite Mommy telling him not to do that. Again. Then we play some basketball (I’m great with the Thomas the Tank ball and 4-foot-high plastic goal) and check to see if the carrots Mommy and Daddy planted in the garden yesterday are growing yet. And then there’s the slide. Actually, he has two in the backyard. One is short and wide and adult-friendly. The other is long and narrow and built only for those who consistently fail the “you must be this tall to ride” test. The Captain’s preferred method of playing on the slides is to A) make Roxie the Dog slide down and B) figure out a way he can ride his dump truck down. Plus, we both love the game that I invented called “Sleep.” See, I sit on the bottom of the short-and-wide slide (because I can’t fit on the bottom of the long-and-narrow slide) and I lie down on my back with my feet on the ground and I start snoring and the Captain climbs to the top of the slide and then slides down, bumps into my head, leans over to gleefully ask “Kacky? You awake, Kacky?”  and then laughs wildly as he jumps off the side of the slide to do it all again. This goes on for several minutes. If I’m lucky.

Spring Flings

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Oh so pretty! I am in love with Target‘s new blue-and-white spring things. Just walking through the store makes me think of sunny days and ditching the boots and wool jackets and planning Easter dinner and those wonderful spring breaks. These blue-and-white prints seem so fresh and clean — as if a warm spring breeze wafted through and banished winter. And, believe me, here in the South we definitely had winter this year. You know we got so used to snow that we sort of shrugged our shoulders whenever it was forecast yet again — and the frantic grocery-store runs dropped dramatically. But it’s time to forget winter. And, you know, looking at these prints makes me realize that we have no blue-and-white in our house. At all. We’ve got black-and-white. And soft greens. And splashes of orange and red. But no blues-and-whites. But I love these so much that I’m thinking “home re-do.” So excuse me while I go tell my husband  we’re going to redecorate. He’ll be so pleased.