It was chilly this morning, chilly being relative and in this case 40 degrees, so I asked Kal for a ride. A good thing I did, too, because in the later afternoon, before my usual leaving time and toward Kal's, hail began to patter down. Little hail, smaller than M&Ms, and soft. But lots.
RDC wanted to go observe the end of R-months until fall with oysters, so we did that at Jax Fish House. I thought, eating one, that it was a little off; I also thought, with it in my mouth, that if it was going to kill me it already had. Then we had fried calamari, and this is not just fried squid. It is light and perfect and strips of body and curls of tentacles and has two exquisitely complementary sauces, a baked (?) lime and a sweetly hot chili.
Meanwhile, hail streamed down.
On the way home we stopped in Marczyk's for dessert and hail plummeted down, and we ate chocolate ganache squares in front of MASH and Northern Exposure while hail formed drifts outside and cloud-to-cloud lightning caused barely audible lightning.
It seems television, as well as music, stopped for me in the early 1990s. Or '80s. A friend once said she wanted some Joel in her perfect man mix of Chris and Ed. Not me: just Chris and Ed. The pickings are slimmer in MASH, but there's one easy answer: Sherman Potter.