Sweet!

I like sweet tea. Or, as we call it here in Georgia, tea. The only problem with sweet tea is the Calories. But that's both bad and good.

It's bad, because I don't need to be taking in as many Calories (or kilocalories, properly) as I do. But it's good, because the more Calories something has, the better it tastes. Usually.

Anyway, I like sweet tea.

I like really sweet tea.

Really sweet tea.

Tea so sweet that if it was a little bit thicker, you could pour it over pancakes. That's how sweet I like my tea.

Only, I really do need to lose some weight. Which means I could drink something else, like water, or unsweet tea. But I don't like unsweet tea. I like water, but sometimes you want some flavor in your drink at the table.

So, I thought, I could do unsweet tea and put a sweetener in it. And, the only sweetener I really like -- actually, don't intensely dislike -- is sucralose. The most well-known brand of which is Splenda. Basically, it's sugar with a chlorine atom attached, so you body passes that poison right through. You get the taste, but not the Calories. At least, that's the theory.

The thing is, I don't like the powder, because it never works right. I mean, if you take a little bit of hot water and dissolve the Splenda in that, it's fine when you add it to your drink. Yes, I've experimented with this. But that's not always the easiest way to do it in a restaurant.

Fortunately, there's Splenda Liquid.



It does a pretty good job, and I've used it recently. I carry it around in the pocket of my blazer, so I would order unsweet tea, then pull it out and squirt some of the sweetener in. A little stirring with a straw and it's done. Tastes okay.

Then I went and left it on the table at a Huddle House. Yes, I will eat at a Huddle House. Shut up. Their omelets are pretty good. Anyway, I went back later, but they already threw it away.

Thing is, Splenda liquid is hard to find. At least, around here. In fact, I've only found it in the Walmart store in Perry, Georgia. I'm sure it's in other places, but I don't know what those places are.

Around here, the grocery stores -- and Walmart stores -- carry other stuff. Like Stevia liquid stuff.



It ain't the same thing. And I don't like it. But, it'll do until I get some more Splenda liquid.

Or, I may just decide to stay fat. That's always an option.

Rolo McFlurry

It sounds like a character from a children's book.

Rolo McFlurry and the Man with the Yellow Hat.

Rolo McFlurry and the Purple Crayon.

Dr Seuss's Why Such A Hurry, Rolo McFlurry?

But it's not. It's the new thing from McDonald's.



Here's what it's like eating one.

Mmmm. Mmmm. MMMMM! Rolo McFlurry. Mmmm. Yummm. Mmmmm. Ow! Brain freeze brain freeze brain freeze ow ow ow ow ow. Ohhhhh. Owwwww. Mmmmm. Yummm. Rolo McFlurry. Mmmmm.

Repeat.

Rolo McFlurry. It's what's for dinner!

Ice Box Fruitcake

I'm not a fan of traditional fruitcake. But there is a fruitcake that I do like. Wife's grandmother passed her Ice Box Fruitcake recipe to her years ago.

Ice boxes were what people used before refrigerators became more widely available and affordable. And, you may have seen an ice box without knowing it. On The Honeymooners, the Kramden's didn't have a refrigerator; they had an ice box.

One of my grandmothers -- my father's mother -- always called her refrigerator "the ice box." When I was a lot younger, I just figured it was because the top part (the freezer) had the ice. Later, I came to understand that it was a hold-over term from when she had an ice box. And that's true of many southern families.

Ice Box Fruitcake is similar to fruitcake. It won't keep as long as regular fruitcake, though. You must refrigerate it -- or, as they use to say years ago, "put it in the ice box."

Here's the recipe:

Ingredients

• One box (approx. 12 oz.) of vanilla wafers
• One pound of candied cherries (red and/or green)
• One can (approx. 14 oz.) sweetened condensed milk (not evaporated milk)
• One cup raisins
• One cup coconut
• One cup pecans

Directions

1. Finely crush vanilla wafers. A food processor works great!
2. In a large bowl, add the vanilla wafers, sweetened condensed milk.
3. Hand mix until wafers are moistened.
4. Add remaining ingredients.
5. Mix well by hand.
6. Press mixture into a buttered tube pan.
7. Cover
8. Refrigerate overnight, until firm.

Keep it refrigerated; it will spoil. This isn't your traditional fruitcake. It's so, so much better!

Ice Box Fruitcake

I'm not a fan of traditional fruitcake. But there is a fruitcake that I do like. The Wife's grandmother passed her Ice Box Fruitcake recipe to her years ago.

Ice boxes were what people used before refrigerators became more widely available and affordable. And, you may have seen an ice box without knowing it. On The Honeymooners, the Kramden's didn't have a refrigerator; they had an ice box.

One of my grandmothers -- my father's mother -- always called her refrigerator "the ice box." When I was a lot younger, I just figured it was because the top part (the freezer) had the ice. Later, I came to understand that it was a hold-over term from when she had an ice box. And that's true of many southern families.

Ice Box Fruitcake is similar to fruitcake. It won't keep as long as regular fruitcake, though. You must refrigerate it -- or, as they use to say years ago, "put it in the ice box."

Here's the recipe:

Ingredients

• One box (approx. 12 oz.) of vanilla wafers
• One pound of candied cherries (red and/or green)
• One can (approx. 14 oz.) sweetened condensed milk (not evaporated milk)
• One cup raisins
• One cup coconut
• One cup pecans

Directions

1. Finely crush vanilla wafers. A food processor works great!
2. In a large bowl, add the vanilla wafers, sweetened condensed milk.
3. Hand mix until wafers are moistened.
4. Add remaining ingredients.
5. Mix well by hand.
6. Press mixture into a buttered tube pan.
7. Cover
8. Refrigerate overnight, until firm.

Keep it refrigerated; it will spoil. This isn't your traditional fruitcake. It's so, so much better!

We shall not speak of this again

Going grocery shopping isn't fun. The Wife and I sometimes go together. But not often.

Not that we don't enjoy going or doing things together. No, that's not it.

It's that we're completely different kind of shoppers.

And not that I think my way of shopping is better than her way of shopping. But, I shop my way. It's how I am.

Sometimes, I do a very good job of shopping.

Then, sometimes, I do really stupid things.

Like yesterday.

We went to Publix. And she didn't like it. Oh, she was driving, and in no way whatsoever insisted that we go to Publix. We were near there, after having eaten at the Cracker Barrel. And, she started heading to the big Wal-mart out at Hooterville (it's actually called "Columbus Park Crossing," but since the first thing built during the recent building boom in that area was a Hooters, we gave it that name). However, she decided to just pull into the Publix instead.

We started shopping, found, once again, that our shopping styles don't mesh, and started getting things we thought we wanted. Sort of shopping separately, yet sharing a shopping cart.

I will buy 2-liter drinks; she'll buy the 12-pack of 12-ounce cans. I picked up a 2-liter of Publix cola. And, hanging nearby, was some dispenser thingy. You removed the cap off the 2-liter, put this thingy in it's place, and you didn't have to open the 2-liter bottle again. No more "swoosh" as the air escapes. It'd keep the drink from going flat as soon.

At least, that's what it said. Sounded good to me. So, into the shopping cart it went.

Notice what I didn't say. I said what all I read on the label. But I said nothing about the price. Because I didn't read the price.

The Wife did. After we got home.

"You paid $6.99 for that coke nozzle?!?"

I look at her. "What?"

"$6.99?! You paid $6.99 for that nozzle?"

I think quickly. No, I don't remember what it cost. Maybe I didn't look at the price. Check that; I'm sure I didn't look at the price.

"I don't know."

"That what it says here!"

"Well, I swiped my card. But I finished loading the cart. You signed the receipt. So, you paid for it."

She was not amused.

Anyway, later, I opened the 2-liter bottle, followed the instructions, and put the nozzle on the bottle.

Everything works just great.

Except that it leaks. Both air and cola.

"So, how'd that work out for ya?" she asked.

"You're being mean to me," I told her.

She laughed.

And every time I got more drink out of the 2-liter, I could feel her stare. I'd turn around and she'd be looking at me. And laughing.

I'd had enough. "We shall not speak of this again!"

And we haven't.

But she has. She has the most wonderful laugh.

So, can my crack dealer make change?

Ran into a situation Monday.

It actually began Friday, when I received a $100 bill as part of a transaction.

The C-Note sat in my wallet all weekend. Then, Monday, I went to Hardee's for lunch.

They don't take $100 bills. Fifties either, as it turns out, though I didn't have one those, so...

Anyway, there I was, with legal tender (for all debts, public and private), and I couldn't spend it.

As it turned out, they take credit cards. So, I broke out my Visa card, and paid the bill.

But that $100 bill? Useless. At Hardee's. McDonald's, too. As well as Wendy's. And all the other places a cheapskate like me eats lunch.

So, I can't use it for food.

I'm wondering if I should accuse Hardee's of being racist. I'm not sure why. It just seems the thing to do these days.

Hardee's new menu offering

Stopped by Hardee's for breakfast yesterday.

I enjoy Hardee's for just about any quick meal. Their burgers they changed to a few years ago are great. But their biscuits have been the best for many years.

So, if I'm stopping somewhere for a quick breakfast, Hardee's is my choice.

And, yesterday, I stopped by Hardee's.

I wasn't the only one.

As you can see by the picture, some deer hunters decided to stop by, too. Only, they didn't hit the drive-through. Rather, they parked and went inside.

Parked right up front. With the tailgate down, and the gutted deer sitting there, facing not just the drive-through window, but the main dining room windows, too.

And it wasn't just those of us in the drive-through lane, drive-though window, or restaurant that noticed.

A german shepherd noticed, too.

I suppose he may hang around Hardee's for the occasional dropped food, or tossed leftovers in the dumpster. But yesterday morning, he got a bonus on the menu: a deer on a platter. Or on a tailgate of a pick-up.

Fido kept looking toward the restaurant, then back at the deer. He'd sniff, then look toward the restaurant. Right as I pulled away, the dog jumped up, putting his front legs on the tailgate, and leaned in toward the deer.

I didn't stick around to see if there were any leftovers.

And I've decided not to go to Hardee's for breakfast this morning.

An Icebox Fruitcake recipe

For those raised up in the South, you're probably familiar with what an "icebox" is. If you're not ... well ... it's an early refrigerator. Ran on ice. If you can call it running. It actually just sat there. An icebox was an insulated chest or cabinet that contained ice, and kept the contents cool. You'd restock it when the ice melted down. You've probably seen one. Ever watch The Honeymooners? The Kramdens had one. After refrigeration came affordable for many folks, the phrase "icebox" stayed around for a while. My grandmother (father's mother) often called her refrigerator "the icebox" until she died (a decade and a half ago). So, now that you know what an "icebox" is -- if you didn't already know, that is -- you'll understand better the name "icebox fruitcake." It's fruitcake insofar as it's very similar in appearance to traditional fruitcake. But it won't keep. Traditional fruitcake can be kept around 40 years or more. Or so it seems. Not so with icebox fruitcake. You need to eat it, or, like your --or my -- grandmother might say, "put it in the icebox." The Wife's grandmother actually is the source of this icebox fruitcake recipe. I don't like fruitcake. I like this. Ingredients

• One box (approx. 12 oz.) of vanilla wafers
• One pound of candied cherries (red and/or green)
• One can (approx. 14 oz.) sweetened condensed milk (do not use evaporated milk)
• One cup raisins
• One cup coconut
• One cup pecans, chopped.

Directions

1. Finely crush vanilla wafers.
2. In a large bowl, add the vanilla wafers and sweetened condensed milk.
3. Hand mix until wafers are moistened.
4. Add remaining ingredients.
5. Mix well by hand.
6. Press mixture into a buttered tube pan. Alternately, press into cupcake pan for individual-size cakes.
7. Cover.
8. Refrigerate overnight, or until firm.

It will spoil if you don't refrigerate it (or "put it in the icebox"). Keep in mind, there are many varieties of icebox fruitcake recipes. This is but one. Feel free to expand on it in any way (graham crackers, adult beverages, etc.). If you've never experienced an icebox fruitcake, you don't know what you're missing. If this recipe turns out to be your first ... well, you're welcome.

Chicken bacon ranch

I like eating sandwiches. Hamburgers are my favorite. But I'll eat sub sandwiches (Subway, Firehouse, Quiznos, etc) too. Lately, I've seen ads about Dominos new sandwiches. But we've never had them. The Wife and I decided tonight to try them. We stopped by Dominos, I went inside, and placed my order. It took longer than expected. You see, they messed up one of the sandwiches. Mine. The Chicken Bacon Ranch. I don't know how they messed it up, but the manager on duty notified me that there would be a delay, because they made an error in making my Chicken Bacon Ranch sandwich. No, I didn't ask how someone could mess one of those up. I probably didn't want to know. After a delay, I got the sandwich. And it was good. It was really good. But I really got to wonder... There's not much to a Chicken Bacon Ranch sandwich. There's chicken. There's bacon. And there's ranch dressing. And it's on a sandwich. I mean, the recipe is in the name of the sandwich. And they messed it up. What, did the fact that there were three ingredients confuse them? It makes you wonder. It really makes you wonder.

Okay, maybe the chili was a little thick

Made chili the other day. Had some silly chili cook-off at work. I'm not known for my chili, but I figured, what the heck. And, of course, it came in last or something. The Wife isn't a big fan of my chili, either. She says it's too thick for her ... comfort, taste, something. Hers is lots ... LOTS ... thinner than mine. She thinks mine's too thick. I understand now. While watching the Georgia-Florida game today (don't say a word!), I decided it was time for chili. Good comfort food. So, I got up, went to the fridge, and pulled out the half-full pot of chili. A case (24 cans) of drinks was sitting sideways, up against the pot, with the plastic still on and a couple of cans out. Think one of those cases of Winn-Dixie drinks. 'Cause that's what it was. One came out and rolled off the shelf, bounced, hit the bottom lip on the fridge, and rolled out to the floor. I made an attempt to ... I don't know ... stop it, make it go back in time, something. That's when I dropped the chili. The lid bounced off, and the pot ended up ... upside down on the floor. Great. Just frickin' great. I shook my head, bent down, grabbed the handles, and picked up the pot, expecting the worst. Nothing. The chili was defiantly clinging to the bottom of the pot. Nothing on the floor. A half-full pot of chili was still half-full of chili. Thh Wife is right: My chili is too thick. Thank goodness.

A word from our sponsors...

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We know return to our regularly-scheduled blogging.

Bag Lady food

While in Savannah this weekend, we ate at Paula Deen's place.

The Wife likes to watch the Food Network. And she's been wanting to go to Paula Deen's restaurant in Savannah. The Lady and Sons.

She's the Food Network fan, not me. I like food, you see. A lot. But I don't want to watch it on TV. I want to eat it.

The thing is, I just didn't "get" the whole Paula Deen thing. But I'm not "dissing" it or putting it down in any way. But to most people, she's a Food Network star. The Wife included.

To me, she's the Bag Lady.

I remember when she made a name for herself when she started up her business. Because I read the Savannah newspaper and watched Savannah TV when I lived over in that part of the state. For the first, on, 30-something years of my life. Anyway, suddenly, one day, Paula Deen was a TV star.

And good for her.

And I'm happy that many people get to experience her food. Because her food is South Georgia cooking. And lots of folks don't get to experience it. And that struck home today.

We were sitting in The Lady and Sons when the waitress brought us the biscuits and cornbread.

And the couple at a table near us didn't know what it was.

I had to listen to the waitress explain the biscuits and cornbread.

Actually, the cornbread.

They had never seen flat cornbread.

Probably because they weren't from around there. Or anywhere near there.

Which shows to a degree that I grew up eating food like you eat at Paula Deen's.

The macaroni and cheese tasted a whole lot like the way a great-aunt made it. And the fried chicken a lot like another lady I knew used to make hers.

In other words, it was good eatin' ... and like the eatin' I was used to coming up.

The Wife was the one that wanted to go to Paula Deen's place to eat. But I think I enjoyed it more.

Sign of the times

A commentary on the times in which we live. And, this, in and of itself, isn't a big deal. I realize that. But it shows things in their true light. I went to A & W for lunch today. In fact, I'm sitting in the restaurant as I write this. I like their burgers. No, they're not great burgers. They aren't special gourmet burgers. They're just good burgers. And ... sometimes ... I want just a good burger. I nearly passed the restaurant, because I didn't have it in mind. But, as I approached the intersection where it's located, I had the craving. So, I checked the lanes behind me -- traffic was light -- put the blinker on, and navigated over. When I got inside, they had a sign up, advertising their Steakhouse Burger. Never had theirs. Had the one at Burger King, but I expect the A & W one would be good, too. Better than the one at BK. In my mind at least. But I never got the chance. The polite, young man at the counter informed me, "We don't really server those anymore." I wasn't sure what the "really" part meant, but I got the gist of it: order something else. I blinked once, twice, three times. Looked over at the sign. Pointed. Asked, "The burger on the sign there, you don't serve that?" "No, sir," the polite, young man said. And he shrugged. I blinked again. Sighed. Then looked up at the menu. "Let me have a Number One combo, then, if I could, please," I said. He took my order, took my money, and handed me my drink cup. Got my drink, found a seat, then decided to get the MacBook out of the car. Went to the A & W Website and, sure enough, there was the Steakhouse Burger there on the front page. So, it wasn't a situation of the company discontinuing the burger. Rather, there was an issue at the local restaurant -- maybe they were out of the little onion thingies -- but, they left the sign up. Okay, like I said, this isn't a big deal. But it still says a lot. We'll say things that aren't so (leaving a sign up, advertising something that's not available). We'll pretend it doesn't matter (shrugging shoulders when asked about it). We'll accept it without complaint (order something else). And here's the worst of it. Someone will defend it as being okay. But it's not. Not in a fast-food restaurant. And not in our dealings with each other. We can do better. But will we?

Green grocer

The Wife and I went grocery shopping the other day.

She likes to shop at Wal-Mart.

I'm more of a Winn-Dixie guy.

So, naturally, we ended up at Publix.

Hadn't been to Publix in a while. So, some things were different.

Like the hippie food.

Actually, I knew they had a hippie food section. It's easy to spot. It's the section where college kids that dress like Linda Perry (during her 4 Non Blondes days) shop.

Only, it's expanding.

I found something called "Green Cuisine" in the frozen food section. And here's what Contessa, the company that made these dishes, says about it:

In 2007, Contessa opened the first environmentally responsible, LEED-certified frozen-food manufacturing plant in the world. Located in Los Angeles, our new plant uses advanced design and technology to significantly reduce Contessa's environmental impact. It uses half the energy and reduces CO2 emissions by 50% compared to a conventional plant built today.

The facility, its processes and the products manufactured there are known as "Green Cuisine.

Now, I saw all that stuff, and thought, "Hmm. I can pay more and feel good about eating frozen food when I drive my gasoline-burning Chevrolet several miles on an asphalt-covered road to a major grocery chain."

The thing is, some will actually think that and totally miss the irony.

I guess it's called "green" for more than one reason.

I'll have 8 pounds of chocolate and a small Diet Coke

The Wife and I went to Pensacola this weekend. More about that later.

But, on the way back, we stopped for gas at Greenville, Alabama.

And, at that exit, there's a Russell Stover outlet.

So, like a couple of kids in a candy store, we walked around, pointing, wanting this, wanting that. And, when it was all done, we didn't get that much.

They had a special on the Whitman Samplers. So, we got 8 12-ounce boxes.

And a pound of pecan clusters.

And various other small items.

Gifts, you see.

No, really. They were gifts.

Anyhow, we got up to the register, and I noticed they had a fountain Coke machine. So, I ordered a large Diet Coke.

They didn't have any large cups.

What did they have?

Small cups.

"Well, then," I said, "I'll have this 8 pounds of chocolate, and a small Diet Coke."

So, we got our stuff and left.

We drove back towards the house, me sipping on my Diet Coke.

And, we got back to the house with around 7 pounds of chocolate.

Oh, did I say the chocolates were gifts?

They were.

Mostly.

I had to counter that Diet Coke with something.

Movie concessions

Yesterday, The Wife and I went to the movies. And saw the new Indiana Jones movie. Read about it here (warning, spoilers!).

Went to the early show. One of them, anyway. They were showing it every 15 minutes. And we caught the last of the early shows. Paid matinée price.

Which meant we only paid $13.50 for the two tickets.

But then, I bought popcorn.

A large drink (so we could share), a large popcorn (so we could share), and a box of candy ran ... $12.50.

Because they had a "special." Would normally cost even more. But we saved a few cents by getting the "special."

The drink was full. Not overloaded with ice.

The popcorn was movie popcorn. Big bag, spilling the whole way.

The box of candy? Big box. But, unlike the Coke and popcorn, not a lot of candy. Half candy, half empty box.

We ended up paying $26 for the two of us to see the movie and have a movie snack.

That's only $13 each.

No, we don't have more dollars than we have sense. We just act like it sometimes.

But, that's just how it is. If you go to the movie, unless you sneak food in (and I don't), you either do without ... or pay the big bucks.

And that's the concessions you make at the concessions.

So where do all the Chinese restaurant owners go on Monday?

We've had some major projects going on at work recently, and that's meant some long hours. And time away from The Wife.

Oh, and baseball season has started. And The Wife doesn't go to all the games. She likes to get her beauty sleep, you see. And likes to be in bed before 9:30. She also likes to watch her "stories" -- Guiding Light and As The World Turns -- on the TiVo. So, like I said, she doesn't go to all the games.

But I go to all the games. All I can, anyway.

That means we don't always get a chance to get together for supper easily. Sure, we can make plans for supper, but we are used to not making plans. We're used to just both being available.

With work recently ... and now with baseball season ... it's different. We have to make plans.

So, when we decide to get together for supper, it's the usual.

"Hey, where do you want to go?"

"I don't know. Where do you want to go?"

"It doesn't really matter. What are you in the mood for?"

"I don't know? What do you have a taste for?"

"Whatever you want."

And so on.

Often, it ends with me driving to some place, hoping it's something she's in the mood for.

Our tastes are different. We both eat Southern, American, Mexican, Japanese, Chinese, Italian ... you get the idea. We just like the different types of food to different degrees.

For instance, she'd eat Mexican every day. I wouldn't.

She'd eat Chinese every day. I wouldn't.

I'd eat hamburgers or pizza every day. She wouldn't.

Sure, we both eat traditional Southern cooking, but there aren't a lot of places open for that for supper. For dinner (that's lunch, if you ain't from 'round here) the area is practically crawling with Southern eating. But not for supper. Or, at least, not a lots of places.

So, that means for supper, we'll do burgers, sandwiches (Subway, or other similar), Mexican, Chinese, Japanese, Italian ... or something.

Like I said, she could eat Chinese every day. I couldn't. But some days, I'm in the mood for Chinese.

So, on Monday, neither of us had to work late, no ball game in town, and we decided to go out for supper.

"Hey, where do you want to go?"

"I don't know. Where do you want to go?"

"It doesn't really matter. What are you in the mood for?"

"I don't know? What do you have a taste for?"

"Whatever you want."

And, since I was driving, I got to choose.

So, we headed for a Chinese restaurant. One in Phenix City.

There are lots of good Chinese restaurants in the area. Best is probably Chef Lee's, which is regularly one of the top 100 Chinese restaurants in the U.S.

But there are other good ones, too. And one of The Wife's favorites is China Garden in Phenix City. She's been going there ever since it opened, and really likes it. And, yes, the food and service is always very good.

So, Monday, we headed that way.

Only, the thing is, it's closed on Monday. And I forgot that.

And, thinking about it, several Oriental restaurants -- not all, but lots in the area -- are closed on Mondays.

And I don't know why.

I want to know. Or at least, I think I want to know. I might not.

But, no ball game tonight. No need to work late ... unless something breaks or suddenly catches fire. So, tonight, we might be going out for Chinese.

Maybe I'll ask them why they close on Monday. And why others in the area do, too.

On the other hand, maybe I'll just enjoy the meal and be thankful it's not Monday.

Diet killer

If you're on a diet, stay away ... far away ... from Four Winds restaurant in Cusseta, Georgia.

But if you're looking for a serious hamburger, head there without delay.

I've eaten there before. Just not in a while. But yesterday, I had lunch there.

If you're not familiar with Four Winds, it's the home of the Ranger Burger. Named for the soldiers -- actually for the Rangers, who, along with other soldiers -- can often be seen frequenting the restaurant.

The Ranger Burger is a pound of meat ... that's two half-pound patties ... with cheese, bacon, lettuce, bacon, mustard, and ketchup ... on a bun. Comes with fries and tea.

I didn't have the Ranger Burger. I had the Combat Diver: two half-pound patties, cheese, onion rings (on the burger), bacon, ham, and barbeque sauce. Almost a meal in itself! The fries and sweet tea complete the order.

Of course, it was good. And filling.

Now, being overweight, it would be a good idea if I dropped a few pounds. Okay, more than a few pounds.

But I didn't help my cause at all yesterday. I ate the burger and hardly paused to take a breath.

They do have smaller burgers. They're only half-pound versions of the Ranger Burger. You know. For the smaller appetite.

And they have quarter-pound burgers, too. If you want to eat normal-sized food.

But, if you're in the Columbus or Ft. Benning area, and want to test your stomach, take the road south to Cusseta (most folks around here pronounce it "cuh-SEE-tuh") and stop at Four Winds. Order a Ranger Burger.

Your stomach will thank you. Your bathroom scales will not.

Food for the Soul

This past weekend, we went to southeast and northeast Georgia, visiting relatives. The children, actually. Plus my grandmother.

Sunday was the day we went to Athens to visit The Little Princess.

We got there just before she was about to head out to a movie. A movie she really didn't want to see.

You see, Larry Munson, the Voice of the Georgia Bulldogs, has a group of UGA students that he goes with to the movies on Sundays. And The Little Princess is in that group.

But she didn't want to see the movie that day.

The Wife and I had a little something to drop off with her, and she said she wasn't all that interested in going to that day's film.

I offered lunch. At Weaver D's.

During a visit to Athens, a visit to Weaver D's is ... well ... automatic.

Only, it was Sunday. And Weaver D's was closed.

So, The Little Princess suggested we go to Food For The Soul.

So, we did.

Now, Weaver D's ... as well as Food For The Soul ... are soul food restaurants.

I never understood about soul food. It's supposed to be southern Black food.

It became a popular phrase in the 1960s, and was used to refer to food that Blacks ... southern Blacks, in particular ... ate.

I never understood that.

You see, at Food For The Soul, I had pork chops, fried shrimp, creamed corn, macaroni & cheese, corn bread, green beans. The Little Princess had some of that, plus broccoli & rice casserole, while The Wife's meal included collards, cabbage, candied sweet potatoes, strawberry short cake.

And, it was all good. Very good.

Anyway, that's supposed to be soul food.

And, I guess it is.

You see, my whole family's been eating like that our whole life.

Soul food, if you want to call it that, isn't exactly southern Black food.

It's food.

Willie's Wee-Nee Wagon

Last weekend, we took a trip to southeast and northeast Georgia, visiting family members. On Saturday, we stopped in Brunswick to see my son.

He was just getting off work when we got there, so, of course, The Wife wanted to run to Wal-Mart.

After leaving Hell-Mart, we ran over to my son's apartment. After a quick visit, we went out to eat.

You see, I don't like to miss a meal. I'm grumpy -- very grumpy -- when I miss a meal. I needed to eat. And, in southeast Georgia, eating is a social occasion.

So, we all piled in the Chevrolet -- me, The Wife, and Number One Son -- and went looking for a place to eat in Brunswick.

Now, despite all the things about Brunswick I don't like -- the way they drive, the way the city smells (one word: Hercules; you either know what I'm talking about, or you don't) -- I got to hand it to them. You can always find a place to eat.

Sure, some are better than others. But if you don't find a place you can eat at in Brunswick, either you ain't lookin', or you don't know how to eat.

His apartment is on Altama Avenue, so I mentioned the first place on Altama that came to mind: Willie's Wee-Nee Wagon.

I remember the first time I saw Willie's Wee-Nee Wagon. It was 1978. And I was a student at Brunswick Junior College.

BJC is now Coastal Georgia Community College.

But Willie's Wee-Nee Wagon is still Willie's Wee-Nee Wagon.

And they still have the same slogan: "We Relish Your Bun."

The Wife had heard me mention Willie's Wee-Nee Wagon in the past. And, my son had, too.

But, unlike The Wife, my son had actually seen the place ... and had actually eaten there.

So, when I mentioned that place ... in jest ... he said, "Yeah, that'd be good." And he meant it.

Because my memory's as short as my little finger, I couldn't say with certainty that I had ever eaten there. I thought I had, but, heck, it was 30 years. I wasn't 100 per cent sure.

Anyway, we headed down Altama, towards the college ... and towards Willie's Wee-Nee Wagon.

Pulled into the place. It was starting to get dark, but there was still enough light to see the sign, which hadn't been turned on. Actually, I don't know if it's lighted or not. Never been there at night. All the classes I took at BJC were day classes. And I never went there at night.

Anyway, we ordered our food. And I had to tell The Wife, who's from Phenix City, Alabama -- Alabama's answer to Ludowici, Georgia -- that if you wanted chili on the hot dog, you had to order a chili dog. She thinks all hot dogs come with chili. So, every time she visits the rest of Earth, I have to tell her the local customs.

Anyhow, she ordered her meal. I ordered mine. And my son ordered his.

We went inside, because it was getting dark and the gnats were out.

Sat down at one of the red picnic tables, and waited for our food.

Didn't take long, and we laid out the spread of food on the table and began digging in.

As soon as I took my first bite of the chili dog, I knew. Yes, I had eaten there before.

Took the first bite of the chili dog to jog my memory, but I knew.

We ate our supper, sat and visited for a bit, before we headed back to his apartment.

Good visit overall.

And good food.