Our 25th anniversary in Colorado - the going part

We returned last Saturday evening from our whirlwind trip to the wilds of Central Colorado where we spent our 25th wedding anniversary with our friends Stan and Margie. They live a few miles outside of a small town called Basalt, just off of Route 82 between Glenwood Springs and Aspen, and about 9,000 feet closer to heaven.

Now some of you might be familiar with Glenwood Springs -- besides being located in the stunningly beautiful Glenwood Canyon, off of I-70, it's known for its thermal baths and "vapors," and has been a point of retreat for folks suffering from lung ailments since the 19th century. In fact, John Henry Holliday, better known as "Doc" Holliday since he was a dentist before becoming a gambler and gunman -- spent his last days in Glenwood Springs. Suffering from advanced tuberculosis, known in his time as "consumption," Holliday died alone and virtually penniless in the Hotel Glenwood. He was reportedly buried in the Pioneer Cemetery (known at the time as Linwood Cemetery). Anyway, I'll have more to say of Doc Holliday later along with photos.

So, a week ago Monday Susie and I packed our bags, called a cab and headed for the Providence train station.

Now I remember coming into this station in the fall of 1987, shortly after it was built -- and the bathrooms haven't been cleaned since. Like so many other aspects of our infrastructure it is tired, worn and in sore need of repair.

Anyway, we took a very chilly Amtrak regional train down to Newark airport. Along the way had the privilege of listening to a woman -- apparently a therapist from the Metro Park area of New Jersey -- counseling her patients by mobile phone for nearly the entire trip. Except for the last half hour or so when she was yammering on about how she had recently visited a NYC jewelry store to check out used Rolex watches and was shocked at the watch she wanted cost $33,000, yada yada yada.

From the Newark airport station we hopped on the air train to the terminal and then caught a shuttle to our hotel in Elizabeth, NJ -- we had an early flight out of Newark on Tuesday so thought we would be well-rested and ready to go.

After we checked in to the Renaissance Marriott -- and "Renaissance" is not exactly the word I would use to define that place -- we headed downstairs to the restaurant for a sandwich. We walked into the dining room and were confronted by three banks of more than two dozen TVs! Several different channels going at once, although thank the gods there was no sound. Still it was bizarre and stupid. And the food was mediocre and grossly overpriced -- but hey Tony Soprano has to eat too, ya know.

A good night's rest and we were out early the next morning for our connecting flight to Atlanta -- and a nice bumpy ride it was too, thank you very much Delta.

While waiting for our connecting flight there was a young family of four, husband, wife, son, daughter and what appeared to be two grandparents sitting just a few feet from me. They were all waiting for a flight somewhere else other than Denver.

Anyway, I watched as the father pointedly, completely and utterly ignored his children. He was all decked out in a fishing ensemble, as was his son, and carrying a special backpack designed to tote fishing rods as well -- and I watched in amazement his apparent complete withdrawal from his family. When his 10-year-old son and 8-year-old daughter came up to him to hug close, he showed no warmth, not even a sign of acknowledging their presence until one of them asked him a question and he gave the tersest of answers. No affection, no love, nothing -- nor did he show the least interest in his wife or his/her parents. But they soon boarded their plane and were gone down the jetway.

Atlanta turbulence notwithstanding we had a relatively bump-free ride west and were soon in hot n' brown Denver hurtling off in a shuttle bus to Alamo rental.

About four hours later were were pulling into Stan and Margie's driveway. The weather was wonderful, the air -- what little there was of it -- was crisp, clean and full of promise.

Susie's birthday at Gracie's

Well they did it again -- Stan and Margie I mean.

They arranged for a bottle of champagne chilled at the table when we arrived at Gracie's for Susie's birthday dinner.

Let's back up a bit. Saturday morning Susie went in to Gracie's -- she still had to do plenty of prepping for her week off and of course get desserts ready for a wedding that Gracie's was catering that evening. While she slaved over a hot mixer I plotted the remaining moves of the day -- particularly for the evening.

She had made me promise not to buy her anything for her birthday -- our trip to Colorado next week would be our gift to each other for both our 25th anniversary and for her birthday. I said, sure, "I promise not to buy you anything." And of course I went out and promptly bought her an iPod Nano so she could work on her French lessons while rolling dough.

Arranging the dinner at Gracie's was a last minute idea -- I was planning on fixing food at home, you know, having a quiet birthday dinner. I stopped for a moemnt -- slapped my forehead and said "What a knucklehead!" Life is short. Go to Gracie's, have a special night out, relax, eat some really good food. So Saturday afternoon I took not one but two bottles of wine to Gracie's for our "surprise" dinner -- naturally Susie learned of the whole affair but no matter in short order. I was on a roll.

What I did was: I brought a regular 750ml bottle of 1990 Brunello for dinner and a 5L (that five liters or about 7 bottles worth of) 1989 Chianti Classico. We had been saving this for the right occasion and I had the idea to share our good fortune with a roomful of strangers. 

The plan was about a half hour or so after we arrived Anter -- the wine guy at Gracie's -- would pour a glass for everyone in the restaurant.

Which is exactly what happened.

The Big Bottle seemed limitless -- and it was a rush for us to watch the reaction on the faces of all the people who were taken quite by surprise by this glass of old Chianti that appeared out of nowhere. Curiously, the reaction we heard -- and experienced ourselves in fact -- was that the wine tasted rather like beef bouillon. A very nice beef bouillon, too, I should say.

I told Anter to make sure there was plenty left for the staff after the restaurant closed. He said not to worry.

And we didn't.

For the next several hours we relaxed, sipped wine -- beginning with a champagne compliments of Stan and Margie - and just chatted about how our lives have changed so very much in the past three years -- sea changes to be sure.

There was a beautiful arrangement of flowers on the table waiting for us (see the photo above if you don't believe me) -- table 10 in case you need to know -- compliments of Ellen and the Gracie's guys and dolls. Chef Joe's dinner was incredible: seared scallops for starters and a delicious beef ribeye with the cap cut off and both parts prepared side-by-side, followed, with fresh veggies cooked just right -- I mean when was the last time you had fresh peas?

Afterwards we headed home. It was really that simple.

Today, Sunday the air cooled as the humidity dropped; Susie went back to Gracie's for one last, one final prep session. Before she left the two of us thought back on the recent events of last evening. We remarked how we had made the very right decision way back in the winter of 2005. It was in January of that year that I began this blog as we began this adventure as we got ready to head off to Siena and two months of language school.

And the journey continues: soon it's off to Colorado for our anniversary, back for two days and then it's off to NYC and Gracie's dinner at the Beard House, ten days later a quick trip to Maine and in early September back to Paris.

Il viaggio, le voyage, the journey of a lifetime. No, make that two lifetimes.

So here's thanks to you all for wishing us well on this journey. I'm amazed that you still want to hear the stories.

Wish you were here,

Steve

August in Providence

Van Halsema sisters Betsey, Bernice and Marian

July of 2008 is now a historical fact; although for us in Providence and for many others as well, the month was hot, steamy, sticky and muggy. I know, an odd selection of words used to condition a particularly unpleasant condition of relatively high humidity. Still, it works for us believe me. 

This past week and indeed much of the month has come to a curiously pleasant conclusion. The hot and humid weather aside, work has gone well for both of us and Susie is winding down while gearing up, prepping things for the week we will be gone to Colorado. (More of that later.) Lots of long days for the baking ninja but she's generally in her element: flour and butter, cream and dough stuff in general.

As for me, the Johnson & Wales website continues to take shape right before my eyes; it's pretty exciting been a part, even a small part, in the evolution of a web presence as broad and deep as JWU's will be. The effect of the new site is of course unknown, but from what little I've seen so far it's going to be enormous and substantial.

So as one month ended and another began, we were witnesses to at a coupe of twists to the coming of August.

Earlier in the week Susan's Aunt Betsey and Uncle Jack D. from Michigan called us to say they were going to be in our neighborhood and wondered if we could get together for dinner. We said of course!

To see any of Susie's aunts or uncles is always a special treat. And Jack and Betsey literally define the concept of a "cute couple." And they do it so naturally, without even trying. Aunt Betsey is one of the kindest people I have ever known -- and is rivaled only by her sisters and in particular the one whose daughter I married almost 25 years ago (which we will be spending in Colorado -- see I told you I'd get back to that).

And Uncle Jack -- that's him up there -- well, he has spent much of his adult years shuttling back and forth between the furniture business and making his own travel videos. You can't go wrong with a movie from Jack D., they are fascinating and remind me of the old travelogues one would see at the library years ago. And he tells the best stories. . . .

So we planned to meet in Providence -- and Aunt Betsey contacted her brother Frank in Boston so he and his wife Cathy were also going to join us.

What a pair those two are -- Frank will sit listening intently to each and every conversation and then pop in with an appropriate observation, or more often than not a joke, which is usually followed by his breaking out in the one of the most incredible laughs and grins, from eye-to-ear as they say. And Cathy -- she is one of the wittiest and funniest people I have ever had the good fortune to come across.

And rounding out the evening was a real treat, particularly for Susie: her cousin Jack Jr. and his wife Wilma were also joining us. Susie gets to see her cousins so infrequently -- so many of them are scattered in every direction, and they all seem to have such fond memories of each other growing up. And Jack is another one famous for the wall-to-wall smiles (you can see it for yourself down below). His wife W. is so full of life and her eyes become intently animated when she talks, which is usually with her hands, almost as if she were signing. Incredible.

We met the group at Broadway Bistro for an early dinner -- everyone had some driving to do that evening, except for us of course. What a grand time it was too. Great food and lively conversation -- as always with those guys. The time flew by -- and we were sad to see them drive off, particularly when we noticed they were going in the wrong direction to get on I-95 south. . . .

And this was just the beginning of a pretty grand weekend. Stay tuned!

It's time to go back to Paris

That's right folks. Our Michelin map of Paris (Plan 58) is out, unfolded and up on the wall in our bedroom, which makes it as official as it gets: we're going back to Paris. And we're going soon.

We have our tickets -- Delta nonstop from JFK to CDG, and we're going back to stay in Drea's apartment on rue General Renault, just a 10-minute walk from Pere Lachaise, 2 minutes from Place Leon Blum and even less to a metro stop.

Planning has begun in earnest -- any suggestions will be entertained of course, but right now we're focused on putting together a short (OK long) list of places to eat, nibble, snack and just generally get the best food we can find. Most of which are thanks to the groundbreaking work of Clotilde Dusoulier and Mort Rosenbloom. Well, mostly.

And you thought this was all about Providence. Think again. We certainly are.

Oh, and in case you absolutely need to know, that's a photo of Nancy Fleury's grave in division 27, Montparnasse Grande cemetery.

UPS Discriminates against US

Apparently UPS has taken upon itself to discriminate against those of us living here at 1488 Westminster street in Providence -- they refuse to leave any packages unless they are signed for in person. And since everyone works here there's no one to sign so . . . well you see the catch-22 here. FedEx leaves packages here but not UPS. Nope. and when I called to ask about this "policy," I was informed that because of where we live UPS couldn't risk leaving packages outside. It's a bad area.

BAD AREA? Maybe it's all those black kids, or Latino males hanging round Mi Ranchito, eh?

Bad Area. Hardly. It's quiet, peaceful and we have had no problems since moving here. Nor has anyone else.

No, it's discrimination pure and simple. Just like the in (not-so-) old days when insurance companies and realtors would discriminate against certain neighborhoods because, ahem, people of color or modest means were the predominant inhabitants. Some attitudes continue to lurk just beneath the surface, even in our (so-called) age of enlightenment.

Well, I've got to go and put out some land mines in the parking lot -- this is a bad area don't you know?