Sunday, June 3, 2012

Hot dog!

leeks carrots.jpghot dog.jpg
Eastside Road, June 1, 2012—
EVEN THOUGH I FORGOT to say "rabbit" before saying anything else this morning, thus ensuring good luck all the new month, eatingwise things are starting out okay. We watch the Cubs battle the Giants on television, eating a delicious first course of buttery leeks and carrots, then continuing with a classic American hot dog — Niman Schell, on Downtown bun, with pickle relish and onion and spicy brown mustard. Can't beat it. (And Cubs couldn't beat Giants, dammit.)
Sirah-Syrah, Preston of Dry Creek, 2008

1 comment:

Curtis Faville said...

I once would probably have laughed at the Wrigleys for refusing to allow night lights at home games. But I've become weary of all the night games now, which last until right up to and occasionally beyond my bed-y-bye-time. Who in his right mind would want to spend a weeknight sitting outside in San Francisco? Candlestick was impossible, but the wind and fog are as bad anywhere in SF as they were on Candlestick Point. I remember one night 55 years ago, watching the Braves play our boys, and by the 4th inning, the mist and cold (probably 40 degrees) had made the second deck unbearable. Even the ushers took pity on us, and we were allowed to migrate down below where there was some shielding from the gale. Aaron hit two home runs that night, over the sad cyclone fence in center field. Willie must have been nostalgic for the Polo Grounds.

Night before last, all the players wore their 1912 uniforms, and it was refreshing. Long striped socks--the proper attire. Nowadays, all the guys wear their pant-legs under their heel cleats--emulating Barry Bonds. How dumb is that? Style before function. Mies had it right--what woman would wear heels if they weren't in fashion?