Frankieleeee's Blog

Whatever boils over over here!

Willie makes it two skunks in a row! 3-0 Scrabble – Lunchbunch Afterwords! Yea, Willie! But, first, A Taste of the Ragin’ Cajun country right here in Cincinnati, folks. J. Gumbo on the Rise. (Lunchbunch. May 26, 2011. White Oak, OH. wilflebobcee)

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In the middle of a mishmosh of foreign cultures lies a haven of serenity and quietude that spreads wisdom and hope through the western suburbs of Cincinnati, Ohio, and it is also where Tranq the trusty van who delights in balking and talking back to any who dare claim ownership, esp. CB and me, begins his trek to meet up with friendlies (code-named Willie and Bob) for a weekly celebration/observance/wake we call (the) Lunchbunch!

6023 Cheviot Road., Cincinnati, Ohio 45247

Like one of those pillboxes you see American G-Is overrunning in WW II movies. See how Shelly's car seems to snuggle so close to Tranq. Mmmmm! Meanwhile, CB marches into the restaurant to check out whether the tables also have parking space for Junior, Jr.

I see someone has rediscovered the trick of using a mirror behind the bar to give the illusion of much more space.

Before we took up pen and paper to score, I see we all acted like we were enjoying ourselves, leading me to believe we were either good eaters or excellent actors, sacrificing for the greater good. 'Twas indeed a good time. See the little bitty cups provided by Shelly for sample tasting?

While we are usually (not to be confused with “normal-ly”) four straight-talking, discerning, intelligent-if-not gentle, warm fuzzballs, on occasion our collective cone of silence that protects us from the outside, is torn open by negative forces which sometimes insinuates itself in the inner workings of our little group. On the subject of food, e.g. It happened again last week in the parking lot of J. Gumbo’s. What resulted was not pretty and not the stuff of tall tales you’d like to collect for your babies and grandbabies to lull them to sleep of a night. Oh, my god! It was culinary chaos, folks. Depending on who among us you ask, lunch at J Gumbos Cajun place over by our house, it was either food to die for or food to kill for (in retribution for crimes against the palate).

Willie: “It was perfect. The food. And the service.”

My favorite: voodoo nachoes!

Bob: “It was awful: all of it. How dare they insult my palate. Didn’t enjoy one bit of one bite, not even that bread”

Whatever the weather!

fle: “All of it, except two, were grand and good and called for reprise. Interestingly, the two I ordered (beans and rice & (?)) were the least interesting to eat …. Yet both were very good “warmed over.”

But was that pie good!!!!! Yepper!

CB: “Give it a 2 and a half. ”

Guess who was stuck with the bill, she said, as she shoved the revealing slip of paper toward the photographer while Shelly the server raced over to refill our pop classes and resupply our napkin supply and reassure herself that all was well with us in our relationship to her.

I wonder which of our enemies’ forces broke through the barrier to plant this one in our midst.

Why, you may ask, is Bob proudly showing off a crisp, almost like new, 100-dollar bill at J. Gumbo's over on Cheviot Road? Mmmmmmmm. Willie almost got by with "that's the smallest bill I've got!" She was, however, outsmarted by the ever-vigilant, ever-helpful Shelly.

It couldn’t have been Shelly the server, she was almost awesome. She was! From the moment CB and I spotted her bending into the open trunk of her car in the parking lot, she sent signals of bonhomie to us all.  Even Bob! She gaily brought tasting samples of practically every dish on the menu. Questions answered. Every one. Even offered (with our dollar) to fetch ice cream for our peach pie at the gas station/party store next door.

Building small, built in the middle of a lot. Looked a lot like the bier gardens my dad and stepmom used to frequent back in the day in the backwoods of Tennessee. A made-over Italian place (notice how many restaurants are located at the sites of former restaurants?)

Apparently they don’t cook on-site! Either Willie or Bob or both told me all the food is cooked at the J. Gumbo’s commissary in Louisville. Which I suppose could explain why they don’t have hamburgers or sausage sandwiches or oyster po’ boys.

Bob did point out he thinks J.Gumbo’s uses an awful lot of salt. Probably. And not unusual. Even the top chefs in the world proclaim that salt is the single most important ingredient to improve the taste of food.

Then back to our place for an afternoon of Scrabble. Afterwords.

Not this time, Bob. Nosir. No you don't, big boy. Not this time, sir!

All Hail Wee Willie the Wonder Woman.

 

Sooooo. I'm collecting bets on my games, folks. Hope you all came prepared. Fle, you owe me $5.00 and no credit, either; this is too fine a victory to celebrate with a chit. CB, looks like $5.00 from you, too. Bob, aren't you glad we doubled down? Ten biguns from you, my friend. Ten of 'em: one, two three, four, five, six, etcetera, TEN.

 

All hail the new Bobslayer!

Willie beat us all (3-1). CB beat all but one of us (2-1). I beat all but two of us (1-2). Bob beat all but 3 of us (0-3).

Pretty soon none of us can spar with her without additional protective gear to preserve our heads as permanent extensions of our bodies.

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Written by frankieleeee

May 29, 2011 at 5:02 pm

One Response

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  1. I am not the only one who takes out of focus pix with your infernal contraption. LOL

    Bob

    June 8, 2011 at 12:23 am


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