Florida F A R T

 
 
 
 
In a recent post on "Notes from the Voodoo Cafe" (see my fav blogs listed on the left here), Rice (can't make that thing over the e happen) mentioned the Big Ass Road Trip (or something like that) she and EGE took a couple of years ago. Actually, that BART included the occasion that introduced Rice and the EGE to me. We were all at Art and Soul Hampton, VA, spring 2009. They are both as smart, talented and funny as her blog posts suggest, and the EGE is as laid-back as she is out-going. I was building a pelican from a fabulous adult sort of papier mache product in a class, and the EGE wandered in with his camera. I never saw him that week without his camera and monopod. That afternoon, he was wearing really great jeans with zentangles all over, with a bright pink shirt. When I told him my husband would wear the same kind of clothes, he didn't really believe me. I guess for good reason. ANYWAY, this is about our Flexible Ass Road Trip (FART). It formed in our heads as a volunteer, domestic winter trip. A rental house purchase at home postponed our volunteer plans, backing us up close to the Dead Zone which is the end of the year/Christmas break. We still believed we'd be volunteers after the holiday. Stuart actually did get in a couple of days of nail banging for Habitat4Humanity here, and saw their massive operation. Then Christmas week arrived, and everyone went shopping. I didn't call the local Literacy Council, knowing there was little I could do before the Big Ass Shopping TimE (BASTE). So, we concentrated on finding waters to paddle our kayaks. We imagined we would paddle a little more than we have, but the rain or wind or cold have kept the kayaks on top of the truck too much. OK. We bought a temporary membership at a local gym. Now, that's worked out pretty well. I've been almost every day, joining group work-out sessions such as spinning and hooping. Stationary bicycle and hula-hoop. HA! I loved the hoop class, and have bought a custom-made hoop from Laney, the instructor. But, I've mostly cooked. This first photo is the collection of mostly olive oils on my kitchen counter. I think there are 5 different evoo's in the total collection. Obviously, I was cooking brussel sprouts this week...evoo and coarse salt, roasted. Yummm!

Joe Patti's Seafood Market sold to me some calimari tubes, extra-large size, $3.99/lb, for stuffing with shrimp ($1.99/lb, heads on) and spinach (Publix, in a bag). Anne Burell's Braised Stuffed Calamari recipe. Oh, my, Good!

Second pic: calamari tubes in my sink.

Third pic: calamari tubes stuffed, and ready for the tomato braising. Aren't they gorgeous?!?

Fourth pic: This white pelican sat on the rail at the downtown dock, waiting for the man who was fishing close by to share. I walked up very close to this pelican, and he was totally unfazed by my presence.

Just a few notes on our FART (flexible ass road trip). More to come.

Letters from home

 
 
 
Apparently we're not the only people enjoying different scenery right now. Our friends, Ruby and Jack turned up at our house last week, and once again we're delighted they are there, but sad we're not. Ruby sent these pictures of the sasanquas by the screened porch. You know, when I planted them, I thought I was planting three of the same variety. Surprise! She says the little shishigashiras by the front door are as pretty. Ruby also reports that the collards and lettuce in the veggie garden are looking good, and tasting fine. I'm happy nothing is wasted, including filling the house with friends.

The Bayou with many other names....

South of here, there is a tiny little bayou that flows into Perdido Bay. The Florida map calls it Herron Bayou. The State Wildlife Boat Ramp sign calls it Heron Bayou. The bridge wall is engraved, "Herrion Bayou Bridge". I think the state had a disagreement on spelling. We paddled up-bayou from the boat ramp this week. This pretty blue heron was hanging out under the pier when we arrived, and was there when we returned from the paddle. The fishing must be good under there. We both saw white pelicans and I saw three belted kingfishers. Heard more kingfishers and woodpeckers, too. The little bayou didn't go far before dribbling into muck, but it was pretty. Afterwards, we bought spicy boiled peanuts from a man by the side of the road, and had lunch at the Tarkiln State Park, under the long leaf pines. Lovely day.
 
















 

I had some alone time this week, too, while Stuart pounded a few nails for the local Habitat for Humanity group. I thought this zentangled star was finished last week, but it kept calling me to add to it. I'm still not sure it's finished, but I've already begun another!

Pensacola, no more

No pics this time....I don't know what's up with the Joe Patti's image. Sometimes it shows, and sometimes it doesn't. Technical ghosts, again.

We're moving on. Pensacola has turned out to be not so pleasant, even though we'd like it to be. We've moved into a small, friendly rv park, which just happens to be behind a night club with an award winning sound system. The wrong kind of award, if you ask me. There seems to be a special relationship between said bar and the Escambia County Sheriff's department, making the entire situation unsolvable. There is a very clearly stated noise ordinance, which the Sheriff's department seems unable or unwilling to enforce. Now I understand why the three houses beside the rv park and directly behind the club have "For Sale" signs in the yard. Where are we going? Stay tuned! We don't know yet...

Joe Patti's Fish Market

 

photo by Stephanie Sikorski, a Joe Patti customer and photographer. Photo copied from Joe Patti's website, http://joepattis.com/, without permission.

I'd heard that the fish market of choice in Pensacola is downtown, a destination sort of place. Joe Patti's Fish Market and two streets over, the Joe Patti's seafood restaurant. So, late Thursday afternoon, after quaffing a couple of beers at the downtown Pensacola Brewery, we went searching for Joe Patti's Fish Market. A huge building, the size of a supermarket but taller, beside a canal off the Gulf, with shrimp trawlers tied up at the pier. I had not planned to buy fish, but we went inside to see. Oh. My. Gosh. It took a few moments for me to catch my breath. The place is HUGE, and LOTS of employees with smiles on their faces scooping up great quantities of all kinds of seafood for customers pointing and directing. An older man sat behind the very long counter, microphone in hand, constantly calling numbers and names, directing the staff in their jobs. I collected myself, and slowly walked the length of the counter, looking at all the offerings. Each item was labeled with name, price, place of origin and any other info I might want. There was every kind of fish I've ever heard of for sale, much of it local. The board behind the counter gave six or eight ways to ask for my fish to be dressed. The shrimp options made my head spin! Tuna of various colors and prices, big football sized chunks. In the back room, through the wide doorway, I could see a fish the size of a big man being tossed on the cutting table, men in white rubber boots and white rubber aprons contemplating the task on the table. Past the shrimp section, the squid and octopus, then oysters, crabs, lobsters and other shell fish. Crab meat picked out, and labeled from either Alabama or Florida: Alabama crab meat is steamed; Florida crab meat is boiled. Or is it the other way? Great stacks of everything, and great crowds of very serious shoppers, some with large coolers to fill. I walked back to the beginning of the counter, and slowly looked at the entire line again. Wow. I vaguely realized I must buy fish today, and that I needed a number for the man to call. A woman shouted out my number to the man with the microphone when I pulled number 26, and a few seconds later, the man with the microphone called, "Number 26! Darlin', is that you? Susan, get this woman some fish!". So, I bought a little piece of Amber Jack filet, and a little piece of trigger fish (file fish). When Stuart and I were scuba diving, sometimes we'd spear a trigger fish, which is a white fish, not too strong flavored. Think I'll make ceviche from part of this, I have some lemons in the fridge...

I'll come back every week, prepared the next time! By the way: they ship.

Arrive Pensacola

We pulled out of Wilmington on a cold morning, knowing we'd be cold for a few more days while a cold front moved on through. The plan was to head to Charleston, SC, then through central GA, staying away from the interstate highways. To say I was disappointed to learn that having dinner in Charleston Saturday night was not an option is an understatement. One of the finest dining cities in the south, and Stuart didn't want to go out. His focus was on getting to Pensacola, and even planning to go out to dinner was straying from his plan! The next night we pulled into Laura Walter State Park, just north of the Okefenokee National Park and just outside of Waycross, GA. We discovered the Laura Walter a couple of years ago, and fell in love with that pretty place. But, it's cold and now it's raining, so we enjoyed the view from our window, at dusk. Monday morning, we had the chance to recieve help from Waycross's Finest, when the emergency trailer brake pulled out during a sharp turn, STOPping us while we blocked two lanes of traffic at a busy intersection! It's raining and cold, but our police hero guided traffic around our blockade while we found the connection and re-engaged our brakes. Our next small adventure appeared in Mariana, FL, just across the line from GA: a construction barricade scraped the side our the trailer when one of us made a very short turn. He will not be named. I'm pleased, however, to report that the warm front has moved in, the sun is shining, and the temperature has improved.

We've set up house-keeping in northern Pensacola, FL, in a small campground. There are about 20 sites here, almost all long-term tenants. One of our neighbors has invited us to the 'hood Christmas party this weekend, where we'll have the chance to meet everyone. Our first afternoon in town, after setting up and setting out the pots of lettuce I brought with us, we found the public library and applied for privileges. There are several supermarkets and a produce stand close by, and the city bus system stops one block away.

 

Kayaks on the roof, our goal is to paddle twice a week. There is a lot of Big Water here, but there is plenty of quiet water, too. Looking at the map, we found a boat ramp north of town. To our delight, the paved road turned into dirt, which got narrower when we found the small hand-painted sign nailed to a fence post directing us to Beck's Fish Camp. Turkey oaks, red cedars, pines and myrtles grew in the sand, and we came to a small encampment that made me hear banjo music in my head. We followed the instructions on more hand-painted signs, depositing $10 for launching our kayaks in Beck's Lake. Not really a lake, but a bayou. Not a human in sight, plenty of wood-peckers in the cypress trees along the creek. The sky is gray, and it's warm. The black water creek twists and turns through the cypress swamp, and we feel as if we're on the Northeast Cape Fear River at home...the only plant missing is wild grapevines! Stuart found a photocopy of an antique map of the bayou, printed in 1947, and we learn there really was a lake here in the late 1800's. The Beck brothers built a sawmill here, damming the Escambia River when northwest Florida began shipping virgin pine lumber all over the world. The dam washed out sometime in the early 1900's. Legend has it that General Andy Jackson may have camped his 15,000 troops right where we launched. We paddled down the bayou to the High Bluffs, and turned back. A pretty paddle on quiet black water.
We drove down some other back roads, looking for more access to the bayous feeding into the Escambia River and its bayous, but found the access totally blocked by big industry such as Exxon and other chemical plants. We'll continue looking...

 

 

Terri's Flowers

 

Isn't this just beautiful? My friend Terri K gave me this arrangement when she and Dear Husband came for Thanksgiving. The rose hips are from her front-door rose, which bloomed with such enthusiasm this summer those few in this arrangement are not missed. We wired the arrangement to the plant stand by the front door, for security. Everyone passing through admired her artwork!

Saddling up tomorrow, heading south for a few days (or more).