About 100 miles north of St.Louis lies in wait a heavy dose of Americana. On a warm, muggy (is there any other kind?) morning, I headed up Route 79 to Hannibal, Missouri, a lazy, graceful winding country road accompanied by corn fields galore and, just to the east, the Mississippi River. I arrived at my destination just in time for the opening parade for National Tom Sawyer Days. Needless to say, lots of r,w, and b (and not a stitch of it on me), flags, and good ole carnival fun. I came with a purpose of course--though I was tempted by the fence painting contest--and made a beeline for the Mark Twain Boyhood Home and Museum. As expected, some tourist kitsch, but amusing nonetheless. Also required in this curriculum of American commerce was a one-hour riverboat ride--add thunder, lightning, and a corny narrative about the history of that part of the river, and you have a classic afternoon. Ted Drewes, back in St. Louis, completed my day and seemed a perfect outing for a 4th of July. Ordering was a challenge, however, due to my inability to make a decision and being flummoxed by what a "concrete" was. Feeling truly self-conscious in my ignorance, I could not muster the courage to ask the yellow t-shirted teenager behind the counter--her efficiency intimidated me. It's a game really. They love the first-timers, the out-of-towners and their ignorance, being polite and smirking at the same time. This reminded me of the first (and only) Philly cheesesteak I ever had at a small but famous landmark in, natch, Philadelphia. We had been warned in advance to know EXACTLY what you wanted when you approached the window and sure enough, the speed with which they worked their artery-clogging magic was an art and no indecisive tourist was going to slow them down. Back to Ted Drewes--the yellow shirted teen was not at all a brusque Philly Italian, but the way she knowingly leaned against the counter behind the ordering window spoke of her superiority and command of the entire gustatory experience. And she was generously going to allow me to partake (the cash I had ready in hand didn't hurt either). My inability to decipher and digest the entire menu of frozen custard delights in a reasonable amount of time left me resorting to a fudge nut sundae. Delicious, but I really want to go back for the pistachio.
Next up...a visit with BG...
No comments:
Post a Comment