New Part of Town

December 29-31, 2021

Joanna went for a walk and I stayed in most of Wednesday the 29th.

I was catching up on the log for much of the day. In the process, I forgot to put in one detail that I found pretty remarkable. 

We went back to Walgreen’s Tuesday morning to see if there was any glitch in renewing Joanna’s prescription. Remember, I had my fingers crossed.

Not only was there no glitch, hitch, or hiccup to report, but the order was in the bag waiting for her when we arrived. So far, so good. 

I didn’t go out Wednesday till dinner time, when we strolled over to Barrio Queen.

There was a line outside the door, so we went in to add our names to the list. To our surprise, they seated us right away.

But there are people waiting outside. We’re not going to get hit over the head for jumping the line, are we?

No, they’re all waiting for outside tables.

I’m crazy about the mole at Barrio Queen, but I had that two weeks ago. I opted for something I’ve tasted only once or twice before, chile verde. It’s called green because the sauce has no tomato. Instead it is made with poblano pepper and tomatillos. 

They serve it with rice and beans, a few small tortillas, red onion garnish. It’s like a bit of heaven.

Joanna has to stay away from hot chiles and limit black pepper. She ordered  roasted sea bass, which is her staple at Barrio Queen.

That end of Old Town is dressed up with lights on the palms and on just about everything else. 

The area has a street dedicated to the architect Paolo Soleri. It also has a spectacular bridge that he designed.

From what I’ve read about him, Soleri was an unconventional thinker who worked on sustainable ways of living. Maybe a spiritual brother to Buckminster Fuller.

Soleri is the originator of an experimental community called Arcosanti, somewhere north of Phoenix.

We walked around a bit, past the tiki bar called the Drunk Munk, for instance. We passed stores whose target demographic seemed to be the rhinestone cowgirl.

We didn’t do much during the day on Thursday the 30th. I took care of a little bookkeeping and played on the computer.

We had a dinner date in northern Scottsdale with Patrick, Kristin, Peter and Natalie at a restaurant called the Village Tavern.

We started with a couple of appetizers. We split a caprese salad, which is always good. The freshly fried potato chips were a real treat, especially dipped in ranch dressing. 

The only other time I had eaten something like them was during a business lunch at a French bistro in Queens maybe 40 years ago. 

I followed that with something else I haven’t had for a while (not 40 years, mind, but at least one or two). That was shrimp and grits. 

They were made with bacon, mushroom, onion, and Gruyere. There was a touch of heat in there too. Terrific.

Joanna had grilled meatloaf. Joanna surmised that the meat was grilled because it was treated the same way dim sum restaurants handle lo bak go. They make it up in advance then heat it on a grill when they serve it. 

I had the meatloaf at the Citizen Public House in Scottsdale shortly after we arrived. I tasted a sample from Joanna’s plate at the Village Tavern. It seems this part of the country has exceptionally good meatloaf.

Maybe it’s related to the cowboy heritage.

Last day of the year was moving day for us.

When I tried to extend our stay last week, the place was already sold out for New Year’s weekend, so I found a Holiday Inn Express, a very reliable brand, in downtown Phoenix.

We had time to kill between check-out at Scottsdale and check-in at Phoenix, so we went to the grocery store, the Whole Foods on Ash Avenue in Tempe, where we had gone before. 

We needed breakfast supplies—fruit, almond milk and muesli—and some of Joanna’s mineral supplements were running low.

We had directions for the new hotel from our old hotel. But why go back to square one? I had rudimentary knowledge of the Phoenix street grid. I set off west on University Drive. I could turn right and go north up any numbered street and intersect with our written directions.

I do this kind of improvising all the time on road trips. And why not? If you don’t get lost, you’re not traveling hard enough.

I half expected to get good and lost this time, but I was disappointed. That grid system worked too damned well.

We were coming north and came to an intersection with Van Buren Street, that’s our street.

We were somewhere around 75th Street and worked our way west to Central Avenue, where the numbered avenues picked up. As advertised the hotel was number 950, at the corner of 10th Avenue and Van Buren.

After we settled in, we went for a stroll in University Park across from the hotel. There’s a pool, playground, ball field, and picnic tables. 

There isn’t much going on in the immediate vicinity, which is largely residential. There are some modest, well-kept houses and several apartment complexes.

There’s also a Rescue Mission a few blocks away, so we saw a number of people hanging around the parks and intersections. They had large plastic bags and nowhere to go.

We came to a corner with a sign: “Birrieria Caneros, El Home Run del Sabor.”

I was talking to Joanna about it. A man waiting on his motorcycle at the stop sign asked if we were speaking to him.

No, we’re just trying to decipher the sign.

I was wondering if “birriera”—like “home run”—was Spanglish, perhaps related to “beer.”

I looked the word up later and found that, on the contrary, birria is a dish from Jalisco. So it’s a stew that hits the home run. 

The place looked closed and then we saw that the hours are 7 a.m. to 4 p.m.

I asked Google’s help in finding a restaurant. It didn’t turn up anything nearby that wasn’t a fast food franchise. So we settled for a safe bet. We went to a Longhorn Steakhouse almost 10 miles away.

They have some good red wines. We shared a couple of pinots, Trinity Oaks and La Crema. I’ve had some of the cabs at other Longhorns, and they can be good too. As with most of the chain steakhouses, the beer selection is like making love in a canoe.

I got lost for a short bit on the way home, but just drove north till I came to Van Buren. Then all was golden. 

Here’s wishing golden times to everyone. Good food and the joy of getting lost, too.

Be well.

Harry and Joanna