Warm Time in the Old Town Tonight

December 17-20

We had gotten a little snow when we were in Santa Fe. That’s expected. I’ve been there three times and it snowed every time. The first time, 12 years ago, it snowed in October.

It was actually colder in Flagstaff, and there was more snow, maybe two inches on the ground. The roads were clear, but a couple of spots on the hotel driveway were shaded by trees so a bit of ice lingered on the blacktop.

The drive to Phoenix is mostly downhill. I mean something like a 5,000-foot decline in elevation. One stretch of falling road lasts 16 miles.

In and around Flagstaff, the principal trees are tall pines. It was a marked change from New Mexico’s junipers.

We started getting back into juniper country as the road brought us down to lower elevations. We saw our first saguaros of the trip, too. 

We stopped at an overlook that surveys a deep valley. The hills on the far side look almost like sand dunes. 

On our first trip through here, on our way to the Grand Canyon, we stopped at the same rest area At that time we left the highway to explore the valley. There’s a Bumble Bee Ranch down there. 

We got to the Howard Johnson in Scottsdale early, but there was a room for us, so we checked in right away.

We’ve stayed here before. It’s in the Old Town, which isn’t really all that old, but is decked out with lots of cowboy, Indian, and outlaw themes. There are scads of stores selling souvenirs, clothes, art, and jewelry.

It’s not unlike Old Town in Santa Fe. It’s just bigger.

The most pleasing part of it is that you can walk to restaurants. It’s a novelty to be out west and not have to use the car every time you go out.

Joanna had some bank business to attend to. We walked a block away to a branch, where the manager took care of things in a flash.

We walked to the drug store, where I needed prescription refills and some greeting cards.

We also strolled out to find somewhere to have dinner. We eventually came to the Citizen Public House. 

It was Friday, so Joanna opted to go meatless. She had a surprisingly tasty fried tofu with rice and vegetables. 

I lucked out. I was raised Protestant and got to eat the meatloaf. Hands down, the best I remember, ever. 

We got there at happy hour and I took advantage of a special on a house red, which went very well with the meatloaf.

Saturday we went to visit Joanna’s family. Her son Patrick, daughter-in-law Kristin, and grandkids, Peter and Natalie, live in Phoenix not far from the mountain that used to be called Squaw Peak.

I had a grave senior moment the other day, when I typed that Natalie is Joanna’s niece. When I saw that the next day—long after I hit “send”—I was shocked and embarrassed. I apologize to everyone, especially Natalie and Joanna.

We haven’t seen this branch of Joanna’s family in a few years. Joanna has been in touch, especially through Apple FaceTime, but it isn’t the same dynamic as face to face.

We sat around the dining room table for a couple of hours swapping stories. Most of my contributions were actually true.

We had a four o’clock appointment to meet my sister-in-law Maryellen and my nephew Thomas at Barrio Queen, a fantastic Mexican restaurant about four or five blocks from the hotel.

If you ever get to Scottsdale, if you do nothing else, go to the Queen on Stetson Drive in Old Town and try the mole. It’s chicken in a not-quite-bitter chocolate sauce. Salvador Dali, I once heard, used to eat it with crawfish, but I haven’t found anywhere that serves it like that.

Come to think of it, the Queen is the only place I actually know that serves mole at all.

I had it with a Margarita. I mean, what else, right?

After my first email went out that said where Joanna and I were going, Maryellen wrote back that she was going to be in Scottsdale at the same time. 

She lives in Atlanta and came to visit Thomas, who moved out here years ago and stayed. 

We were originally planning to hit the Phoenix area on the 18th, but made it a day earlier so we could see Mare. She was leaving early Sunday morning.

By another coincidence, Patrick and Kristin were taking Natalie and Peter to a restaurant called Buca di Beppo in Scottsdale for dinner.

Their dinner was later than ours, and they came to the hotel afterwards, and we strolled a bit around Old Town. It is a treat for folks from New Jersey to walk outside comfortably without overcoats or even gloves in late December.  

Sunday we spent the afternoon and early evening with Joanna’s family. It was Natalie’s birthday but she was working at the sandwich store till about four. We went with Patrick when he drove to pick her up. 

Dinner that day was at their house. It was Natalie’s choice—French dip and baked cauliflower.

Kristin said she couldn’t cut the meat the way she wanted—that nice restaurant-style slice. 

I don’t know about appearances, but the meat was perfect with the broth. So was the cauliflower. I don’t think it’s traditional, but it was great dipped in the broth too.

We had stopped at Whole Foods in Tempe in the morning for breakfast staples. We found that the store sold wine, so I picked up a few bottles. Back at the hotel, I opened a Line 39 Pinot Noir from California. It was smooth and had a bit of the spice edge that I find in many California Pinots.

Monday we went for a walk in a different part of Old Town. It was early, so we didn’t go into the Rusty Spur or Porter’s Western Saloon. We did see the life-size wooden horse on the gallery there.

We found an alley past a bar with tables outside in the narrow passage. There’s a similar arrangement at Gordon’s Wine Bar in London.

We passed a wood-fired pizzeria called Grimaldi’s and Buca di Beppo, where Patrick and his family had dinner.

We wound up going back there for dinner. Patrick had told us that Buca serves huge portions family style. We didn’t want to order too much and have to waste what we couldn’t handle. We had chicken Marsala, and nothing else. 

The sauce was thick and rich. The mushrooms looked like they might have come from a can, but that didn’t bother me. They still had plenty of flavor.

I had asked for an Italian Pinot Noir to go with it, but they had run out. I substituted a California Pinot. 

Rather than order a salad bigger than both our heads, we saved that course for Grimaldi’s up the street.

We hadn’t gone there for dinner because the only cooked food they serve is pizza and calzone. Neither is among Joanna’s favorites, so I didn’t want to take her there.

But they also have salads. We ordered the house salad and a Chianti.

We sat out front and ate in the desert air. Traffic was light on Scottsdale Road, and the sky grew dark.

A great way to end a day.

Be well, all.

Harry and Joanna