But in the meantime, I can recommend a stupifyingly-simple and good flatbread for you to try. Straight from the countryside of Vermont (the one and only motherland of Ben & Jerry's, no less) to a local Wild Oats freezer near you hopefully, it's American Flatbread.
The only kind they had was the Cheese and Herb flatbread which sounded so innocent and plain to me. I scoffed. But hey, me likie some bread and cheese always.
But honestly, if anyone ever teases you for splurging an extra dollar or two on handmade, organic food when you can, then kindly point them toward a handmade flatbread like this. This flatbread-turned-pizza has the innate ability to shut a doubting piehole** for real. I'm serious, it is so incredibly good. It's simple -- it's just handmade in wood fired ovens with fresh, organic ingredients from Vermont by real people. The end.
*I love my Walgreens, but ppphewdamn, their site is mundo crapwad ugly and clunkfest uggums. My poor walgreens.com needs an "Extreme Website Makeover". I'm sure if Fox network thinks about it hard enough and could make a website bleed and cry on tv, it'll make next fall's tv lineup.
**"Mmmm. Pieholllle."
By the way, this is for you, Chip. Let us light a candle of hope that Ivan didn't totally plow this legendary joint. Pulled from my PDA cardpocket as a reminder of such a sublime time in June, long live our Florabama, as red as it may be. Why not, red is my favorite color anyway:
See the pointer? For those who've just tuned in, that's within the area where hurricane Ivan made its direct hit in Florida.
3 comments:
The 'Bama RAWKS! My favorite thing about it is, you get a taste of a true Southern roadhouse, without having to worry *too* much about getting your (my) hybrid-damnYank ass whipped. Because around back, is the beach! Haw.
Reading 'Confederates in the Attic' a while back, in one scene the author goes into one of these places in Kentucky. From his description, the image was clear, and I said to myself, "Mmmm hmmm, the kind of place I wouldn't walk into on a bet."
Sure enough, three paragraphs later, he is bleeding from the nose and sprinting out the door. Mmmm hmmm.
Ah memories. The scariest hole in the wall I ever went in was somewhere around the Ocoee River in East Tennessee (yes, in "you sure got a purdy mouth" country), and I got thrown out promptly by a mean mountain woman with a handful of missing teeth. Man, don't even get me started on Southern dives. I'm already pining away for a blue drink with something strong in it. And cupcakes.
Been there, done that. Supposed to float the Ocoee, but it was dry, the dam was closed or something. Did the Chatooga and camped there Woooooooooooscary.
As some movie list I read recently said, the only thing men fear more than shark attack is hillbilly rape.
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