Arm routines are merely an amuse bouche compared to the main attraction, a compulsively attended one-hour spin class. There are a prized fourteen bikes available on a first-come, first-serve basis. We barely snag a pair through our early arrival. What follows can only be described as "thorough." Eric claims I am lobster-red upon return.
Lobstrosity is a dire condition curable only by a medley of fresh berries and cream.
It is shaping up to be a gorgeous day. This boy stuffs his slender frame full of tasty berries as the kitchen fills with the golden smell of fried mush.
Said mush is accompanied by scrambled eggs accented with ham, garden-grown okra, and cheese. What - ho! And in the corner? Could it be...?
Maters.
We take the breakfast spread outside to the unusually cool climes of an Illinois summer, and we proceed to munch to our lil' hearts' content.
Here's another view of the maters in case you weren't jealous enough already.
The entire backyard is bursting with summer splendor. Eric insists that the garden harvest season has already peaked, but the abundance of blooms remains captivating to the untrained eye.
The lush green of Eric's garden is enough to make even the most die-hard of city addicts wistful for country veggies.
A few buggy friends hum hither and thither, but only bother John.
The doggy friend, Rufus, bothers absolutely nobody, and is looking trim. It's highly doubtful that he ever stops wagging his tail.
John knows what this is.
Janet and Mom return from golf adventures around 1:30, and they are starving; I think I see a few ribs. After much deliberation, the ideal lunch is finally concocted:
Bountiful BLTs with a side of bruschetta fixin's scooped by a wide assortment of chips. Tomato bliss.
Some like a little art with their lunch.
Some even more so.
An intermission is called for, and a swift, efficient, two-hour nap is in order. We sleep. We dream. We recover vital energies. We arise, fresh and prepared to face the hardships of July 26, Act Two.
It begins with Cocktail Time.
Cocktail Time is extended even for those slaving away over a hot dryer.
We muse re: Evening Activities. It is all rather ho-hum until Janet dares to drop that Reader's Digest Number One Voted Roadside Attraction in America is housed right here in Lincoln - and not two minutes drive from where we now sit and sip. Excitement builds palpably in the air, an frenzied swarm of mad locusts buzzing hotly within our craniums. Our course becomes clear.
(naturally, we bring the cocktails with us.)
WARNING: what you are about to see may potentially spoil your own enjoyment of this classic American monument. If you have yet to experience the immense historical pleasure involved in viewing the commemorated spectacle for yourself, it is strongly recommended you leave The Grande Tork Trek Blog right this instant in search of safer, greener pastures.
No words could possibly be sufficient to describe the awe.
Mom and Janet feel so reverent that they cannot be compelled to rise from their car seats.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, there is some serious puff pastry business going down. Speculations on possible cooking method are proposed (grilling? boiling?), but only Captain Cook knows for certain.
Theoretical avant garde approaches aside, the end result is predictably spectacular. Prosciutto and garlicky cheese rolled into puff pastry, grilled asparagus with magic-dusted mahi-mahi, piping hot couscous, and, naturally, freshly picked, sliced, and salt-and-peppered maters...
The star of the show is the corn and black bean salsa, riddled with tomato, pineapple, jalapeño, and cilantro, and with traces of cumin and cayenne throughout. It is just this side of spicy, and the tangy juicy parade of flavors surprises with complexity every bite. I am already planning a batch of my own, perhaps incorporating Sriracha...
The blog FINALLY arrived . . . waited all day yesterday for it! Worth the wait, though, to see the pix of the #1 rated roadside attraction! Wish you guys were still here!
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