This ain’t no discovery. George and I have been coming here forever, together, separately, with our better halves, you name it–and if you haven’t been, you best change that condition. We just hadn’t gotten around to Ernie’s on our tour, and we were needing to recover our street cred after the last two stops. George had his heart set on their celebrated ham when he called me the other night; I had what I think of as “The Number 15”–anyone else add numbered combos to Ernie’s “Big 12”?–a pepper cheese, mushroom, and onion omelet, sausage patties, and hash browns. The place’s menu is beyond inviting.
I can hear you asking, “Did you get them extra extra extra crispy?” Funny you should bring that up. Our server was the dynamic, charming, and very awake Chloe (it was 6:30 am, and I hope I spelled her name correctly), and after Herr Frissell hissed to her his traditional potato expectations, she turned to me, smiled, and asked, “Would you like yours extra extra extra extra crispy, too?” How could I refuse? (Oh–and they WERE.)
Topics: NOMADLAND, the great Houston novelist Attica Locke, the ease of writing a check, our former colleague Sarah Gerling‘s excellence, the music of the Sahara, St. Louis’ crisis, platelet donations, the waning relevance of the Statue of Liberty, attempted but botched surreptitious tape recordings, and the charm of 6th, 7th, and 8th graders (no, we are NOT insane). Speaking of insanity, we also meditated upon absolute freedom and its danger to life and limb.
That doesn’t seem like much, but we were only there for 45 minutes…