One of best meals I ever had was when I was a kid and my mother took me and my younger sister on a shopping spree and we went to every Hamericks in two states. We were starving by the time she finally let us eat.
It was just McDonalds, but it was probably the first time in my life that I ever thought I was going to starve to death.
The other is when I was in Germany and the closest thing I had to home was a little Gasthaus above a club I used to frequent.
We just called it The Other Place.
We had been in the field for at least a month and the steak that Irene, the lady that ran the place, served me was probably the best thing I ever tasted. I wonder if that’s why I don’t have a taste for steak anymore?
Nothing else stacks up.
Irene was great.
She took care of us like a mother. When we came upstairs from the club and had too much to drink it was coffee and cookies to sober us up before she’d let us back on the street.
And we never let anything happen in her place. It was our home. She was our mom.
And that’s what we called her.
That’s it. That’s the post.