I’m starting a new feature here at Thrilling Days of Yesteryear, and because Rick Brooks at Cultureshark has already copyrighted “the Half-Assed Gourmet” (he starts his Food Network series in January, with a wet-your-pants funny premiere in which he takes down Paula Deen—now pimping at a Wal-Mart near you) I decided to just tweak it slightly. A gourmet, according to the handy-dandy Dictionary.com, is “a connoisseur of fine food and drink; [an] epicure.” A gourmand is “a person who is fond of good eating, often indiscriminatingly and to excess” and I guess that describes me as well as anything. I supposed if there were a Truth in Blogging statute I would change the post header to “The Fat-Assed Gourmand”…but then I’d be risking a copyright suit with Elisson. (Don’t tell me the blogosphere isn’t cutthroat.)
There’s a restaurant here in Athens that has achieved a bit o’critical buzz in certain quarters; an Italian jernt known as the Transmetropolitan. Recently, the Transmetro folks have opened up another branch that’s about a three-minute drive from Rancho Yesteryear, and this Wednesday the ‘rents and I had occasion to stop in for lunch. Mom and Dad had both been there before; Mom says the pizza there is even better than DePalma’s, which is hard to believe. I wasn’t much in the mood for pizza but our server did describe a few specials…and the soup du jour was Cream of Potato.
Let me say at this point that for the weight-conscious in the TDOY audience, this is russet chowder you will well want to stay away from. They don’t go in the back and pop open a can of low-sodium Campbell’s for this baby—they make it with the cream and the butter and the potatoes still with their skins (probably red potatoes, I imagine) and it is as delicious as it is fattening. Seriously, this soup literally made me weak in the knees. My best friend from high school could only make two legitimate food dishes—one was potato soup and the other sausage gravy (and yes, you’re sensing a pattern here) and while she was no slouch when it came to a cup of po-tah-to, the Transmetro's drinking her milkshake. The Transmetro serve this consommé of bliss with a small hunk of foccacia bread and had I known the soup was going to be so filling I would have scratched the proscuitto ham sandwich I ordered to go with it and settled for a small side salad to compliment its spudsy goodness.
I guess what I’m saying is I liked the soup. The server told me that it was one of the restaurant’s love-it-or-hate-it items and I responded that if they ever planned to take if off the menu to call me…that way I could stock up.
Okay, I’m heading out to sister Kat’s to whip up some Christmas cookies…have the fire brigade standing by…