It is possible that I have been accused in the past of having champagne taste on Kool-Aid budget. And yes, you read that correctly. Not beer. Kool-Aid. From concentrated powder. Dream big, I say.
Luckily for me, stuff like Downtown Dining Week exists. DTDW is that magical time every year where downtown restaurants offer special prixe fixe three-course menus for just $20.11. (Well, I suppose technically next year it'll be that magical time when they offer a prixe-fixe three-course menu for $20.12, but let's not split hairs.)
Having DTDW'ed together last year, Stefanie and I made plans to do it again at a fairly new restaurant near the intersection of South Main and G.E. Patterson called Rizzo's Diner. You will be disappointed, as I was, to know that Stockard Channing had nothing to do with it. But we did eat our hearts out. Or something like that.
I had the chorizo meatloaf, which came with garlic mashed potatoes and green beans, and was covered in a sauce that was sort of like the distant cousin of a Hollandaise. I don't know, it was creamy. I never claimed to be a food blogger, y'all. It would all be about cheese. And barbecue. And cereal. EFFING EFF. I love cereal.
ANYWAY. After our leisurely dinner -- made much more leisurely by the magnum of chianti we picked up at The Corkscrew after we found out the fine folks at Rizzo's didn't quite have their liquor license yet -- we headed off for our second destination of the evening: an indoor trailer park.
The trailer park is actually an emporium, full of Airstream trailers and decked out with fake trees, Christmas lights and picnic tables as if a 1950s trailer park just fell out of the sky and landed right in this warehouse. The place is an institution, and I'm sort of ashamed that I'd never experienced it until now. The guy who owns it, Tad, is the proprietor of American Dream Safari (check it out here). He gives tours of Memphis in an old Cadillac that are apparently second to none. After seeing his crazy indoor trailer park I feel like scheduling one of those tours for myself is an absolute must.
Naturally, one of the Airstream trailers was a photo booth, and naturally we stood in the line to have our picture made -- all the while watching (and judging? NATURALLY) all the people who were getting photographed before us as their images were projected on the wall behind the trailer.
There were a gillion props in that trailer, and Stef and I both gravitated quickly toward our favorites. Mine was a little black baby doll. A little naked black baby doll. I give you Exhibit A.
While we were waiting for the camera to get set to take our first of two pictures, I began to sing a little song that I was working on about my new plastic friend. It was to the tune of the 1977 Ram Jam classic hit. And I call it, "Black Baby."
WHOOOAH black baby, bam ba lam.
cheers,
elizabeth
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