A useful tip for smarty-pants foreigners.
Those who read my blog’s comment section will have noticed a recent discussion of cowboy cuisine with my sister Miriam.
You might think that I don't have a sister, but you'd be mistaken. I've known Miriam for fifty years and by mutual consent we've decided she's as close to a sister as I'm going to find. Want proof? If we're together for more than a few hours, we start bickering.
Back on topic: Miriam had some questions about my tasty lunch of biscuits, gravy and sausage at the Horseshoe Cafe in Wickenburg. I know food-related bickering when I read it, particularly when it comes from a professional chef. I suggested that in the Old West, it's best not to harass the cowfolk as to their choice of grub.
Mary Anne and I returned to the Horseshoe Cafe on our way back to Scottsdale today and, yes, I once again ordered biscuits and gravy. While waiting for it, I noticed something about the waitress at the next table that I though I'd share. See if you can spot it.
“Go ahead, make my day. Ask me about Sauce Bechemel.”
