Insights into the Culinary World of Western KY by the Roaming Gastronome
Pizza day. It is a magical phrase if you think about it. Any time you want to get something done and you need people to do it, pizza day
makes helpers appear almost out of thin air. Any time you want to get a
bunch people to a boring meeting, pizza day to the rescue. Have a big
heard of teenagers, pizza day. I have another pizza day. My pizza day
begins with me thinking, cooking? I don’t think so.
But, when I decide to go out I want good food. I want to know the
sauce has been made here, not shipped in frozen in bags from some
warehouse. Is that wrong? I like the idea of someone cooking a pot of
sauce today. Not so much, the idea of a machine cranking out 200 gallons
an hour two months ago. Yum, dig in.
The reason I say the chains are fine for what they are is; they are. However, they have streamlined the process to the point that the artistry has died. Little creative freedom exists. A few chefs in a corporate test kitchen follow suggestions from the marketing department to develop what they have decided you are going to like next. A great pizza can be topped with whatever you wish if it is done correctly. Doing it correctly is where system meets experience and artistry. The chains rarely have all three in place at one time and would likely kill the artistry like a cockroach if they found it in the building.
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Hello my friends. This week I decided to leave Hopkins County and
venture forth to new lands. I picked up my son from the house and set
off to Central City. Two young gastronomic explorers on a journey of
discovery were we. Okay one young and one who deludes himself into
thinking that he is only just barely an adult. My wife says this is no
delusion. No more proofreading for her.
Zero: you can forget about it, five: my wife
got in on crutches but it wasn’t easy but the bathrooms work, ten: she
can get into and out of all aspects of the restaurant in her wheelchair
from parking to bathroom. Hopes this helps and sorry for the oversight.
The Purple Onion is somewhat of a surprise. First the restaurant sits next to the movie theatre. The building is not what one would call elegant at first glance; however, once I stopped to look at the front entrance I began to see a counterpoint to the bright lights of the theatre next door. As we walked in the environment seemed warm and welcoming. So far so good. We were seated and I met Miss Sheila.
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Chefs can be many things. Some can be mean, “No soup for you!” Other chefs can be bizarre, “No really, the fermented quail eggs with limburger cheese sauce are wonderful.” Still others can just simply make the food and go home. Adequate but uninspired.
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, Western Kentucky