Showing posts with label gumbo. Show all posts
Showing posts with label gumbo. Show all posts

Monday, February 25, 2019

As I was saying. . . .

When last I checked in on the blog machine, I was telling you we were in for some weather in Omaha, by God, Nebraska . . . and that I was planning to listen to the Big Show and make a pot of gumbo.

There was.

And I did.

Then, on Sunday, we -- Mrs. Favog and I -- shoveled. And shoveled. And shoveled.

As the state's new tourism slogan says -- Nebraska. Honestly, it's not for everyone. I don't know whether it specifically references blizzards and the, um . . . balmy 10 degrees it is right now.










PERSONALLY, I don't know why folks from all over these United States aren't flocking to Omaha just for the experience of eating a fine bowl of my creole gumbo while staring out the window at an arctic snowscape. As opposed to the de rigueur alligators, fire ants and drunks puking into Bourbon Street gutters down south in my native land.

But I suppose that's just me. Right now, the gators, fire ants and drunks named Ralph are all about 50 degrees warmer.

Honestly, I suppose Nebraska really isn't for everyone.