Tuesday, October 07, 2008

That slow feeling of aneurysm or relief

This weekend Tim and Sadie came up from their respective hideaways for a water polo tournament, and we had a lovely afternoon together. It included: revisiting the chicken ranch--the first place Tim and I went in town when he came up for water polo (and Voltron cartoons) a year ago, a marvelous drive up to the mountains, stopping in Solvang, which is the little Denmark of Southern California, and a swing by an Ostrich farm (my nephew Justin would be so jealous).

Solvang was picturesque, though it had very little going on. We got Aebleskivers (because what else do you do in a pseudo-Danish town?), which were tasty, and which I promptly dropped onto my shoe. We looked at windmills, and I oohed and ahhed at the delights in the Ye Olde Euro-Style toy store. Less thrilling destinations in the town included the leather emporium, Nordic Knives, and Ti Amo Women's Boutique (and I'm not convinced this last one is Danish at all). On the way out of town, we spotted a swarm of ostriches at the side of the road. We stopped to see them in more detail and were saddened to discover that doing so would cost us each $4. Instead, we marveled at their keeper, a woman with hair down to her butt, who stands at a counter (behind which is an enormous taxidermied ostrich splayed out onto the wall and wearing a feather boa). She sells ostrich steaks, the eggs (for $25 each), and, breaking with the theme, purses constructed out of the butts of old jeans with leopard print handles sewn into them. The adventures of the day were enough to last me through the week. But just barely.

Danish Culinary Delights:


Jill said...

Mike served his mission in Denmark. We have ableskivers for breakfast every Christmas morning, but I've never had them smoothered in jam or dropped them on my shoe.

I know for sure that they don't, as a rule, sell butt cheek denim purses with leapard handles.

w. leavitt said...

sounds like my kind of place