If it’s Wednesday night, that means it’s Liver & Onions night at The Mississippi Mud Tavern in Altenburg. Buddy Gerard and I usually top off the evening with a trip down to Tower Rock to check on water levels and see if any boats are passing.
This night, the only boat traffic we heard on my scanner was far, far away and breaking up, so the prospects of seeing a towboat go by was slim. Radar was painting some strong storms around, but they were mostly east and south of our position. Still, these clouds made for a pretty picture. Click on it to make it larger.
I was sort of hoping for a shot like this recent visit.
I ran into some heavy rain north of Fruitland, but Jackson must have REALLY gotten a deluge, based on how the creeks were running.
When Road Warriorette Anne and I drove by this barn on MO C on the way to Altenburg in the summer of 2013, I knew it was just a matter of time before gravity won.
Being taken apart
While I was enjoying my usual Wednesday night feast of liver and onions at Altenburg’s Mississippi Mud Tavern, I asked Museum Cat Herder Gerard when the old barn south of town finally gave up the ghost.
He said someone was dismantling it. I’m glad to hear that it might get a new lease on life from someone who appreciates old barn wood.
The Golden Hour
Photographers and medical folks both talk about “The Golden Hour.” To shooters, it means that magic hour before sunset or after dawn when the light becomes softer and warmer. At least, I know it does at sunset. I rarely have an opportunity to see if it happens in the morning.
During World War I, military surgeons observed that patients who received immediate treatment had a much better survival rate than others. Dr. R. Adams Crowley said, “”There is a golden hour between life and death. If you are critically injured you have less than 60 minutes to survive. You might not die right then; it may be three days or two weeks later — but something has happened in your body that is irreparable.”
Later studies have shown there is no sudden drop off after exactly 60 minutes. It’s not the exact time that’s the key; it’s just the sooner you get help, the better.
After I took the barn photo, I turned to put my cameras back in the car and saw the effect of The Golden Hour on the road curving away in the distance with people going home. The barn picture was actually TOO golden for my taste. I dialed back the color a tad to keep it from being overpowering.
As always, you can click on the photos to make them larger.
Thursday was a pretty productive day. Back in 2013, I wrote about finding Keith Robinson’s Boy Scout canteen. Mother kept bugging me, “When is that boy going to come by and pick it up?”
Keith, my go-to guy for all things railroading emailed he was going to be escaping Kansas City for a few days to come to Cape. FINALLY, a chance to get rid of this crazy canteen.
We made arrangements to meet at the Jackson at the Cape County History Center. It turned out that he and his dad knew some of the people mentioned in the museum’s exhibits.
Journey to the Land of Liver & Onions
Museum director Carla Jordan shares my love of liver and onions, so she said she’d buy dinner at the Mississippi Mud in Altenburg if I’d drive. I rhapsodized about how good the Mud’s L&O were on September 11. Well, they were even better Thursday night. The meat was so tender you could cut it with a fork; the onions were grilled just right, and my two sides of cheesy mashed potatoes and corn couldn’t be beat.
Carla and I shared our table with Gerard Fiehler and Lynn Degenhardt; two more museum folks filled in the table next to us. Lips were smacked and plates were cleaned. I can see myself making a pilgrimage to Altenburg every Thursday night until I get my fill of Innards and Onions.
I can’t go to East Perry county without dipping down to Tower Rock. Carla and Gerard piled into the van and we got to The Rock at the crack of dusk. Our timing couldn’t have been more perfect. Click on the photo to make it larger.
Here’s why I don’t wade
The river’s going to have to fall about another three feet before you’ll be able to walk out to Tower Rock.
I was up there two days earlier hoping the leaves had turned, but they still needed a few more days of cold weather. This catfish was sitting on the rock where Mother used to scoop up some of the best persimmons to ever hang on a tree.
My thought was, “If the fisherman didn’t keep this guy because he was ‘too small,’ I don’t want to stick my feet into any water that would hold his big brother.”
I whined on Facebook Wednesday that I was tired of eating frozen microwaved dinners and needed somebody to nudge me to a craving. I ended up visiting the El Sol on Broadway for the first time and chowing down on an excellent platter of nachos.
Museum Maven Carla Jordan pointed out that if I could hold out until Thursday night, I could feast on the liver and onion special at Altenburg’s newly refurbed Mississippi Mud Saloon. I love L&O, so Thursday evening saw me bellied up to the bar between The Missourian’s Nancy Hadler and Gerard Fiehler from the Lutheran Heritage Center and Museum.
The photo doesn’t do the dish justice. I’m a lousy food reviewer because I’m more interested in consumption than documentation. I had already taken a couple of bites before even thinking about pulling out my Droid smart phone to record this. The funky bar lighting gave the meal a strange cast.
Sharp knife or tender meat?
When the server brought out my meal, I made a quick cut and asked her, “Is this a really sharp knife or is the liver really tender?”
“Use your fork. You won’t need a knife.” She was right.
I’ll be back. The only minor problem for me is that it’s a bar that allows smoking. I was lucky that nobody around me was puffing away Thursday. Generally you can find a table that’s relatively smoke-free.
It was too dark to get a good shot of the front of the building, so I’ll substitute this picture taken through the front door of the now-defunct Altenburg Grocery in 2011.