June's Birthday at the Palms Bar and Grill

      Take me back to Mr. Wizard, Hop Along Cassidy, Rin Tin Tin or Twenty Mule Team Borax, where time was slower and there were no remote controls so you had to be close to the TV to change the channels, and the source material, believe it or not was in black and white.

     Yesterday, we took June from Healdsburg out to dinner for her birthday, and I was treated to that old fashioned charm and protocol that came with the class and culture from a person, like Joyce, who was a native to Sonoma County. 

      Instead of rushing out the door upon arrival, June kindly sat with us and at least for me, gave me insight to parts of her life that was unknown to me up until now.

      June had grown up in Healdsburg, and the home that she had grown up in, when it was sold to another family, it made it's way onto the historical homes of

Healdsburg tour.  When this occurred the new owner invited her over to give the people on the tour some of the history of the home, and her own personal views of her

upbringing.  When they had done a remodel of the home, they used the huge blue hydrangea as a stopping point of the remodel.  As we drove past the house, she made remarks
about the fact of every city in Sonoma County had a Veterans Memorial Building for local events, except Healdsburg, which had opted for a park and a swimming hole

 near the Healdsburg Memorial Bridge.  When the Healdsburg Council was going to shut the area down because of fiscal problems, public outcry was the single most

 appropriate answer to such renegade thought patterns such as these.  Just to clarify for Joyce and I, as we passed by this beautiful place by the bridge, both when we

went to pick June up at five in the afternoon, and as we took her home at seven in the evening, there were still people enjoying a meal, and wading in the water.

     Now where we took June is now the Palms Bar and Grill, which used to be called Star Restaurant, and it is renovated with a great dimly lit sports bar and high ceilings and an

 open window, so you can watch the chefs do their thing in the kitchen.  It turned out that two of the chefs were co-workers at Rustic, Frankie, who had manned the Argentinian

 Grill in the main dining room, and Rob, who as I recall did the cold side on the line in the kitchen.  Both made there way out to greet me, and to be introduced to both Joyce

and June.  Our waiter, Weston Gantz, turned out to have gone to Mattie Washburn daycare, where Joyce was the director of the before and after day care center, onsite.

 Joyce, June and I enjoyed two appetizers, Coconut Prawns, with an Orange-Pineapple dipping sauce and a Potato Skins Fondue with a three cheese and bacon fondue.

      For main courses, June had the special, chicken parmesan with fettuccine, Joyce had a Rack of Lamb with a reduction sauce, and I had a Ribeye Steak with a

 chimichurri sauce.  All were full of the proverbial flavor profiles and the visual displays were very attractive.  For dessert, we had Apple Pie and a German Chocolate Cake, unlike any I had seen or even tasted.  Thumbs up for the entire experience, food, friends and 

great atmosphere.  We made sure we gave credos to the owner, and compliments to the staff for the warm feeling during our meal.
     This is what my world is becoming, the nostalgic history and culture of Sonoma County, which as a vagabond, is not my strongest forte, and yet, yesterday's experience and the last few months of kitchen adventures and being with the casts of June, the Widdifield's, the Mortensen Clan, adoptive nieces, and friends who invite us to family gatherings, has brought me down different roads and giving me an opportunity to experience these local class and significant cultures of the place where I now call home.  This is coming to you live from Steven, who is now becoming the recorder of Sonoma County paradigms of neighborhood eateries and family gatherings and who by the way in the latter stages of his life, a post hypnotic thought, in readers of this written image of my experiences, where someone in the middle of the night, one wakes up, and says to themselves, with no one watching or listening, Oh, that's what Steven meant, Child, until the Fat Lady Sings