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I've mentioned this before, but I've driven in Scotland on the left-hand side of the road, and it was easy-peasy. Remember, the steering wheel is also on the opposite side of the car. The only thing you have to remember is that you as the driver should be in the middle of the road, and not hugging the curb. Then it all falls into place.

Fun fact: The reason we drive on the left is tied to ye knights of olde. Most people are right handed, so they hold lances in their right hand - which means that you need to be on the left of the person charging towards you with their own lance on their right hand.
 
I intended to take my daughter-in-law and grandson out for her 50th birthday, but we had a massive power outage in the region. Went out at our place at least twice. Decided to wait until tomorrow when perhaps things will settle down. In the mddle of it, the coal-fired powerplant 20 miles east of us caught fire. No one hurt, as far as I know, and fire is out. My son is working today, but he's city fire, so I doubt they got called to the next county.
 
My sister's partner is taking us out for dinner tonight. We are going to Dario's in Ridgeway. What should I order?


That seems really cheap compared to what you pay in Oz. What impresses me is there's not an endless list of 500+ choices. They say avoid places that do that - smaller menus mean they can do those things well, and are probably freshly made, the 500+ places not so much. I bet Homer's got an opinion on this.




Fun fact: The reason we drive on the left is tied to ye knights of olde. Most people are right handed, so they hold lances in their right hand - which means that you need to be on the left of the person charging towards you with their own lance on their right hand.
I've heard this and don't believe it. Have you seen how convoluted it was to drive a car back in the olden days? Probably more to do with that, but I kinda like that theory.
 
Was it Sweden or Norway or w/e that changed from driving on one side to the other overnight years ago and hilarity ensued?
 
Mmm...cannelloni. Haven't had that for ages.

I remember reading about Sweden doing the lane change thing a month or two ago. It was kind of like teaching a child to swim by throwing them into a lake.

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I don't mind right hand drive until I come to a roundabout. Of course, I mind left-hand drive when I come to a roundabout.

The right-handed knights theory of driving is suspect (how many of those guys jousted in cars, anyway?) but it seems reasonable that stairways in keeps spiral a certain way to favor right-handed defenders of the same.
 
Veal parm

That's what Emma had. Me, if I see eggplant on a menu, I'm a sucker for it. But first, mom, me and my niece split an appetizer of meatballs. They were so good they made my eyes close in ecstasy. (Yes, I got a box of eight to bring home.) Then, I had the eggplant parm - three big breaded, fried slices smothered in the most incredible sauce, and cheese, and spaghetti on the side. Huge portion, and I only ate half of it, and have my lunch for tomorrow.

To find a restaurant that makes good sauce - really tomatoey with lots of flavour - is one of life's greatest pleasures. This was a small place, just a few tables, and very Italian. It's run by a family. And while we were there, who comes in for supper but the Bishop of the Niagara Region, with the local priest, a couple of other guys, and three nuns dressed in full habits.

We had a birthday cake for my niece, and the entire restaurant joined in the singing. The loudest shouts of "Speech, speech!" came from the religious table. It was wonderful!!

My nephew is quite religious, he goes to mass every Sunday, and he had great conversations with the Bishop and the parish priest.

All in all, a great night out, and my sister's partner picked up the bill for us all!!
 
My favourite food in the whole world is a good tomato sauce!
 
I've heard this and don't believe it. Have you seen how convoluted it was to drive a car back in the olden days? Probably more to do with that, but I kinda like that theory.

I agree. Cecil Adams's explanations seemed far more reasonable to me.
 
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To find a restaurant that makes good sauce - really tomatoey with lots of flavour - is one of life's greatest pleasures.

One of the perks of growing up in an Italian family. As I wrote in my blog:

"I remember my Aunt Anna cooking tomato sauce from scratch. She was a heavy smoker, and always had a cigarette in her mouth. She would keep up an incessant line of chatter as she stirred the pot, the end of her cigarette bouncing up and down as she muttered, and occasionally the ash would shake loose from its moorings and fall into the pot. Being a child at the time, I took this to be part of the natural course of events and thought nothing of it. The sauce was excellent, but whether this was due to that secret ingredient is something I'll never know."

After that was published, I heard back from some family members, and added:

"I am happy to report that since reading this, my cousins have informed me that tomato sauce is still made from scratch in their households. And I am told that the tomato sauce's secret ingredient was not tobacco but pork."

"
 
I just ate my leftover eggplant parm and spaghetti and I enjoyed it as much as yesterday.
 
I could fill a library with my opinions on tomato sauces. Mine is a hybrid of my grandmother's, my uncles, and two chefs I worked with in the past.
 
Carbonara, aglio e oli, and broth-based sauces all the way,

I make jambalaya and gumbo cajun-style, leaving tomatoes to creole-influenced cooks. First time my husband fed me jambalaya that included tomato paste, I was appalled. I ate the concoction because I am polite, but the thought "Can This Marriage Be Saved?" ran through my mind. He didn't know any better, being from North Dakota where black pepper is considered an unnecessary spice, and everything that can be boiled, is boiled. A few days later, I handed him the wooden boxes that hold my family recipes, including the ones from the Louisiana contingent of the clan. Did he convert to the No Tomato Paste version?We celebrated our 44th wedding anniversary in September; draw your own conclusions.
 
I just ate my leftover eggplant parm and spaghetti and I enjoyed it as much as yesterday.
My uncle Joe* Esce always maintained that pasta always tasted better on the second day.

*I once had breakfast with five relatives: My father, Joe LaTorre; my brother Joe (also LaTorre); my uncle Joe Esce; my cousin Joe Esce Jr.; and my cousin Joe Bartolo. Since I was the only one at the table not named Joe, I was made an honorary Joe for the day.
 
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