Obama, Sumo, and Snow Globes

Yesterday I got back from a three-day triangle trip: DC-Chicago-NY-DC. Sandwiched between 10 hour meetings a few interesting and random things popped out along the way.

First up, DC's Washington National (not Reagan!) Airport. Not to be a culinary curmudgeon but saying a dish is "Kobe beef" when it's not is just wrong.


If the French can get exclusive use of of the term "champagne" why can't the Japanese get the same for Kobe beef? Just a little pet peeve.

Onto the plane and an interesting article in United's Hemispheres magazine about a 414 pound Estonian sumo wrestler...

Sumo is a sport of ritual. Rikishi are bound by rules in and out of the ring. They must wear kimonos in public (brighter colors indicate higher rank). They are not allowed to sit on subways or trains (out of respect for other riders, and because they would take up more than one seat) even if the cars are empty. They are not allowed to drive because they are forbidden to hurt others, a rule that could be broken if they were in an accident.

The evening brought a delicious dinner at The Gage, located directly across the street from Millenium Park. Bison tartare and braised rabbit...yummm! Highly recommended.

The next night while heading to dinner I got sidetracked by a small group of folks with their phone cams at the ready, a parked motorcade, and several TV trucks. This could only mean one thing: Obama's in town.

Sure enough, he was in Chicago for several fundraisers so I figured, if I can't see him in DC I'll hang around a bit and catch a glimpse of the Prez as he exits the building. Forty-five minutes later, several cold toes, and very late for my dinner reservation...nada. I should have known better, high buildings plus one main exit add up to a high security risk. Despite the optimism of the 20 or so people gathered, there was no way he was coming out the front door. Obama slipped out the back and his motorcade sped down the street to his next event.

C'est la vie. I'm still waiting on that invite from the White House.

Next up was a delicious dinner at The Publican. Grilled octopus with blood sausage followed by suckling pig. Amazingly good, particularly the octopus. Another fuerte recommendation.

On the early morning flight to LGA, I read an article in American Airlines magazine about a woman in Casablanca who opened Rick's Cafe based on the theme of my favorite movie of all time, Casablanca...

Kriger recruited Bill Willis, an American-born designer living in Marrakech, who drew up plans for everything from the tiled central staircase to the inlaid oak floors. She watched Casablanca repeatedly, taking notes about decor, costumes and lighting. She commissioned 42 beaded lamps, as well as the brass lanterns that now hang in the courtyard. And she decided that, like the original Rick, she would live in an apartment upstairs from the café.

It was all coming together. And it wasn’t.

Renovations ran 100 percent over budget, to more than $1 million, drawing Kriger’s checking account down to $40 at one point. And in the most crushing development, Benhima, the governor, was transferred away from Casablanca, costing her a powerful ally. “As they say in the movie: After that, there were vultures, vultures everywhere,” she recalls.

Finally, the day was over and I was heading back to DC when I came across this odd warning at Delta Shuttle security...


Glad to see TSA is keeping us safe from snow globes.

Trip over. Glad to be home.