Running in West Germany, 1987

 

Many, many, many moons ago, as a lean and mean U.S. Army soldier in West Germany, I was a running machine.  Never super muscular in the arms, chest, and shoulders, my strength was in my legs.  I have always thanked God for my ability to run and jog miles at a time. It's an indispensable asset for the American foot soldier to be able to continue and complete the mission. Regardless of my airborne training, it is said that we are all “Legs” (foot soldiers, or Infantrymen) once we hit the ground.  Follow me, Infantry!
   There were plenty of well-built and muscular soldiers who could rip my head off if it came down to it, yet the leg strength often surpassed any skills they had over me. You have to get to the battle in order to fight it.  Our 3/36th Infantry unit in Hessen, (then West) Germany, marched and maneuvered and ran more, in my humble opinion, than any other unit on our post.
   I didn't hate it, which is monumentally important.
   On my best days as a distance running U.S. Army soldier, I place 2nd in a 10 km (6.2 miles) road race out of 200, in our 3rd Armored Division run. There were 18,500 eligible soldiers that could have run that road and cross country race. A combat cross country race, in full gear and carrying weapon, had me place 7th of 200, out of 50,000 soldiers eligible. In 1987, I ran a 2:57 marathon in Frankfurt. 26.2 miles. Wunderbar!  
   God blessed me with a few good races. I was good but never, ever great.  I never won the big race, as I was very kind and left that to others, Ha ha.

   It is a West German autumn, CK.  The yellow mustard fields, in their perfectly placed scattering, are a sight to be seen. Magnificent against the greens and browns of a tract of pine forest, against the green of cornfields, and of farm houses, barns, out buildings, and tractors. The feel of the natural expanse was that I wasn't looking at an American rural vista. This had a foreign country feel to the entire event. And I was in the republic of West Germany, whose nationhood lasted from 1949-1990.

   My late run start, about an hour before sunset, would hinder my distance options. Off post and kilometers/ miles away might cause a trouble down the road. I would run with a tee shirt, or sweat shirt, as needed, running shorts and underwear, socks and running shoes/sneakers.  I’d carry my military ID in an ankle pouch, and sometimes a water bottle. That was it.  Me and my “gear” ready for the West German roads and countryside. Cold weather clothes were used as needed. I have always run mileage in any weather, any season, sometimes to my detriment, yet I live to tell these tales. My running adventures are not yet the end of me. I have yet to perish.
  
   Well into this routine run, I realized that I had gone a bit farther than anticipated. That road turn off didn't produce the farm road I thought I'd hook up with. I can see the hill that my military post, Ayers Kaserne, is on. (Kaserne means barracks in German)  It's across the valley from the small hill I am on.

   It's getting dark.  I have to pick up the pace. I am staring at a long gradual downgrade descending 400 yards to a final forest tract, probably 500 yards square. The sun has now set.  That was fast. Can I go around? No. I will not go around the forest.  I can surely blast through this darkening forest, said no one ever.
   My senses immediately heightened. My exit from the increasingly dim and crepuscular farmland and entry into the
gloomy and Stygian forest did not feel good at all. I recalled The Wizard of Oz movie, when Dorothy and the others approached the scary, haunted forest.  The sign read, “I'd turn back if I were you!” I do believe in spooks. I do believe in spooks.

   It was quiet. And dark.  I could feel the packed-down farm road under my Brooks (TM) running shoes.
I had near zero visibility to my left and right. The tall pine trees, with sparse branching on the lower and middle tree trunks, had a canopy at least 50 feet above that sealed the forest floor from the sunlight and moonlight. Rain did dampen the forest floor once the green pine canopy had its fill.
   I was running slowly and steadily, waving my hands and arms in front of my face and body.  I stopped and looked behind me. I am only about 100 yards in. I turned to continue a slow, near-blind jog; picture a blind man running, arms up to protect his head and upper body. That was me.
   I could barely see the opening at the far end of the woods.
   Tenebrous is now the forest.  I can feel a leafy crunch, almost a soft pine needle bed under my feet. No! I am off the path. I quickly think of the American Werewolf of London movie. Will some nocturnal and vicious night animal slay and consume me? Tired of deer and boar hog meat, this Werewolf may rip me apart, just for fun.
   I have found the farm path.  Thank you, God.
Now about 250 yards in, about halfway, I can see absolutely nothing. Not my hand in front of my face. Terrified, I look up and see the slightest gap in the pine tree canopy. There is a slight difference between the pine canopy and the hardly visible sky above. Oh, please, stay that way.
   The gap directly over the farm path, where the canopy does not mesh with that of the trees across this narrow farm road, guides me.  Pressing on, I can see that the end of the forest is getting closer. 150 yards to go. Come on, Rich, we are almost there.....
   What? What's that? I hear movement to my pitch black right. I can hear movements on the branch and twig and pine needle covered forest floor. I am silent. I am highly alert, yet I see nothing. I must continue, I must exit the forest. 125 yards to go. The canopy seam does not close as I use only it to make my escape.  I hear a twig snap, and breathing.  Fuck.  I hope it's local American troops on stealthy maneuvers with night vision capabilitites, but I think not.
   I don't hope it’s Soviet Spetznatz or East German Communist commandos bearing down on me to slit my throat. I hope not.
   I hear stealthful movement, not sure what it is, and entirely terrified by it.

   It's either deer, boar hogs, or that ancient German forest monster raising its massive paw to incapacitate me with one blow.  And I wouldn't even know it. I can hear and sense, yet I cannot see.  I am in their forest. Their home. They see only, when not bedded down during the day, the occasional human farmer on his tractor, towing produce to his barnyard area. Maybe the wild German boar hogs and deer may encounter un-occasional hikers and volksmarchers (German hiking groups), but never anyone in the nighttime save for a seasoned hunter. The hunter probably doesn't enter the hidden, veiled, and secret tract of forest. It is pitch dark as dark can be, under a moonless night.
   This is a place where brave men won't venture. Stupid men, yes. I am that stupid man.

   Oh, no! I hear the breathing, and snorting. There are animals in my perimeter. My perimeter being me, no trip wire to alert me, no flash light to illuminate the situation, no M-16 rifle to protect me, no bayonet if it had to come to that. It was me against a very dark nature. What the hell is near me?
   I know they can see and smell me. A fart or three may have helped the animal to further his disdain for me, me in his forest, in his home, nervously farting.

   Snap! Goes a twig on the forest ground. I hear ground rustling and a loud snort. Waving my arms around my body, like a blind insect's feelers and antennae, I touch nothing, then...... Ohhhhhh! A large animal, probably a deer, bumps my body, not brutally, but rather definitively. One of my flailing hands touched the back of the deer. A wild boar hog would have struck me lower, in the legs, to knock me down.  The deer were very nearby. I could figuratively feel them around me.  At times, there was no sound. The birds were quiet. Maybe my presence in their nocturnal forest caused them into silence. The forest takes care of itself, and it was its design to take care of me!
   At that moment, with no plan, and near panic, I decided to erupt into a loud U.S. Army cadence. Clapping my hands, singing to stay alive, trying my best to stay on the path under the thinning forest canopy opening.
Not only was I dealing with the night, I also had to deal with the creatures of the night. Isn't that just great?
I was highly alert and supremely attentive as no other thoughts had time to enter my brain.  

   My goal was to alarm the angry deer herd into backing away just a bit, enough to allow me a noisy and forest tranquility-violating egress.

   As I had to get the hell out of there, I did, most assuredly, un-ass the area of operations. As in take your body out of the A.O. I sang loudly and purposefully a strong army cadence and began clapping my hands to give me some room. The bucks, with their animal night vision, could have sought me out, hunted me down, gored me with their sharp antlers, blinded me, or trampled me. A deer stomp with full, downward hooves will be injurious and could be fatal to a night-blind, unarmed, and ill-equipped runner. I wouldn't have known what hit me.
   So I belted out that U.S. Army cadence: “C-130 rolling down the strip...64 troopers on a one-way trip...mission top secret, destination unknown… WE DON’T KNOW IF WE’RE EVER GOING HOME!...

   As I am closer to exiting the dark forest, I continued singing and clapping the Army cadence. I stopped vocalizing for 10 seconds…I heard nothing, nothing at all except for my heart beating out of my chest.
   Do I have separation from this close-in threat?
   Are the deer letting me run for sport, as an inhumane human may do to a wounded animal? They know they can catch me, at my current egress speed of 10 miles an hour. I could not run too fast with solid trees standing nearby in all directions and near zero visibility.  If I conk myself out by running with speed into a tall German pine, then the deer and the wild boar hogs, and the critters of the forest may very well eat me.  The greatest fear was being gored and stabbed and speared, in numerous body places, while in the dark, by a multi-pronged 10-point, mad as hell West German deer buck. A family of boar hogs would feast off me for a week. They'll find my sneakers and dog tags in 3 years.
   So far, no additional contact from the large, furry creatures. I was purposely bumped by a deer in the deep, dark West German forest. No human knew that I was there. Corporal Melnick went for a run, that's all they'll say.  He knows the area well. He was a damn good soldier. I don't think he would go AWOL, he was just put in for his promotion to Sergeant, E-5.

   I was able to use the new influx of oxygen into my lungs to help propel me forward, to un-forest me.
70 more yards. I hear rustling and movement now to my distant left. Are the deer maneuvering to mount a counter-attack?
50-40-30 more yards...
   I can fully see the farm land outside the wood line. I don't care what’s out there. If the West German Werewolf is out there, in that gloriously beautiful farm field, so be it. At least I'll be able to SEE the beast that slays me!!

   20 yards, 10...
   In am finally free of the smothering and oppressive pine tree canopy. I can see the stars!  It is night, with the slightest fading glimmer of dusk to the west.
   I cannot slow down.  The two lane township highway is 300 yards across this magnificent field.  I do not look back, fearful of angry deer charging to spear me, and trample me.  The veil of night and the forest’s gloomy aspect had gotten the better of me back there.  Yet, the darkest German forest in history did not own me, yet it taught me a very valuable lesson.  Don’t’ go in to the deep, dark German forest alone.  Ever.
   The deer herd probably vocalized or snorted to each other, a derisive, “Look at that human run! He won’t be coming back anytime soon.  We really scared the Hell out of him!”

Richard Melnick.
1987.
Near Kirchgoens, Hesse, West Germany. 

Recalled April 23, 2023.


*Regarding the name of a group of deer, besides a herd,
“The other ways to refer to a group of deer include a bevy, a rangale, a bunch, or a parcel. When using parcel, however, it’s generally going to refer to a group of only young deer.” 

Source:  https://a-z-animals.com/blog/what-is-a-group-of-deer-called/ 

Noble Things that Tower Above the Tide

 

As far as addictions go, there are many far worse than my lifelong obsession with books.  I remember being around 10 or so, getting my first library card and toting home a dozen books at a time from the Maspeth branch of the public library.  At that age especially, there are so many topic to explore. There was a series about two teenage brothers that were amateur detectives called “The Hardy Boys” that I just couldn’t put down. I believe there must have been 38 volumes of them and I ended up devouring every one of them. 

Every summer, our grammar school teachers required us to read 10 books from a suggested reading list during the break and turn in a report on each one in September. I actually loved this because these were all books that were new adventures. 

It was during this time that my mother decided on getting her master's degree in Library Science, and that further boosted up the book culture in the house.  I believe she actually ended up at the Maspeth branch as a librarian for a while before moving on to the main branch in Jamaica. 

As I grew older, wherever my passions were at the moment, I would go into this acquisition mode with books on that topic. 

During my chef years, I loved exploring every cookbook. My wife would buy a cookbook and we would spend the month cooking each recipe. It was a wonderful way to constantly expand your cooking repertoire across every cuisine. It has continued for 20 years. We are currently taking a deep dive into Korean cuisine with a book by a adorable Korean food writer called Maangchi.  It’s like a never-ending continuing ed course!!

Once I was shopping in a bookstore in Chicago with a mentor of mine and I pointed out a particularly beautiful book on Italian cuisine but didn’t buy it. A few months later, at Christmas, my mentor shows up with eight books on Italian cuisine and gives them to me saying, “I couldn’t remember the one you showed me in Chicago, so I bought all of them!!”.

As I got older, my collection grew as varied as my interests, Le Carre’s spy novels, sculpture, gardening, zen, Gurdjieff….    

Now as I spend so many hours driving on the road, audio books have been a great alternative to listening to the radio. 

Books have been this wonderful companion throughout my years.  Reading has been my refuge.  Constantly inspiring and guiding, it reminds me what is inscribed on the entrance to the Brooklyn Library -

“Here are enshrined the longing of great hearts and noble things that tower above the tide, the magic word that winged wonder starts, the garnered wisdom that never dies." (Roscoe C. Brown)

Robert S.

Apr 2023

Love at First Sight

 

Based on a true story 

I always thought that falling in love at first sight was something that only happened in movies and fairy tales. But then, one day, it happened to me. I met Bennie, and from the moment I laid eyes on him, I knew that I had fallen in love. 

We were at a party, and I was standing across the room, looking around, trying to find someone to talk to. And then, Bennie walked in. He was tall, with dark hair and piercing blue eyes that I couldn't look away from. 

As soon as our eyes met, I felt a jolt of electricity shoot through my body. I had never experienced anything like it before. It was as if time had stopped, and it was just the two of us in the room. 

I knew that I had to talk to him, so I made my way over to where he was standing. We introduced ourselves, and we started talking, and it was like we had known each other our entire lives. We had so much in common, and our conversation flowed effortlessly. 

As the night went on, we continued to talk, and I felt myself falling deeper and deeper in love with him. I didn't want the night to end, but eventually, it was time to go home. 

We exchanged numbers, and we started texting and talking on the phone every day. We went on dates, and every moment I spent with him felt like a fairytale. It was like we were meant to be together. 

I never believed in love at first sight before, but now, I know that it's real. I fell in love with Bennie the moment I saw him, and I will always be grateful for that moment. It's a feeling that I will never forget, and I will cherish it for the rest of my life. 

Georgia

A Boo-Boo on My Knee

 

Little six year olds run. 

Momma said don’t run!

You will fall!

Little six year olds run

Little six year olds fall.

Running on the gravel path,

Falling on the gravel path,

The gravel path between our cottage

And Scheinman’s country store.

Ouch! A red scraped knee!

A big red bruise!

Big red boo boo on my knee!

Momma washed it

Covered it with a red mercurochrome.

Not healing , momma covered it with iodine.

Ouch! Ouch! That brown stuff burns!

Not healing!!

Poppa came for the weekend.

A long trip from the hot city,

A long trip, heavy traffic, 

Rain, thunder and lightening!

Poppa saw my boo boo

Hurried me into the car!

Hurried me through the night 

Windshield back and forth, back and forth!

Heavy rain pounding the the roof!

Hurried me into the hospital 

Emergency room, Montefiore Hospital.

Gangrene had set in!!

Poppa had saved his little girl’s leg.

We left the pain and infection in the hospital,

We left the boo boo in Montefiore Hospital.

Ethyl Haber

"Wake Up from this Sleep"

At 15 years old, I was very interested in all kinds of eastern and existential philosophy.  It seemed like the world was waking up to exploring different cultures (after all it was the late Sixties!!)

I would bring home all sorts of esoteric books and just devour them. Kierkegaard, Niebuhr, Ram Dass, Shah, Tillich, The Bhagavad Gita, Hesse, Skinner…..  I just couldn’t get enough of them. Then I stumbled upon a book entitled “In Search of the Miraculous” by P. D. Ouspensky. The book was about the author’s experiences with mysterious Russian mystic referred in the book as “G”.  The essence of this man’s teaching was that we are all asleep and that we have to wake up and realize we are prisoners of this sleep state. This book stopped me in my tracks. I was pulled into its pages like a moth to a flame. After almost every paragraph, I would be saying to myself, “Yes! yes!!”

Some quotes of Gurdjieff that emphasize that point - 

“In order to awaken, first of all one must realize that one is in a state of sleep. 

“Let us take some event in the life of humanity. For instance, war. There is a war going on at the present moment. What does it signify? It signifies that several millions of sleeping people are trying to destroy several millions of other sleeping people. They would not do this, of course, if they were to wake up. Everything that takes place is owing to this sleep.”

These teachings came from secret esoteric schools in Georgia and Armenia. He referred to this system as “The Work” and that someone engaging in it was “working on oneself”. My own sense was many seemed to be of Sufi origin. Gurdjieff often referred to himself as a dance teacher and spoke of dances he called “The Movements”. He described the dances as a means of non-verbally transmitting this precious knowledge from generation to generation. He presented a seemingly somewhat scientific approach to all of this but this book is written pre-Russian revolution, so what happened to these people?

It was the kind of book where you start highlighting every few lines on every page. All of it made so much sense to me. But who was this “G” character?  And was there an actual school that followed this path? 

As years passed, I became more and more fascinated with this man’s approach. Eventually I figured out that his name was George Ivanovitch Gurdjieff and he had schools that evolved from his teachings even here in America. 

I was so impressed with the book that I bought another one and gave it to a close friend that was formerly a Jesuit priest as a gift. He fell in love with the book and promised that if he ever came across a group that explores this method that he would let me know.

Years later, I received a letter from him telling me that he had found such a group and that they had a farm up in Sussex, NJ and that I should come up and experience it for myself. And that started a 15 year adventure that radically changed my life……

Robert 

The Eve of Gettysburg

 

The Eve of Gettysburg                                                                                

June 30, 1863

Dear Emma,

It is with a heavy heart that I write to you today, cognizant of the fact that the responsibilities that you have been left with are my fault. If our eyes had not met across that dance floor maybe you would have married a more successful suitor. Certainly a man with the $50 to sell his draft notice. The three boys and the farm are too much responsibility for your soft white hands to clutch and cleave into a life.

            We are never told much information and with a lack of facts the weeds of rumor infiltrate the crops, sowing doubt in our minds. A great storm is brewing not in the skies above but on the land. A human storm is approaching. I can feel it in my bones. I have never seen so many Union soldiers in one place. The encampments are very quiet like a field before a storm. It has been said that General Meade is no match for General Robert E. Lee, the great warrior of the Confederacy, if he is truly approaching. His aura hangs over the land like an avenging angel intent on destroying the North.These southern boys fight with such confidence and determination as if they cannot possibly loose and are determined to end up giving us a good thrashing.

            I have to move on so I will say goodbye for now. Please give the boys a hug and let them know that all of you are in my heart and my thoughts constantly and I love all of you more than words will express.Take care of them and yourself.                                                                                          

                                                                                                            Your Loving Husband,

                                                                                                                        Samual

 Jim

A Very Personal Letter to a Friend

 

Dear Emily,

I hope this letter finds you well. I just wanted to take a moment to express my gratitude for having you in my life. You have been such an amazing friend to me and I feel truly lucky to have you in my corner.

I want you to know how much I appreciate your presence in my life. You have been there for me during some of my darkest moments, always offering a listening ear and a shoulder to lean on. Your unwavering support and encouragement have helped me through some tough times, and I am so grateful for that.

But it's not just during the tough times that you have been there for me. You have also been there to share in my joys and successes, cheering me on every step of the way. Your positivity and enthusiasm are infectious, and I always feel better after spending time with you.

Your friendship means the world to me, and I can't imagine going through life without you. You are one of the most caring, genuine, and kind-hearted people I have ever met, and I feel so blessed to call you my friend.

Thank you for being you and for everything you do for me. I am so grateful for our friendship, and I look forward to many more happy times together.

With love and appreciation, your friend,

Georgia

Scaring Myself

 

What am I doing here?  How did I wind up with three teenage friends, in the woods of a local park, in the pitch black?

When we were walking on the sidewalk next to the woods, it seemed like a fun thing to do. Leave the sidewalk where the street lamps light up everything and venture into the woods, where the pitch darkness turns everything into something else.

I was shaking inside non-stop so much so that it felt like a group of mariachis were playing inside my stomach.  I was terrified on the inside but tried to act cool on the outside.  My three friends didn’t seem scared but I sure was!

I started remembering a story my sister and her boyfriend told me recently where they were going to walk into the woods at night but then something made them stop in their tracks.  They insisted that they saw the outline of an adult’s stomach lying on the grass, nothing else, just a pink stomach. 

Could they have been right or were the shadows and blackness of the woods at night tricking their eyes and minds? Had somebody just left behind a half of a watermelon on the ground from an afternoon picnic?  They didn’t stick around to figure it out. They were sure it was a person’s stomach cut away from its body.  They ran out of the wooded area and right back to the safety of their homes.

My mind started concentrating on the present again and there I was with my friends who had managed to creep into a darker part of the woods. Trails that were there on the ground to guide us in daylight had now become invisible like a bunch of ghosts hiding in a haunted house.  Invisible paths were playing hide and seek with us in a ghostly way.

We stopped and as I looked up toward the sky.  All I could see were what used to be tree branches but now looked like the long menacing tentacles reaching down to grab all of us and crush us to pulp. Every breath of wind made it seem more and more like those tentacles were bending down lower and lower to grab us.

Then we saw a threatening little man standing off to the side with a machete in his right hand. We stared at him for a minute unable to tell if he was a sinister criminal or not but this was the last straw for all of us. Was this man really just a tree trunk which took on scary shapes in the complete darkness or was a machete being sharpened and ready to use?

We didn’t stay to figure it out. All of us started yelling and screaming while trying to find our way out of those pitch dark woods. We all promised each other that we would never go back in the woods at night. As for me, I never did!

Ellen / Apr 2023

Moonlight Walk

 

The moon was full and bright in the sky, casting an otherworldly glow over the world below. As I stepped out into the night, I was struck by how everything seemed different in the moonlight. The familiar streets and houses took on an eerie, unfamiliar quality, and I felt as though I had stumbled into a dream.

The trees rustled softly in the breeze, their leaves reflecting the silver light of the moon. The shadows they cast were long and twisted, and I found myself jumping at every sound that I heard. As I walked further, I realized that I didn't recognize any of the houses or landmarks that I passed. Even the streets themselves seemed to have shifted and twisted in the moonlight.

I walked on, my heart pounding in my chest, until I came to a small park that I knew well. But in the moonlight, it was transformed into something else entirely. The trees and bushes seemed to have grown taller and wilder, and the pond was murky and shadowed.

I turned to head back home, but found that I couldn't remember which way I had come. The familiar streets and landmarks were all unrecognizable in the moonlight, and I felt disoriented and lost. It was as though the moon had transformed everything, I knew into something new and unfamiliar.

Eventually, I found my way home, my heart still racing from the strange and eerie walk. As I climbed into bed, I couldn't help but feel grateful for the moonlight, which had turned my familiar surroundings into a thrilling and unforgettable adventure.

Georgia

Majestic Landscape

 

I remember the first time I laid eyes on the landscape that swept me away. I was driving to Finger Lakes, New Jersey on a sunny day. The car was gliding up an incline and I saw a vast and open plain, stretching out as far as the eye could see. The golden grass swayed gently in the breeze, and the sunlight played across the undulating hills, casting shadows that danced in time with the wind. In that moment, I felt a deep connection to everything around me - the earth, the sky, and the very essence of life itself. For a few brief moments, I was lost in the beauty of the moment, swept away by the raw power and majesty of the landscape. And in that moment, I wished with all my heart that I could remain there forever, basking in the warmth and wonder of it all.

Georgia
Apr 2023

Panic at Midnight

 

Lauren Bacall had just finished her run as the lead in “Woman of the Year” on Broadway and Debbie Reynolds was about to replace her.  At the time, I owned a catering company called “The Next Supper” and we received an order from the staff at Studio 54 that they wanted us to cater a “scrim party” for about 150 people the night that Debbie premieres in her new role.  My company prided itself on serving fresh high-quality foods for the entertainment industry. A “scrim party” was a party held on the stage of the theater that Studio 54 had become. The scrim was a somewhat sheer curtain that separated the private party goers from the dancing hordes. 

So we set the banquet up and at 10:30 pm the crew from the play came in and just devoured the food. After an hour, everything was gone including the garnishes!  At that moment, the stage manager comes up to me and says, “Ms. Reynolds and her mother will be ready to eat in a half hour.” Totally shocked, I told her that the guests had eaten everything in sight. She turned to me and said, “You better come up with something or you’re done here!!”

In a panic, I scrambled out onto a very dark 54th Street and tried to figure out what I could possibly do. It was approaching midnight and everything in this neighborhood had closed. As I searched frantically from block to block, I was getting increasingly desperate. There was nothing anywhere!!! The only place I found was a Kentucky Fried Chicken and I shuddered at the thought of going in there but finally, having run out of time, I went in and bought a bucket of chicken. 

I returned to 54 and grabbed a silver platter and tried my best to decorate the chicken and we sent it up to Ms. Reynolds dressing room. As I did this, I felt like I was kissing my career goodbye and losing this incredible account. 

After half an hour passed, the stage manager came up to me and said “Ms. Reynolds wants to see you in her dressing room immediately!!”

I was sure this was not good. As I entered the dressing room, I see Debbie and her mom sitting there. She turns to me and says “Chef Robert!! That was the best fried chicken I’ve ever had!! You have to give me the recipe!!!”

Robert

Apr 2023