The Long Trip Home: Connect The Dots

Eating Your Way Through South Africa
by Meredith Morgenstern

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Spotlight: Food and Drink

Connect The Dots
by Gina Gigli

A favorite childhood game—connecting dots with a pencil line to discover hidden images--flashes into my mind as my husband Ruggero and I plan our road trip. I intend to conduct informal cross-cultural interviews along Interstate 40, from California to North Carolina, and on our return from Florida to California on Interstate 10. My interviews will focus on these three questions:

1. Has your life changed since the attacks on America?

2. How do you think we can fight terrorism?

3. In times of stress, what is your comfort food?

While squinting at the United States map, I envision an amorphous bird shape, delineated by connecting the dots of cities where we will stop overnight. Will my interviews reveal revengeful or peaceful emotions? Which bird-image will appear—hawk or dove?

NEEDLES, CALIFORNIA Departing from our home in Markleeville, California, we head for the start/end of Interstate 40 in Barstow, California. The freeway is but one spoke in this freewheeling railroad town, a road that we will follow for 2,542 miles.

I don't get mad at people as easily now. I realize that life is too short for that, and I've become closer to people.

We stop for the night in Needles, a town hanging onto the eastern edge of California and one of the gateways into the Colorado River resorts. While we're eating excellent enchiladas and chile rellenos in family-owned Rita's Restaurant, we encounter locals Darlene and James. Darlene tells us, "I don't get mad at people as easily now. I realize that life is too short for that, and I've become closer to people. We need security, security, security." James, a high school teacher, claims that he feels, "closer to our country now. The patriotism that has always been here has surfaced. We need to educate the people of the world, because the more you educate and train, the safer we are. Terrorism comes from uneducated people."

James names Darlene's Swedish meatballs as his comfort food.

Darlene's Swedish Meatballs

Mix together ground beef, salt and pepper, garlic powder, and if you need to 'stretch it,' oatmeal and eggs. Shape into walnut-size balls and brown in oil. Serve with potatoes and green beans.

ALBUQUERQUE

David, our motel desk clerk in Albuquerque, says, "I was not surprised that America was attacked, though I was horrified and saddened by the way the script played out. I don't think that my generation (1950s) is prepared for great catastrophes. We need to re-examine our role in the world. We are not aware of the perception of the United States by other nations." When asked about his comfort food, David gave his recipe for tortilla chips.

David's Tortilla Chips

Take corn tortillas and cut into one-eighth sized wedges. Lightly spray baking sheet with olive oil; arrange tortilla pieces on pan; sprinkle with salt. Bake for 10 minutes in 325-degree oven--but keep a watch on them after 5 minutes. Serve with salsa or guacamole.

OKLAHOMA CITY

Enjoying our barbequed beef brisket and roasted chicken at Shorty Small's in Oklahoma City, we watch as the servers deftly dodge each other as they dispatch piping-hot and fork-tender BBQ to hundreds of diners. According to legend, Shorty Small inherited the saloon business from his father who was seventy-four at the time of Shorty's birth in 1934. Not only has the chain grown to include other restaurants in Oklahoma, Arkansas, and Missouri, but also the five-foot two-inch owner reputedly has grown to a weight of two hundred and ninety-pounds.

CONWAY, ARKANSAS

Stopping for coffee in Morriltown, Arkansas, we start up a conversation with gray-haired Morgan. "I've retired from the aviation business, and I've built a small airstrip and hangars on our family's Heifer Creek Ranch, where we also raise Scots Highland cattle. In my humble opinion, we should tighten up the borders, and the embassies overseas should have tighter control over issuing passports. In this time of computers, we can take real-time photos using fingerprints and retina scans to identify people. No one with terrorist affiliations should be allowed in. The instant someone holding a student visa leaves college, the case should be turned over to the FBI."

Morgan invites us for dinner at Heifer Creek Ranch. Ready for an adventure, we follow his pickup on a narrow road 14 miles north through the Ozark foothills. Scots Highland cattle, with short legs, long reddish hair, and sweet faces, bat their long eyelashes at us as we drive past. We meet not only Morgan's vivacious wife Joyce, but also their cook, Anastasia, looking like a painter's model from two centuries past, and her husband and jack-of-all trades, Grizz, whose nickname obviously comes from his girth and hirsuteness. Joyce and Anastasia have just published a cookbook chuck-full of great beef recipes. Joyce says that her life has not really changed since September 11. Her solution to combat terrorism is, "Nuke them until their shorts glow in the dark." Her favorite comfort food is Taco Soup.

JOYCE'S TACO SOUP
(From Ultimate Highland Beef)
By Anastasia Owen Hayhurst and Joyce Hettrick, www.heifercreek.com

2 cans whole corn, drained; 2 cans pinto beans, drained; 1 jar stewed tomatoes; 1 can Rotel (brand name for tomatoes and chiles) chopped; 1 6-ounce can tomato sauce; 2 pounds ground beef; 1 chopped onion; 1 package taco seasoning; 1 package dry Ranch Dressing; 1 large package Fritos. Brown ground beef and onions until they are soft. Add remaining ingredients. Cook 30 minutes or until hot. Serve over rice or Fritos.

COOKEVILLE, TENNESSEE

After stopping for the night in Cookeville, Tennessee, we search in vain for a busy restaurant. We settle for the China Star, with only one car in front, and soon realize we should have searched more. Pushing tough tofu and stringy vegetables into various configurations on my plate, I ask waiter Tommy if his life has changed since September 11. "No. I just left Hong Kong three weeks ago. No problem here in America; customers very nice."

DURHAM, NORTH CAROLINA

Stopping for the night in Durham, North Carolina, Katrina, our waitress at Pizza Hut, says, "The U.S. does a couple of things that other countries don't. One thing is our open-door policy. But when we say that we're here to help others, we're open for attack." As a single mother holding down two jobs, she explains, "I have simplified cooking. Every day I fix the same breakfast and the same dinner for my kids."

Katrina's Breakfast

Put water in the pan; add sausage cut up in little bitty pieces; add grits. When grits are almost done, add beaten eggs. When eggs are done, serve to hungry kids.

Katrina's Dinner

Put water in pan; add hamburger crumbled up; add rice. When rice is almost done, add canned peas or canned green beans. When vegetables are hot, serve to hungry kids.

WILMINGTON, NORTH CAROLINA

Taking a coffee break at McDonald's in the small town of Warsaw, North Carolina, we talk with a local man. Though retired now, Perkins says that he's worried about the economy after the attacks on America. "I've got one idea, and it's a good one. We should screen people before we let them come into the U.S. Only thing we want to do is to identify them; then they can come on in. My comfort food is greens, and I grow my own collards, lettuce, turnips and other vegetables."

Perkin's Collards

Get yourself some ham hocks and put 'skinned' (fat and dark spots cleaned off) lean ham in a pot with a small amount of water. If you don't like ham, you can use smoked turkey neck. Wash collards well Ð 'cause if there's any sand left, you won't want to eat them. Stack leaves and roll 'em up. Slice thinly so they'll be quicker to cook. Add salt and pepper. Cover pot and after simmering them 20 to 30 minutes, taste a bite to see if they're tender. Collards left in the ground and harvested in winter are tender and sweet and don't need any sugar added.

Though Interstate 40 ends/starts at the city limits of Wilmington, North Carolina, we continue on the road through the city and reach Carolina Beach. In the company of shore birds, I walk past waving sea grasses to the continent's eastern edge, pick up some scallop shells and dip my hand into the Atlantic Ocean—for the first time ever.

LAKE CITY, FLORIDA

Three weeks later, after visiting our son and daughter-in-law in Annapolis, Maryland, and our daughter in Georgia, we arrive at the start/end of Interstate 10 in Jacksonville, and we take a few minutes to watch small craft and ships passing under a drawbridge and fish flip-flopping in the green water of the broad St. John River. We start talking to middle-aged Doris and George. "Before September 11," Doris tells us, "I thought I was in the driver's seat, but now realize I'm only the passenger. Somethin's gotta be done to teach 'em different, so that they don't think they'll be goin' to heaven by killin' people. With all of this trouble and when I get down in spirit, I go get myself some sugar to get energized, and I eat a Baby Ruth candy bar." George adds, "We gotta get to the root of the problem and find where it all started."

In Lake City, Florida, at the Texas Roadhouse, a friendly family-style restaurant where patrons are encouraged to throw their peanut shells on the floor, eighteen-year-old waitress Coleen is eager to contribute her thoughts. "I've lived in Lake City all of my life, and I think that we need to have a lot of security, and we should watch out for other people." Coleen claims macaroni and cheese as her comfort food. "When I go to church potlucks, I heap up my plate with everyone's version of macaroni and cheese. That's all I take, and when my plate is full of macaroni and cheese, then I'm happy."

SULPHUR, LOUISIANA

As we pull into Sulphur, we spot Cajun Charlie's Seafood Restaurant. Gazing in awe at the buffet assortment of squid, alligator, catfish, frog legs, whitefish, crab legs, crab cakes and shrimp, all battered, breaded, barbequed or fried, we try a little of everything. Back in line, we pick up crayfish soup, seafood gumbo and the only vegetables offered Ð coleslaw, okra and tomatoes.

"Mr. Charlie and I been married 35 years," explains co-owner "Miss" Linda, "but with the world situation, I'm learnin' not to take things for granted." Miss Linda admits that when she's stressed she eats everything in sight. With slicked-back black hair and looking every bit the part of a riverboat gamblin' man, Mr. Charlie says, "One of my classmates was killed in the Trade Center Towers and another guy from Lake Charles was killed in the Pentagon. I think we should catch the three main guys, but I don't think it'll stop the terrorists."

Cajun Charlie's Seafood Gumbo

Of course, I cook this in a 10-gallon pot, and I make 150 to 200 gallons of gumbo each week, so you've got to figure out your own proportions. You make the Roux in an iron pot by mixing flour with oil, stirring, stirring; keep on stirring until the mixture is chocolate brown and the consistency of peanut butter. You can add some Kitchen Bouquet to darken it more. You get a big pot ready to make the broth by heating water in it. Throw in cut-up bell peppers and green onions and after it's all boiling good, add salt and red pepper or Cajun seasoning. Add the Roux to the broth a spoonful at a time, stirring, stirring, and then add your crabmeat and shrimp. For stew, just do the same thing, only use chicken or pork, and you might need to add more Roux.

SAN ANTONIO, TEXAS

We're crossing one more river today, and it's the number one attraction in Texas—The San Antonio River. A green serpentine ribbon of water placidly flows past the stone ramparts of under-downtown. We join other strollers, unaware of the bustling traffic on the streets above as we walk along a curving canal reminiscent of Venice with arched stone footbridges, flowers, fountains, shops and cafŽs. The sunny-but-cold day has encouraged "greeters" at cafŽ entrances to entice would-be patrons to stop walking and start eating.

Mary, attractive young "greeter" at CafŽ Ole, tells us, "I had been studying film-making in New York for four years and had just left, three days before the attack on the Twin Towers. When I saw what was happening on the television screen, I thought the world was coming to its end, because all my friends were there. I couldn't drive; I couldn't walk; I couldn't think. Now I have tons of ideas. We should always have had better air security and Homeland Security, because other people are envious of Americans and want to hurt us. Back home here in Texas, I get to eat Mom's food again. When my family gets together, we eat all kinds of ethnic food, because Dad is Mexican, while Mom is Japanese and African American, but she's best known for her apple pies, burgers and fries."

LORDSBURG, NEW MEXICO

We decide to stay in the lopsided railroad town of Lordsburg, New Mexico and are happily seated in El Charro, with upbeat country music wafting from the adjacent bar. Two DOS EQUIS beers accompany delicious enchiladas, tacos and tamales. Leaning back in the red tattered plastic booth, we talk to Mexican-American waitress Rosa, who is sixty-years-old and four-feet-eight in height. "I've lived right here all my life, and this is a small town, so we don't have to worry about terrorists. But there's nothing to stop people like that, because they'll just keep on." Tacos always cheer up Rosa.

Rosa's Tacos

Mix ground beef, cumin, garlic and salt and shape into patties. Press into corn tortillas and fold tortillas in half. Deep-fry them in vegetable oil; first on one side, then the other.

SANTA MONICA, CALIFORNIA

At the end of Interstate 10 in Santa Monica, I walk across a stretch of fairly dirty beach by the silent early-morning amusement pier. A wrapped-up vagrant sleeps near the lapping water, gulls swoop overhead, and I dip my hand into the Pacific Ocean.

MARKLEEVILLE, CALIFORNIA The odometer of our nine-year-old Jeep Cherokee registers an additional 7,500 miles, and our minds register pleasure from the connections with family and friends on our road trip across the United States. After compiling the interview responses from the entire lengths of Interstate 40 and Interstate 10, I look at the map again and conclude that the connected dots portray neither hawk nor dove, but America's own patriotic bald eagle, casting a wary eye over the nation.