That is the question I am not going to answer.

We had two good meals yesterday. The first at a small French restaurant whose name I can’t remember. Nevermind. It’s a name no one can remember. Like Pompineau and Levalier. But with very different words. It has no tables, only curved counters, and, except for the baguettes and things starting with croque, nothing seems very French. In fact, a large part of the menu starts with “O’”. Like someone got an O’Rye, as I recall. I didn’t want to go Irish so close to St. Pat’s Day, so I stuck with something closer to French. A curry. Tres bon.

Why did the restaurant choose this name? It’s been almost 50 years since companies began shortening their names: Uniroyal, PepsiCo, and so forth. The branding company that advised most of them was not Lipmar. It was and I think, 50 years later, is still Lippincott and Margulies. Go figure. Oh, well, two Frenchmen can’t be wrong.

In the evening we ate at the Grocery. Nothing started with O’, but you couldn’t buy any groceries. You could buy dinner, though. I asked our waiter “Emory, like the university” what the worse thing on the menu was, and he said the octopus, so for one time in my life, I did not get octopus. Yes, that is a fact, I skipped it. Edie and I split a chopped salad and a pasta dish that had a lot of green in it (a long list). Very good.

Emory’s comment about the octopus led me back to the old days when I had a Morrocan Scramble in Savannah. Although his name has already deserted my steel trap memory, I do recall he told me that the scramble was his fourth favorite thing on the menu.

Short blog today. Hitting the road. Heading north by northeast.