Waking up in Meridian, Mississippi.
James Chaney, a native.
James Earl Chaney (May 30, 1943 – June 21, 1964), from Meridian, Mississippi, was one of three American civil rights workers who was murdered during Freedom Summer by members of the Ku Klux Klan near Philadelphia, Mississippi.
The others were Andrew Goodman and Michael Schwerner from New York City.
Chaney was twenty-one years old.
The federal courthouse there was the site of the 1966–1967 trial of suspects in the murder of Chaney and two other activists.
For the first time, an all-white jury convicted a white official of a civil rights killing.
That investigation and prosecution the gravamen of the movie.
Mississippi Burning, the movie, is a 1988 American crime thriller directed by Alan Parker.
The script by Chris Gerolmo is loosely based on the 1964 Chaney, Goodman, and Schwerner murder investigation in Mississippi.
The film stars Gene Hackman and Willem Dafoe as two FBI agents assigned to investigate the disappearance of three civil rights workers in fictional Jessup County, Mississippi.
The investigation is met with hostility and backlash by the town's residents, local police, and the Ku Klux Klan (KKK).
Today is Saturday, September 22, 2018
This is my 165th consecutive daily posting.
Time is 4.14am and the weather in Savannah, Ga is 87* and sunny.
Yesterday I talked about my morning in Dallas, including the non-pictures of the Civil War Memorial and “The Cattle Drive.”
From that jaunt, I returned for a quick nap in my hotel room, a change of clothes into sandals and shorts, and a trip to The Klyde Warren Park and the Dallas Museum of Art.
I was tired and the park was not notable among world-class parks so I eschewed the Dallas Museum of Art (getting late, anyway) for a leisurely Starbuck’s coffee and a read.
At 5.30pm I picked up my newly dry-cleaned dress clothes for dinner at the Mansion, a terrific restaurant in Dallas.
We’ll start with the stand-alone menu and wine pairing to be followed by a gallery.
5.30pm I picked up my newly dry-cleaned dress clothes for dinner at the Mansion, a well-respected restaurant in Dallas.
Always when I visit restaurants with a reputation I wish the experience to be good enough to warrant a Guide Michelin star.
The dining room was attractive.
I was greeted warmly and given a nice table, even dining as a single.
My table provided a view of the patio which I was able to observe when, a half-hour in, lightning, thunder, and a rainstorm struck the patio with a vengeance.
Felt like I was outside.
The first food served was a baguette.
Perhaps the pully, chewy crust intended.
My preference is a crusty baguette.
The ‘amuse’ sent out by the kitchen, not listed on the menu, was a deep-fried ‘rillette of cod.’
Not oily and terrifically crunchy, the batter, and the cod trapped inside received little dressing so one could still feel the texture of the fish.
Next was the Watermelon Gazpacho.
A small bowl was presented with the solid parts arranged in a lovely pattern: three different pieces of watermelon, two tiny pieces of smoked pork jowl, scallion, and pepitas.
I reached down to take a picture, too late, the soup was poured covering the solids.
But it was delicious with a pleasing silkiness and crunchy pieces.
And next was the Hudson valley foie gras mousse, served with two peach treatments, one simply sliced and the other made opulent by semi-turning them into peach jam.
The crunchy stick of toasted brioche was a perfect carrier for both the jam and the mousse.
But look at the picture.
I think the plating here needs a little help.
It lacks imagination.
But the mousse itself?
The scallop was excellent tasting, seared sushi-style, only a quarter-inch cooked all-around, leaving the large interior raw.
The scallop, the largest piece of protein of the night.
Its size affected the rhythm of the meal, which should rise in quantity and richness.
Half the portion would be right.
The gulf red snapper was my favorite course.
Half, perhaps only a third the size of the scallop.
The sauce and accompaniments great enhancements.
The texas quail was lovely to look at, lovely to eat.
And a bone person, I was delighted by the implied invitation to eat with our fingers.
I’m sorry my novitiate as a photographer has led me to realize, too late, the pictures of the filet did not come out.
C’est la vie!
The filet was perfectly cooked but something less than artful.
Given the level of genius running the kitchen, an innovative treatment of the meat is almost de rigueur.
The desserts were both lovely presentations.
And all of them were greatly appreciated.
I thought I’d shoot the glasses.
One is missing, the glass of moscato.
The waiter got mixed up with it.
With the list of wine pairings in your hand, can you name the wines?
The two reds can be told by the shape of their glasses.
The two smaller glasses of whites are the champagne and the tokay.
Good night guys,
Oh! That star.
That elusive butterfly of perfection.
Did they earn one?
They did not; for the food flaws mentioned and for the lapses in the dining room.
The servers explaining what was being served seemed a bit harried, a noticeable bit.
Occasionally, an unneeded plate or piece of silverware was left on the table.
And I was served a glass of tokay for the foie gras and later in the meal, a different wine server brought me a glass of the same wine for dessert. A communication lapse.
But they are in the game.
A little more polishing and they’ve got it.
Love you all,