kenneth beverly laney & co.

Time’s speedy flight already brought us nearly half way through the summer. It was time for the year long anticipated visit from Kenneth Laney…our “old” friend from Parkwood High School, Monroe, NC. [We reconnected via the infamous facebook in fall of 2008. Once I had made the connection with the name and the now more matured face [which took me several week/months [one of the two] the delight of reconnection was magnified with the instant development of kindred spirits. Then a year later he was offered the position of youth pastor which would pay more than his two jobs combined. He was stoked and took it].

For a few hours Kenneth was keeping me posted by txt on his party’s driving progress towards our house from Texas. He’d apparently flown in to Dallas from NC as soon as his paid vacation started. There he met his family that’d already been vacationing and spent time with friends. The house cleaning and bedroom prep had been held off to that Saturday and Sunday [Father’s Day]. Thus, nothing was perfectly prepped by the time they had arrived. A lesson learned? Mmm….can’t really say. None-the-less, it was nice to be able to have all six sleep in the comfort of borrowed three bedroom space indoors compared to the anticipated tenting, which was previously planned for 14 guests.

Six A.M. and I shot out of bed to the sound of the doorbell. Mike, in his zombie like state, was convinced I was hearing things. Still in my jammies I rushed through the living room and swung the front door open to some very tired people. Despite the fact that we didn’t get to bed until past midnight the night before [and Kenneth Laney & Co. would be crashing for several hours] there was no going back to sleep now. The shower was calling and the psyche was now in major hostess overdrive.

Three hours later lumpia was in the mega iron skillet, rice started and the French coffee press was being put to work as the sleepy classmate and wife slowly made their way back to life and in my dining room/kitchen. Some catching up was had by the three of us while Mike was getting ready to head to work. Once the entire party was awake and refreshed, they enjoyed my mini prelude to the island foods Kenneth had been anticipating for over a year. [Apparently, a previous trip to Hawaii, several years past, had ignited his love for the islands and tropical island cuisine].

The afternoon they found entertaining with a tour of the radio station and a walk half way around the Prescott square. I was simply amused that anyone would be as excited as they were to tour the station. Being the radio guy’s wife, it all just seemed typically everyday to me. However, I’m glad they enjoyed it…and hearing from Mike all the ins and outs of how it all works. Beverly accidentally over broil toasted the French bread for our spaghetti dinner that night. But no one seemed to care. It wasn’t bad at all. We all enjoyed it none-the-less! Mike brought out a Parkwood yearbook. We looked through all the class faces [freshman-seniors] and shared what we know [updates] of who. Who died when and how. Who's got kids. Who's in ministry. Who's not. Who's gone where they need to bee loved back from...yada yada yada.

Tuesday morning was rather nonchalant. But in my element, I sweat over three sauces [lemony sweet-n-sour, tamarind, and peanut] for the Thai lettuce wraps. *I would now like to take this scribbley moment to change that name to Kim’s Filipino Wraps since all ingredients are also found in the Philippines and all sauce ingredients were literally authored and invented in my Filipina head via my Filipina palate*. The tamarind juice…oh so naturally sweet and blended perfectly with the fish sauce. Really required no other ingredient. The lemony sweet and sour was a nice throw-it-all-together blend of whatever my palate could pull out of the pantry. However, the peanut sauce and tamarind turned out to be my favorite blend of spontaneous throw-togethers. The thin julienning of carrots, cucumbers and purple cabbage was rather time consuming and added to the loving sweat over the bamboo cutting board. And when it all came together, the only words I heard at the table were, “that’s better than the Cheesecake Factory, that’s better than PF Chang’s, that’s unbelievable, I want the recipe, I could eat like this all the time…..etc”.

Jerome was bright, shiny, not as condensed as I had anticipated, and very hot. Every shop was a welcoming breath of air conditioned sweat reducing air. The variety of pricey southwestern souvenirs was endless as usual. It’s the kind of stuff that any visitor could easily be lured into wasting their hard earned money on simply because of the memorable touristy environment alone. Some of it was just downright hilarious and could be found in any store around the world because they are of no unique nostalgic value to the area. Just eye catching conversation starters that raise eyebrows and draw giggles from all those so easily amused. Unfortunately, we didn’t get to the Grand Hotel in time to partake in the widely acclaimed haunted tour. Once we found out it was actually $20/head [$20 more than what Mike thought], it didn’t really matter.

Chicken flautas, burritos and tacos were on my culinary mind for supper. Aside from Mike and Kenneth’s non-stop laughter infront of “Nacho Libre” all I heard was, “I really like that, Oh my gosh those are good…” all in reference to the easy labor flautas. The Laneys, Jalissa and Curtis had never seen that hilariously obnoxious movie before. Apparently, it tickled their funny bone.

The following day I could do nothing more than wallow in utter disappointment stuck at home while Laney & Co. went on to enjoy a day out at the Grand Canyon. It was tearfully difficult to stop the aching heart and mind knowing full well the fun it would have been to relive the awe with our delightful guests. “Bummed” doesn’t fully describe that day for me. What was suppose to be part of the summer’s highlight just seemed like another wasted day in speechless regret.

Thursday came and it was to be started with the store bought frozen bunt platter[s] of sweet monkey bread. Tasted a bit processed, but somewhat worth the cheap investment and microwavable 2 ½ minutes labor per box. The best part, Mike was coming along to Sedona for the fun to be had by all! The further down I-17 we got, the more apparent it became that it was to be another sweat inducing adventure in Sedona. Even though we had done it a “gazillion” times before in the past ten years, I insisted on stopping on the edge of town to catch some photographic shutter clicks. With every snapped angle, the sweat between my precious little digital Kodak and hands was increasing. The forehead was starting to ooze from the salty pores. On the way to the Cave Creek campsite we stopped at the “Chapel of the Holy Cross” which we had always referred to as the chapel on the rocks. More shutter snapping as if I was experiencing it all for the first time…again. The colorful cactus [purples, greens, oranges, yellows…] I made photographic note of this time.

Driving through the canyon towards the Cave Creek was a welcome drop in several temperatures as I had anticipated. A picnic lunch under the shade of red rocks and trees and amongst green grass was a pure afternoon delight. One of the cement tables sheltered what looked like a skunk hole that spewed that dreadful smell. Fortunately, there were plenty of other tables to set up the picnic spread and eat from. I wasn’t willing to risk the nasty defensive spray for which I had not come prepared with a bathtub’s worth of tomato sauce.

The creek was oh so goosebumpy chivery cold but [apparently] refreshing enough to the playful gang. A lot of “country” talk/humor and splashing play which Beverly sat smack dab in the middle of. I sat at a distance up against the hilly and rocky ledge to stay dry and catch it all on video. Then all the boys played football. Before leaving Cave Creek. Mike took Sierra back down to the creek to wash off the black dirt she had rolled in. On the way up, she slipped in her flip flops [I had already warned her not to wear those when climbing back up]. Her scream, while falling backwards back into the rocky creek, is what I heard from the picnic tables. By my lead, our family’s not one for drama in trauma unless it can’t be helped. So I stayed by the tables trusting Mike to let me know if the situation was anything beyond his own fathering capabilities. With a few shinly bumps and bruises, Sierra came through just fine.

Kenneth gave a big response to the gelato suggestion. It took several minutes to explain to Dylan that it’s the Italian style of ice cream. His face dispayed bewildering images of tomato sauce colored/flavored ice cream. In many words we assured him that it's not savory, but sweet, natural flavoring, better tasting than frozen yogurt or “ice cream” as we know it and something he would really like. He kept referring to it as Itally something-or-other. So, in jocular respect to him, we now call it Itally ice cream.

Looking at the time, on the way home, we decided to first stop for some supper at Cottonwood’s China Buffet. [CB has become one of America’s mutant form of oriental fast food eatery. It’s a perfect default with guests when taking a break from kitchen slavery. “Everyone” likes getting all-you-can-eat Americanized Chinese food. But, if you want the real stuff...the genuine chinese ingredients and flavor, familiarize yourself with a China town nearest you and it’s authentic Asian/Chinese cuisine]. Kenneth answered my dare to try the fried frog legs. He took one. He took one bite. “It really does taste like chicken!” with childlike excitement that quickly turned into “bleh!” as the aftertaste gave off a different [and unpleasant] flavor. That confirmed it for me. I’d have to be skin and bones starving to shove one of those in my maw!

Poor Carla Ayers had no idea what had entered the Itally gelato shop which she manages [A Scoop Above]. Then again, I didn’t know what kind of bellowing afternoon this was going to turn into either. Not that it would’ve kept us out of the shop anyway. A sampling spoonful of the lime flavored “stuff” was such a refreshing cool delight to my palate. Never had that one before. I bet it’d be even better with some basil. I typically dislike anything watermelon flavored. Tastes more imitation/preservative like than the real taste of a watermelon. But the gelato watermelon…surprisingly SPOT ON. So, it surprised me that Mike [all things watermelony a fan of] indulged in something else. [Oh, he just clarified that he DID have a scoop of watermelon gelato with a scoop of mint]. But even more satisfying to my current gelato mood was the combination of the nutty coconut and MANGO. Oh! Such sweet heaven for my tropical taste buds to dance in. You never know when your God-designed race is over. But, should the opportunity strike before His return, I just might try my own sweet culinary hand in the Itally style of tropical flavored ice cream in the very near future.

Kenneth and Mike apparently indulge in the same type of movie humor. Next thing we know, Kenneth is giving the perfect impersonation of Eddie Murphy’s “The Nutty Professor” movies. He had the accent, the lines…everything Nutty Professory spot on. It had to be somewhere between 20-30 minutes of nonstop belly aching roaring laughter permeating through the walls…and maybe even out into the parking lot. Poor Bev was my pillow as I lost volume and head control in laughter. My only regret of the day was that those were the moments that should’ve been caught on video…but weren’t. Hmph!

The night was ended with Kenneth’s pick of the “Rat Race.” Guess he’d never seen that one before either. They all partook in that while I touched up my Sedona pics of the day and uploaded them onto Facebook.

Friday morning arrived too early and the dreaded departure was upon us. Mike and I would head back to the everyday and the Laney & Co. were heading back to Texas where more time with other friends would be spent. After deciding that to let them leave without introducing them to the Filipino beef tapa would be another regret, I quickly pulled it out of the fridge where it’d been marinading for two days. That, with rice, might be enjoyable at least on the road for them. One more group picture. In contagious tears, Kenneth prayed over our family, our family’s goal to move and serve in the Philippines, and their travel safety. As they drove out of our driveway, I watched in tears with Mike.

There is no joy quite like that of knowing that you've satisfied the hungry palates of your guests. Especially with food they don't typically produce out of their own kitchens or shovel in their maws at their own table. It was an awesome five days….and deep within I still wallow in regret over missing out on the Grand Canyon. Sure, it's practically in my back yard for me to indulge in on any leizurely desired day. None-the-less, it's truly better with out-of-town guests/friends. Worse yet, we will have no photographed memories of the Grand Canyon with Laney & Co.