Oh Baloney!

Last week my husband and I went to Memphis to see Eddie Vedder of Pearl Jam and Glen Hansard of Swell Season.  While it was my birthday, I still insist the gift was more for him and have joked with him that it was his present for my birthday. 

Anyway, it was an awesome evening in the ornately beautiful Orpheum Theatre.  Each man and an instrument.  No band.  No full set.  Just a guitar, or ukulele, or mandolin, or the cigar box guitar that some fan on the front row handed Vedder, and vocals.  Wow!  It really was an impressive, emotionally charged show.  I really hate to call it a show.  It felt more like we were simply peering into a private session with each musician.   Second row tickets made it even more surreal.  Eddie Vedder, always been a fan.  Glen Hansard, yes, I’m a fan now for sure! 

So how does this relate to baloney?  And yes, I mean baloney, not the proper bologna.  I know a Southern staple in Memphis is the bbq bologna sandwich but we didn’t have any of that while we were there.  Instead, we uncovered a whole new way to use the word baloney.  When I was a kid I remember it being referred to as “dear old baloney”.  And for the longest time thought that bologna was made from deer meat.  But now, I have good reason to think of baloney in a fond, new way. 

We ventured out early the morning of the show so that my husband could take some great downtown shots with his camera.  Now Memphis does have quite a few homeless folks that aren't shy about asking for money.  I usually have a pretty good eye for them and can easily avoid them while moving along on a sidewalk.  However, when you stop for more than 5 seconds to take some photos as we were doing, you get quickly approached and cornered.  It’s always at that moment that I wish I were bilingual.  With my luck, though, they would probably know French.  Or German.  Or whatever language I was pretending to speak.

After a surprise attack from behind while he was photographing an Elvis statue, I suggested that we have a code phrase I could use if I saw anyone approaching while my husband was preoccupied with picture taking.  My husband suggested “baloney”.  He said, “Just say baloney if you see someone coming who looks like they are going to ask for money”.  Needless to say, I got pretty good at using the phrase.  “Baloney on the right.  Baloney approaching from the left.  That restaurant serves bbq baloney.  Oh baloney!”

I’ve always said that I’m passionate about food because it evokes an emotion or a memory.  And thanks to the beggars on the streets of Memphis and my husband’s creative wit, I’ll now love baloney.  Not because I’m reminded of the beggars, but because baloney will always be attached to that wonderful birthday trip and the amazing experience from the second row of the Orpheum Theatre.  Oh, dear old baloney!