Super 8 & Onion Tarts

I have a friend who gave up life in academia to go back to school at the BrandCenter. Which is great for his creative juices and potentially his future, but it means his free time has evaporated.

Miraculously, a window of opportunity opened up and he invited me for a last-minute lunch today, so I suggested he come here and we'd walk J-Ward and end up at Ettamae's Cafe. I knew he'd have a camera with him and things are pretty picaresque around here.

As a matter of fact, he'd just put a fresh roll of film in it when he'd arrived on Clay Street and had already taken a picture before calling my name from the sidewalk. As my visitors know, this is how you announce your arrival; we don't need no stinkin' doorbells in the Ward (alright, that's probably just me) as long as my windows are open.

We entered Ettamae's to a crowd of construction workers, undoubtedly part of the Hippodrome Theatre renovation crew practically next door (I am counting the months to the reopening).

But we were balcony-bound, so we cruised right past them and up the stairs that go somewhere (as opposed to the charming other staircase which ends in a ceiling, a la Rene Magritte's Irene or Forbidden Literature)

I had come for corned beef because no one I know of does it better around here and I knew my manly friend would like it. But passing the specials chalkboard, my eye was caught by the warm onion tarts over mesclun with bacon, Swiss cheese and peppers in a Thousand Island dressing. Hmm, the corned beef would be there next time I came, but those tarts...

We must have been the first on the balcony today because the umbrellas were still closed, but our server very quickly corrected that. It wasn't long before another couple came up from the street and asked if they could join us at a nearby table. They looked okay, so we said yes.

I must have been convincing because friend was swayed by my recommendation and got the corned beef sandwich (with a side of cucumber salad). I had to try Matt's tarts. Had to.

Their creamy savoriness worked beautifully with the tang of the salad and the abundance of thick-sliced bacon and cheese. It was every bit as satisfying as any sandwich.

My friend teased me about having seen me in the Ipanema anniversary party pictures ("I didn't think you showed up on film when you got your picture taken," he said drolly) and we discussed the always-interesting topic of age perception, an issue he's currently dealing with now that he's back in school after having been the teacher for years.

Nest thing you know, we'd digressed to body parts and porn (okay, ostensibly the rise of tumblr) and it was time to leave our lofty perch and do something constructive.

Downstairs, I raved to the staff about those onion tarts. "I wish we had more adventurous people ordering," one said, sounding wistful. But their sandwiches are so good, I can see where people can't resist them, either.

Friend's camera started a conversation about collecting cameras as objects and Laura was telling us about finding a collection of Super 8 porn while searching for cameras. Oblivious fool that I am, it had never even occurred to me that at one time porn must have been on Super 8.

I always think of it in terms of old silent family movies, but of course it must have had other uses. She told us about some of the cringe-inducing film titles and overblown 70s-era fonts she'd seen on these things, making friend and I wish we could have laid eyes on this vintage stuff.

Hands down, my favorite Super 8 title was Snack Time. Oh, the corny visuals that conjures up...