September 4, 2008 Issue

“It’s Saudi Duty Time,” “Papa’s Got a Brand New Baghdad,” “Yassir, That’s My Baby,” “Oman the Range,” “This SCUD Be the Start of Something Big,” and “I’ve Grown Accustomed to Her Fez” are just a few of the delightful song titles in The Iraqi Fake Book, Vol. 1.

If you’ve never played music, a fake book is a collection of tunes that someone in the audience will surely want played. So you get out one of several fake books you have and find and play it. But this list is pure brilliance.

Who can not raise a smile with “Tanks for the Memories,” “Here’s That Irani Day,” “(I Can’t Get No) Saudi’s Faction,” “It’s a Sin to Tel Aviv,” and “Hey Jews.” Okay, maybe a groan is more appropriate, but it’s good stuff. Thanks to Dr. Norm Vickers of the Jazz Society of Pensacola for sending them along.

I’ve done a lot of roving this summer, and I always leave a hotel with lots of bottles of shampoo, conditioner and lotion. The ladies at Shelter House love ‘em as most of their clients don’t have a lot of time to pack their toiletries.

But one of the soaps from the Hilton in Raleigh threw me. The box reads “Moisturizing Soap with Shea Butter.” Now, I’ve used many a hotel/motel bar of soap in my travels, but I’ve never thought I’d need Shea Butter. Let’s face it, the guys who grow oats were real smart when they overproduced the stuff and started pouring it into soap. So outrageous was the idea of bathing with oats in your soap that people just knew it must be good for them. But Shea Butter?

So I looked up and much to my amazement found it: “A pale solid fat (I can’t wait to use it now!) from the seeds of the shea tree used in food, soap, and candles.”

I can just hear Chef Jim Richard now: “Would you care for a little shea butter with your fillet?”

And speaking of Jim Richard—a chef so great he has two first names—I visited Stinky’s Fish Camp on Scenic Highway 30-A last week. Jim is “Chef/Owner” and if you’ve been around these shores long, you’re familiar with his name. He’s one of the best.

Now, I’ve been in PR most of my adult life, and I can tell you that even in my $100-an-hour days, I’d never allow a client to name his place “Stinky’s Fish Camp.” But how wrong I’d have been, as the place was packed, and it was mid-week. The menu is straight ahead fishy with a chicken dish and short ribs thrown in for the landlubbers, and the wine list rocks.

Earlier that evening my pal and I visited Seering’s Piano CafÈ on that same stretch of pricy road. Seering’s is simply a wonderful addition to the panoply of outstanding restaurants we have here. David is the area’s consummate performer, and his staff is attentive and gracious. You must visit, not just for David’s incredible musical skills (and those of his trio), but for the dining experience as well.

Then my pal—he’s also known as Reed Waddle’s father—and I hit the jam-packed Salty Dog Saloon. The building was dormant for quite some time, but it sure ain’t now, Cletus. There’s live music nightly to include such groups as Dread Clampitt, Mason Jar, Cadillac Willy, Jack Crawford Band and, on occasion, the funnest group on the Emerald Coast, Hubba Hubba.

Green Hit was playing the night we were there, and they’re maturing quite nicely. The first time I saw them was at Funky Blues Shack and they just sorta made random noises that my companion Cheryl Jones found interesting and complex enough to thank me for sticking around. But now they’ve found their voice and were very enjoyable.

But wow, have the new guys turned this place around! A tip of the tambourine to general manager Stan Meadows and—get ready—owner Jim Richard! Is there no stopping this guy?!?

Stan tells me they’ll be bringing in some regional and national groups to include Col. Bruce and other festival mainstays. Let’s not forget these friends when winter sets in and they really need us.

But the find of the fortnight—indeed, the summer—is a place you have to search for but do as it’s worth the hunt.

It’s la botana, a totally delightful little place in the Grand Isle Shopping Plaza in Seagrove Beach. It’s on 30-A, about two miles east of Seaside. It prides itself on “Fine Latin Vintages & Small Plates,” and the food is simply unique and unexcelled here.

The aforementioned Reed Waddle was playing the night “Dad” and I visited, and what a delightful combination of music, wine and food we had! The chef is Enrique Ramirez, a graduate of the Culinary Institute of America in New York City as well as Cordon Bleu in Mexico. Further, he’s a product of Disney University, majoring in “Culinary” and ending with a BA in Mexican Cuisine.

Friends, this is a must do place for you. They’re on the web at www.labotanallc.com and you can call ‘em at 231-0716 for reservations and info. I’m very hyped about this new addition to the culinary scene here.

On a noisier note, the Emerald Coast Foundation’s annual poker run is over amid a display of just how many people don’t give a damn about fuel costs. But it’s OK, it raised a bunch of money for charities here, and we can’t have enough of that. But as an aside, I was chatting with a chap who spends a lot of time at the Destin airport. His observation: “I’ve never seen so many large-busted women and geeky guys.”

So it’s fitting we close with this observation from Zsa Zsa Gabor: “I want a man who’s kind and understanding. Is that too much to ask of a millionaire?”

.