On the day we went to eat at Wilma’s Real Good Food, the real Wilma, Brett’s Mom, was helping around the trailer. That’s why I had to scrap my original clever titles Inside Wilma’s and Wilma’s Under The Covers. Seeing Wilma talking to customers and helping her son was just as much fun as actually eating Brett’s amazing food. Naming a business after your Mom must be an ultimate quality control.
Recently a set of photos taken at the Kansas City’s Wonderland Arcade in the late 1960’s made rounds on the Internet. These photos are stored at the National Archives in the file “Wonderland Inc. v. United States of America, 1968 – 1968”. The National Archives allows searches but not direct links or bookmarks, so you will have to enter your own search terms.
The Arcade located at 1200 Grand from the 1940’s to the early 1980’s was covered in the press numerous times, like this Billboard Magazine article: Wonderland Arcade Good Model of Well-run Amusement Center published in 1946, when The Billboard was still an amusement industry trade magazine.
Same magazine in 1947 informed about the time when the Wonderland Arcade was robbed of $150 in nickels, some of which was spent on a “new suit, shoes and a tour of the city by taxicab”.
As a matter of fact, there were hardly any prepackaged foods at that time, store clerks weighed and wrapped everything to order, which contributed to the long lines.
At the time the unrefined oil wasn’t my favorite because of its pronounced smell and taste of the roasted sunflower seeds, but a few years ago I tried a salad dressed with it and realized how much I missed that taste.
Unrefined oil is pressed from the sunflower seeds with minimal processing allowing it to retain its natural taste. The byproduct of the oil production used to look like this…
…and is normally used for feeding cattle. During the starvation years of the WWII it was considered a treat for the people and my parents recalled eating it in their younger ears. I tried it once, it’s just compressed sunflower seed shells and solids and it tastes accordingly.
*tomato is for the illustration purposes only and does not come with oil.
Locally the unrefined sunflower oil can be purchased at the Russian store (as much as I advertise for them anonymously I should never have to pay for anything there, ever!).
Look for the similar words as I underlined on the bottom of this label “нерафинированное” which means “unrefined”. There is usually an English label as well, but the one I have didn’t say if it was unrefined. Refined oil has no taste, so there is no point of making a trip to get it there. 1 liter bottle is $4.19.
This oil is good on salads as well as for cooking; pan-fried potatoes are my favorite. However, I want to emphasize that it has a fairly strong smell and taste, which may be too much for some people, but if you don’t mind extra virgin olive oil you shouldn’t have a problem with the sunflower oil either.
Couple of weekends ago I was sitting at the Harvey House Diner inside the almost empty Union Station, drinking a strawberry milkshake and reminiscing. Not that long ago this place was crowded with thousands of people as the second largest train station in the country, filled with sounds, voices and emotions. Today it spends it’s days quietly, ironically populated by the dead. I am not old enough to remember the glory days of the Union Station but in another place and another life I rode my share of rails. There is something special about traveling by train. It’s an experience rather than just a means of transportation. On a long train ride you have time to relax, to think, to read, to sleep, to talk, to eat, play cards, meet people, sleep some more, and, most importantly, to look outside the window. You actually travel to your destination; you see changing landscapes; unknown places slowly pass before you; you wake up in the middle of the night at some station you’d never heard off, its sleepy inhabitants getting on the train and you can hear them walking through the rail car; you see a sunrise and then a sunset hundreds of miles later and the train keeps chugging along making that rhythmical sound that only a train can make and gently swaying from side to side. Finally you arrive, your train is greeted at the station by the sounds of a brass band and waving crowds trying to see a familiar face through the dusty window. You are tired and continue swaying even on the solid ground. A happy reunion or a new adventure awaits.
Many of my trips started at this train station:fun trips, work trips, trips that I loved and some that I didn’t, like the one to the army, or a trip to the unknown country when I left one last time, not knowing if I am ever coming back. Many times my parents or friends were there to wave good-bye or to meet me when I was coming back. I may not remember every time but I do remember the feeling, feeling of someone waiting for you. I think at least once in a lifetime everyone should travel by train, even for no other reason than to experience it.
In the meantime, you can always spend a slow lunch hour at the Union Station and imagine all the hustle and bustle of the past, the tears of joy or sadness, emotionless voice of the announcer, the constant hum of the crowd, whistles of the conductors, in other words life that used to be there and and now is not.
Union Station,
Old walls still remember
Sounds of life.
Couple of weekends ago I was sitting at the Harvey House Diner inside the almost empty Union Station, drinking a strawberry milkshake and reminiscing. Not that long ago this place was crowded with thousands of people as the second largest train station in the country, filled with sounds, voices and emotions. Today it spends it’s days quietly, ironically populated by the dead. I am not old enough to remember the glory days of the Union Station but in another place and another life I rode my share of rails. There is something special about traveling by train. It’s an experience rather than just a means of transportation. On a long train ride you have time to relax, to think, to read, to sleep, to talk, to eat, play cards, meet people, sleep some more, and, most importantly, to look outside the window. You actually travel to your destination; you see changing landscapes; unknown places slowly pass before you; you wake up in the middle of the night at some station you’d never heard off, its sleepy inhabitants getting on the train and you can hear them walking through the rail car; you see a sunrise and then a sunset hundreds of miles later and the train keeps chugging along making that rhythmical sound that only a train can make and gently swaying from side to side. Finally you arrive, your train is greeted at the station by the sounds of a brass band and waving crowds trying to see a familiar face through the dusty window. You are tired and continue swaying even on the solid ground. A happy reunion or a new adventure awaits.
that I loved and some that I didn’t, like the one to the army, or a trip to the unknown country when I left one last time, not knowing if I am ever coming back. Many times my parents or friends were there to wave good-bye or to meet me when I was coming back. I may not remember every time but I do remember the feeling, feeling of someone waiting for you. I think at least once in a lifetime everyone should travel by train, even for no other reason than to experience it.
