Will You Kindly Pass The Mullet Roe, My Good Man?

By Bill Yanger

Another in a continuing series of imagined conversations over coffee at the Rod & Reel Pier. Any resemblance to persons or personalities, real or imagined, is entirely coincidental and mostly unintended.
Good morning.

And a fine morning it ‘tis my good man!

What’s with the goofy accent?

Accent? Whatev-ah do you mean sir?

That stuff…that stupid way you’re talking to me.

Oh, just practicing my highbrow lingo.

I have a feeling something’s coming…okay…I’ll bite. What the hell are you talking about?

You know, just polishing my snobby sneer while gazing down my nose at all the troubling little people. Need to practice tut-tutting and tsk-tsking anyone who doesn’t happen to live here in this sacred little enclave of mine…and yours of course.

Still drawing a blank.

C’mon, you know. We live the City of Ahh-nah Mar-eye-ah, mah Lord! We are the chosen, the blessed. We are the… Elite!

The elite. Right. The elite don’t wear the same khaki shorts six days in a row, dude.

Nine actually, but I haven’t been fishing in ‘em yet either.

So tell me, Baron of Bean Point, why are we…uh…you, an elitist now?

Easy. Because that Beach Bistro restaurant guy says so, that’s why.

The Canadian in Holmes Beach with the curly gray hair? The guy with the $15 hamburger and that Foy Grass?

It’s F-o-i-e G-r-a-s…as in Fwah Grah. And yeah, that’s him.

It’s all goose liver to me pal. When did he say that?

Letter to the editor this week, two actually, one in each paper.

But why did he say it?




Because Commissioner Lightningrod suggested putting up a toll booth and charging tourists to get here.

Yeah, so? Big deal. At least the guy is pushin’ ideas instead of paper. With everybody knee deep in records requests and nose deep in lawyer bills, ain’t a whole lot of suggestions coming out of City Hall these days. Might as well explore the idea. Sanibel has a toll. Passa Grille has one. Boca Grande too. Shoot, costs me a buck each way just to cross the bay to see a Ray’s game. City’s gotta pay for its lawyers somehow…

And everyone else’s lawyers before it’s over, it seems. Speaking of that, how long they gonna give that PAR guy to come up with his emails? It’s been what, a month? Keep’s sayin’ he’s working on it. Seem to remember his lady lawyer snortin’ and hissy fittin’ over that commissioner taking his sweet time and he didn’t take near this long.

And this surprises you? Welcome to reality here in Anna Maria, the home of one way news. So the guy called us elitists, huh?

He says we think we have the right to keep people off our beaches.

Oh rrrreally now. It’s obvious he’s never dallied with the little people and tried to find a spot at Bayfront Park on a Sunday. Or wrestled with 30 other cars for one of the shady spots on Park any day the sun’s out. I’m sure his fellow restaurateur at the Sandbar would like him to know that our “exclusive” beach is elbow to elbow in front of his place and two blocks either direction every weekend and that doesn’t even count Reverend Charlie and the wedding crazies. This guy’s full of crap and he knows it.

Yep, and he said talk of toll booths is “shameful.”

Shameful, right. Hah! How do the kids say it? L-O-L? I got your shameful. His frickin’ $15 hamburger … that is shameful. And he calls us elitists? He gets $42 for a plate of grouper, before taxes and tip! Know how much grouper I can buy on Karen Bell’s dock in Cortez for $42? It’d feed us every day for a week. And the suckers were swimmin’ yesterday. A slice of his key lime pie costs more than a 12-pack of Heineken man!

Whoa, slow down. I kinda like the place. My brother took me there when he was here. Great duck. And that sweet luscious foie gras. I hate to say it but I fell in love and she broke my heart. I’d give up Appalachicola oysters tomorrow for another plate of her.

Your brother took you. The tax lawyer from Chicago? Stayed at the Ritz-Carlton in Sarasota?

Yes and yes again.

Who paid for dinner?

He did, of course. Well, his expense account did. He said something about “client development” and waved me away when I pulled out a twenty for my half of the tip.

And there you go. Look, I got no problem with the guy or his restaurant. Jobs and tax revenue and all that. Shoot, you know me, I love good food and I love good people who love good food. But Mr. Fwah Grah ain’t keeping his doors open selling his 98 Château Lafite Rothschild Pauillac for $900 a bottle to all those sturdy folks we bump into at the post office every day. Ain’t too many $42 grouper doggy bags sitting in refrig’s this side of Haley’s Motel this morning, know what I mean? And ain’t many of those $900 a bottle guys giving up their work time or family time or better yet retirement time showing up to commission and board and committee meetings or being a docent at the Historical Society. Elitists my ass. Mr. Fwah Grah needs to get real and then he needs to stand around the post office one morning and get to know the good and decent folks of this town a little better. And a few apologies wouldn’t hurt.

That’ll never happen.

No, but it needs to happen.

Yeah, I see your point. Well, anyway it was fun being elitist even if was just for a little while. Think we can get this place to put foie gras on the menu?

Yeah right. Mullet roe maybe.

I’ll pass. See you tomorrow.

Yeah, tomorrow.


© - 2010 William L. Yanger