Category: food

A Noble Coffee House

I’ve been coming to Noble’s for a few weeks at this point. It’s a damn fine place. Larger community tables have outlets nearby, what we regulars (yeah, I’m a regular now) call a power table. Besides those tables are many tables that seat two to four. Conversation pits with sofas, easy chairs, and rockers offer comfortable options for chatting with friends.

Located among a few other businesses on the bottom of Fourth Street where it meets A Street at the bottom of the hill, still downtown but away from the Plaza, Noble’s is larger than other Ashland coffee shops, with space for fifty to sixty without too much problem (and there are days when it’s been packed). Large windows along one wall deliver delightful natural light but well-placed and assorted light fixtures (no fluorescent, thanks) help minimize shadows. And, for those who wish, several outside tables (on the sidewalk) give more seating and visiting options.

Coffee is very good to excellent. They offer two fresh options every day. My preference is a dark blend called Daydream. It’s all those thing you hear about in coffee commercials, like smooth, robust, and flavorful. I might have had an orgasm the first time I drank some.

Not surprising. Nobles uses fair-trade, organic coffee. The owner/operators go on buying and picking trips a few times per year. See that glass door in the corner? If you look in it, which they encourage, you’ll see their coffee roaster. Yes, it’s all roasted and ground on site.

Besides appealing, fresh coffee, tasty pastries like scones, muffins, and croissants (savory (like ham and cheese) or sweet (like chocolate)) will satisfy your peckishness. I’ve had the gluten-free pumpkin scone (baked in the kitchen in the back) three times (for quality purposes, of course), and tried the blueberry gf muffin twice. Now I need to talk myself out of buying one (or something else) every time I come. They’re addictive, I’m telling you. You’ve been warned.

Friendly baristas serve it up, the final touch on a proper coffee place. Come along. It’s a good place to meet with friends, take an energy break, study, read, or write a book.

 

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Floofganic

Floofganic (floofinition) – Food specifically made and intended for animals, especially pets.

In use: “Every day, she treated her pets to a little locally produce floofganic fish stew with veggies. All lapped it up (except the bird, who always mocked it).”

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Floofmuda Triangle

Floofmuda Triangle (floofinition) – A triangular area created by three animals into which things seem to mysteriously disappear.

In use: “She sat down in her recliner to enjoy a snack and some Netflix. The dog and two cats immediately formed a floofmuda triangle. Anything dropped was going to disappear fast.”

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Floofberry

Floofberry (floofinition) (slang) 1. A piece of animal feces found on the floor in the house or dangling from a pet’s rear end. 2. Any type of drupe or berry contaminated by animal fur. 3. Sometimes used in jest to describe any food item covered in animal fur.

In use: “The child dropped his chocolate bonbon onto the carpet. The dogs and cat lunged for it but the mother used her mom-speed to beat them to it. Picking the chocolate up, she confirmed that it was an inedible floofberry now and tossed it into the trash.”

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Komprofloof

Komprofloof (floofinition) – Information about their owners that housepets know.

In use: “The cats and dogs had a great deal of komprofloof on Karen. Karen was supposedly such a healthy eater but her pets knew better. Although she suspected that they couldn’t and wouldn’t betray her, she always shared her secret snack foods…just in case.”

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Amuse-floofche

Amuse-floofche (floofinition) – A small complimentary appetizer offered to an animal, particularly a housepet.

In use: “She was sloppy eater but her schnauzer didn’t mind, gobbling down anything dropped like it was an amuse-floofche.”

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The Chicken Bone Dream

The chicken bone dream had much more in it.

To begin, naked but dressing, I was concerned with a chicken bone traveling through my body.

My wife was with me. She was preparing to leave for work or somewhere. We lived in this huge, modern white house. Most of the dream took place in garage. The garage was spotless, with a glistening white floor. Multiple high-end cars were parked in it. Most were white but one car was a black BMW five series, a large car. A child was sitting in the car’s trunk, eating a bowl of cereal. The child was about nine and dressed in a blue school uniform.

He wasn’t my child. I told my wife, “You can’t let him stay there. That’s a car trunk.”

She replied, “That’s fine, he does it all the time. They both do.”

When she said that, I saw that there was a blonde boy, the same age, in a green school uniform, eating cereal in the back end of a white car.

I had to leave so I dismissed it. The chicken bone in me was distracting me. First, I was thinking, “There’s something in me. It’s going down through me. What is it?”

Feeling along my body with my finger tips, I focused on my abdomen. I realized that I thought I felt a chicken bone.

As I continued preparing to dress and leave because time was growing short, I struggled to understand how a chicken bone came to be in my and how it was going to come out. I decided that I must’ve been eating a chicken leg, and I’d swallowed the bone. Now it was working through my system.

Believing that, I felt along my body with my fingers. Yes, I could discern what seemed to be the joint end of the bone. It was working down through my body. As it worked down, I kept feeling it. More of the bone was clearly discernible. Soon, it was clearly a chicken leg bone. I wasn’t panicked but I was worried about how this was going to come out of me. For some reason, I thought that it was going to exit via my penis. My skin had become very elastic at that point, so the thought of a chicken bone passing through my pecker was amusing.

Others came, dressed in tuxedos with black ties, or sparkling white evening gowns, asking, “Are you ready yet? Aren’t you dressed? We’re going to be late.”

I told them about the chicken bone coming out. They waved that off. “Don’t worry about that. Come on.”

I grabbed my tux and was putting it on as I went up the stairs in my white house to leave. The dream ended by fading out to Sid Vicious singing his punk version of “My Way”. As I awoke, choruses from “Best Day of My Life” by America Authors popped in.

I awoke feeling great.

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Floofza

Floofza (floofinition) – 1. A pizza made or bought specifically for an animal. 2. Pizza claimed by an animal for their own consumption.

In use: “His cats always wanted pizza, so bowing to the inevitable battle, he always created a floofza for their consumption. They still came after his pie, though.”

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Monday’s Theme Music

Spouse: “I’m hungry. I know it’s early, but I want to make dinner. I need to eat something. Are you ready to eat?”

“Are you kidding? I was just about to get a snack. I’m hungry like a wife.” I laughed. “I mean, wolf.”

“Okay, then I’ll make dinner. What should we have?”

Hungry like a wolf natch invited the 1982 Duran Duran song, “Hungry Like the Wolf”, into the stream. It stayed on a loop as we made dinner and ate, continuing to eat through dessert (pumpkin pie) and watching Saturday Night Live on Hulu, and on through Letterkenny and DCI Banks.

So, here it is, your Monday theme music. Blame my wolf. I mean, wife.

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Floofvious

Floofvious (floofintion) – 1. Easily perceived or understood by an animal. 2. Clear, self-evident, or apparent to an animal, especially a housepet.

In use: “When the couple opened a bag of chips to munch on while watching the movie, the cats and dog queued, expecting the floofvious.”

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