This picture was taken at lunch yesterday, and it's worth a few choice words. It's no mystery spot to most Reno Natives, and Louis' Basque Corner is still one of the handful of Northern Nevada treasures that we can partake in with true authenticity. Those hours posted are not bullshit...happy begins at 2:30, and a Picon costs two bucks. If you don't know what a Picon is, let me explain it to you this way: six bucks is probably too much to spend at happy hour. For your own good.
I was at Louis' checking out the projector set up I am preparing for my mother and father in law's 50th wedding anniversary party next week. After figuring out where everything should be placed to get the proper emotive response, I decided to pony up to the bar and enjoy the pork chops. I was by myself, but not alone, and of the other 9 or so people there at lunch I was the youngest by at least 25 years...and the only one actually eating a meal. The rest of the gang was having their (almost) afternoon toddy's, rolling dice and just passing the time. Even Louis was there, passing out Tripe to his cronies, slamming the dice down on the bar and knocking back a red one. It's a scene worth checking out. I always forget how much I love Nevada until I head in to Louis' or the Santa Fe or Ormachia's or The Coney Island or Casale's or JT's or The Overland, or any of the other wonderful places to soak it all in.
Unfortunately I will have to miss the party next week, but it will be for a good cause, and one worthy of including in this post, so steeped in tradition. The Kentucky Derby is calling and the energy is building as I stumble on such great stories as this one, told by one of Louisville's own lost sons. Enjoy.