The Difference A Good Meal Can Make

The last few meals have been.....well, they've just been.

Last night it was fried bar food. This morning it was Cracker Barrel. By the way, for the record, Sharon Little HATES Cracker Barrel.

But ol' CB seems like a diamond mine when spotted on the highway by a hollow stomached musician.

Earlier this evening I got a text from a fan/friend from Des Moines, Iowa that he'd be making the trek to Minneapolis to see us play. As I texting him back I overheard our bus driver (substitute bus driver, that is) that we will be passing Des Moines in about 2 hours. 

Well, my friend from Iowa is not only is a fan and friend but the owner and chef of possibly the best restaurant in the world called the Flying Mango. It's a place Sharon and I actually played twice before. Kind of like the Tin Angel of Des Moines. Class joint, music fanatics and ridiculously good Tangy Carribean-style food.

"Hey wait" I shouted "why don't we eat in Des Moines at my friend's place!?".

2 hours later the contents of our bus unloaded ourselves and re-assembled into the Flying Mango. We were treated to, how do i say this.....the best food of all time on all the earth.

Salads with peanuts and onions and deep blue and green lettuce. Several plates of wings...no, not fried but soaked in the tastiest, lightest jerk chicken-like sauce.

Then, almost on-cue, plates of ribs. Thick juicy, meaty, more meat than bone ribs. Complete with homeade barbeque sauce.

Bottles of red wine, bottles of Voodoo dark beer swirled around us in a haze of pure happiness.

The bad weather, blown tires, crusty bus drivers and long hours on the bus were a faded memory as Mike, the owner of Flying Mango, stayed open late and hooked us up with the meal of a lifetime, at just the right time. Everyone that works there (it's a small cozy restauarant) loves it...and you can tell.

Tomorrow, let the sh-t pick up where it left off.