A simple thank you to heroes

So let’s talk bravery cousins, simple bravery. We have all heard the words, we all know the meaning. Athena knows we all have faced things that have terrified us, and come out the other side.

But beloved, there are some who face things that terrify every living thing and come out the other side. Fire fighters are those who face a terrible hungry enemy who is gigantic and grows only larger if not combated. Any living thing with a hot red pump is secretly or opening afraid of fire.

An old alohaloa once told your own Metrowalker that fire is alive, that it has intelligence , and will actively seek to kill any fool who underestimates it. He once told your own uncle that fire once chased him up a staircase where there was no fuel to burn, when it could have roared into a room full of torchable cosas.

So short and sweet cousins, I would like to say thank you to all of you warriors who put yourselves in harms way to save stuff, and lives, and me. This bad ol city has experienced the worst wild fires it has seen in many years, and you have battled the monster with such bravery and courage that it has been relegated to the stuff of talking heads on the 2d, and worried casual discussion around water coolers.

I salute your valour, and your courage and if any of you should meet Uncle in the 3d, step up tell me what you do,and I will buy you a cold one and salute you like the heroes you are.

Lifting my spirits and some heavy metal

Has it been so long since we have written cousins? Oh the shame, well here I am back with you again, Metrowalker! Your very own lord of misrule!

I hear you my dear brothers and sisters, crying out that this big old evil metro is making you feel deep dark and blue? I too! I too! So your own Metrowalker went a jaunting not too long ago to find a little something to raise his flagging spirits, and lighten the old murmuring red pump.

First there was the little matter of levitating the ferro cousins, everything seems so much nicer when your muscles are rewarding you with happy dappy bursts of dopamine from their over use, and your own Uncle loves the weird buzz he gets from the little bits of sangre floating in the corners of his winkies.

Of course afterwards, the horrible hollowness of appetite roared, a terrible noise that drove your own victual vagabond to distraction. So off I capered looking for something grand to fill the aching void.

Now Glendale is wild with grinds, Italian, Asian of all sorts, and of course Armenian places dot the suburbs like stars in the heavens. But nothing would do but the soul grinds of our own Eastside metro cousins, that’s right …DELI!

Fortunately, oh my brother and sisters, there is a temple to the cured, the smoked, and the pickled, not far from where your own Metrowalker chose to sweat out his blues

We are talking Billy’s Deli, the meeting place for those who need a knish, crave corned beef and must have matzo balls from before the Galleria was a twinkle in some developers eye.

Perching in a booth, your loyal narrator perused the menu, its plastic protected pages full of sandwiches, salads and selectable delectable from the cold larder, oh what to have? I caper and bound with the multitude of meals that are menufied.

Then a voice called out from deep inside, a sandwich of pastrami, and tongue on toast would just be the piece of the puzzle, with a side of those sour pickles and pickled tomatoes to cap off the taste. Of course I ordered some fries too, if you are going to toast in perdition, you should do it for something good no?

Mira that tower cousins, a veritable butcher shop between rye, and I your own hungry harlequin attacked it with gusto! The pastrami was tasty, as was the smooth fatty tongue, touched with a bit of spicy mustard and punctuated with a salty sour tomato, oh the bliss….

Billy’s is also the home of according to my departed brother Ian, to quite the chopped liver, and after trying it I have to say he was right. It is rich and sweet with caramelized onions, with just a hint of metallic tang of organ meat.

This viande is just the thing for your toasts or crackers, topped with some sharp pickles or even smooth chopped egg it is a grand experience. Now brother Ian said it was made with beef liver, when every other deli uses chicken, and that makes all the difference. Be it bovo, or yard bird, I must say that a tastier dish I could not have had.

But what is the true measure of a palace of pastrami cousins? Is it the status of their salami, the rank of their roast beef? No say I! As these grinds are sometimes not even made en casa. I propose that it is the soup that gauge the height of the castle's walls oh my brothers and sisters. Billy’s has all the usual suspects, chicken noodle, matzo ball, and of course chicken in a pot, enough to keep a cold ladened dancer happy for some time.

Your own feasting fool tried the matzo ball, and cousins it was not bad at all!. The broth was mild, speckled with chicken and carrots, with a dumpling dense and flavorful. Was it the soup of your own Metrowalker’s granny gran? No, but then again, your very own Uncle never knew his grandmom, and even if he did…well she would think a matzoball was something that you sprayed for.

Can I recommend Billy’s to you oh my cousins, well Bon V, Metrowalker’s meal munching amigo has a thumbs down on the joint, but I liked it friends, a great place to rest after making like the governor and defying common sense and gravity. I will be back to try Billy’s borscht, that beet bastion that has buffered Bolsheviks by the bowlful. Ian said it was the bomb.

Billy's Deli

216 N Orange St,

Glendale, CA 91203-2612