There was so much that I couldn’t even begin to get it all in the story and now I’m dashing out. But I PROMISE that I will post pictures and tell you more late this afternoon…

I’m a mother and I love kids. I really do. And I’m good with kids–I’ve only known a few who weren’t taken with me like I was with them. I say this because I know this topic is likely to be a touchy one and I want you to know from the get-go that I’m not against kids.

But there’s a time for children and a time for adults. I’ve never understood people who take their children with them everywhere. (I’ve had people bring them to parties without asking, and on occasion people have even brought their animals to my house without asking, so I suppose a credible argument could be made that I know some rude folks). I realize it’s not always easy to get a babysitter, and I’m shocked when people tell me what they pay for a babysitter these days, but here’s the bottom line: If your kids are going to be in restaurants, you need to be sure they behave. They need to use inside voices, they need to stay in their seats, they don’t need to stand over the back of the booth and talk to other diners (yes, I know this is cute sometimes, but it should stop after a minute or two). But I’m sure we all agree on those basics, and I’m certain that most people here also agree that of course children have to go to restaurants because after all, if they don’t dine out, how will they learn to appreciate the experience? And we want that for everyone.

Here’s where it gets weird for me. When children are around, I feel that adults should behave in a certain way. I’m obviously not talking about using foul language or otherwise behaving boorishly. I don’t think that you necessarily want your children listening to people talking about politics or religion, as my friends and I often do, spiritedly sometimes, when we dine. I’m dead certain you don’t want them to hear me gossiping with my girlfriends–we tell it like it is when we get going. You might also not want them to overhear personal family conversations, about my grandfather in a nursing home, about how age has been cruel to him. Or to see me moved to tears talking to a friend about the dog I’d recently lost. Tears, I said, not blubbering.

I bring up these specific topics because these are ones I’ve been aware of having when I’ve become aware that children are listening. I try to be careful and will modify conversation if I feel it’s necessary, but really, it’s up to you, not me, to monitor what your children hear, just like you monitor what they watch on television. But I don’t want to feel inhibited from having comfortable dialogue with my friends or family. 

That said, when it comes right down to it, I’ll side with a mother in a restaurant–as long as she’s trying to control her kids–before I will someone who confronts her. One of the rudest encounters I’ve witnessed was at a Japanese restaurant last year. A family with several young children occupied the largest table in the place and while the kids were making noticeable noise, they weren’t being rude and it was a restaurant perfectly suitable for young children. While her husband was paying, the mother was trying to soothe a fussy baby–not a screaming baby, just a fussy one–and get the other kids ready to leave.

Two women at a nearby table were intolerable. They started off by loudly complaining about how she couldn’t control her children, then they tried to stare her down, then–and oh! they were waiting for this–when she apologized and said they were leaving as soon as they paid, they tore into her. She didn’t take the bait, but that didn’t stop them from saying over and over how rude she was, asking questions like “Don’t you see how rude you are?”After they left, these women STILL didn’t shut up. They complained about the mother (but not the father; hmmm), then about management. I doubt they were, but they should be truly embarrassed and I’ve written about this before, hoping that these women see it and recognize how foolish and boorish they looked.

I know I’ve mentioned that our blog has been updated recently. Unfortunately for me, I’m not quite so with it. I forgot to bookmark my new sign-in page on my laptop and couldn’t post from the Southern Foodways Alliance in Oxford. Yes, I could’ve called the office, could’ve called Fredric, could have at the very least posted an excuse–but I’m lame.

Worse, you’re going to have to wait until tomorrow to hear the highlights, because I’ve spent half the day writing about it and I’m talked out for now. But I did get to eat lunch with Shirley Corriher on Friday, and she is absoutely the doll she seems to be on TV. There’s so much to tell you about, and I promise that as soon as I finish the Food section tomorrow, I’ll post pictures and give you a preview of what’s coming out on Wednesday. Now I’m going to go get that thread about kids in restaurants going…

A thoughtful reader emailed to tell me about Big Bill’s Barbeque where, he said, “I think I had the best bbq sandwich that I have ever eaten. (I am a past volunteer chairman for MIM and have sampled the contestant bbq many times.)”

Well, I’m not stupid, at least not about food discoveries. So I went out to Big Bill’s today. It’s in Raleigh, at the intersection of Ramill Road and Yale, in a small, well-worn free-standing building. The place is friendly. There’s a television going all the time. A regular barbecue sandwich, with one side order and a drink, costs $4.99.

Best I have ever eaten? I dunno. So many years, so much barbecue. But it’s a terrific sandwich, chopped (not pulled), meaty and flavorful, moderately smoky, with enough outer meat to give each bite a tiny crunch. The mild sauce is lightly spicy, just enough to bring a little nod of recognition, while the sauce is enlivened by a zing of vinegar. They ask if you want cole slaw on your sandwich — which of course I did; this is Memphis, right? — but I could have used more; you might ask for extra. Served on a conventional hamburger bun, this is a barbecue sandwich that by the time you’ve worked your way through half of it is beginning to dissolve into a squish of bread, meat and sauce. YUM! You’ll use plenty of those little napkins.

The beans were good too.

I’ll go back soon to sample ribs.

Big Bill’s is at 3530 Ramill Road near Yale. It’s open 10 a.m. to 9 p.m., Monday through Thursday, 10 a.m. to 10 p.m., Friday and Saturday. Call 388-9038.

We had dinner last Friday at Assaggio in Cordova. I ws really looking forward to the lasagna, which I noted as one of the best items on the menu when I reviewed the restaurant in the Playbook on August 10. I wasn’t disappointed. The lasagna is fresh and spicy, hearty and flavorful without being heavy, and the serving is generous.

We noticed after a few minutes that a couple who had come into the restaurant after we did and were seated at the table next to us seemed concerned about something. The gentleman had ordered the lasagna and evidentally didn’t like it and was complaining to his wife. He called the waiter to the table and complained about the dish and said he didn’t want it. The waiter politely asked what was wrong with the lasagna, and that man said, “It’s bland.”

Well, now, it seems to me that feeling that a dish is bland is not grounds for sending it back to the kitchen. Palates are different, of course, and what was pleasantly spicy to me may indeed have tasted bland to this diner. Why didn’t he, then, have recourse to salt and pepper or perhaps some red pepper flakes.

No, sending food back to the kitchen, which is a nice way of saying “refusing to accept a dish at the table,” is a serious matter and should be done when a food item is either prepared in the wrong manner (getting a well-done steak when you ordered rare or vice versa), if there’s a foreign object in the food or if there truly is a flaw, if, say, fish smells spoiled and disgusting or meat is so tough that it’s difficult to cut or the food is so salty that it’s inedible.

The staff at Assaggio performed exactly as they should have. The waiter took the lasagna away (while I thought “Bring it to me!”) and brought the man a menu and he chose something else for his dinner. One of the chef/owners came from the kitchen and apologized. Every effort was made to accommodate the patron.

But I think he was wrong to send the food back.

For the past two weeks I’ve printed a list of restaurants that opted not to go smoke-free on Oct. 1 (yes, they had the option, but in order to allow smoking restaurants have to allow only patrons 21 and over and only have employees 21 and over). I keep getting calls from folks who missed it, so here’s the list I have. Add to it if you know of other places:

Kudzu’s, The Flying Saucer, Le Chardonnay, The Windjammer, The Blue Monkey, Blues City Cafe, Club 152, EP Delta Kitchen and Bar, Willie Moffatt’s, Old Zinnie’s, P & H, Bubba’s Ale House, Pappy’s Oysters Bar, Cock-eyed Camel and the Fox and the Hound.

Martha Hays sent me a  sad note last night: Tuscany is closing Nov. 4. There’s an upside to this, but let’s take a minute first and think about what Martha and Glenn Hays have done for the Memphis dining community over the years. At La Tourelle, they gave us Erling Jensen, Gene Bjorkland, Stan Gibson and Cullent Kent. They gave us a lovely little spot for a French prix fixe dinner for years–and even after they switched to Tuscany, they gave us possibly the best creme brulee around (Grove Grill’s might be better; it’s hard to say). Don’t forget that they’re the same folks who gave us Cafe 1912.

And even though they’re quitting (they’ll continue to run Cafe 1912; no changes there), the Hayses are still giving Memphis a gift. Kelly English, a protege of John Besh, is taking over and opening a new restaurant in December. (English was the chef at Nawlins in Tunica a while back.) We’ll keep you posted.

Everyone give a shout-out to Martha and Glenn.

Sorry, this should’ve been in first thing this morning but I was having trouble posting. Carole H also reports trouble today, but everything should be working now. Email me at biggs@commercialappeal.com if you spot problems.

The question was: What is a tastevin?
The answer is that it’s the wine-tasting cup worn by sommeliers on a chain or a ribbon around the neck.

I know we’ve covered this topic before, but today I heard something that took me aback: Our blogmaster will not eat macaroni and cheese. He despises it with a fervor I reserved for canned green peas or other people do for say, liver and onions. And it gets better: He will only eat two kinds of noodles: Spaghetti (in a pinch he’ll go with angel hair, but vermicelli is preferred and anything heavier verboten) and ravioli.

Allow me to continue. Lord knows I understand the cooked fruit phobia, but Bryan won’t eat cooked vegetables! He loves them raw, just like I love raw fruit, but doesn’t want them cooked. There are exceptions, of course: French fries and sometimes roasted veggies. It just depends on the texture.

I love it that someone here understands the nuances of food texture–but I don’t get the noodle deal. Still, it’s quirky and that makes it funny to me.

I love just about any kind of fish or seafood (although I recently had an allergic reaction to sea bass, but that’s another story). But of all the varieties, I have two hands-down favorites: Crab and crappie. Now I can buy crab whenever I want it, but crappie is a different story. It’s a game fish and you have to catch it. And I don’t catch.

Lucky for me, my mother and stepfather are fishin' fools. They retired last year, moved to a lake and have signs that say things like "Fish quiver at the very mention of my name" hanging in the garage (my guess is my mother put her foot down on where the signs can go). They fished and froze all season long, and yesterday we had a big ole fish fry at the cabin. And this is something you don't get just anywhere: Ron doesn't just clean and de-head the crappie--he filets them. No joke. Now maybe you know someone else who does this, but I've never known anyone who'll get out a knife and turn out those tiny fillets like he does.