American pie...and burgers...and wings...and...

“It seems so many weeks ago, I can still remember how Tim’s comments made me smile. And I knew if we listened well, that perhaps we wouldn’t go to hell, and maybe we’d be happy in a while …

“But Bush’s regime makes me shiver; with every paper they deliver. Bad news on the doorstep. I cannot take one more step. I don’t remember if I cried, when I heard about his son and bride. But something touched me deep inside, the day Tim Russert died … I know you wrote a book on love, of fathers, sons and God above, and how the Bible guides your path. You believed in democracy, that voting could change policy. Could you have helped me keep the faith? ...

“We know you are gone since we saw your funeral on TV. And now, on ‘Meet the Press,’ Tom Brokaw wears your dress; I’m a lonely fearful liberal soul, with a candidate that’s on a roll, but politics did take its toll, the day Tim Russert died ...

“And we ate pie, pie, all American pie. First to Chevron with our van and saw the price was sky high. Then we went for wings and burgers and fries, thinking this was just the way that Tim died. And this could be the way that we die.”

So, what’s all this “American Pie” paraphrasing about? It’s about Friday the 13th, which up until this year has always been a lucky day. But when we got the call “Have you heard about Tim Russert?” everything changed.

My friend and I were at the New Delhi Palace enjoying a really nice buffet lunch I was going to write up and talking, as we always do, about politics. Would Obama get the Hillary voters, business ever improve, polar bears make it, alternate energy plans kick in before we totally unbalance the world’s food supply?

But Tim Russert’s sudden death that day at age 58 spoiled our midday musings; and we went our separate ways to ponder the loss of somebody so vital, enthusiastic, observant and kind. The event left junkies like the two of us bereft of one of the best and most enthusiastic commentators on things political.

For a week, there was a continuous stream of programming devoted to his memory. And after watching almost all of it, there was only one thing I felt we could do to commemorate him. And that was to head out to an all-American restaurant to celebrate his blue-collar delight in simple foods: burgers, fries, onion rings and — given his Buffalo roots — wings.

Unhealthy? Yep. But good? Youbetcha! And, of all the ways to go, a sudden straight line isn’t too bad, especially if 20 years from now people are drinking water from their toilets and paying $50 for an ear of corn. So, in honor of Tim Russert’s unbridled delight at red meat and fried foods, we headed to Barney’s Only Place in Town in Sierra Madre to get us some.

There’s a lot of great stuff to choose from since the owners of Barney’s in Pasadena (not to be confused with Barney’s Beanery) took over the comfy, wall-papered, carpeted and wood-rich restaurant a couple years back. But the delights of pastas, salads, sandwiches, entrees, etc. didn’t divert us.

I ordered Buffalo wings ($8.99) and my mate had a cheeseburger, gorgonzola and bacon — which probably wouldn’t have been Tim’s first choice, but what the hey ($9.49). We added in some onion rings ($6.49) to up the fat content. And a Guinness to toast the Irish.

The wings were doused in almost enough hot sauce, a generous pile, fried but not breaded. The rings were also liberally dished, lightly battered and puffed to perfection. And the burger was a thing of beauty — a half-pound of medium rare beef, with lots of cheese, bacon pieces and nice-looking tomato and raw onion adjacent. Plus a mound of thick-cut fries, hot and crisp.

I reminded my husband to tell the waitress what Tim (according to one of his mourners) always said after he finished a burger. And so he did. “This was the best hamburger I ever had,” he intoned. And, sure enough, our server took it as a personal compliment.

Time for dessert — of course we had the warm apple pie ($3.99): wide wedge, short crust, sweet but firm apples. And we inquired about the homemade Irish coffee ice cream ($3.99). They were out (sorry, Tim), so we got coconut instead.

Finally, feeling that we had done Tim proud at our two-person wake, we headed home so I could write this homage. Unlike Don McLean’s mystic lyrics, you won’t have any trouble figuring out mine. We’re going to miss Tim, but whenever we get too glum, we can always head over to Barney’s in Sierra Madre and reminisce over some of his favorite grub. 

So, as Tim used to say at the end of his show, “Go Bills, Bisons, Sabres” etc. (And, if he’d eaten there, I’m sure he would have added “Go Barney’s!”) RIP Russert; how we’ll make it to November without your analysis I don’t know, but we’ll try.