50-Cup Coffee Pot

Just the name of the place—Riverside Lodge and Ranch—creeps me out. As does the location, according to my 1950 guidebook: “12 miles up St. Vrain Canyon,” outside of Lyons, Colorado. Which is a stone’s throw from Hygiene. I don’t know why it all gives me the heebie-jeebies, but I’ve got to honor my random pick. Without an exact address, it’s hard to tell if the place is still there, or if there’s a similar lodge or ranch there now—it was along the river, so it might have been washed away in a flood, like that bad one in 2013. Lyons is not remotely near Penrose, home of Estes Model Rockets (not Estes Park), which I mention because I mysteriously received one of their 2025 catalogs in the mail, which is almost exactly the same as the 1973 catalog I still have. If something works, why change it? Lyons is about halfway between Boulder and Estes Park, so I’ve likely driven through there a couple of times, including an epic vacation when I was seven, with Brady Bunch-level weirdness that included me passing out atop Pikes Peak, a massive hailstorm in Estes Park, and seeing a space alien at the Garden of the Gods. The scariest thing, however, was watching The Haunting (1963 version) on TV in the motel room.

Even more strange, I predicted, at the time, that I’d write a fictional account of the parallel lives of two characters during a global pandemic. No, I didn’t. I didn’t predict that. I’m sure I didn’t even predict being 65 years old. It was my goal to schedule the release date of my new novel, titled: Around Desire, on the five-year anniversary—which was last week—of our very real pandemic lockdown. I remember that last day of work (at my job at the time) like it was surreal yesterday. But, anyway, the book will be available soon. The crucial thing, for me, is that once I finish the final draft of something, the next day, I’m working on something new. I can’t imagine any other way. I could just put finished writing in a box, I suppose, but I’m excited to have people read this new novel, because I feel like it’s the best thing I’ve ever written. Naturally, I always say that.

I am not going to re-type an entire recipe (I’m too lazy!) but this one is pretty good. The Riverside was only open June 15 to September 15, for breakfast, lunch, and dinner—with “Chuck Wagon Dinner” every Thursday! It starts with them burning a huge pile of hay. Then, on the coals, they cook sweetcorn, T-bone steaks, and baked beans, while “cowboy biscuits” bake in a Dutch oven. Most significant, simmering over the coals is a “50-cup coffee pot!” All this is served with a “fresh mountain-grown vegetable salad, preserves, pickles, and dessert.” I’m a little disappointed that, with all that description, they don’t get more specific on the dessert. It could be anything (even Jell-O), so I’m just going to insert a favorite from my mom’s recipe box: “Candlelight Salad.” “Bring to boil 1 can Eagle Brand (sweetened condensed milk) in water to cover. Reduce heat and simmer for 3 hours. Keep adding water as needed. Chill can in refrigerator for 12 hours. When ready to make salad open each end of can and push cooked milk out. Slice into six slices. Arrange lettuce leaf on salad plate. Add one slice pineapple and one slice cooked milk. Arrange ½ banana into center of pineapple. Top with whipped cream or mayonnaise and maraschino cherry.” If you can picture that. What I really want to see is that 50-cup coffee pot.

Another new sparkling water review this week, on the Water page—so I’ll also include an old one, here, from the archives— Polar – Black Cherry, from way back in September 2022—and it’s a review that includes an addendum—which is about the invention of the Black Cow cocktail! Wait, you say… there already is a Black Cow. Well, that may be true—there are several. But this one, here on Love Me Avenue, is the best.

Polar – Black Cherry

Water Review No. 4 – 9.16.22

I’ve had a few Polar Seltzers—and they’re an older company, apparently, in Worcester, Massachusetts—a town I’d move to in a second (if I had a job there) just because it’s a good diner town. Well, there are several diners, and I’ve only been to one, the Boulevard Diner, but it’s a great one. It’s long been my goal to visit them all—and try all the Polar varieties—so relocation seems imminent—just waiting for that job offer. For some reason “Black Cherry” sounds so much tastier than “Cherry”—but maybe that’s because I absolutely despise Cherry Coke (an aside: Dr. Pepper is not cherry cola—it’s its own thing—and I like it—but another discussion). Perhaps my revulsion is because I had a job where I had to use a cherry scented toilet cleaner. I’m afraid the association persists. But also, I just think cherry and cola go together like ice cream and mayonnaise. And I love cherries—a childhood neighbor had cherry trees where we spent a lot of time, climbing and eating. But one taste of this seltzer and—no. Gross. Sorry. Right to the bottom of the list. Well, we all need a basement—if for nothing else than a place to bury the bodies.

Addendum: I made an extra, small espresso one day and had put it in the refrigerator. Later, I got an idea: I poured it in a large glass, then filled it with this black cherry sparkling water—it foamed up impressively—it looked like the head on a glass of stout. And the shocking thing: it was delicious. For some reason, the coffee and cherry interact in a pleasant way that enhances them both. I’m sure I’m not the first to try this, but I’ll pretend I am, and now I have a new drink! I’m going to call it a “Black Cow.”

—Randy Russell 3.23.25