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| Courtesy of Tudor |
Now before I go any further, I am the proud owner of a Tudor X Rowing Blazers Black Bay -But I am not, at least I don't believe, a fan-boy. To that end, when I first clapped eyes on the latest release from Tudor posted by the big dogs the past few days... I winced. While I wouldn't say it looked so bad that it hurt my feelings, I would say that it immediately reminded me of an epic night at a restaurant in Gloucester, Massachusetts back in the late 50s/early 60s.
My father did not have what could be thought of as a celebrated academic career at the Cornell Hotel School. He had twice been asked to partake of what could kindly be called a sabbatical to reflect on his commitment (or lack thereof) to not only the pursuit of a career in hospitality management, but post secondary studies in general. It was during this first timeout he was hiding out from his parents in Texas thanks to a kindly cousin who found him a job as a bell-boy/front desk receptionist at the Shamrock Hotel in Louisville, Kentucky. Suffice it to say, the strength of family bonds was tested when word found its way back to the ranch in Brady that the old man had tanked his class in plumbing. This seemingly insignificant academic blip would prove crucial during the diarrhea outbreak that swept the Henderson household during the Christmas holiday of 1975. Yes, gentle reader, after the single toilet failed in a house with 5 youngsters and 4 adults (our cousins from Rockport were visiting Ohio, we resorted to cleaning buckets, and the menfolk skulking about the shrubbery in the neighbor's yard.
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| Shamelessly borrowed from the worldwide infoweb |
Pepto Bismol would be running short in that region of Northern Ohio for over a fortnight following the outbreak of what came to be known as "white lightning & chocolate thunder" (all apologies to Planet Lovetron's favorite son Daryl Dawkins, his signature dunks would come a few years later). And when the plumber's bill was presented for emergency services provided over the holiday period, both of my older sisters were encouraged to consider attending the local vocational school, as plumbing appeared to be a career with a very lucrative future.
But back to Gloucester...
My father had a good friend from Cornell (who would later become my uncle, but that is a story for another time), and this friend's mother owned a restaurant on the waterfront that was very popular with out of town tourists. My father's Texas accent was thicker than a shag carpet after a frat party, so as you can imagine he was already a minor source of comic relief among both the staff and guests. My father spent one or two summers working at his friend's mother's restaurant. And together, they spent their summer working hours contriving ways to trick the rubes (read innocent restaurant patrons) into ordering some truly diabolical items that weren't on the menu. One particular weekend stood out as the freezer had conked out, and there was a mad push to sell as much of the frozen stock as possible. Free ice cream with everything! But the final Saturday night left them with a heavy surplus of one item in particular. As they prepped for service they agreed on a dessert that would not only clear out the freezer, but help reshape the culinary habits of coastal New England...
Pecan pie with lime sherbet à la mode.
Spoiler alert - they sold out! In fact, a travel writer for a midwestern news outlet wrote about it after being duped into ordering it. This led to a strange surge in requests from out of town diners hailing from Michigan (he was based in Grosse Point). God knows what could have happened if this had taken place during the Food Network's heyday, or with social media today, but that little Gloucester restaurant would never again feature their erstwhile signature item. But in my and my cousin's households, the legend lives on as a testament to what people will buy if you can just convince them that it's authentic.
Now back to the matter at hand -
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| Courtesy of Tudor |
The marketing folks in Le Locle assure us that this is a "BOLD AND VIBRANT CHOICE". I can certainly agree with that assessment. The same thing was once said about pecan pie and lime sherbet à la mode ; )The asking price for this "Flamingo Blue" Black Bay Chronograph is $5,875. As a side note, I would encourage the brain trust at Tudor to visit Florida, a zoo, or even consult the internet... flamingos are, by and large, pink. Per the AI feature embedded in Google:
Flamingos are pink because of the carotenoid pigments in the food they eat, such as algae and shrimp. The color of a flamingo's feathers can range from pale pink to crimson, depending on the species.
So if you too are born to dare, and unlike John Waters prefer your flamingos blue, here are some basics -
The case is of stainless steel, and measures 41 mm in diameter with a lug width of 22 mm.
The movement is the Manufacture Calibre MT5813, offering time, date, and chronograph functions.
The dial is a "daring" Flamingo Blue.
