Incident in Elko after September 11

It may be a long way from New York to Elko, Nevada, but in some ways the two aren't very far apart at all. The fact hit home in an unforgettable way on an otherwise normal Friday night last Fall in the Star Hotel, a landmark Basque restaurant and a northern Nevada mainstay.

The Star Hotel, Elko

On a cool October day, after rooting for little Virginia City at the Northern 'A' League volleyball tourney at Spring Creek, the grownups were in the mood for a little celebration and a big feast, so we turned onto River Street and nosed into a parking place in front of the old hotel.

After the hostess seated us my sister Lisa and I went back out to the bar for a round of picon punches.

Picon punch is a traditional Basque concoction of grenadine, brandy and a liqueur called Amer Picon. You douse the ice in a medium -sized glass with a little grenadine, pouring in two or three ounces of Amer Picon and floating a shot of brandy on top. Some bartenders add a little soda before they put the brandy in. Not the bartender at the Star. It has a slightly bitter taste at first, but they warm you up pretty quick, and before you know it, it's time to give the car keys to the bartender.

Proprietor Miguel Leonis at your service.

So, after a lesson from the bartender, Lisa and I picked up our round of picons and went back into the dining room. Basque restaurants in Nevada are generally a family-style affair. Some feature one entree each day (lamb chops, pork, steak, fish, even more exotic things like sweetbreads), others offer a choice of two or three.

The best parts though, are the traditional Basque side dishes, served family-style in big bowls and on heaping platters: fresh french bread, soup (bean, barley, sometimes tripe) ranch-style beans, plain green salad, freshly-made french fries — the kind that are so good you don't even think about the cholesterol, and even such delicacies as a slowly simmered tongue stew (The Star even throws in a big platter of spaghetti). This is accompanied by a carafe of good honest red wine. It takes a lot of appetite to do justice to a Basque dinner, and we had another picon or two to help stimulate our appetites.

During the meal I noticed that one particular cowboy was giving me the once over. I didn't think much about it and went back to stuffing myself, and improving my appetite some more. When I looked up again, the fella locked eyes with me, stared hard, and broke out singing "God Bless America" at the top of his voice.

Now before September 9, when a tough-looking character started singing in the middle of a crowded restaurant everyone else in the room might have been uneasy. I'm certainly shy in such situations.

The Star Dining Room

But this particular night, I found myself pinned by his stare and captured by the pure emotion of what he was doing. I saluted him with my wine glass, smiled a big goofy smile and took up the tenor part at the top of my lungs. Because as far away as New York is, both in distance and consciousness, the feeling is mutual — that guy at the Star Hotel, me, and maybe you too.