Radar love

So I went to an Austrian wine tasting last night and a Palindrome Festival broke out. And it was not just the Kracher riesling and gruner, delcious as they were, talking.

I was sitting with restaurateur Kim Bartmann, who was grilling me about lesser-known varietals that she should pour by the glass at her new South Minneapolis eatery. “No sauvgnon blanc or malbec!” she declared.

So while we were yacking about arinto and St. Laurent, I asked her the name of the restaurant. “Pat’s Tap,” she said. “It’s a palindrome. I want to have cocktails with palindrome names, too.” (For the unitiated, a palndrome is a word or phrase that is spelled the same way backward and forward.)

We quickly decided that “boob” and “poop” probably wouldn’t work, then shared our personal favorits. Mine: “A man, a plan, a canal, Panama.” Kim’s: “Go hang a salami. I’m a lasagna hog.”

During the course of our holding court, some other folks at the table had whipped out their iPhones and asked Mr. Google to find them some palindromes (the one at left is from mauifeed.com). They started coming hot and heavy:

*”Nurse, I spy gypsies. Run!”
*”As I pee, sir, I see Pisa.”
*”Lepers repel.”
*”Damnit, I’m mad.”
*”Never odd or even.”
*”Step on no pets.”
*”Egad! No bondage!”
*”Do geese see God?”

Our personal favorite — and this actually might have been the blaufrankisch talking — was “Roy, am I mayor?”

Now there’s a name for a cocktail. Or not.

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