Chow Time: Roll Out the BARREL

About as far away from Niagara Falls as one can get in the continental US, in terms of both geography and climate, there exists a hamburger stand in the form of a giant barrel.  Without even a hint of post-modern irony, the owner-operators of this Boron, CA institution have cleverly bestowed it with the name "Barrel."  And while there are other barrel-shaped eateries throughout California, we are still left to wonder, why here?  Why on the desolate, wind-swept main street of a town whose dwindling population is more concerned with the crumbling economy than architectural novelties would there be a great big barrel?  Our best guess is that it has something to do with 20 Mule Team Borax as does everything - and we mean everything - in this town.  Whatever the origin, we love it.  I mean, when you find a restaurant that not only replicates your body type but serves the food required to maintain it as such, you practically jump for joy!

Barrel - Boron, CA

The nice thing about jumping photos is that they are useful.  For example, this one reminds me
that my hunchback is coming in nicely and that it's about time for me to size-up my dungarees.
Plus, it gives our pal, Fabian, a chance to get back at me for mocking his regularly-scheduled
jumping photos.

For a number of reasons, we didn't partake in the haute cuisine offered at the Barrel.  For one, we had spent the drive nibbling on leftover snacks from Mary's latest plane ride.  Second, the snacks were repeating on us; the road to Boron is a veritable roller-coaster ride of hills, bumps, and sudden drops.  Third, as stated above, my jeans were at maximum capacity and there just wasn't any room for even one more hamburger.  Most importantly though, the Barrel is "cash only" and we were fresh out of greenbacks.  Scrounging through the wacky wagon for change, we were able to dig up just enough for one refreshing lemonade (sorry, Mary).  If the two Yelp reviews (both from the same man) and expertly-rendered window painting are any indication of the quality at the Barrel, then diners can certainly expect to be well fed.

Yes, the Barrel serves the usual suspects - burgers, dogs, onion rings, fries, tacos, and pop.
 But if their slogan isn't, "Stay afloat with our mustard boat" or "Taste our balls," then
they really ought to consider the possibility of going with a new advertising firm (can
someone please identify those two items in the lower potion of the photo on the left???).

What's not to love about an A-rating, a spotless kitchen, a defunct
drive-thru window (?), and the charm of homemade, plywood seating?!!

The very best part about the Barrel is that it is a legitimate twofer; immediately across the street, in an empty lot, lives a trio of large-scale, folk art, desert tortoises.  As if the townsfolk were expecting them to make a run for it, the tortoises are corralled between a split-rail fence and a cinderblock wall.  Thanks to years of gymnastics training, we were able to make it over said fence and frolic in the land of the giants.

Mary was trying to look cool, like she tamed the tortoises.
Mr. Tiny on the other hand went for a less subtle approach...

Now, if you ask Mary, she will likely play this off as her pretending to be a
turtle on its back or one of those Chinese acrobats.  The fact is that she
wanted a photo that looked like she was supporting the Barrel with her
hands and feet.  Consequently, I have a whole series of these photos in
which I convinced her that she was almost getting the perfect shot (not
even close) but we needed to take just one more.  I really just wanted
to see if the local population of fire ants was as fierce as we were told...

It might seem disingenuous to feature a restaurant on a Chow Time Post at which we have not properly supped but our love for vernacular architecture is reason enough for us to say, "Roll out the Barrel!!!"  Plus, the odds are that if you're in Boron, you'll be patronizing the only game in town; it's like shooting fish in a...something.  By the way, when you're deep in the heart of the Mojave Desert, don't ever order the fish - even if it is from a barrel.

"Beer Barrel Polka (Roll Out the Barrel)" - Liberace

The Barrel
27115 20 Mule Team Rd
Boron, CA
(760)762-1115


Cheers!

Mr. Tiny

wacky tacky Icons: Pancho Barnes

If it seems that a disproportionate number of wacky tacky icons are of the female persuasion, it is only because these women are always doing awesome things and inspiring us in ways that leave us yearning to adventure more, accomplish more, create more, and be more.  Such is the case with 20th-Century America's most exciting stunt woman, aviatrix, rancher, and entrepreneuse, Pancho Barnes.

Florence Lowe "Pancho" Barnes
July 14, 1901 - March 30, 1975
(Source) 

Born into Pasadena society, Barnes was a rebel from year one.  Failing out of school and running away to Mexico on horseback are but two of her more-tame adolescent escapades.  An inveterate prankster, she once left a suicide note for her private school roommate to find as Barnes lay prone on the floor covered in red ink.  The fact that she had a penchant for raunchy storytelling and salty language made her first marriage to a minister an unlikely one.  The union resulted in a child but a conventional life was not to be.  An experienced horsewoman, Barnes took jobs as trainer and stuntwoman in traveling rodeos and in film.  There is so much to be said for and about Pancho Barnes; but with it so eloquently and expertly stated here and here, for wacky tacky purposes, we'll just stick to a few highlights.

1928

Barnes befriends actor Ramon Navarro and introduces him 

to photographer George Hurrell, aiding the careers of both.

(Source)

1930
Barnes beats Amelia Earhart's air-speed record, taking
her plane, "Mystery Ship," upwards of 196 MPH.
(Source)

1931
Barnes founds the Associated Motion Picture Pilots,
a union representing stunt pilots in Hollywood.
(Source)

1935
Barnes moves from Los Angeles to the Antelope Valley, creating a working ranch 
with enough room to test the latest in jet fighters and other aeronautical advances.
(Source)

1946
Barnes turns her ranch into the Fly-Inn/Happy Bottom Riding Club,
a members only resort/dude ranch/social club/air field for celebrity
clientele and airmen from the local airfield.

(Source)

1953
Barnes' victory celebration (aided by pal, Chuck Yeager) over the US Air Force
 and their attempt to expand Edwards Air Force Base onto her property, is short-
lived when an unexplained fire ravages her entire compound, leaving her home-
less and near bankruptcy in Southern California's most parched territory.
(Source)

Southern California is not known for its hill country.  Consequently, our hillbilly population is small, dwelling mostly under the shady canopies of Big Bear's pine forests and perhaps cowering beneath the stuccoed toadstools of Santa's Village.  Instead, the majority of our societal misfits find refuge way out in the desert, creating a new breed of banjo-playing, redheaded step-children known as "desert rats."  It should come as little surprise then that I love the desert, taking any opportunity to explore its eerily-quiet, sunburned landscape and dreaming of the day I too can claim full-time rat status.  When I learned that Pancho Barnes' last home was still standing in the tiny desert community of Boron, CA, we loaded the wacky wagon with provisions and hit the 20-Mule-Team Trail to the home of both Borax and Barnes.

The Barnes Estate
Not exactly the Hollywood House Hunting to which we've become so accustomed.

After four failed marriages, the protracted legal battle with the US government over land rites, and the mystery fire that destroyed her entire resort, Barnes ended up broke but not broken in the tiny town of Boron, a factory mining town.  Feeling betrayed by some of her best clients, Barnes retreated into her modest home in the Mojave Desert.  Because the door to the house was wide open (read: nonexistent), we decided to show ourselves in.

Our self-guided tour began as we entered under the faltering, homemade, lean-to porch arrangement.  It became apparent that even though the four-room, stone house sits on some acreage, the years of dereliction (evidenced by boarded up windows, graffiti, and general decay), have left it uninhabitable...nothing a little of Mr. Tiny's magic couldn't fix.

It was much darker in the room than this picture would indicate.
There was some kind of cellar but as it appeared to be just a giant
pit, I adhered quite strictly to the rules of my horror movie training.
DON'T GO IN THE BASEMENT!!!

The remnants of the restroom painted a somewhat sunnier picture.

But even a boisterous desert dweller needs her privacy...

Because she was such fixture of the "high desert," many members of the community feel like they knew her personally.  In fact, many of them only really knew her by reputation alone, their anecdotes supported by the recitation of now-legendary stories told by older generations.  One person we met in town remembered Barnes as a "real character" citing that it was oft said that "she had a face like a bag of worms!!!" 

We felt like we were touching a part of aviation history when we found
the basin in which she washed her hands and her bag of worms face.

Within one hundred miles of Pasadena, Boron is somehow worlds away from the privileged upbringing and rakish lifestyle Barnes had always enjoyed.  In a town perpetually under the spell of the sandman, it appeared that Barnes would live out her remaining days in utter obscurity.  Her high-flying adventures, however, could be forgotten by neither her community nor her Happy Bottom cohorts.  In 1964, having been reintroduced to some of her old friends and colleagues, Barnes was was named the "First Citizen of Edwards Air Force Base" and scheduled regularly as a guest lecturer until her death in 1975.  Since 1980, November 7 has been dedicated as Pancho Barnes Day, marked by a yearly celebration at the USAF Test Pilot School at Edwards Air Force Base.

"Where's the party?"
(Source)

We choose to celebrate Pancho Barnes as an icon all year long because, unpretentious and a little naughty, she pioneered aviation, women's rights, and wacky tacky living without even trying!  It's great to know that Valerie Bertinelli will always be there to celebrate with us - and that's no sack of worms!!!

Pancho Barnes starring Valerie Bertinelli (1988)

Cheers!

Mr. Tiny