In more traditional times, a hog was roasted on the patio, downed by kegs of beer, amid lively music, hearty helpings of cornbread and coleslaw, whilst the whiskey “flowed” to the farmers, who catered the event, an unbeknownst-to-some, rural custom, as a way to grease the wheels, to ensure everything ran smoothly.

Such is civilization: built on the glories of the past, or even on the bones of defeated kingdoms, and even for hundreds and thousands of years in the aftermath of ancient wars and collapsing civilizations, groups of people still suffer. As an example, Rome invaded Britannia – but only half of it, and built Hadrian’s wall, which separated the top from bottom.

A fresh morning drizzle on Saturday either lended to or came from the heavy fog, priced by downtown Omaha’s few skyscrapers. The view from Cummings Street was thankfully unobstructed as I drove to the next restaurant on my list. It was not fair to my destination that in my Jetta’s passenger seat sat a grizzled veteran of the trade – a man who had lived long enough to garner and weed out many opinions about the food in Omaha,