The heady aromas wafting out of Bigg Daddy's Philly Steak House? A big burly man walks by and smiles. Comments on my blurted out words, about the aroma…. hah.

That was “Bigg Daddy” aka Chef Xavier Jones.

“I bring my love of food and people to all that I do.”

Fried pickles with a delectable crunch. Dilly (fresh, delicate, scrumptious) sauce in a cup to dip in these succulent sliced-into-round beauties. Mmmmm. Never had this before.

Explosion of…. so much flavor; sparking thoughts of really good fried clams. Yep. Then the pickle-y taste with batter that is perfect, so so good, kicks in.

Who is behind this magic, this business?

Owner and chef at The Firehouse Café & Bistro and Bigg Daddy's Philly Steak House. This is from his official site (chefxavierjones.com):

I'm originally from Philadelphia and trained at Le Cordon Bleu Institute of Culinary Arts in Pittsburgh. My work experience includes the Red Lion Inn in Stockbridge, MA where I gained experience in New England and French cooking.

I have worked as a Sous Chef, Chef de Cuisine or Executive Chef at:

Spice Restaurant, Pittsfield, MA.

Masse's Ocean Bar, Chicopee, MA.

Viva Fresh Pasta, Northampton, MA.

The Thirsty Owl, Saratoga Springs, NY.

I bring my love of food and people to all that I do.

Chef Xavier Jones

Looking over the menu again. WHat to order next visit? Okay, my mouth is watering now. For all not yet sampled. Yet.

Bigg Daddy's Philly Steak House in North Adams, Mass., is on the campus of MoCA (just like saying that as it feels like “mocha” of course.) Will guess the unmistakeable square building (look for the Liberty Bell logo) and position that this structure was part of the original complex. (And that's another story, must return.)

The wind was blowing, my eyes feasting on so much to see at and around North Adams–the Museum of CA. MoCA. Which two in the vehicle almost let pass by, but the driver circled back around and asked again. Stop. One gets out to look around. Curiosity propels another.

(Note to Bigg Daddy's staff who were warm, welcoming, great: Please forgive my not adding a tip; my late sister would've been beside me, elbowed me to notice and do so. Am grieving her loss, my twin though younger by four years, my best friend. She is missed, she is missed, she is missed. And I'm off-kilter in more ways than one.)

Know nothing about this area–what appeared to be former mill town. The driver notes the abundance of waterpower here and he's right.

Reading the history blurb off Wikipedia via my iPhone while seeking food.

“For much of its history, North Adams was a mill town. Manufacturing began in the city before the Revolutionary War, largely because the confluence of the Hoosic River's two branches provided water power for small-scale industry. By the late 1700s and early 1800s, businesses included wholesale shoe manufacturers; a brick yard; a saw mill; cabinet-makers; hat manufacturers; machine shops for the construction of mill machines; marble works; wagon and sleigh-makers; and an ironworks, which provided the pig iron for armor plates on the Civil War ship, the Monitor.”

Previously, the Saturday:

Time and patience. Geology and community. Shelburne Falls, on the way from the Mohawk Trail, Catamount Traders was closed on our first visit (hey, the time change weirdness is real), but the lure of seeing the Bridge of Flowers work in progress and the beloved potholes, and all so walkable–calls to us. Here we go. (Yes, circled back to visit this fantastic shop of wonders.)

“Glacial potholes” first. And alas, a change, as viewing from above is the closest we will get to them. The access path is closed and the signs along the fence speak loudly that this is now off limits. Drinking in the views, that is the nature of life, change. Let's walk. Up the street, over the river and to the other side. The Bridge of Flowers is “nekkid” as work is in progress to keep this landmark, once a trolley route bridge. The wisteria and plantings are being cared for; cuttings, dahlias, so much beauty to be in good hands. Waiting.

Memories. Memories. Of three years ago, a lifetime and just yesterday at the same time. The original roadtrip many decades back, the result of my father reading a feature about the region. Loaded us up in the station wagon and we visited. Scrambled around the rocks. Marveled at sights seen. Ironic isn't it? Full circle, visiting now to write about old and new discoveries.

Here, now. Ate, pit stop, onward after following the Mohawk Trail, experiencing the Hairpin Curve. Oh the views.

Into the valley, North Adams, hello.

Almost forgot. The courteous young man (wearing aviator sunglasses) who shared details about Bigg Daddy's (including wait times), plus his own interests, North Berkshire Paranormal Research Group. And how to pronounce “Montpelier” around here, Adams and North Adams.

Little friends may prove great friends. The Lion and the Mouse, Aesop.

Editor's note: This story has been updated.