And I miss it. Obviously I realize that vacay food is a treat, not how you eat in your normal, everyday life – as per its very terminology, but still. I have to say above all I’m still stinging from that trip to WholeFoods. I mean, after we finally found it. *cough snicker* Ah, WholeFoods. This town will never have anything close, but as I’ve mentioned before, the grocery options are simply grim. And WF served to illuminate just how grim, paining me deeply.
On the plus side, WF’s are only an hour away, and before I moved, they were at least two hours away. So a mini road trip’s entirely plausible. Always must look at the bright side and enjoy in the meantime my boatload of cheap groceries from the supercenter, Voldemart, even if they lack that certain WFlair.
But don’t think I haven’t fantasized at length about taking a WF birthday sojourn for the express purpose of buying myself dark chocolate covered caramels with sea salt. AKA “penelope’s medicine.”
Moving on. Outside of the WF, I drank a lot of diner coffee and you ate a lot of scrambled eggs. Mine were over easy with (ideally) a side of toast, although at AnnSathers (after we finally found it *mwah*) I noticed they did skimp on said toast. But the skinny pancakes made up for it. Even though I felt a little undercurrent of hostility for requesting additional syrup. Which you talked me down from, saying I could share yours. And you thought the waitress sort of hated us, but I posited that her manner was simply more businesslike in general and she did note that her sister shared your name. Which was unequivocally a warmfuzzy, we must concede.
I also drank coffee at JohnHancock’s Apparently Top Secret Sky Bar, and it was like, $5, although honestly I expected it to be more. Just based on the menu. Said coffee was served in an iced-tea glass, which still causes a head-scratching pause, but it was tasty so who am I to complain. My JH coffee stirrer is currently on my car seat, having fallen out of my purse. Did you leave your Voss water bottle vase with Cath?
The cash-only diner with the shiny red seats recommended by not one, but two strangers, was also nice, though instead of coffee-cup vigilance, the staff might have just dropped a nickel on our table. Because seriously – just one cup. That’s all I need!Thankyouverymuch! I mean, I really appreciate it but still.
At MarshallFields/Macys, which will always be MF to me, we slathered our cuticles (and possibly the entire length of our forearms, for those of us whose names rhyme with “audacious”) in lemon-buttery stuff, whose scent you did not actually enjoy, but really I’d take some of that home, please. In the real world, I tragically tend to my cuticles pretty much never. And then we took the WonkaVator to the 5th floor and gazed at the Tiffany ceiling. Lingerie models held a dance party in the background, because who wouldn’t dance all the time, with a roof like that over your head. And lunch on the 7th floor was mediocre at best, but we made do with our view-less table and lackluster tea. My chicken with wildrice soup was aiight.
Then on Saturday, you took me on a train (but not a bus) and down some back alleyway to eat a cheezborger. But not just any cheezborger, a BillyGoatTavern cheezborger. Where do they find that crotchety man to take orders at the grill, and does he really care if you don’t order a double? I kind of think he does. And looking back, I really should have upped my order, as per his kindly, i.e. aggressive, suggestion. But it was just a midafternoon snack, so I don’t know. The BGT was perfectly seedy and just. like. the SNL skit, so I was pleased. Not to mention the pickle condiment bar. PICKLES. As many as you want. It’s how a cheezborger should be.
I wanna go back and eat everything all over again. But sadly, one can only step forward, not back. So I’m making do with my stupidsuperstore and cooking some new things through the pain and pondering a kitchen the color of Cinnamon. I leave you to cover TANK (damn you, TANK!) and GreekTown, including my apparent inability to walk. Don’t forget to mention that effing amazing fried goat cheese with tomato sauce that changed my life.
xoxoxoxo
penelope, your partner in crime
5 comments:
I was going to post something the other day about preferences for containers for certain drinks and how mixing up those preconceptions really changes the taste and experience of consuming. Like I prefer my water in plastic cups. But milk is in the short squatty glass and juice, obviously, in the small, but taller juice glass. And if I had milk out of the juice glass it would just be...wrong.
absolutely. coffee in a glass seemed...elegant, and yet precarious. i suppose it worked, but as a rule i like a handle on my coffee receptacle.
Start a petition for Trader Joe's. Way cheaper than WF :)
Is it odd that these pictures make me slightly sad? For the joy that's in them and the strange way in which the world prevents them from happening more? More Pen & M togetherness! I demand it!
indeed ash! truer words were never spoken. but may kindred spirits never part.
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