The Thai fried rice with chicken from Penny’s Noodle Shop in Chicago’s Wicker Park neighborhood. The Missus picked it up on her way home from work today. Always one of my favorite dishes at Penny’s — fresh tasting vegetables and the perfect amount of a spicy kick.
Turkey sandwich on white and some Ruffles. Trying to get back into the swing of work after a relaxing four-day weekend.
After taking in a movie (Dark Shadows), the Missus and I returned home and made some burgers in the cast-iron skillet on the stove. She’d heard me rave about a burger-making technique I learned from a drummer in one of my past punk bands, which is to crack an egg into the mixing bowl, along with a little maple syrup, before mashing up the ground beef and forming patties.
Worked like a charm. Added a little ketchup, mustard, pickles and onions to the toasted bun. Also: some ridiculously-named “Ultimate Kickin’ Jalepeno Ranch” Ruffles chips.
I couldn’t get a single tennis-playing friend to pick up their racquet and hit the courts with me on a beautiful Memorial Day Monday like this. So I found a backboard at a north side park and headed off to practice my inconsistent, yet beloved, one-handed backhand. On the way home, I decided to stop at a Taco Bell to see what all the hubbub is around those Doritos Locos tacos they’ve been selling recently.
Even convinced the Missus to try one upon my return. Her verdict: Gross and too salty. Me? I think they’re fine, but nothing too special. It’s just a slightly gussied up Taco Bell taco. Regardless, I’m a Taco John’s man, myself. (At least when it comes to corporate chain Tex-Mex food, that is…)
Went out for breakfast at Ann Sather with the Missus and another couple and there was a disagreement over the tip. Of course, I looked like the bad guy.
The other gentleman and I split the bill. On my portion, I gave the waitress a substandard tip. (Mind you, I was a waiter back during college and am usually a generous tipper.)
Here’s why. Earlier in the meal, the waitress came to refill someone’s tea mug and dribbled hot water across my bare arm and the lap of my pants. Not even an apology. I would have overlooked it. But later in the meal, I still had some hash browns and toast in front of me. I admit it — I’m a slow eater. Everyone else had finished, but the waitress walks up, picks up my plates (putting her greasy thumb into the food) before asking, “Are you done with that?” Seeing as she’d already picked it up and soiled it, I said, “Sure.” Didn’t make a big deal of it. But it’s probably my biggest pet peeve when it comes to eating in a restaurant.
And I was discreet when I filled out my bill, turning it face down on the table. Of course, the Missus could sense that I’d tipped my conscience and asked how much I’d given the waitress. When I told her, she and the other gentleman started digging in their pockets to leave extra cash on the table. Ugh, how embarrassing. Not that I’d left a 10 percent tip, but that everyone turned on me so quick and acted to negate me.
Whatever. I guess it’s OK to drizzle boiling water on customers and whisk their food away before they’re done, as long as it’s a holiday.
Funny thing was, I was the one who recommended we all go to Ann Sather, because I so love their Swedish breakfast sampler and cinnamon rolls. I apparently just don’t like the service, but no one will ever know.
The Missus, my eldest brother and I went up to north suburban Lake Forest to have a Memorial Day get-together at my aunt and uncle’s house. Two of my cousins, their husbands and their toddlers were there too.
The Missus made deviled eggs, and took the fruits of my labor and assembled a pretty top-notch apple pie for dessert. The main course consisted of grilled chicken, veggie skewers, wild rice and fruit, prepared by the host. It was a nice evening of catching up with family I don’t see too often.
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