An interesting article about professional restaurant critics, from Chicago magazine.  Apparently Anthony Bourdain is on the side of Yelp, which makes me like Yelp a little more.

Since I have not yet divorced a rich man, I can’t really afford to eat at most of the places Chicago magazine reviews.  Plus, Chicago magazine will never help me decide where to get my Vitamin Grease intake after a hard night of drinking.  That’s where Yelp really shines.

Pork Shouder Nanwich

Being a total lazy ass, I like meals to be cooked for me. This makes the influx of gourmet food trucks into the city very important to me.  To keep informed, I follow them all on Twitter like a modern day Mr. Dooley.

My favorite is the Gaztro-Wagon.  If you’ve never had a nanwich & plantain chips from them, you’re missing out on some good shit.

Today, the Gaztro-Wagon was in Logan Square (where the magic happens!).  Unfortunately, I was at IIT.  They were landing at 5:45.  I was in class until 6:15.  Would I make it to Logan in time for a delicious nanwich?

Those of you familiar with Chicago traffic at rush hour will not be surprised to learn that the Kennedy decided to fuck me.

Traffic was so backed up that it took me 20 minutes to get from the 31st street entrance to the Canalport exit.  I never should have gotten on.  I made the wrong choice.  It did not look good for our hero.

So when I hit Canalport, I hopped off & took the surface streets: Halsted to Roosevelt to Ashland.  On Ashland, I tweeted about how I was going to miss the Gaztro-Wagon because of the fucking Kennedy.

Wild Boar Belly Nanwich

And then, something awesome happened.  The Gaztro-Wagon tweeted back.  And they said they’d wait for me, and asked for an ETA.  I said 20 minutes. It. Was. On.

Ashland to Grand, Grand west to Humboldt.  On Grand, something else happened: Don’t Stop Believing came on the radio.  And yesterday, I would have told you I was kinda ready to stop believing.  I would have told you that I’m 35 years old, and I’m just about out of belief.

Today, I fucking believed.

They’ve done some renovating of Humboldt Boulevard, narrowing it from 4 lanes to 2, with a center turning lane.  This does not work for me, because it totally constricts the flow of traffic.  Especially because, tonight, there was someone in front of me going 35 MPG.  WTF?  This is Humboldt Park!  Don’t be pulling that speed limit shit here!

But I made it through the park with out popping a cap into anyone’s ass, and onto Milwaukee.  I threw my car into a spot that everyone just fucking knew not to park in, because they’d have to face my wrath, and took off across the street to the Gaztro-Wagon.

Dear readers, I made it.  They were there waiting for me.  We were so happy to see each other, and there was much rejoicing.  I got a warm Chicken Courdon Blue Nanwich, with plantain chips.  And I ate it before I could take a picture to show you all.  I didn’t even get a shot of the menu.  But I ate my nanwich with a big smile on my face, and two greedy begging cats at my feet.

It was a victory, wrapped in a win, stuffed inside a big Fuck Yeah.

How can you resist?

There’s a pharmacy here at work, and in this pharmacy, one can choose from an assortment of snackable goods.  This ranges from your everyday candy bars & chips to more niche options like pork rinds.  Every now & then, one will find something so odd that it practically begs you to try it.  One such item is the 7Day Soft Filled Croissant, chocolate flavor.  I was surprised to find that, completely independent of any idea I had, a friend also purchased the cherry filled version!

It was snackrendipity.  It demanded a taste test.

Fortunately, there are many people here at work that enjoy both eating and giving their opinion.  We gathered in the break room.

Upon opening, our first act was to smell the pastry.  We agreed that the chocolate smelled like something confectionery.  The cherry smelled like a fig newton.  So far so good.

Mmm?

They thought I was weird for taking pictures.  The thing inside the package was more breadlike than croissant.  It wasn’t flakey.  It wasn’t buttery.  It did, however, leave a film of something oily on the roof of ours mouths.

The chocolate tasted like pudding, and had the same consistency.  The cherry tasted almost completely unlike a cherry.  It was more like “mixed fruit” or non-descript thing that grew on a tree.  Not terrible or unpleasing in flavor, but not cherry.

So, will any of us buy this snack again?  No.  Was it worth the $1.27?  Sure.  My favorite part was the warning on the label that said not to microwave.  That’s an experiment for another day.

Up next in the “Snacks we’re gonna try” series: Big Az Chicken sandwiches.

Admit it, you like to impress people.  Whether you’re ordering the perfect wine to accompany the dinner you ordered in the language native to the cuisine, or delivering a Schrödinger-esque karaoke version of “‘Under Pressure” in which you are simultaneously David Bowie & Freddie Mercury, you like it when you look cool.

I had a moment like that last night.

I ordered a Bulleit Bourbon, on the rocks.  The bartender looked at me, his exquisitely waxed handlebar mustache forming ever so slight of a smile, and said “Nice choice.”  It inspires pride to know you’ve won the approval of someone who knows a lot about what he’s doing.

Later in the night, he shared that customers will come in & order expensive, sipping whiskeys, with Coke.  I could tell that it was painful for him to endure people making bad decisions.  I don’t have enough invested in my job to react like that.

Those moments are few & far between, so I savor them, much the same way I savored that bourbon, on the rocks, because I’m a girl.