I feel awkward eating at bars. I tend to feel that when I order food its like everyone knows that I am trying to get less drunk, which may or may not be true! Maybe I just didn't eat lunch! Maybe the food sounded really good! Maybe I need a damn column and its hard to get people to hang out with me without plying them with booze. Also, you have to deal with all the people attractively drinking looking at you eating. I am a messy eater. I eat too fast as well, something I picked up from my mother, who always finishes first and then says "I am such a good eater." Being a "good eater" is a virtue; clean your plate and do it without delay. I tend to finish my food long before anyone else, and typically I need to wash my hands afterward. And my face. And clean detritus from the area. When food is really good I made humming sounds. All this makes it rather embarrassing to eat in front of people, especially when those other people are not eating, instead doing really graceful things like shots and smoking cigarettes. I'd rather people didn' t know I have to eat, it seems weak somehow, and it implies other physical realities I'd rather pretend don't exist.
Basically, I'd like to apologize to Troy and Dan for eating a Logan's Alley Garbage Dog in front of them. I wouldn't have, but Troy is researching this Mega-Scary Hot Dog Article, and he thought it would be irrisponsible to not try out the ones at Logan's. He said, "Man I don't want to eat two of them, though." And I volunteered. My, oh my. Garbage dogs consist of dog on bun with pickle, jalepeno, hot sauce, cheese, chilli, and onion. I wrote the ingredients down, and Troy said he would just check the blog for the info when he writes the article. Lazy jerk.
Oh My Gosh, I ate the hell out of that hotdog. I ate it, but it was gross. It tasted like hot sauce, and thats about it, and the texture of the commercial hotdog is flaccid. Good thing the fries were great and the beer was better.
The hotdogs were touted on the menu as the "ultimate hangover cure," but I would say this is patently untrue. The ultimate hangover cure is lying in bed watching America's Next Top Model and eating string cheese.
My friend Courtney was in town for a job interview (whoo! move to GR!) and it seems like every time I see her we end up eating rib tips. For some reason I hadn't taken her to Sandmann's yet, and that's where we ended up on Wednesday. We walked there and I made the executive decision: one pound rib tips, half-pound fried cauliflower. Courtney was hella skeptical about the cauliflower, but I talked her into it. She got a diet coke, I waited to get a green kool-ade at Wings of Desire. We picked Becca up on the way back, and had a pleasant time eating piles of greasy meat on my floor. Fried cauliflower can be done really badly, it can be soggy and greasy, and wholy unlike the fantastic stuff from Sandmann. I wish I could deep fry. Think of the dumplings I could make.
Side note, keep your fingers crossed that Courtney gets the job, as we will be celebrating her move up from Chicago with a "Dumplings of the World" Party, to which you are all invited.