Danny vs. The Fearless Three

K and I had about 48 hours to spend in Rhode Island with M, and we planned them to correspond perfectly with the wind and torrential rain of Hurricane Danny.

We arrived on Friday evening, delayed by an hour but in two pieces. (Me - one piece, K - one piece.) Danny then proceeded to drench New England continuously through the night and well into Saturday.

K, M and I toddled out of bed, well-rested, at about 10am. We breakfasted at Frank's, which was already suffering from some flooding. One staff member got an electric shock from the water vacuum he was using and made a loud squealy sound like "Kkkiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeeee." A furious handshaking and several lively swears later, I am certain he was ok.

Not one to be easily deterred, M proposed that we drive down towards the coast and see what we could see because in all likelihood, "by the time we get there, it will have let up a bit."
"Sounds great," said K.
"Mwahaha!" said Danny.

We drove south for about an hour in minimal visibility, only to find that many of the roads leading to the ocean were blocked off due to flooding. But then - lo! - Danny slowed to a drizzle long enough for us to spot signs for Greenvale Vineyards, follow the signs all the way there, and hurry into the tasting room. This is us in hurry mode:


Once inside, we paid $15 each for a tasting of six different wines and a (bonus!) souvenir wine glass. It seemed to us like a pretty good deal, especially since there was a really fun and soulful jazz trio playing in the tasting room. Surely the goal is to entice tasters to buy more wine...

So we obliged, buying two bottles of our favorites from the tasting and settling in to enjoy more jazz and our own pleasant company. The scene around us was very relaxed - none of the snootiness I had feared. The rain could only have helped in that regard; for some reason, very few people with fogged-up glasses, running make-up, wet clothes and frizzed-out hair have the gall to be snotty.

The three hours we passed at Greenvale made for a terrific afternoon. We emerged to find that the storm had abated, so we were able to visit the seaside after all. K and I intend to return someday soon to visit Rhode Island's other wineries, hopefully in better weather. We'll let you know, M - keep your wine-o hat on!

Rhode Trip

Rhode Island. It's such a funny little state. K and I will be there this weekend to visit the wonderful M, my former roommate and (more privately) interpretive dance partner.

I've visited her before, including once this February when I combined a work trip to Boston with a two-day stay at M's parents' home in Providence. A couple of weeks later, M lost her mother to complications from a surgery that was not expected to be life-threatening.

So this visit will be different. The goal is to show M a good time, though knowing her she will already have grand plans laid out for us by the time we arrive. Heaven forbid that she just relax and not worry about it.

On Saturday K and I are going to pull for a visit to a winery for a tasting. That would be a first for me. I still associate wine tastings with old, rich, fancy white people. By those criteria, I score only 1 out of 4. But I can go to a tasting too, darn it. I think we would all enjoy that. Let's just hope that one of us doesn't get really drunk, have an emotional outburst and go storming through the vineyards, like Miles in Sideways.

The wine tasting, therefore, will be my formal newbie of the week. Less officially, I've never had the chance to talk to such a close friend my own age about losing a parent before. This is the first time for that type of loss. I really want to ask M what it is like and how she is dealing or not dealing with it. I want to know if the ground still feels solid under her feet, or more like the shifting rubble of a bombed-out building.

Folk & Roots

Well, I'm back from the land of tea, civility and Marks and Spencer. Among the valuable lessons I've learned are that many Brits pronounce the word 'scone' like "scawn" (as in rhymes with dawn), and they sometimes refer to bedspreads as "counterpanes." Weirdos.

I returned from my travels feeling grounded and refreshed. I've even managed to almost make peace with my recent bike heist. I know I owe this blog a couple of posts about my trip, but first let's talk about my new adventure for this week.


K's parents will be in town this weekend and we are planning to take them to the Chicago Folk & Roots Festival in Lincoln Square's Welles Park, just west of our Ravenswood 'hood. The festival promises diverse grooves on multiple stages, lively dancing, and beer. And as if that wasn't enough, it offers up the Annual Midwest Fiddle Championship. Tell me that isn't pure gold.

This guy was at the festival last year, and I sure hope he comes back. My great-grandmother played the accordion until the day she died, and I'll always have a special place in my heart for the instrument and its devotees.

If the online pictures from past years' festivals are any indication, the place is going to be crawling with adorable children. This would normally be a good thing, but with K's mom in tow, it is sure to elicit several remarks about how desperately she needs a grandchild of her own. So to counteract the effects of that, I may just have to get drunk. Or get her drunk. Ideally both, and then get down with our bad selves in the dance tent.

A Boat Ride to Remember

K and I embarked on a three-hour maritime exploration of Chicago on Sunday, via the Chicago History Museum's 'A History of Beer' tour. And it was good. I mean real good.

Beautiful weather? Check. Couldn't have asked for better.

Unlimited beer on tap? Check. I was hoping for a little more variety (it was a tour for beer enthusiasts after all), but we made do with the two quality offerings: Goose Island 312 wheat ale and Goose Island's Summertime brew.


Friendly bartender? Yes indeed. And she encouraged the reuse of the plastic cups rather than wasting one for every beverage poured - good stuff.

Cooky lecturer? Check. Dude wrote a book called The Great Chicago Beer Cans that was published in 1979! He is obviously passionate about history, his city and his suds. The first thing he taught us was that there aren't any breweries along the Chicago River. Huh. And here I was thinking that we would pass by a couple on a history of beer tour - - ah well. After the lecture, he made his way through the group, stopping to chat with each person. As we passed the LaSalle and Clark Street bridges, K and I got a private little lesson on the Eastland Boat Disaster of 1915. "Over 800 people died right here." Geez.

Life jackets? Phew.


K shook his fist at the Lake Shore Drive bridge as we passed under it, in remembrance of how it made us late for the Harry Potter exhibition.


All boats going from the Chicago River to Lake Michigan or vice versa must pass through the Chicago Lock. Boats on their way out to the lake enter the lock and secure themselves to the wall. Then the gate opens, allowing for water to flow into the lock until it reaches lake level. Once that has been accomplished, boats in the lock and those on the lake waiting to come in can switch places. Close gate. Return water level in lock to river level. Open gate. Repeat. Simple, I know, but I found it interesting. Also, there's this whole separate etiquette and set of rules for boating, and it fascinates me.

All in all, it was a fantastic boat ride. There's something inspiring about being out on the water, whether it's in a one-person kayak in the wilderness or cruising down the Chicago River on the Ft. Dearborn with sixty other ruckus-raising beer drinkers.

Hops, Malt and Barley on the Big Lake

Tomorrow evening, K and I will be cruising the Chicago River and Lake Michigan on a Chicago History Museum boat tour, 'Exploring Chicago's Yeast Side: A History of Beer.' Here's the description:

Back by popular demand! Before Milwaukee claimed the title of beer capital of the Midwest, there was Chicago! Discover the city’s golden age of beer and brewing on this sunset tour. Ticket price includes beer, provided by Goose Island Brewery.

Sounds fun, right? I hope Goose Island brings their full lineup. So far, I've only tried their 312 wheat ale, the first beer I ordered at a restaurant in Chicago after we moved here last year. Intrigued by the telephone tap handle, I asked for a "three-twelve," oblivious to the fact that 312 ("three-one-two") is named for downtown Chicago's area code.

I learned about the tour when I visited the Chicago History Museum in April to see their Abraham Lincoln Bicentennial exhibit, which by the way, is ongoing until August 16. If you're a Lincoln fan like me, it's pretty cool to see the bed he died in and a copy of the Gettysburg address handwritten by the man himself. (He had fantastic penmanship!)

Anyway, back to the matter at hand: I thought the boat tour would be a good opportunity for us to max it and relax it while supporting a fine local institution. K and I have not yet done a boat tour here in our new city, but I've heard from tourists and locals alike that it is one of the best ways to see Chicago. We'll feel right at home out on the big lake. Here's a photo of it from Heritage Landing in our hometown of Muskegon, Michigan.


Let's hope the weather is that nice tomorrow, and that the beer doesn't go down too easy.

Prolonged Absence of Buzz

I'm proud to say that I've successfully completed my WWC (Week Without Coffee). By far the biggest payoff was the see, I told you I could do it feeling. I even did it without being ridiculously irritable or mean to anyone (I think). The first couple of days were relatively easy, but then it got tough as my cravings intensified. I correctly predicted that I would not suffer headaches or any other physical withdrawal symptoms, but my mental battles with myself could get pretty brutal.

I was especially tempted after lunch on Tuesday (5-day mark), but no, I told myself, I can and will hold myself accountable. After that, I seemed to be over the hump, and it got easier again. It was a bell curve, if you will (sorry, my inner nerd is always rambunctious and occasionally irrepressible) - here's a visual:


On Thursday morning, I checked my previous WWC post to see exactly when my week would be up - 1:58pm. I decided that I would break my coffee fast the first time I had a real urge; I wouldn't drink it right at 1:58pm just because I could. So I ended up going without until Friday after lunch. A whole extra day! I broke my fast at Dunkin' Donuts because Friday was National Doughnut Day, and I never pass up a chance to get a free doughnut!

Within moments of drinking the first half of my small DD coffee, I could feel the caffeine coursing through my veins. And I must say, I didn't miss that sensation. Based on my WWC, I seem to crave coffee not for the caffeine buzz but more for its taste and familiar comfort. What I hope to take away from the experience is a greater tendency to ask myself, Do I really want another cup or would I be drinking it 'just because'? I think this will lead me to drink a little less coffee from now on and maybe, just maybe, even reach for the decaf every once in a while.

Except for the prolonged absence of buzz, I didn't notice any differences in the way my body was feeling without coffee. I suppose I would have to take on the challenge for much longer than one week to track any possible changes. But that was never, and isn't now, my intention. I know my overall health is affected by a vast and varied compendium of factors, some of which are far beyond my control. Surely coffee alone is not a deal maker or breaker. So drink up, fiends, and mark your calendar with my new favorite day: National Doughnut Day is always the first Friday in June.

A Week Without Coffee

If you know me (which, if you're reading this, you almost certainly do), you know that I love me some coffee. There's something about a nice, hot cup in the morning or after a meal that just hits the spot like nothing else can. I also enjoy the process of making coffee - the simple, sequential, familiar steps that lead up to the pressing of the 'brew' button, the comforting noise of the coffeemaker and finally, the wonderful smell and taste of fresh coffee. Normally, I just sip mine straight-up, no cream or sugar, but occasionally a nice mocha or cappuccino is divine.

This week I'm going to do something sort of crazy, something almost bordering on insane... This week I'm off coffee. Just to do it, to prove to myself that I can. And also as a sort of experiment to find out if I feel different without coffee. I've heard conflicting reports about how coffee affects your health; one week it's good for cognitive function and a fantastic source of antioxidants, and the next it's bad for your blood sugar levels and overall cardiovascular health. So to cut through all the hype, I just want to know how my body will respond to a Week Without Coffee (WWC).

My WWC begins right now. And just to clarify, the no coffee rule includes decaf. I've never thought of decaf as 'real' or 'actual' coffee, but if I'm gonna do this, I'm gonna do this - you know? Do I expect it to be easy? No, not really. Especially this weekend when I'm sitting at home doing my normal coffee-drinking activities like sitting on the porch, eating breakfast, reading or catching up on email. But I'm not such a coffee hound that I expect to have any tangible symptoms of withdrawal other than the uncontrollable urge to stare longingly at my coffeemaker. Time will tell.

When in Doubt, Quiche

This week I endeavored to host the Shoeless Book Club at my apartment (click here to read my slightly anxiety-riddled 'before' post). It was a first for me in the sense that I had several guests over for dinner without K there to do all the work.

I was a little bit stressed-out about the menu. I never cook, so I knew I had to pick easy dishes that would be near-impossible to mess up. For snacks, I settled on texas caviar and slices of french bread with goat cheese and honey. The texas caviar was a huge hit! The recipe was provided courtesy of my colleague, J, and I'm happy to pass it along upon request. Consider making it next time you host a gathering or find yourself scrambling for something to bring to a potluck - you won't be sorry! It's only downfall is that it makes your kitchen reek of vinegar, but I made it the night before, opened some windows, and was good to go by the time book club commenced.

For the main course, my friend M suggested quiche, which was perfect - I made one with mushrooms, onion and ham, and a meatless version with mushrooms, onion, asparagus, spinach, and broccoli. I served the quiches with a big chopped salad because, as I always say, everybody loves a chopped salad. We topped the meal off with red wine and cake from Trader Joe's.

Luckily, I had tidied up the apartment so there was room for all my guests. I even moved some furniture around in the dining room to make it easier for people to move around the space. As host, I had to select a few book options for all Shoeless members to vote on. The big winner was Nervous Conditions by Tsitsi Dangarembga - a novel I have been wanting to re-read for the last several years.

In the end, I think everyone went home with full tummies and the book club meeting was a success. One would think that the experience would have improved my hosting abilities (and confidence therein), but more than that, it just made me even more appreciative of all that K does whenever we have guests over. Just one of many reasons I'm so lucky to have him in my corner.

Shoeless and Without a Plan

Back in December, I had the good fortune of being invited to join a fabulous book club. Our next meeting is tomorrow, and it is my first turn to host. Hosting a meeting of the Shoeless Book Club is quite an endeavor, entailing preparation of a full dinner for 7 to 10 people (depending on attendance), with drinks and dessert.

Now, K and I have been known to throw a dinner party from time to time. But he always takes the lead on everything from planning the menu and cooking the meal to setting the table and mixing the drinks. My duties are generally restricted to opening beer bottles, making conversation and sometimes doing the dishes. But tomorrow K is unavailable (and anyway, he's not in the book club), which means that I will have to take on a few things that I've long been fully dependent on him for.

Right now I'm feeling a little overwhelmed because I don't have a plan. A good first step might be to make a list of what needs to be done today. So here we go:

1. Plan a menu. (Since I never cook, I should probably stick with simple dishes. And I should plan to make most of the food tonight because after I get home from work tomorrow I'll have less than an hour before my guests start to arrive.)

2. Go grocery shopping.

3. Clean my apartment. (The clutter will have to go if I'm going to have ample room for up to 10 people in my tiny place.)

4. Finish reading this month's book. (Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro - not loving it, but I'm curious about how it will end.)

5. Choose two or three options for the next book. (The host presents a few possibilities to the group and then the rest of the members vote.)

6. Cook the meal!

Wow, that's daunting... I better go get started.

The Mixteco Initiative

On Wednesday, I vowed to eat at the most popular restaurant in my neighborhood, Mixteco Grill, by the end of this week. Long lines be damned. Here's a summary of my efforts:

Wednesday: I called Mixteco at 4:30 - no answer. Their answering machine explains that weekday hours are 5:00 to 10:00pm (except Mondays, when they are closed). I try calling again around 5:30 - still no answer. I don't think this is going to be easy.


Thursday: Today I called at 5:00 and again at 5:15, but got the same message each time. Seriously? You guys are open; your answering machine even says so; I know you're in there, and if I didn't have plans to go to spinning at 6:00, I'd walk down there right now and demand a reservation.

At 5:30 I tried one more time. And lo! - a person answered my call! I told him I'd like to make a reservation for two people at 8 o'clock, please. 'Sorry,' he said, 'we're all booked up tonight and tomorrow. But you should try to come in as a walk-in tonight. We have a few tables of two booked for 6:00/6:30, so they should be about to leave by 8:00.'

Haha, you're not going to fool me with that one! I mentioned in my last post that K tried once before to get a reservation at Mixteco. They told him the same thing: just come by later, the wait probably won't be long. So we did, but when we got there, they said it would be at least an hour. If it comes down to it and that's just the way it has to be, I'm willing to wait an hour in order to fulfill my mission. But today is only Thursday, and I'm not yet ready to resign myself to it.

Friday: In search of advice, I read some reviews of Mixteco on yelp.com today, and I think I've gleaned some useful insight. According to yelp ("Real People. Real Reviews."), Saturday and Sunday brunch are my best bets for getting a table without a wait, particularly if I arrive shortly after they open at 10am. Okay, Real People, I'll trust you on this one.

Saturday: woke K at 9:45am and we arrived at Mixteco by 10:15. There were loads of available tables and we were seated right away - thanks yelp! We started with orange juice, which was freshly squeezed and delicious (no pulp, just like K likes it), and were treated to chips and salsa verde. Our guacamole arrived with big pieces of cucumber and radish in it for dipping - yum!

We ordered the steak tacos and chicken enchiladas brunch entrees. Both were delectable and very nicely plated. The meats were not at all tough, and the various flavors involved blended together beautifully. I saved room for dessert so I could order the famous pastel de tres leches ('almond cake soaked in three milks'). It was amazingly moist and perfectly complimented by the topping of strawberry and pineapple chunks - possibly the highlight of the meal, especially because it went so well with the distinct taste of the house coffee (is that cinnamon and citrus in there?).

I brought my camera along to take pictures of the food, but once we started eating I became way too distracted to play photographer. Only after the meal was over and I was laying on the table in a food coma did I remember the camera.

As I am the furthest thing from an expert on Mexican cuisine, it would be a little presumptuous for me to go into much more detail about Mixteco's food, but suffice it to say this: it lived up to its reputation, and that alone is quite a feat. On top of that, the service was great: fast and friendly. So if you ever happen to be in the neighborhood at 10:00am on the weekend, I highly recommend you pop in for brunch. For dinner, make your reservation a week in advance, and don't forget to BYOB.

Mixteco Mission and Reverse Parallel Lives

Upon moving into our current apartment two months ago, K and I soon noticed that there are a couple of restaurants within a one-block radius of us that are constantly jam-packed with people. One of them is Glenn's Diner, a fun and quirky place (they have a cereal wall!) specializing in seafood. K, our friend J and I stopped in for a delicious late lunch on moving day - they just happened to have three empty stools at the bar - but we have not had a chance to try their dinner menu because every time we've tried to go there has been a line out the door. K and I are generally not reservation-making people, but we will have to make an exception for Glenn's, the only "diner" I've ever been to that necessitates reservations for a party of two!

The other staggeringly popular restaurant on our block is Mixteco Grill. Time Out Chicago says, "Mixteco doubled its dining room capacity recently, but that's done nothing to quell the crowds it gets, even on otherwise sleepy Wednesday nights. Summertime is only bound to make the crowds (and thus the waits) worse..." Oh no! K and I have popped in two or three times to see if they could seat us for dinner, but the wait was always upwards of an hour, so we never saw it through. Once K even called several hours in advance but was unable to get a reservation. I think Time Out is right: as the weather warms up, Chicagoans will be more willing to traverse the city for good food, and it will become increasingly difficult to get into Mixteco. So I hereby resolve to secure a table by the end of this week. The plan: do whatever it takes. I really hope the guac and mole live up to their reputation.

In other, unrelated news, I watched "The Big Bang Theory" again this week - I'm very impressed with this show and it is growing on me. In the new episode, Leonard and Kuthrapali attempt to take Howard's mind off of his broken heart by convincing him to go with them on a weekend trip to Las Vegas, where they remain for the majority of the half-hour show. So in the few weeks since I started this blog, "The Big Bang Theory" has addressed the topics of comic books and Vegas - and so have I, albeit in reverse order. It makes me think that my favorite sitcom characters and I may be leading parallel lives. Well, reverse parallel lives, anyway. Is this some sort of cosmic connection? I guess I'll just have to keep watching.