90 Miles Cuban Café – Comparing Oranges to Grapefruits

Fat people leisurely jaywalking really rubs my goat (note: is that a real saying?). I would more readily accept genetic explanations for obesity if only they put a little hustle towards burning off that second Whopper. All I’m saying is your flower-pattern summer muumuu and crocs give you the mobility to hit a brisk trot on the crosswalk so the flow of traffic can continue.

So too with 90 Miles Cuban Café (2540 W Armitage Ave). No, actually that has nothing to do with 90 Miles. I’ve just been testy recently and goober Chicago drivers/pedestrians’ amateur antics have always been a rich source for Chittlins harangues.

90 Miles almost didn’t happen – the décor was too clean and the clientele too bourgeois for Sizzlenutz’s self-satisfaction (read: cultural masturbation). On his way towards 90 Miles he spotted a pair of Cuban places that from street level appeared to have more street credibility. However, since I had just finished my chest wailing bench press sesh with Mumbles, and my protein window was closing fast, we agreed to just sit down.

I ordered the Ropa Vieja sandwich with an empanada de chicharon, while Sizzlenutz settled on the classic Cubano. The meal itself was unremarkable. The place is BYOB and has nice ambiance, so it could be a sugar on the game location to impress an undemanding date. However the prices in person were about $2 higher than online. Big deal? Sorta. Maybe we had okay $6 sandwiches but subpar $9 ones. On the bright side, we ended up walking to those other Cuban places and they ended up being even shlubbier than our choice. I have to believe all things work out for the best.

In any case, the company was more than delightfully complex enough to make up for the food. The differences between men and women makes up the whole of the Western comedy canon, still, Sizzlenutz finds a way to rehash old material into something refreshing. He is very much like a tubby person that gets to the crosswalk, sees that the countdown for the light to change has begun, and, doing a mental calculation, realizes that he won’t make it to the other side at a comfortable waddle without inconveniencing the motorists waiting for him to cross. Like a decent, socially responsible citizen, he therefore waits for the next one. It’s a fine point, to be sure, but one worth noting.