The center cannot hold

I have been told that I am "funnier in writing than in person" and also "not funny at all." And this is on dates with women who at some point found me palatable enough to agree on at least two hours of close proximity, one-on-one interaction. But they are wrong; I am very funny, even in person. Like the time I tried to ply a stubborn date with the classic "c'mooooooon. I paid for dinner!" Most of my dates end with me apologizing profusely, but I never really mean it because in my head I am already thinking, "I can't wait to tell the guys about this bon mot!" (yes, I drop French phrases like a pretentious asshole even in my own head)

The problem, of course, is the audience. If only my bros were around, I could get the immediate positive reinforcement I crave rather than having to wait until after I drop off the unappreciative lady at her place.

I bring this up because I am right in the long run, but I don't get the credit I deserve until much later if ever. Example: ToucanSam calls me up while stuck in rush hour traffic. He complains about the lone freeway from north suburbs into the city. I remind him that he spent two years audibly sighing, rolling his eyes, and saying "not this again" when I would complain about Chicago's piss-poor driving infrastructure as he sat in the passenger seat of MY car. Yes, ToucanSam, the view is different from the passenger seat than the driver's seat. Now apologize and mean it.

Or most recently with my OC dawgz when they suggested we try that new burger joint that just opened that's drawing so much attention: Five Guys. I told them that I had tried Five Guys while in Chicago and that it was nowhere near as good as our local In-N-Out, both for taste and for value. Compare the mental notes from recent GCL outtings:



Uru-Swati (2629 W Devon Ave)
- pani puri (hollow balls filled with spicy liquid; complex aftertaste)
- bhel (salad made out of interesting Indian shit)
- papdi chaat (Indian nachos made with slightly different Indian shit, or possibly the same Indian shit prepared differently. I honestly can't tell)
- vada pav (complex potato dumpling in unassuming hamburger guise. The evening's winner)

Sabri Nehari (2502 W. Devon Ave)
- Goat stew (complex broth, good if sparse meat on bones)
- Beef stew (beef falls apart in your fork: good sign. table competes to get the last meat scraps. everyone of course except for Chlodnik, who's pescotarianism continues to be a source of buzzkill in otherwise pleasant dinners)
- some paneer dish in yellow/red curry sauce and chickpeas (this was bomb. ordered extra naan just to sop up last remnants of sauce)

Now here are my mental notes for Five Guys.
- mediocre burger (shrug)
- peanut oil-cooked fries (ehhhh, okay)
- costs twice as much as In-N-Out

OC Dawgz, apology accepted. Especially you, Sunny Hills Homecoming Queen 2000. I'm not like your one year old infant you and hubby so cavalierly leave at home ("uhhh, he's asleep or something.").

Now here's a pan-regional bros on ManDates photo gallery, pictures ordered in an escalating scale of bro-ness.


The Sabri proprietor claimed the wait was only 15 minutes. 20 minutes later we asked someone else and they said it was only going to be 20 minutes. The trio of GCL contributors decided to take our business to Uru.

My OC Dawgz are my consumate bros. I do a lot of things with them that later on with my more "sophisticated" friends I disparage ironically. Will this innate contradiction within Chittlins destroy him? Probably.

Special thanks to Ms. I Am the Law for taking this pic and to her gentleman suitor, Guy I Fell in Love With After He Posted Mid-90s Lakers Highlights on My Wall, for driving me to airport.

Will I continue posting from OC? Possibly. I've been meaning to try an Indian Chinese cuisine place a few blocks from me, and at the Orange International Street Fair I was blown away by my first experience with loukoumades, those Greek honey dipped puffs. Will I find an OC-based adventurous gastronome partner in the mold of ToucanSam or Sizzlenutz? Maybe though they're irreplaceable. Will I find love? Not while the gene that codes for "female" also codes for "no sense of humor."

Sweet Nick's is Savory

Sizzlenuts here. FYI, this entry is going to read a bit differently from past and future posts (i.e., fewer jokes, more non-jokes) for reasons that will become obvious below.

Last night Chittlins and I, with our frequent co-eater Chlodnik, set out to Howard Street, a main drag in the African and Caribbean neighborhood of Roger's Park. We had picked Le Conakry for cuisine from French Guinea, a country on the west coast of Africa. I am a big fan of food that was borne from French colonialism, e.g., Banh Mi, and was quite interested in trying this style. However, Le Conakry was closed. Not clear why as it was Friday at 7 pm, but regardless, this makes consecutive GCL trips where we ate not at the intended restaurant, oh well.

However, right in front of where we parked, and right across the street from Le Conakry is Sweet Nick's Caribbean (741 Howard St). It's Haitian food. It was empty besides staff and a TV turned to coverage of the earthquake. We were unsure about going in; we didn't want to disturb them. We did decide to enter. I figured that if they just wanted to be alone with their family, they wouldn't be open.

Sitting down, we didn't know exactly how to behave. In case you don't know, Chittlins and I are very immature, but were quite aware that displaying any of our usual revelry could be considered anything from inconsiderate to grounds for being removed from the restaurant. Chittlins asked the server if she had spoken to her family, and she replied there were still some people that they couldn't reach. Shortly after, they changed the channel to Nickelodeon which we took as a cue that we could relax and enjoy ourselves. Thus, Chittlins retrieved his Trader Joe beer.

Chlodnik is a pescetarian most of the time, and Chittlins was in the mood for fish, and thus, both were disappointed when it was revealed there was no seafood besides the conch stew. Chlodnik broke her general dietary rule and got the stewed chicken. I ordered the conch stew, and Chittlins the fried pork. All came with plantains (not the sweet variety, which was nice as a change up for me) and some sort of rice and beans guy. In sum, while all the dishes were very solid, none were transcendent. The conch stew offset the fishiness of the conch with the spices of the broth quite well. The chicken stew was probably the best of the three. The chicken moist and tender, and the broth flavorful. The pork came with an spicy oily dipping sauce to give it some moisture. I am not the biggest fan of fried pork, too dry for me, but Chittlins explained that for a Cholo such as himself, it was just the way he liked it. The rice and red bean gravy portions were huge (I ate the leftovers for a hungover lazy guy breakfast). The gravy has a very pleasant and soft taste and texture.

As a final note, throughout the meal, the channels were flipped around, often landing on the news. Watching the staff watch the pictures of their country in ruins, not knowing if any of their loved ones were among the rubble, well, that was intense, to say the least.

Follow us on our food map

Chittlins sidenote: I enjoyed my meal far more than Sizzlenuts apparently - even sans the tilapia creole. Perhaps Sizzlenuts is too demanding. Should I ask him to connect me with his former fiancee to ask her if that has been a chronic relationship sabotaging trait of his?

Sizzlenuts response: Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed this food a lot. It just wasn't a top tier food experience. For something to be top tier, when I am eating it I have to have at least one moment of thinking "I could eat this everyday" or even better "why does other food even exist?" Now, these are just "in the moment" responses, as evidence by my having had them several times with a variety of foods. But still, during the experience, I think "this is the best there is" at least once. This is true for me to categorize all kinds sensory experiences as top tier, e.g., music, orgasms, etc. I did not think that during this food. Finally, my absolute love of my ex's food is actually what allowed the relationship to last as long as it did (and was most likely the impetus for it to begin with).

Life, Love and Happiness

There was a little too much goodness in the air last night. The bite had left Chittlins’ tongue and I’m not quite sure what caused it. For now I’ll blame the weather, I’m afraid of what I might find if I dig too deep. We set the mood for the evening by watching the last hour of Amadeus. You might think seeing Wolfie succumb to consumption would dampen our spirits but there’s just something about Queen of the Night that makes you want to eat Afghan food.

Despite the fact that Masouleh (6653 N Clark) is due north of Chittlins’ place I experienced moments of passenger uncertainty. It could have had to do with the fact that somehow Ashland crossed Ashland and we were not supposed to be on either or we were just entranced by the sheer gall of the guy in front of us and forgot where we were (notice the brake light, it says ‘THE CHIEF’). I’m not sure what made me more upset, that someone would buy that thing or that I was sitting in a car that didn’t have one.

Masouleh is distinct in its innocuousness. And the fact that Chittlins tried to make everything he ordered into some sort of sandwich. The fetish must have some origin but it was left unstated. I had the Mirza Ghasemi (eggplant and egg curry with rice) and my date ordered the Masouleh Kabob (beef and rice). The side of pickled cucumbers added some zest but it wasn’t needed, I had Chittlins. We both got lentil soup starters and Persian tea to finish. I like to think we look like two students just sharing a meal but the jealousy I see in many a passing eye makes me think otherwise. It may be self-serving but I prefer to stare back.

If I had to count, I might have experienced 23 of the 30 or so flavors Chittlins has determined each dish must have; he on the other hand only made it to 15. To conclude, would I recommend it? Would I recommend disco bowling? Do it because it makes you a better person and not because you woke up this morning next to the person you know you’ve become and not the person you hope to be.