Four Days in Chicago, Vol. One: Food

So how the hell do I write this thing? I mean, four days with rafaela and the Abbey and Nik Show in my home city which I haven't been to in at least a year, visiting family members who haven't seen the kids in even longer? Too much happened. Too much to write about. Far too much for y'all to read about. Too much even for one of my list-ish thingamabobs.

So. The installment plan it is. Food's as good a place to start as any:

Meals Eaten in Chicago and Surrounding Environs

Wednesday:

* Bagels. Nik ate about three of 'em. He went so far as to overlook the fact that he doesn't like them toasted or slathered in cream cheese, just so he could have some more bagels.

* Hot dogs. Dad prepared them Chicago-style, which meant there were about 287 condiments on the table, all of which got used. Man, were they good. I was careful to inform rafaela that asking for a hot dog with ketchup in Chicago would get her looked at funny.

* Veal piccata with fetuccine Alfredo / fetuccine al pesto and a wicked tomato salad. Did I mention that my dad can cook like a fiend? Nik didn't eat, because he passed out on the couch as dinner was being served. Something about having gotten up at 3 a.m. Chicago time that day....

Thursday:

* Bagels. Nik ate about three of 'em. See lack of dinner above.

* Bennigan's on Michigan Avenue, right across the street from the Art Institute, where we'd just been. I tried to learn from past mistakes and ordered my Monte Cristo as a panini, rather than my usual slog through deep-fried hell. Abbey ordered a drink that the waitress didn't even know was on the menu. rafaela ordered a stiff scotch with a Coke chaser. That about sums it up.

* Dad's amazing pot roast and mashed potatoes. Pardon me a moment while I swoon. Nik only ate three bites of potatoes, and that was only after I took his plate to the kitchen to mime putting cheese in them. He then passed out on the couch.

Friday:

* Bagels. Nik ate about three of 'em. See lack of dinner above.

* Wendy's. The counter worker didn't look like she was actually throwing Abbey's soda at me, but that was the overall effect. My jacket smells orangy now.

* Dog 'n' Suds. Dude, friggin' Dog 'n' Suds! I was dancing on air, people. (For those unfamiliar, Dog 'n' Suds was a chain of actual honest-to-God drive-in restaurants—like, carhops and those trays you stick in the window and everything—in the Chicago area that died out in the very early 80's. Some guy, though, decided to bring it back within the last year. Charburgers and homemade root beer, prepared with the same recipe that I haven't tasted since I was nine. Goddamn, was I happy. rafaela got her first taste of real non-Sonic drive-in culture, and loved it.)

Saturday:

* Dunkin' Donuts. By now we were with my sister Karen, bro-in-law James and nephew wi' the mostsest Liam. Nik and Abbey ordered bagels.

* Cheap Indian carry-out. They didn't bother labeling any of the containers, and it all looked suspiciously the same: "Wait...is this...lamb...?" Tasty, though.

* A smorgasbord of hors d'oeuvres upon our return to my dad's, as his entire wing of the family had come to see us. Chili, bagel dogs, four kinds of pasta salad, cookies, Brie, pot stickers, on and on and on. rafaela handed me the second half of her Cognac. I went back for Brie three times.

Oh, and Sunday was lunch with zarhooie and lbitw to decompress after dropping the kids off. All's well.