Otherwise Known as Useless

Although it did my soul a world of good catching up with my BFF over the phone it nearly killed the rest of me. I couldn't tell you exactly how I got that drunk (OK, that's kind of obvious) or why I stayed up so long but come rising time I was a wreck.

I figured it was Monday and despite being stuck on a double it would be slow and my walking-dead status would go barely noticed. Au contraire, we were under staffed and very busy. We ran out of glasses, of silverware... 30 minute ticket times for burgers, I had a new serving partner - who is an idiot - and 35 covers all at the same time glaring at me in that way that says "where is my food you dumb bitch?" Compounded by the fact that was simultaneously still drunk and hung-over, I was doing lunch the hard way.

I managed to run into every corner, knock into every chair, pour wine onto the table instead of the glass, dump whole loaves of bread on the floor and drop a tray onto another server's head (don't ask I don't even know how I managed that one). After 5 hours of hell I walked with a measly 67 dollars. My head still hurt. I was starving and now terribly craving a burger - of which I sold probably 15 of the previous shift - go figure.

My meager hour and half break was spent with the in-law, my man, and my neighbor. Instead of that burger I got the left overs from their boring ham, brie and apple panini but - god help me - my man made me a spicy bloody mary. I was feeling better already. (The glass and half of wine helped too).

I literally ran back to work (damn, I gotta start doing some cardio!) to do it all over again. Dinner was really no easier than lunch and karma has a way of sneaking back up on you.. . Or, rather, a way of sending someone else to hit you in the face with a large tray of food. (Thanks, Evan).

6 and a half hours (and 25 dollars) later I took myself out for a burger and a bloody. Both were delicious.

Today I may have crossed the threshold from being a functional drunk to alcoholic. Oh well, I guess all there is to do is poor myself another drink. Which I did promptly.

A Love Letter to the Minneapolis Food Scene

Earlier this week we actually had some good ethnic food; a giant bowl of phở that warmed my heart as much as it did my belly. We also had a gloriously scented jasmine tea and a ho-hum bánh mì sandwich but it was the best Asian food we’d had in months in a kitchen other than our own. In a place where a firm percentage of the population is Vietnamese you’d think it not be the challenge that it is to have good, honest food prepared simply with the fresh ingredients that I know must be here. Alas, they seem to focus more on the sale of Sysco based GI-Chinese food that has failed us at every try.

With the success of our bowl of phở I was reminded of the many ethnic haunts we so regularly visited in Minneapolis. Never more than a bike ride away my craving for Thai or the like was quick to be satiated. Sadly, these days, there’s a lot of risk involved (Will this place be any good? Oh please let this place be good!) in addition to a journey that requires the commitment of time, a ferry or long winding bridge to somewhere unknown – typically, the trip requires all three.

Never were the (hunger) pangs of home sickness greater than today when I received my issue of Metro’s food issue. Although small in size, the food scene in Minneapolis is large in heart and diversity. I miss it deeply.

Having moved to a city whose culinary identity is vastly cliché and often poorly executed, I miss the authenticity and commitment to good food done well. I miss the fine food and friends I had come to take for granted in Minneapolis and St. Paul.

You’re in my heart, Twin Cities, but –unfortunately for me – not in my stomach.