eG Foodblog: Lady T - Meals of a traveling minstrel...

[Lady T]

Gulp. Missed my cue, did I? So be it: keep up with me if you can, kinfolk...

Monday breakfast didn't happen. Running too fast...

Monday lunch, inhaled at the desk with a micromanager hanging over my every bite, was sushi: couple kinds of nori rolls and Diet Coke.

Monday dinner: consoled myself with leisurely saute of cut-up tomatoes/crimini mushrooms/asparagus/small amounts of chopped parsley, basil, oregano, all over penne pasta with Parmesan. Good chunk of good bread (can't complain; I baked it, back on the weekend). Hess Select Chard to drink.

This is the last meal I will be able to cook until Saturday, for a variety of reasons which will become clear to y'all during the week.

Tuesday breakfast...didn't happen. I blush. But I needed the sleep more than I needed to eat.

Tuesday lunch is what I'm eating now, at the desk again: a more-than-merely-decent attempt from downstairs White Hen at a chicken Caesar salad. Produce is surprisingly nice -- but gotta lose the oversalted pink gloop they think is salad dressing. A dark-chocolate Dove candy bar provides both consolation and blood-pressure medication. Can I rationalize or what?

But the RFQ (Request for Qualifications) I was hacking out got done. Correctly. It's notarized, duplicated and in the correct City of Chicago agency's hands, a sumptuous hour and a half ahead of deadline. Gah.

Tonight, lugging a seven-point-six pound notebook full of mostly hand-copied and/or multiply photocopied music, I will go to sing a three-hour rehearsal at a local Conservative Jewish congregation, as a member of their choir for the High Holy Days. Dinner is gonna have to be fast, cheap, and commercial, at a nearby IHOP (International House of Pancakes).

To be continued...

[maggiethecat]

Hooray, Sue! And please don't forget your wine recs. On second thought that ain't gonna happen!

Er, tell me. Do you know the liturgical music of every major denomination? Don't you have a regular gig with the north shore Episcopalians? (as well, of course with the CSO Chorus.)

[Lady T]

Well, Maggie, Thursday night's rehearsal will be in northwest Evanston with my favorite group of WhiskeyPalians. Sunday morning, however, is in the synagogue this week; Rosh Hashanah services will extend from 9 a.m. to 2 p.m., give or take, on Saturday and Sunday (not to forget the Erev Rosh Hashanah service on Friday night, which is a 'two-fer', being also Shabbat, and therefore incorporating a few extra bits of liturgy for which traditional tunes Must Be Sung, or the congregation fusses -- quite as Episcopalians do if their fave hymns don't happen).

How's that for a compound-complex event? Confused yet? It gets better...

[Schneier]

We could start FedExing you breakfast. They have that early morning delivery in some cities.

Bruce

[Lady T]

Bless you for that thought, Bruce...but I'm not sure I could handle the fallout once the rest of my office sees croissants and jam and smoked salmon and serious imported coffee and who-knows-what-else arriving every morning! Were you planning on feeding twenty architects with starving souls as well?

And where would I FedEx the payment?

[NeroW]

therefore incorporating a few extra bits of liturgy for which traditional tunes Must Be Sung, or the congregation fusses -- quite as Episcopalians do if their fave hymns don't happen

I *hate* it when my fave hymns don't happen!

[Schneier]

Bless you for that thought, Bruce...but I'm not sure I could handle the fallout once the rest of my office sees croissants and jam and smoked salmon and serious imported coffee and who-knows-what-else arriving every morning!  Were you planning on feeding twenty architects with starving souls as well?

There's a business idea in there somewhere....

Bruce

[Suzanne F]

Is your White Hen something like a 7-11 or Circle-K? Or a real local restaurant? I'm asking because the only place I've ever seen one is Gloucester, MA -- not exactly in Chicagoland.

[bergerka]

It seems to me the REALLY important question here is:

Will you be having the chocolate chip pancakes at IHOP???????

MMM. chocolate chip pancakes.

K, eating the last of the ginger snaps--why the hell did this batch come out CHEWY?????

[Lady T]

Not if I don't get outta here fast: it's 5:30 already, and rehearsal's at seven!

*Closes down computer. Leaps over partition and runs screaming for Lake View neighborhood.*

[ronnie_suburban]

Is your White Hen something like a 7-11 or Circle-K?  Or a real local restaurant?  I'm asking because the only place I've ever seen one is Gloucester, MA -- not exactly in Chicagoland.

Yep...White Hen Pantry, a local C-store chain.

=R=

[Schneier]

So much for that nice home cooked meal I've been slaving over all afternoon. But don't you worry about it; I'll just eat it alone by myself in the dark without light. Just wake me up when you return, and I'll reheat the leftovers that you never appreciate.

Your mom

[Lady T]

Heh. You do the guilt trip almost as well as my own Mom did, Bruce. Thing is, though, Mom died in January 1976; if she got a day pass from Wherever She Is to come back to cook for me, I'd be there. Trust me. I wouldn't dare be anywhere else.

Also I'd be there for the lecture on how I arrange my kitchen (I'm left-handed; she wasn't), and the critique of the art on my walls (now packed away for the upcoming move to Evanston in October), and some pointed commentary about the contents of my fridge, and the state of my shelves ("Don't you have any canned soups? They're so handy." "Um, no, Mom. I make soup from scratch most times...")

I regret to say, bergerka, that I couldn't face the chocolate-chip pancakes with the specter of three hours of tetchy a cappella singing in Hebrew looming thereafter; can't support consistent sound with that much of a load on my innards, however much of a comfort to my spirit it would've been. What happened at IHOP was a big 12-ounce orange juice, two eggs over easy, two strips of bacon done as crisply as I wanted for once, two pieces of rye toast done as lightly as I requested (for once!), and surprisingly decent and decently hot hash browns. Also I got a tall server with a ponytail who called me "sweetie." (I take my compliments where I get 'em, I do.) I tipped him well.

The household of eGullet will, however, note that I managed to inhale a container of Dannon peach yogurt on the way out the door this morning. I did get a breakfast, if still not of the fix-it-sit-down-eat-it-and-clean-up variety. I expect to hear applause.

Um. The sound of one hand clapping, maybe?

Okay. All right. I expect to not hear catcalls, anyway.

Later, for lunch.

[maggiethecat]

The household of eGullet will, however, note that I managed to inhale a container of Dannon peach yogurt on the way out the door this morning.  I did get a breakfast, if still not of the fix-it-sit-down-eat-it-and-clean-up variety.  I expect to hear applause. 

Brava! Bravissima!

[Lady T]

*Bows politely.*

Exit Lady T, laughing.

[Schneier]

And for an encore....potato chips out of a vending machine.

Ta dah!!

Bruce

[Lady T]

Almost, but not quite, Bruce. Lunch today will be paid for by the company (*genuflects in general direction of partners' offices*), because a presentation on tempered glass is going to be given to add to the architects' continuing-education credits -- I'm waiting for the setup to be complete before I slither in with the crowd to find out what the Corner Bakery hath wrought for us all. There may in fact be potato chips in my future. I'll let y'all know shortly.

[Lady T]

Lunch is turning out to be not that bad a haul, actually: rare roast beef piled commendably high on olive bread, with tomato and lettuce, along with penne pasta salad with tomatoes and artichoke bits, generic fruit salad (cut-up pineapple [almost certainly canned], cantaloupe, honeydew, and red grapes), and a large peanut-butter cookie with recognizable bits of nuts, tasting pretty fresh. Diet Pepsi washes down crumbs well.

Thank you, Corner Bakery. Likewise, thank you, my clients/bosses.

The original plan was to eat on the cheap before decamping to my seat for tonight's Figaro performance at Lyric Opera (Okay, full disclosure: I'm a subscriber. Decided years ago that anybody active in the arts should be supporting the arts too. I regret it every year for five minutes while I'm writing the check for the annually-escalating cost, then congratulate myself smugly while hearing the performances through the following fall and winter.). Now that I'm taking umpty-hundred eGulletarians along with me through the week, though, I think the evening deserves Berghoff's; haven't been there in a while, and hey, it's October: wonder if they still hire in the cheesy lederhosen-and-accordion trio to yodel at the customers for Oktoberfest?

This could be more fun -- or more funny -- than usual.

To be continued.

[Schneier]

At my company we regularly order group food for large meetings that overrun lunch. My main requirement is that the food is hot.

Bruce

[Lady T]

Your bosses spend the extra $ for that? Lucky man, and lucky colleagues too!

[Basilgirl]

Thank you, Corner Bakery.

We always order business lunches from The Corner Bakery. Of course, since I'm just an AA, I rarely have to sit in on the meetings. I just order an extra ham on pretzel bread for me.

I make pretzel rolls that are awesome, but I can't figure out how they make that bread.

[Lady T]

Ahhh, Berghoff's. Currently under some sort of renovation, it takes a certain amount of sign-reading just to get into the place and find the maitre station to get seated. Once that's done, however, the people-watching is at least as much fun as the food.

It was just (!) an opera-night crowd last night, after all: the real pre-show mayhem starts tomorrow, when the Chicago Symphony and Lyric start running subscription shows almost simultaneously (Lyric at 7:30, and CSO at 8), and a sizable proportion of the 5,800 or so customers coming to those houses converge on the Loop to eat. You can see 'em all at Berghoff's: Catholic clergy in decorous collars and black suits, downing five a la carte courses and visibly absorbing color and vivacity with the food and wine; shaggy young things in jeans carrying Scary Black Bags fully as loaded as my own, eating cheaply as possible, minutely dissecting Ruth Ann Swenson's portrayal of Mozart's Countess and practically wearing labels bellowing "I Am A Student Of Voice"; sleek young creatures weighing approximately 94 pounds (3 pounds of which are heirloom pearls) on the arms of Armani-suited Masters of The Universe; and dodging their way among all our tables at top speed with no time for nicety so ever, the black-coated waiters and maroon-coated bus staff.

I opted for a glass of Duboeuf Merlot, to go with the wonderful rye bread (the butter was soft enough to spread, for a wonder; usually comes frozen hard as rock!) prior to the nice tender tournedos of beef; these always come with a wonderful crumb-garlic-butter-herb (thyme and parsley as major components) topping I've been trying to duplicate for years. I also had the German fried potatoes (that's hash browns to us Midwesterners, except that the potatoes are thinly sliced into rounds on a mandoline rather than chunked, chopped, or riced) and the immortal creamed spinach, without periodic doses of which I get cranky (the recipe has been published a number of times, though, and it's simple enough to do well at home). Coffee and a generous, blazing-hot chunk of apple strudel followed. Total tariff with tip: $38.00. Beat that, Peter Luger's...

So then: it's Thursday morning, and I dodged out the door yet again without eating anything, but am sitting here with a cup of Irish Breakfast tea and honey, and the working universe is more or less under control for the moment.

Tonight I'm Episcopal from 7:30 to 9; where shall I take you all to eat before rehearsal?

[maggiethecat]

Thank you, thank you for your wonderful description of the Berghoff, the very first restaurant I ever dined at in Chicago. It is still one of my favorites, and not just for the timeless Chicago ambience, and the wonderful murals of the Columbian Exposition. I have never been disappointed in the food (Schnitzel Platter value still can't be beat!) and the price tag is very fair.

I think my recent crankiness can be ascribed to Creamed Spinach Deficit. This lapsed WhiskeyPalian might return to the Berghoff tonight. Wow! the butter was actually soft?

(How was Figaro?)

Edited September 25, 2003 by maggiethecat (log)

[Lady T]

(How was Figaro?)

Um. I was avoiding that, actually, Mags.

Warning: You are in danger of a prolonged, literally operatic rant. Skip to next entry, properly on-topic and involving food and wine, unless you can take it when divas unload.

Ahem. Harumph.

DAMMITALL!!

WHY, when Chicago has a massive 3,700 seat opera house, does Lyric Opera's management insist on casting voices that can only adequately fill a thousand-seat hall?! The voices are beautiful, the diction is frequently crisp and eloquent, and the interpretations are mostly elegant and intelligent -- but we can't hear them distinctly.

WHY, when Lyric Opera has a superb professional orchestra capable of observing the entire dynamic scale from barely-thinking-loud quiet to blow-the-roof-off-earsplitting loud, do conductors (that was you, last night, Sir Andrew Oblivious!) insist on leaning on the loud end of the meter and forcing singers to shout to be heard at all -- warping voices out of pitch in the process? (In the case of Ildebrando D'Arcangelo, last night's Figaro, it may have been what blew him out entirely: his cover had to do the last act for him!)

WHY, when a singer indicates throughout the rehearsal period that they need a slightly faster tempo in order to carry a long elegant line without needing an oxygen tank, do conductors ignore the need and drag the line into extinction? (That one's to your address, too, Sir Andrew, specifically in "Dove sono", where to my ear, you virtually sabotaged Ruth Ann Swenson's beautifully thought-out hard work.) What were you thinking?!?

DAMMITALL!!

There. Thank you. I feel much better. We now return to erudite and civilized discussions of the world's cuisines.

[maggiethecat]

Pace, pace Cara!

Bummer. Well...at least you had the memory of the creamed spinach!