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pantryslutOK, so that walk. I ended up going all the way down to the end of my neighborhood, crossing under the freeway, and continuing well into the industrial zone along Bayshore Dr. Then I want to Beverages and More and bought a bottle of wine and brought it home; stopped off along the way for an ice cream sandwich. (Yes, I live in California, and it was bright and sunny and entirely temperate. Sorry.) It was a lot of fun -- I love long walks like that, and I don't take them nearly enough. Plus, it's good exercise. I spend entirely too much time in my life behind a desk.
Yesterday was one of those days with too much time spent on my butt. I worked, and then I got up and went to my other job, and then I headed for the East Bay for my Potlatch reader's theater rehearsal, and then to a late dinner, then to bed. I ate entirely crap food, too -- diner schlock, fast food...only the Vietnamese spring rolls I picked up for a snack were in any way worthwhile.
I realy want to find a good, inexpensive, late-night restaurant in San Francisco that serves food I don't feel guilty eating. That serves food I like, not food I'll settle for. Yeah, I'm asking a lot. I should learn to cook more quick and tasty dishes at home, but when it's 11:30 and I haven't eaten dinner, I want a backup, dammit.
Today was a bit better in terms of food and activity level (not that I didn't have fun yesterday, especially at the rehearsal). I ran all over town this afternoon looking for kielbasa. I didn't know it was going to turn into an adventure! I went to Gastronom, a Russian deli, after calling ahead. Got to the meat counter and asked, "do you have kielbasa?" "Yes, what kind?"
Whimper.
Where I come from (Chicago and Michigan), kielbasa only comes in one variety.
It's long and made of pork, reddish, about an inch and a half diameter. Well, this place had three-inch bologna-style cuts, a hard version, a hot version, a three-inch monster of a sausage, and a little foil-wrapped short and stout thing.
The ladies behind the counter didn't speak English too well, either, which didn't help -- I have forgotten most of the Russian I used to know. So, I looked pitiful for a moment. One of the ladies offered to let me taste a few, and cut a slice off the three-inch-diameter thing.
Oh, heaven. Precisely what I was looking for. It tasted like my childhood memory of kielbasa, only much, much better. My partner tells me that the counter ladies smiled at the sounds I made.
I bought two pounds of it. A huge log of delicious, sentimental sausage.
I know some people think sausage is disgusting. Too bad. What they are missing.
(Actually, I've noticed sausage getting kind of trendy lately, with ingredients like chicken and dried cherries, or duck and juniper. Or else "ethnic" sausages like mergez or andouille or linguica. Well, this is old-school, fatty pork sausage, folks.)
Mmmmm.
Yesterday was one of those days with too much time spent on my butt. I worked, and then I got up and went to my other job, and then I headed for the East Bay for my Potlatch reader's theater rehearsal, and then to a late dinner, then to bed. I ate entirely crap food, too -- diner schlock, fast food...only the Vietnamese spring rolls I picked up for a snack were in any way worthwhile.
I realy want to find a good, inexpensive, late-night restaurant in San Francisco that serves food I don't feel guilty eating. That serves food I like, not food I'll settle for. Yeah, I'm asking a lot. I should learn to cook more quick and tasty dishes at home, but when it's 11:30 and I haven't eaten dinner, I want a backup, dammit.
Today was a bit better in terms of food and activity level (not that I didn't have fun yesterday, especially at the rehearsal). I ran all over town this afternoon looking for kielbasa. I didn't know it was going to turn into an adventure! I went to Gastronom, a Russian deli, after calling ahead. Got to the meat counter and asked, "do you have kielbasa?" "Yes, what kind?"
Whimper.
Where I come from (Chicago and Michigan), kielbasa only comes in one variety.
It's long and made of pork, reddish, about an inch and a half diameter. Well, this place had three-inch bologna-style cuts, a hard version, a hot version, a three-inch monster of a sausage, and a little foil-wrapped short and stout thing.
The ladies behind the counter didn't speak English too well, either, which didn't help -- I have forgotten most of the Russian I used to know. So, I looked pitiful for a moment. One of the ladies offered to let me taste a few, and cut a slice off the three-inch-diameter thing.
Oh, heaven. Precisely what I was looking for. It tasted like my childhood memory of kielbasa, only much, much better. My partner tells me that the counter ladies smiled at the sounds I made.
I bought two pounds of it. A huge log of delicious, sentimental sausage.
I know some people think sausage is disgusting. Too bad. What they are missing.
(Actually, I've noticed sausage getting kind of trendy lately, with ingredients like chicken and dried cherries, or duck and juniper. Or else "ethnic" sausages like mergez or andouille or linguica. Well, this is old-school, fatty pork sausage, folks.)
Mmmmm.
