Oh Brother

Last post: June 1
Today's date: November 13
Me: useless

Even though I am the only person who reads this (not false modesty; if I knew how to prove such things via technology, I would), I am annoyed at letting V&V lapse for so long, if only because it is one of few diversions I have that doesn't involve television, mind-altering substances or buying new clothes (number of garbage bags filled with clothes that I am going to "get rid of" sitting in the corner of my room right now: five?) Seeing as I have recently taken steps to chip away at my lazy and apathetic nature, perhaps I can recommit myself to writing at least a little something 2-5x/wk (and only in abbreviation form.) Summer was a bit rough, psychologically, and just a moment ago I was actually stunned to look out my front window and see the tree in our courtyard was completely orange instead of the green that it would be if I were to think about it without looking at it. The weather has been mostly mild, allowing me to ignore the fact that grey winter is imminent.

What inspired me this morning was eating some leftover spring rolls I'd picked up yesterday at Nhu Lan bakery here in Lincoln Square. I'm a fan of Vietnamese food in general, but until recently hadn't revisited their sandwich offerings, which are worthy. Growing up, my best friend lived near "Little Saigon" (I don't think anyone actually calls it that), a strip of Vietnamese and Chinese restaurants and groceries on Argyle Street. Her Chinese mother would often bring us intimidating, unfamiliar treats from these shops. One that always stood out in my mind was a Banh Mi, a Vietnamese sandwich of various meats, topped with carrots, daikon radish, cilantro, hot peppers and mayonnaise on french bread. One often finds pork belly or pork pate on these sandwiches. So, my first time eating one of these (10 years old?) was a mindfuck indeed. It contained familiar elements - french bread, mayo, carrots - and foreign elements, like all the other stuff. It tasted good but it also tasted really weird! The meat was heady and, to my young olfactory system, had a guttural or even garbage-y smell.

Jump to 2010. I start reading LTH Forum, the Chicago food-lovers' message board, with some regularity. Nhu Lan is a recipient of their "Great Neighborhood Restaurant" award for its delicious food and miser-friendly price point. And it's four blocks from my house. Working from home one day, I decide to revisit the Banh Mi that had perplexed me as a child. And I'm so glad I did. Though I am not brave enough to try the headcheese and ham combo (yet), the pork belly and pate hit the spot. It was a big, awesome sandwich, with just the right balance of salt, sweet and heat. And it's only $3.25! (cue swelling violins and birds gently tweeting)

Yesterday was another work from home day, which I think might now just be called Nhu Lan day. I went and got my sammich, but wanted to try another offering, so I grabbed a three-pack of (giant) spring rolls - one each of shrimp, pork and tofu, with a side of peanut sauce - even though I am rightly wary of such pre-packaged offerings. My fears were baseless this time. They were fresh and very, very tasty. I ate half of each spring roll in addition to my big awesome sandwich, then lolled around in a food haze for the rest of the afternoon. The spring rolls were $4.50, and I ate the rest of them for breakfast today, still as crisp and delicious as yesterday, with a cup of coffee (or half coffee-half soy milk, as coffee seems to make me extra dehydrated and jittery these days, boo hoo.)

I have a Nhu appreciation for Vietnamese food! And I would be remiss in not mentioning that Nhu Lan is steps away from the greatest grocery store in the history of the world, HarvesTime. The 2600 block of Lawrence Avenue brings shine to a street that, I have posited, is mostly crappy no matter which neighborhood through which it runs, bar a few great restaurants.

In other food-related events, a group of fine friends went to a local chain last night for my sister's birthday. The food was remarkable only in its expense ($10 for a side of sauteed spinach? I could make ten pounds of sauteed spinach for that price), but the drinks were flowing and, late in the meal, A. noticed that the table next to us had left half a bottle of white wine chilling within reach (when I say "had left," I mean that the party was long gone.) In his buzzed state he reached over and poured some into his own wine glass, in full view of about five bus boys and servers. A few minutes later an obsequious manager approaches him and says, "Excuse me sir, but I was told that this is not your wine," to which A. responded "Oh!" The manager grabbed the wine and asked if he needed any water - bit of a dick move. We were all stunned and highly amused. As one of the last tables in the dining room, one might think that we would have hightailed it out of embarrassment, but no! We stayed, ordered dessert, and talked loudly about the ridiculousness of the situation. Even though the staff looked like they wanted to murder us by the end of the night, a good time was had by all.