I sometimes, on Friday’s, will run to Hometown Deli just down the street from the radio station here to grab lunch, a maybe treat to myself this one day a week if I can. There’s no regular menu of the hot food at this place so there is always an anticipation of a possible welcome surprise (please be Chicken Francaise today … please be Chicken Francaise today). Plus, they know me and smile and say “Hi” and the cute girl in the glasses ringing me up has the coolest set of little tattoos behind her left ear. Can’t go wrong with that.
It’s expensive though. If I told you how much I make you’d give me 5 bucks a hug and start a Go Fund Me page, so it just can’t be a regular thing, however much I may wish it could. And even when I do go I can only justify it knowing that whatever I pick up is my whole weekend, dividing too many dollars by the number of meals I can get out of it to bring it down to something more mentally manageable.
Yes. I am sadly, though, gloriously pathetic, and I mean that. Gloriously. It’s also important to grab something that is OK cold for when I’m just too fucking lazy to put that something in the microwave. “Jesus, I can’t wait two minutes!’ Two whole freakin’ minutes?! And maybe one more after I stir it!? Shit!”
Last week they had a Philly Cheese on pasta that was perfect, and it easily passed the can ya eat it cold test. This week? Not so much. It was pork n potatoes with sauerkraut which you don’t wanna eat cold, believe me (and this is what this whole post is leading up to).
Sauerkraut should never, and I repeat NEVER, be used to accompany any food other than a hot dog under spicy mustard on a bun along with a beer in the cheap seats at a ballpark. NEVER.
And, as to ballparks, pitchers and catchers are almost here!! The surest sign of winter’s demise and where hope springs … for like 5 minutes as a Buccos fan. It’s a good 5 minutes though and I dearly await that dog and sauerkraut underneath that spicy mustard in the sun, preferably one with horseradish. The ONLY pairing of sauerkraut.
Oh, and an obligatory cat pic of course. What’s a Frankenberry post without at least one. A big bucket O’ Cats. Dutch and his pals.