Stabby’s Corner with Erica S. Vol. II.

This lunch actually happened a few weeks ago, but I forgot to post this entry. Woops.

The Boundary is more than an important landmark in a great fantasy novel whose name I can’t remember....

Melanie and I went out to lunch today! She was very happy. I was not. But not because of the looming one hour with the sister. Rather, work has made my feet a constant reminder of how much it sucks to stand for hours straight, and walking almost two miles in flip flops in 90 degree heat with 60% humidity right before lunch does not a happy Erica make.

That aside, we went to lunch. Melanie took me to some place called “The Boundary.” For a sports bar, it was nice. Big, commercial looking bar and lots of flat screen TVs. Score one for The Boundary? AIR CONDITIONING. And lots of it.

Our server walked up in an inappropriate sundress that showed off her weird, long boobs. I couldn’t help but stare. Neither could you, so don’t even think a judgmental thought.

Melanie and I place our order for two sodas, a buffalo chicken wrap, and fish tacos (I can’t even think the words ‘fish tacos’ without thinking of Pineapple Express. Melanie didn’t get the reference). I’m not really here to comment about the food. That’s more Melanie’s arena. But let’s just say we were 1 ramekin of blue cheese dressing shy, and about three pounds of melted cheese on my tortillas heavy. But we ate it, and mostly enjoyed.

Moving on to what I do best…

Let’s examine server Long Boobs. We saw her exactly four times. Let’s make a list! I like to be organized.

1. After watching her chill at the bar, chatting with the cute bartender and drinking her soda, she ambled over to our table where she didn’t really greet us. We ordered.
2. Sodas.
3. Our food was taking a bit longer than usual, so she told us it would be out in just a minute.
4. As we were walking out the door, she said goodbye.

Now, hopefully, since most of you aren’t idiots, you noticed that most of the basic sequence of service is missing.

Not there to refill soda. Not there to see if we had everything (we didn’t). Not there to drop the check. Not there to run the card and bring it back.

I could make another tasteless joke about how she was so slow because she was tripping over her weirdly long and saggy boobs, but I won’t (didn’t I just…?) Instead, I’ll just say what I always say that 85% of the time gets me an eye roll.

“How hard is it to give good service? Answer: Not that hard!” I stand firmly by this statement, and will test my punching strength if anyone wants to argue. Be warned: I owned a punching bag like 4 years ago. And I used it at least five times in 18 months.

If I were Melanie, I would give this place 2.5 out of 5 sides of ranch that cost 50 cents for food, and 1 out of 5 strained sundress straps for service. But since I’m not Melanie, I’ll just say that I’d only go back there if I was drunk on Division and wanted a beer from their attractively niched beer taps.

And before you ask, no, I didn’t stab her. Or anyone.

"Don't call it a fucking shit steak!"

Sorry, Mom. It was a pretty bad piece of meat. I will no longer be purchasing my steaks at the generic grocer.

Huh? Oh, wow!

Pollito Alvbro. It's a Mexican candy shaped like a whole roasted chicken, but tastes like....I have no idea. The chili flakes make it rough on the tongue, but it's worth it. It tastes like food. That is the best description I can give you. Something you have to try to believe, and you will believe. I got mine free when I ordered from the pick-up window at Big Star ("Aqui vendemos...SABOR!") and I'm hooked. Good thing I have a drawer full of 'em!

A bunch of stuff

(left) Mussels at Hot Chocolate. Went there on a date and it was hot, loud, and still hot. Food was good- He had the burger (well seasoned meat, tasty bun, cheese had bite) and I had the duck on a cauliflower polenta rectangle thingie.










At right, blue crab stuffed lobster at Shaw's Crab House. I Started with oysters Rockefeller, sipped on a Cucumber Mule, picked that lobster clean, and polished it off with a creme brulee. Fifty percent off the whole check, losers!
Also, I ate the tomalley, and it was smooth, creamy, and not gross.


And this is punk rock Bibimbop. Skirt steak, Korean-marinated cold veggies over rice, topped with a fried egg. I was a few whiskeys in, so yeah, it hit the spot. There is a cafe next to and associated with The Empty Bottle that serves a variety of tasties. Feel free to google the name on your own- I'm sleepy and oddly hungry.

Province

It all started when my sister wanted me to stay and sit in on her last class in law school. (I doodled to look busy!) Sensing that- for once- she wanted me to stay and I waned to go, naturally, I exploited the opportunity to score some free dinner. It kinda worked! The twenty dollar budget she gave me was surprisingly generous, although simply paying for the dinner would have been the true mark of a gentle(wo)man.

We went to Province. It is a concept (being "green" and all up in your face about it) restaurant, with the decor falling somewhere between A Bug's Life and minimalist, pseudo-zen simplicity. Located in the West Loop, the clientele was mostly older (but not elderly) folks, and the over-tanned sluts- who dress like life is one big bachelorette party- that could be their progeny.

Our waitress was very nice, and I liked her. However, she seemed to abide by the magicians' code of "Always leave them wanting more," because we saw her maybe three times over the course of our two hours there.

Bitching aside, the food was very good. I'll leave it up to Erica "Stabby" S. to spiel about her issues with the service and why she hates vegetables. The menu at Provice is arranged by size: small bites, like oysters, come first; then appetizers, small plates, big plates, and bigger (normal entree size) plates. We each got an appetizer and a big/er plate.

Pictured above is the appetizer Erica got- It is salt, seasoned with flatbread, arugula, something simply called "cheese," and a slow-poached egg. I got Summer Corn Chowder with Crab and some other stuff. It had a slightly spicy zing to it that I enjoyed, but the obvious enthusiasm the chef has for corn overpowered the crab. If it wasn't for the texture across my tongue, I would never had guessed the crab was there at all.

The entrees were very good. Again, I leave it to Erica to explain her over-seared ahi and vegeable drama. I got the Ten Hour BBQ'd Lamb. The menu said it comes with roasted eggplant, chorizo, and cornbread. The size of the dish was more than adequate (you never know what you're gonna get with these concept places) and had two hunks of tender, fat-like-butta lamb, each the size of those superfluous baby shoes people buy for their infants even though they're too young to walk. The meat was luxurious and moist, like Cinemax soft-core in my mouth, and I didn't have to use my knife even once during the meal. My only gripe? The plate looked like a bowl of turdy dog food. The vegetable, chorizo and cornbread (more of a meal than bread) were smushed into one lumpy brown mess resembling something more like coffee grounds and breakfast vomit than the tasty accompaniment it actually was. But hey, if I was so concerned with appearances, I'd stop dressing like I just had a baby and hop on a treadmill. Entree was a win.

For our comped dessert, Erica got a lonely scoop of cinnamon ice cream and I (being way more fun than her) got the peanut butter and chocloate flan "sandwich." The flan was from the firm school of pudding-making, but I guess it was necessary in order to support the crispy, cookies 'n cream square between the two flavors, as well as the scoop of chocolate sorbet on top. Another win.

Overall, the food was awesome but the service sucked. Powerful sucked. I wish we could have tipped the busser/expo guy instead. 6.7 smugly bragging seasonal locavores in backless dresses out of 9.