work and play

It was time to begin dismantling the old bathroom. Wallpaper first, then stripping the old glue off the walls, then finally the hardware—ripping out the sink and medicine cabinet. I spent about thirty seconds pondering my building manager’s suggestion to just paint the old wooden vanity, replace the sink, and call it new. The idea properly blown off, I got into the car and visited trusty IKEA for some new cabinetry. As I was about to swipe my MasterCard at the self-pay machine, I suddenly realized that I had no card to swipe. Fearing an empty-handed 45 minute trip back to Evanston, I narrowly avoided complete hysteria. So it was a relief to find my wallet in the car, the trip successful after all.

To celebrate the recent spate of successes I headed for dinner at Lula Café, a short hop away on the expressway. I walked through the throngs of hopeful diners waiting to be matched with tables, and was seated immediately (one of many advantages to dining alone). Having consulted about the menu with Shiri during the drive, I already knew what I’d be ordering. Along with a $1.75 bottle of PBR, I gave my order, substituting for the appetizer they were no longer serving. I read and waited, and was reminded of why Lula is one of my favorite Chicago restaurants: the service is young, professional, and friendly; their products are sourced at local farms, and are organic wherever possible; and most importantly, the food on their specials menu is always on. The highlight of the meal, pictured above, was pork shoulder, roasted and sliced thinly, over a basil pesto-laced ragout of beans, artichokes, favas, ramps, and chorizo.

Back at home, more fun with the construction. Not allowing myself any downtime, I put together the new cabinets before going to sleep. These small projects have a way of snowballing when you least expect them to. I had no such bad luck this time. Sure, a few tiles came loose, and the angle of the corner for the cabinet was a little bigger than a perfect 90 degrees, but these were all easy fixes. By Friday I was putting on finishing touches and shipping 400 pounds of boxed books and other goodies back home. To complete the evening, I headed for a sushi bar where I’ve come to befriend the chef, BK, proceeding to feast on fifteen or so courses of raw and cooked fish. I had promised Shiri some photos of the bean, so I obliged after dinner, and walked off some of the meal.

The bathroom was finished in time for a quick detour to Indianapolis, to visit whom other than EB and family, all helped by the prospect of seeing a huge part of Americana for the first time: the famed Indy 500. A craigslist ad found me someone with whom to split costs, so we arranged for an early Saturday departure, with confidence that most of the work in Evanston was done.

arrivals

My visit to Chicago entailed a few simple objectives. The timing was dictated by Will’s concert, the first night upon my arrival. Aside from that, the main point of the visit was to redo the bathroom and to find someone to rent the condo in Evanston for the next year. Without anybody to help me, or to keep me company, for that matter, it was a struggle to stay on-task. I have a serious affinity for procrastination, and Chicago is full of tempting tastes and sights.

After getting situated in Evanston, I headed downtown for the concert. The tickets put us in the fourth row, the best seats I’ve ever really had for a big show. The band was absolutely amazing—I can't say enough good things about the show, so I’ll leave it at that. After spending a few minutes backstage, we were off for a drink before I headed back home. All in all, a fantastic way to start the week.

The next day I showed the apartment a couple of times, and on just the second try, found a young man who fit the bill perfectly. I celebrated with dinner at my favorite local place that prides itself on local/seasonal/sustainable/organic products. Keeping with the trend of my week, my experience at Campagnola was perfect. I sat at the bar and greeted the other customer dining beside me. After ordering three small courses, the bartender (turned out to be the manager/partner) offered me a taste of tequila somebody had dropped off that day. When I accepted with the snobby condition that it be white tequila, the evening really took off running. My de facto dining companion lit up, impressed by my ordering what he ate, and our similar taste in tequila. They asked if I was in the food business, and so I explained my involvement, and eventually got into the story of the past months. The manager arranged for an extra course and, together with the portions I ordered, my stomach nearly ruptured by the end of the meal (much to the amusement of my new buddies). The food was great, as always, but this experience was particularly special. My week in the Midwest would remain highlighted.