Lately I have been having tremendous cravings for specific food/meals. I don’t know what’s come over me. Maybe it’s all the running that’s increasing my appetite in very peculiar ways. No matter the cause there are certain menu items just hollering my name.
Earlier this week I threw down on a chicken sandwich from Wendy’s before I went to to work. Slamming a #9 and trying to make significant profits afterward is perhaps not the best idea, but I tripled my sales goal for the day and I’m assuming it was the sammie that helped me reach my peak.
Today I satisfied another hankerin’ that had been singing its siren song since I came home in December: Chinese grub. There is hardly anything better than an extraordinary amount of saucy, flavorful, tremendously-bad-for-you, Chinese food. With everyone out of the house for dinner I knew ordering in was just the thing I needed to complete this well-balanced day. After punishing five miles in the city park I cleaned up a bit (read: showered and threw on my most tattered jammies) and made the call to Chinese Palace (“Palace” pronounced with a “ch” sound).
Obviously, I needed an order of Orange Chicken; I find it favorable to know the exact coloring of my ensuing entree. Crab Rangoon was a must; what is this, Amateur Hour? These two combined didn’t get me up to my requisite delivery minimum, $20, so let’s just throw in a six-pack of Fried Dumplings. Yep, that should do it. Forty-five minutes later $26 of Chinese glory arrived for me to eat all by myself.
It's so glorious, no?
OK, so maybe not alone. After making a sizable dent in the greasy magnificence I had to wave the white paper napkin. When you hype something up or put large expectations on event it can often let you down. Nope, not in this case. It was as delicious as I had imagined in my sweet dreams all week. Wait, you guys don’t dream about the ultimate take-out??
Next Up: Meatball Grinder (at Westport Flea Market, I think) and a Chicago Style Hot Dog. Please don’t be intimidated by my refined palate.
A Broad At Home 