I haven’t had a kitchen table for awhile and it turns out that its pretty hard to get your writing done when you only have one other work surface in your home, in this case a tiny computer desk with an uncomfortable chair, littered in papers and books and CDs that I can’t be bothered to put away. Not to mention eating… oh, the eating is difficult without a table, and lately most of my meals have been taken on the couch perched outside on my rickety-ass porch. But my parents had a table for me, so C and I drove down to Seattle to pick it up and waste the day wandering the streets of Fremont. I’d been wanting to try out Paseo, the infamously great Caribbean sandwich place in Fremont, but first we had to muster an appetite (a trial since he prepared an insanely filling breakfast of chorizo with creamy tomato/heavy cream sauce, over easy eggs, and English muffins). With cash in our pockets we devoted several hours to vintage and antique hunting… I spent a whopping $2.90 on old photographs and spent the rest on food. Go figure. I brought the photos to an Irish pub where I drank Maker’s and cokes and examined the photos of girls in white dresses with crosses around their necks, arms pressed tight against their sides and frowning at the camera… girls on train platforms in wild hats and uncomfortable stockings, sisters with their hands clasped, always posed on suburban streets, in front of hedges, in brightly lit living rooms.
Finally we made it to Paseo, the unmarked and inconspicuously placed storefront on Fremont Ave. Luckily we managed to not only avoid the 20 foot line we had passed earlier, hungry patrons pacing on the sidewalk that we’d seen on the car ride down, but also scored on of the four small plastic tables to eat on. Without it, we’d have eaten on the street, which I’m not above by any means, but would have definitely made the already messy process a whole lot messier. We ordered the Cuban roast and the grilled pork sandwiches, two hefty baguette sammies that we split so we could try both kinds, and HOLY GOD was it good. The Cuban roast was filled with slightly sweet barbecue pork that was super tender and resulted in many eye rollings of pleasure. The grilled pork was a spicier pork shoulder that required a bit more tooth, but not nearly as much as you’d expect from a solid chunk of shoulder on a crusty baguette. They were both served with romaine, ridiculously fat caramelized white onions and pickled jalepenos, which though they were mouthwateringly hot, left me searching the mounds of crumpled parchment paper for one more to go with my last bite of bread.
We desecrated the three inch stack of napkins they’d given us, and when we asked how much pork they go through in a weekend we received a weary eye roll from the cook who said, “oh, I dunno, hundreds of pounds. Hundreds of pounds.” I don’t doubt it. If I lived in that area I’d be there every day. As it was I was already eyeing the house next door and thinking, maybe if I rented that place I could bring the cooks whiskey in return for free sandwiches whenever I wanted… total pipe dream, obviously. By the time we’d finished it was 3:30 and we were due to my parents’ place at 5 for a 6:00 meal which sounded totally impossible at that point, but since we have amazing appetites we somehow manged to make room for the feast my mom had prepared: grilled lamb chops with a quinoa, orzo, and baby garbonzo bean pilaf, coconut curried roasted potatoes, peppers, and beets, and cucumbers and white onions with a creamy dill sauce.
I was a little bummed out this morning when I tried to upload my photos and found out that my memory card was corrupt and had totally fucked up 75% of the photos I’d taken, so I had to settle for some sub par ones from this trip (just more proof that technology is a demon robot that is slowly but surely turning me into a bitter technophobe). I haven’t eaten that many solid meals in one day in a long, long time and having experienced that I’m thinking that the whole “three meals a day” mentality is grossly overkill and I might need to take a weeklong break from food just to recover from my caloric intake. However, once in a while I think it’s appropriate to stuff yourself (holidays, breakups, and when the meals are free, obviously) and yesterday seemed like as good time as any. Now I’m off to work… but afterward I get my food tattoo colored! Photos to come… well, if the evil principal of technology will allow me a hall pass.