10 Oct

Hello! It’s been awhile! Did you know that as a broke but full-time cook it’s pretty hard to pay your bills and still have the energy to invest in your creative outlets? Oh, you knew that. I get it. This is real life. Sorry guys, I’m having a hard time adjusting to adulthood even though I’ve been here for AWHILE NOW. Shiiiiiiit. The fact of the matter is that I’m having pretty incredible food experiences on a daily basis, but usually it’s after dark and I’m exhausted and I think OH WELL, I’LL JUST BLOG TOMORROW. Which I never do because i have better things to do, like re-watch SNL clips on for the millionth time in a row. Yep.

Well, THANK THE LORD I finally got off my sorry ass and made a date at the Edison Inn with C to experience “the perfect bar” with pub fare “nothing short of excellent” (thanks,! From the photos it looked like a dive bar, which I love, and I’d read that the oysters were killer, the salads were wildly competitive with the entrees, and the ribs were smoked in a smoker out back. COUNT ME IN.

I’d just opened my junk mail (why do I bother?) to find an Arby’s photo of The Most Heinous Sandwich In All Of History and thought, “fuck this. I want real food. GOOD FOOD.”  The caption below The Ugliest Food In The Universe said,

And I was all, NO WAY, MAN. WHOOO-HOOO DOES NOT TASTE LIKE THAT. I DOUBT IT. So we headed down through the October monsoon to Bow-Edison (possibly Bow? Possibly Edison? I DUNNO, MAN, THE PLACE IS HYPHENATED) to the Edison Inn to check out the goods and show that Arby’s ad what “whooo-hooo” really DID taste like.

We were enthusiastically greeted by our server, Andi, who was fast and friendly and to-the-point and whom eventually said, “A GIRL AFTER MY OWN HEART!” when I opted for a third whiskey and the oyster burger. Listen… this is important in my self-justification. When you have to say no to so many things on a daily basis that you want, to not go out or to not go to a movie, to tell your friend on the phone, “sorry, I’m staying in tonight” on so frequent an occasion, well… I guess I figure you deserve one day a month when you can have whatever you want.

So, one day only, whiskey-a-plenty and oysters it is. And it was so worth it.

Holy balls. The oysters were salty and delicate, accentuated by the white onions, soft but still a bit chewy between the hamburger buns and TOTALLY FUCKING DELICIOUS. Follow it up with some fries and house tarter sauce and a few bites of your boyfriend’s cole slaw and you’re set. Besides one bite of possible-oyster-entrails/whatever-it-was-it-might-have-been-sand-because-I-think-it-chipped-a-tooth, it was absolute perfection. And whatever, I’m sure that with sand-dwelling edibles it is completely inevitable that every once in awhile you get a mouthful of sand. We’re not gods, here! We’re humans! Humans who make do with the food we’ve discovered on the beach, okay!?!? So the sand/entrails is forgivable. And unavoidable. Oh well.

I gobbled up my “burger” which consisted of 5 or 6 pan-fried oysters, white onions, tomato, and pickle chips (which I politely discarded since I can never decide if pickles are good or not) on a sesame hamburger bun (with fries and ketchup and tarter, obviously), and was mightily satisfied. Driving home in the crazy rain and listening to Arcade Fire’s Suburbs album I cannot be happier. I am warm and safe and full. I am with a handsome man who tolerates my absurdities, surrounded by music and wonder and sitting happily with a bellyful of previously-sea-dwelling creatures who now exist deadened in my gut for the sole purpose of sustaining me and my unending appetite. HOLY WHATEVER, THAT’S BEAUTIFUL.



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