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Monday, April 30, 2001
YANI: Capital F.
Luke knows what it means.
posted by Sandor Weisz at 10:08 PM | Comment?
Friday, April 27, 2001
Last night we were in the mood for some soul-pleasing comfort food, so Colleen and I hit Smoke Daddy Bar-B-Q on Division Street. Except for the flashing neon "WOW!" sign above the door, from the outside it looks like no more than an unassuming hole in the wall. And from the inside, the pretention meter barely moves a tic, with well-worn booths on one side and a bar lined with regulars on the other.
I can see us operating a place like Smoke Daddy. It's comfortable. It's reasonably priced. It even provides good, free music. And the cooks there serve up some of the best-tasting fries this side of the Daily Bar and Grill, located over in my 'hood. (The standard side dish -- in this case, fries -- is another great way to define ourselves.)
What I particularly like about Smoke Daddy is its layout: Half of the space -- and this place couldn't be larger than 20 feet wide by 50 feet long -- is dedicated to table dining, and the other half is dedicated to eating/drinking at the bar. It's the latter half that I'm fond of. Countertop dining has advantages attractive to both owner and customer, namely space efficiency. It would also encourage regularity, because forcing customers to take up a whole table might discourage solo visits -- and solo visits are key for the regular diner.
posted by Sandor Weisz at 1:12 PM | Comment?
At Kan Zaman last week, a customer asked the waiter where the owner was. "He's gone fishing, up in Wisconsin. Come back next week and we'll have fish specials."
"Really?"
"Really!"
It was neat to hear, just the sort of thing I like about small restaurants. I get the feeling Charlie Trotter doesn't summon his lieutenants to say, "Hold my calls: I'm gonna go shoot us a bear!" (I also get the feeling that Trotter's such a priss, he couldn't hunt himself a celery stalk.)
Whether we're gone fishing or not, I look forward to being the kind of restaurant where customers ask about us if we're not around.
posted by Luke at 7:35 AM | Comment?
Wednesday, April 25, 2001
I had asked Sandy to post his impressive cooking flow chart, and I'm glad he did so with such thoroughness.
This aspect of restaurant management boggles me. How do they do it? I had enough trouble at lunch today getting my stir fry, rice and salad ready at the same time (I failed). This was one meal for one person. And despite having four plates to fill at his dinner party, Sandy had it just as easy: Everybody was eating the same thing, and he had several days to prepare his kitchen and put on his gameface. But when a table of six orders six different entrees, with six different salads and 12 different sides, how does a chef get everything done on schedule? I can't fathom how someone can juggle so much -- space, time, food, tools, people and heat -- without turning to heavy narcotics. Then again, apparently many do.
I should note also that, yes, Sandy is a very good chef. Any friends reading this would be wise to cash in ASAP. And any strangers reading this would be wise to get on his Christmas list with similar haste. Here is his application form.
posted by Luke at 9:41 PM | Comment?
As a solution to the annual holiday gift-giving dilemma, last year I distributed home-made gift certificates to all of my freinds. They read: "This coupon entitles the bearer to 1 homecooked meal by Master Chef Sandor." It was personal, it was a chance to flex my burgeoning cooking skills, and it was an opportunity to spend quality time with my friends -- all wrapped up in one present. It was the smartest gift I'd even given.
Sadly, most giftees found calling the host up to invite themselves over for dinner too imposing, and so far -- keep in mind it's been four months already -- only three people out of a group of at least 25 have redeemed their coupons. It's disappointing, but I'll admit that the flaw is partly in the design of the gift, so I'll have to tinker with the concept for the next holiday season.
The good news is that I've cooked some kick-ass grub for each of those three meals. For Amanda, I whipped together some polenta with sauteed veggies. For Colleen, I made a sweet and sour pork chop dish out of a first-timer cookbook I own. And for Christine and Scott, who came over this past Saturday, I hosted my very first honest-to-god, wine-and-candles-and-cloth napkins-and-everything sit-down dinner party.
The menu was as follows: We started with a simple salad, with some mandarin oranges tossed in for sweetness. The main dish was a roasted pork tenderloin, spiced with thyme, and served with an apples, prunes and onion marmalade. As a side, I served mashed sweet potatoes from The New Joy of Cooking, which contained ginger and cinammon and walnuts and a splash of orange juice. And for dessert, we ate a very sweet, very tart, very very tasty apple-rhubarb crisp.
And, boy oh boy, the cooking gods were smiling on me.
Everyone, myself included, was bowled over by the quality of the food. That it was not only edible, but desirable, is promising news for my cooking skills and the future of this restaurant. But it was hardly the most impressive feat of the evening. Two hours before my guests arrived, I had a kitchen full of ingredients and four dishes to create. They would have be prepared concurrently, and they all had to be finished cooking at precisely the right time, lest they cool whilst sitting on the kitchen counter awaiting consumption. And on top of that, I somehow had to fit in time for me to sit down and eat with my guests.
Even though I had help, it was too big of a task to trust to instinct. Maybe when I'm a seasoned gourmet, I'll have the pattern of cooking meals ingrained in my head, but it wasn't going to happen Saturday. To alleviate some of the pressue, I created a schedule that detailed when each step in the dish-creating process would have be completed in order for the dish to be delivered on time. And it was a good thing that I did, because we constantly found ourselves checking the schedule, making sure we weren't forgetting to put something in the oven, or worse yet, take something out. So reliant on the schedule was I that I even had to specify a few minutes for a shave and clothes change.
It was a tricky test, but it worked, and it's driven home an important point: Making dinner for four, let alone a dining room full of hungry, impatient patrons, not only takes mastery of the skillet, but of the clock. I'd love to take a peek into the kitchen of a large restaurant and see how they manage making all those dishes at the same time. We definitely shouldn't attempt it ourselves without first-hand experience. And until we get that, I guess we really only have one choice.
Who's up for dinner at my place?
posted by Sandor Weisz at 10:37 AM | Comment?
Tuesday, April 24, 2001
YANI: Caravan. (So exciting, so inviting.)
Or, if we wish to be known for our flan and kuchen: Dessert Caravan.
posted by Luke at 7:34 AM | Comment?
Saturday, April 21, 2001
Inspiration Cafe's spring class schedule is out. Details are scant, but of the participating restaurants, MK has the highest Reader Rating (8.9). I might prefer to learn some breakfast tricks from Bongo Room's instructor.
posted by Luke at 7:23 PM | Comment?
I see La Cumbamba finally got its fifth restaurant report, five being the number required to have an official Reader Rating. William fares very well, placing in the top 10 percent overall and earning the coveted three R's.
Part of me frets that the secret is now out, and the place may lose some of its charm. Maybe even the Sun-Times will write about it. Soon it will be crowded with suburban scenesters and no longer be our little secret. But it's a small part. Most of me is thrilled for William and wishes him continued success. And now we get to say, "We loved La Cumbamba before it was cool!"
posted by Luke at 8:51 AM | Comment?
Friday, April 20, 2001
Heat is hot, thanks to its ikezukuri ("prepared live") method of making sushi, in which the fish, alive from head to roe, is killed before the diner's beady eyes.
It inspires two YAMIs*:
1. Ikezukuri with poultry, lamb, even beef. I'm certain the city would never allow it, which probably is for the better. Like many of our better ideas, this would work only if instead of a restaurant we were a restaurant sitcom. Mostly I bring it up for the comic possibilities.
- "Grilled pork butt? Excellent choice, madam. Chef! One cheek, on the hoof! Wake Wilbur!"
- A three-legged lamb hops around the kitchen, taste-testing salads and telling jokes to the fowl. In his peripheral vision he catches us whispering about the evening's special, and he spits out his cigar in disgust. "Ba-a-a-astards!"
- Inevitably stock would escape into the dining room, and I can see Sandy, cleaver flailing about his head, chasing an enormous heifer around a table. "Come here, cow!" he screams. "All I want is a flank steak!" Meanwhile, I'm on my knees behind the bar, whispering sweet nothings to our Cordon Bleu, a handful of cornmeal before me, a handful of axe behind.
- A two-legged lamb hops around the kitchen, smoking a cigar ...
2. More realistic would be to do ikezukuri with vegetables. We could, for instance, specialize in garlic and grow our own on the premises. Or, we could grow parsley in small pots, from which waiters would snip fresh garnish right at the diner's table. "Say when, madam."
*YAMI: Yet Another Menu Idea
posted by Luke at 9:20 AM | Comment?
Thursday, April 19, 2001
Caribou Coffee offers a 10 cent discount if you correctly answer their daily trivia question when you place your order. I was very fond of this gimmick when I frequented there, and I'd like to implement a similar gimmick at our place. While a question-a-day policy wouldn't work -- diners could hear the question and answer being spoken within earshot -- we could have our waiters carry a stack of Trivial Pursuit cards in their apron pockets. Upon receiving their check, a party could ask to be read a trivia question picked at random from the stack. Getting it right would constitute a discount of, say, $1.00 off of their final bill.
A dollar might not amount to much with respect to the total cost of the bill, but I'm hoping the rise a customer gets from proving her smarts in public will increase our restaurant's mindshare in her head and, eventually, will result in another meal sold somewhere down the road. And it doesn't have to be a dollar. In fact, maybe a more direct way to get them back in our seats would be to reward them with a coupon worth x dollars off of their next visit.
This promotion would tie in nicely if our luminary chair was reserved for Alex Trebek.
posted by Sandor Weisz at 3:20 PM | Comment?
Wednesday, April 18, 2001
A diner calls his waiter over to his table.
Diner: Waiter, taste my soup.
Waiter: Sir, is there something wrong with it?
Diner: Just taste it.
Waiter: Is it too cold? I can get you a new bowl.
Diner: Please, taste the soup.
Waiter: Too spicy? Too bland? Too creamy? Please, whatever it is, we'll be happy to fix it.
Diner: Waiter, just taste my soup and you'll understand.
Waiter: Fine. Where's the spoon?
Diner: Aha!
posted by Sandor Weisz at 7:38 AM | Comment?
Tuesday, April 17, 2001
Would it make sense to predesignate one of our dishes as the one which would always be dismissed by our incredibly candid waiters? They'd each have a different take on what was wrong, and they could each make it sound like it was just a temporary deficiency: "It's quite dry today." "The sauce came out too watery." "That beef comes from Scotland." It could work, but for customers who disregard all advice and order it anyway, would we serve them a substandard meal? Get them sick to drive the point home?
Nah, maybe we should let the waiters decide themselves which dishes they'll endorse and which ones they'll put down. It kinda defeats the purpose when the candidness we so proudly tout is actually one big scam.
posted by Sandor Weisz at 8:50 PM | Comment?
Friday, April 13, 2001
Regarding candid waiters: Phil Vettel's review of the Kit Kat Lounge today describes exactly that: "We were interested in the Mama's Meat Loaf entree, made with sauteed mushrooms and port wine glaze, but our waiter warned us off that dish rather adamantly (doing everything shy of grabbing his throat and making choking noises), so we passed."
posted by Luke at 7:14 PM | Comment?
Who else would see the doggie bag? Not passersby so much as, as Sandy notes in his original post, co-workers, relatives and roommates.
Some other ideas:
- A box with a transparent window, so you can peek in to check the contents. The trick would be keeping the box airtight.
- Boxes should come in assorted bright colors that are as appropriate to their contents as possible. This way, I know the red box has my barbecue ribs and my brother knows the green box has his green peppers stuffed with spinach, bulgur and seaweed.
- In addition to religious figures, discounts should also reward grease spots that resemble former Cub shortstops, cast members of the original Second City, or Mike Royko.
Quick, to the patent office!
posted by Luke at 3:46 PM | Comment?
The innovative doggy bag idea is a good one. But there's good reason why restaurants haven't employed it. When you're shopping at Bloomie's or Marshall Field's, you're probably dedicating your whole day to shopping. A bag you pick up there will likely meet hundreds of eyes before it's plopped in your car for the trip home.
However, a visit to a restaurant, is, more often than not, a trip in and of itself. Once you get your leftovers, you're probably heading straight back home, and besides you, your date and the people you live with, who else will see the bag? Or even if you stop in for a bite to eat between shopping sprees, you're not going to want to schlep the leftovers all around the mall with you for the rest of the day. You'll probably drop it off in the car and continue shopping.
That having been said, I still think it's a grand idea. If we're good enough, it might even force the media to create a "Best Of" category just to honor us. Off the top of my head, here are some ideas:
- A bag or box covered in comics. It would have to change periodically.
- A box with a rub-off coupon that's worth a discount for the patron's next visit.
- A bag made of highly absorbant material. If the grease from the food leaks into the shape of a recognizable religious figure, the customer's next meal is on us.
posted by Sandor Weisz at 1:58 PM | Comment?
To encourage leftovers, perhaps we could invent a doggy bag, extraordinary in shape, graphic design or both, that is so innovative and fun, people look forward to it and order an extra appetizer in order to necessitate one.
Department stores have long done this with their shopping bags (Bloomingdale's come to mind, and it seems many Michigan Avenue stores intentionally give oversized bags, the idea being that the shopper will put smaller bags inside them, making them visible as she strolls the Mag Mile all day; I'm loath to admit that I, too, feel all cool walking around with a giant Marshall Field's bag, even if all I bought was a box of Frango Mints and the balance of the bag is underwear and toilet paper from the dollar store). I'm surprised restaurants haven't picked up on it, too.
posted by Luke at 11:42 AM | Comment?
On the topic of leftovers:
Sometimes, when I'm feeling frugal about the price of entrees at where I'm having dinner, I'm able to squelch those feelings by remembering that if there ends up being more food than I'm capable of eating, it'll mean lunch at work tomorrow. Which means I won't be going out to buy lunch, which means more money saved. So, $20 for dinner suddenly turns into $20 for dinner and lunch.
I say "sometimes" because I often neglect to remember this trick until I'm suddenly stuffed and staring at plate still half full of food. And then it's like a light bulb goes off in my head -- eureka! -- and I'm reminded of the concept of doggy bags like it was the first time I'd ever heard of it. (There a few restaurants at which this scene inevitably unfolds: Buca di Beppo, Andie's, Hi Ricky.)
I wonder if most people look at a price of an entree as the cost of just dinner or of dinner and lunch tomorrow. If we decide to intentionally oversize our portions, we need to think of a way to remind our patrons that paying the the price they see will prevent them from having to spend money on lunch tomorrow. And, boy, won't their bosses love them for staying in the office for their lunch breaks instead of being unproductive for an hour? Perhaps we should put a message on the front of cleverly-designed menus? Maybe a subtle reminder from our friendly waitstaff?
There's a marketing advantage to this as well. When office workers smell the delicious odor of a neighbor's re-heated lunch and inquire about where their co-worker got such a feast, our patron will be kicking our word-of-mouth gears into motion. If spending a few more cents on extra rice today means selling two more meals next week, then I say we go for it.
posted by Sandor Weisz at 8:10 AM | Comment?
I've remarked on portions before. I'm about to again. Seconds, if you will.
An otherwise pleasant lunch at That Little Mexican Cafe was spoiled by the sides of rice and beans, neither of which was more than a few spoonfuls. Perhaps I've been spoiled by my favorite taqueria, but I expect a river of rice and a bean bonanza, especially when I'm paying $8 for a taco and tamale. For $4.50 at Taqueria Guerrero, I could have gotten twice as much food without sacrificing much taste.
At Reza's, on the other hand, a side of dill rice comes on its own full-size entrée plate. The kitchen must make the stuff by the barrel. Only a swine -- a swine more swinish than me, at that -- could finish it all. Consequently, leftovers are a given, no diner leaves hungry, and the perceived value is very high.
It's a good investment, spending an extra 10 cents on sides. Because of it, I may return to Reza's, but I can't say the same about T.L.M.C., as good as everything else was.
posted by Luke at 7:18 AM | Comment?
Thursday, April 12, 2001
We should insist that our waitstaff respond to our patrons' inquiries with the utmost candor. Even though each and every item on our menu will surely be a delicacy, some will undoubtedly be worse than others. And some will appeal to some while others will appeal to others. So when a customer asks the opinion of her waiter -- he being intimately familiar with every dish that we serve -- of a certian selection, he shouldn't be afraid to express the truth, whether it forces the direction of his thumb up or down.
Most waiters are either trained or assume it necessary to act like the dish his customer orders is the best thing since sliced bread (especially if it is sliced bread). Maybe they've never eaten the stuff they're serving and they try to cover it up with empty praise. It is a refreshing surprise when a waiter will tell me that the dish I'm thinking of ordering isn't all that it's cracked up to be, and that I'd be better off ordering such-and-such instead. Such behavior rids the restaurant of the pretention of assumed perfection, and we should definately adapt it.
YANI: Candor
(Why do all my suggestions start with "C"?)
posted by Sandor Weisz at 8:57 PM | Comment?
Wednesday, April 11, 2001
Commenting on manufactured scarcity, Greg says a Malibu restaurant reserves a table at all times for Arnold Schwarzenegger. Anyone can sit there, but they must move if Arnold shows up.
This is an excellent idea, and I think we should select someone to get similar star treatment at our place. It would be fun to set up a modest shrine to this person, and we could get publicity from our quixotic quest to cajole them into dining with us.
But who? I'm thinking it should be a second-tier luminary, someone famous but obscure (without being campy!), maybe someone "almost famous." It should be someone with a connection to us or to Chicago, and, most important, someone we admire and would like to meet and entertain.
Some possibilities: Neil Stephenson. Ani Difranco. George Will. Jennifer Grey. Steve "Your table is ready" Rosenbloom. Garrison Keillor. The woman from the cover of "The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan." Mike Veeck. Polly Esther. Randall Schwartz. Stanley Tucci. Robert Silvers. David Wallace. J.D. Salinger. Bill Murray. Stephen Hawking. Nancy Cartwright.
And of course, Greg Knauss.
So many luminaries! How's this: After the chosen one has dined once, we devote a second table to a second celebrity and go on a second quest, and so on. Eventually our entire dining room would be devoted to various objects of our affection, though this could create a problem if they all happened visit on the same night.
posted by Luke at 9:23 AM | Comment?
Tuesday, April 10, 2001
Bruce Sherman, executive chef at North Pond Cafe, tells the Tribune that GlobalChefs.com is one of his favorite sites.
It's not a deep or well-designed site, but some of the chef interviews are interesting, and I think I'm going to try the recipe for oatmeal cookies.
posted by Luke at 8:24 AM | Comment?
Monday, April 09, 2001
I was telling Greg about my affection for Chicago, in particular how in the summer my love for this city, like the weather, gets all hot and steamy.
YANI: Hot and Steamy
A triple entendre!
posted by Luke at 1:08 PM | Comment?
Saturday, April 07, 2001
Emile's message is about the most beautiful thing I've read all week. Whether we ever serve a meal or not, this project has already paid dividends as we remind others -- and ourselves -- of the might of dreams, of "jumping into the deep."
posted by Luke at 1:13 PM | Comment?
It looks like we're finally starting to build a readership.
Over at Twenty Two Miles, a weblog by Emile Urban, sits the very first independent link to our site. You might have trouble reading the context of the link, like I did, because Emile's site is entirely in Dutch. Fortunately, there's a guy from the Netherlands in my office, so I asked him to roughly translate it for me. Graciously, he obliged. While he spoke, I typed. With apologies in advance to Emile for the inevitable screw-ups, this is what we determined it means:
"To dream you have to aspire. Enough people have wild plans and say that they will execute on them. Often it's just empty words, afraid to jump into the deep. It's stupid, because later on you have regrets. I didn't do the same six years ago. I had a need to travel, so I quit my job and I left with my backpack. Now, many years later and one experience richer no one will take away from me, I really appreciate it. I see that there are many people who do it, like the founders of The Making of a Restaurant. They have the ambition to open their own restaurant. And the progress they made you can follow online."
Thanks, Emile! And to all of you coming from twentytwomiles.com: Welkom!
posted by Sandor Weisz at 11:12 AM | Comment?
Friday, April 06, 2001
YAPL update: The tied house I was coveting has a new sign: "South East Asian Center." A community center is fine and good, but if they threaten the Schlitz logo or the giant "Restaurant" marquee, my alderman will be hearing about it.
posted by Luke at 8:35 AM | Comment?
Thursday, April 05, 2001
Also worth considering within the realm of Chicago cooking classes is The Chopping Block. Located in a quaint two-story brick house on Webster Avenue near the Webster Place theater, it offers a catalog of two-hour classes for $40 or $65 each. I have no idea if this is a good deal, but I often hear T.C.P.'s name favorably discussed among my co-workers. Looking at the schedule for April, I'm intrigued by the class on flavor dynamics: "Taste olive oils, vinegars, herbs, spices, and more as we explore how to combine flavors and learn how to make substitutions and cook without recipes."
Cooking without recipes. Oh, how I wish I were brave enough to do that. Once our coffers -- cough, cough -- grow to signifcant proportions, perhaps I'll learn how to be.
(Note: The Chopping Block of Webster Avenue shouldn't be confused with The Chopping Block, Inc. of New York City, noteable for their excellent graphic design, their association with They Might Be Giants and the commanding force with which they look for extra-terrestrial life.)
posted by Sandor Weisz at 2:32 PM | Comment?
There is one potential backfire to the Missed Connection project. What if some enterprising young entrepreneur caught on to our scheme and co-opted the idea for himself? Imagine: Joe Restaurateur wants to open a place of his own, but doesn't have the marketing savvy that we so masterfully possess. He gets wind of some free advertising in the Reader for a non-existant place called, say, Crackpot. Taking the name as his own, young J.R.'s already ahead of the game, marketing-wise.
Or worse yet, I can imagine the owner of a current restaurant that's lagging in revenue using this idea as a springboard toward a big name-changing promotion.
If either of these do indeed happen, we'd be S.O.L., but we could easily turn the tables on the sonnavabitch by trashing his name the very same way we promoted it. So, if you're reading this, J.R., don't you get any ideas. We'll be after you quicker than you can say, "Holy baba ghanouj, Batman!"
posted by Sandor Weisz at 7:59 AM | Comment?
Wednesday, April 04, 2001
Nikki reports that the Dellwood Pickle, one of two restaurants that inspired this nutty idea, has closed.
Last I'd heard, its owner was looking for a new place after the landlord had raised the rent, but apparently she's still looking.
posted by Luke at 8:48 PM | Comment?
World Kitchen hasn't updated its schedule lately, but its offerings look interesting and affordable. Its class on Thai curry is taught by Arun Sampanthavivat, owner of the highly rated Arun's.
Inspiration Cafe's classes appeal to me as well, though its schedule hasn't been updated either. I see also that the cafe, just down the street from me, is looking for volunteers in the kitchen. This could be a worthwhile way to gain much-needed experience.
posted by Luke at 5:43 PM | Comment?
Monday, April 02, 2001
I can't tell if Luke's setting me up, or what.
Not only did I know about Angelina's neighborhood promotion and intend to write about it here, but I happened to visit Angelina's last Wednesday reap the benefits of said promotion. Furthermore, the Reader Ratings comments that Luke referenced yesterday... were, in fact, written by none other than yours truly. But I can't recall telling Luke about this, so it's gotta just be one of those things. Either that, or he's trying to lure me into writing more.
So, yeah, Wednesday was my mom's birthday, and since she lives only a few blocks away from Angelina, it seemed an appropriate place to go. But I also wanted to patronize a place that paid respect to its neighborhood and to its neighbors. It's a good idea, it works, and we should adopt it for whichever neighborhood we end up in.
A couple more things about Angelina:
• They have both a smoking and non-smoking section, which they can get away with because the restaurant is divided into two distinct rooms, connected by a short hallway. The smoke is prevented from wafting between the two areas. A perfect execution of this problematic issue, except they fail at one point: One must walk through the smoking part to get to the non-smoking. If we end up incorporating a smoking section, we must remember to avoid this faux pas.
• It's understood that any restaurant will honor a patron's birthday with a slice of cake (or tiramisu, or cookie, etc.) and a lit candle. Angelina's is no different, and neither should we be. The decision we have to make is whether or not we, as a waitstaff, go the distance with a round of singing "Happy Birthday." Angelina left the singing to the diners, and our party decided to opt out of the spectacle. We'll have a chance with our restaurant to further define ourselves with our birthday policy. It should be unique, yet tasteful. I don't have an answer yet, but I'm thinking.
posted by Sandor Weisz at 3:52 AM | Comment?
As we've said before, we should encourage regulars.
For eight months we've met each Sunday at Kopi Cafe to read papers, knock back the go-go juice and catch up. This week I had a heretical thought: We should try another place. Not a clean break, just a trial separation to expand our horizons. It wouldn't need to be a coffeehouse, maybe one of Uptown's many hole-in-the-wall diners.
But this morning I hadn't sat a minute before the Kopi waitress, without my asking, bounded up with my usual: plain coffee, no cream, no nothin'. I've never felt like a regular before, anywhere. Sure, it took her a few months, but it felt great. I tipped more than usual, and I suppose I'll be back next Sunday. I'll have to explore the holes-in-the-wall on weekdays.
posted by Luke at 1:52 AM | Comment?
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