Finding Even More Happiness
I started reading Shawn Achor’s book “The Happiness Advantage,” and it’s got me thinking about some changes for my life.
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My Week Is Better Than Yours
It’s been a really good week, and there’s still a day to go!
This week started with me seeing a post from my friend Bart, whose company, Sumo Heavy, is a sponsor for the Wharton Web Conference. Bart is now based in New York, so he had extra tickets for the conference, and I was a lucky recipient.
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Introducting the World’s Worst Bartender
Back a few years ago, while I was in the midst of a forced convalescence (read: period of unemployment), I had the opportunity to work as a bartender at a friend’s restaurant located in suburban Philly.
Let me assure you, I was a very, very poor bartender. I know, I know, they only put the stars on Monday and Wednesday day bar, but seriously, the only things I felt like I could accomplish well was stocking the cold box and cutting the fruit (lemons, limes, oranges, etc.) for garnish. (I was damn good at keeping that stuff stocked.
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Thank Goodness for Friends
I am a lucky man.
If I haven’t made that clear before, that’s a failure on my part. I have a wonderful, loving wife, and the best son anyone could ask for. The sun rises and sets with them.
I’m also incredibly lucky to have the friends I do.
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They’re All Just Small Things
I was feeling a little down recently about my recent career downturn and convalescence, and the Owen showed us his latest new trick.
He’s learned to jump. Well, sort of.
Watching him jump with wild abandon, and little hang time, reminded me to take a deep breath and let the stress go.
Will Work for Food
In the past, my terms of unemployment have coincided with some periods when I’ve been in desperate need of time; when my brother, Jim, got sick; when Meg and I were really getting to know each other; when Owen was young.
Now, I’m just unemployed. Owen’s in daycare, so I can’t say I’m getting to take advantage of all my free time by seeing him more.
For anyone who asks, “Why are you paying for daycare when you’re out of work, idiot?” I say, we’d lose our spot if we were to take him out, and as soon as we did that, I’d probably get a job offer.
(Only part of that was for the purpose of stroking my ego.)
Anyway, I was just told I was being passed over for another candidate, for the second time in a couple weeks. I was far more optimistic about this opportunity than the other, and it feels like more of a kick in the teeth this time.
I realize now, my current job is Job Searcher. Hopefully I’ll get a promotion soon.
The Devil’s in the Details
Devil's Alley, located on Chestnut Street in the Rittenhouse section of Philadelphia.
So, back a couple Saturdays ago, Meg and I ventured into Center City to run some errands and decided to stop in at Devil’s Alley, located at 19th and Chestnut, to have some brunch. We wanted sandwiches, and it seemed like a good idea, as the restaurant is right around the corner from where we were shopping, so in we stopped, hoping for some devilishly good food.
On this cold, cold Saturday we were shown to a table on the second floor, which had a few other customers, as well as a few tables on the first floor of the restaurant. Our hipster waiter (glasses, ironic facial hair and not-terribly-enthused attitude all part of the standard uniform) came by to take our order, so off I went to test my sugar and take my meds.
Men's room on the second floor of Devil's Alley, Philly.
The restroom was nothing to write home about. It was clean (except for the un-flushed toilet), it had room on the back of the toilet to keep my meds — which, as you should know by now, is not the best-case scenario as far as I’m concerned. Seriously, I understand that there are room constraints, but are you trying to tell me that no one in the city of Philadelphia makes a small folding table that could live next to the sink in a restroom? If you tell me it’s not possible, I’ll tell you you’re not thinking or trying hard enough. But, left with no tables again, I made do and packed up to return to my beloved wife and brunch.
Now for some disclosure: I really enjoy chicken salad and Meg really enjoys grilled cheese. We were in luck, as Devil’s Alley had both on the menu. I ordered the BBQ chicken salad sandwich, which I thought might add an interesting twist to the offering. I’ve made chicken salad numerous times, and I’ve had some really good versions of it. My friend and old housemate Danny used to make a fantastic
My chicken salad sandwich.
Waldorf chicken salad, and my friend BR once made a BLT chicken salad that really made me happy.
Unfortunately, the BBQ chicken salad wasn’t that great. First off, they used way too much mayo. I like when it’s used in a more Spartan manner, just to bind the chicken and other fixings. The roll was really good, and it was served with grilled red onion on top, which was a pretty nice touch. However, there was just chicken and mayo. I understand the onion was grilled and served atop the sandwich, so there wasn’t any in the chicken salad, but there wasn’t any celery or anything else to provide any texture to the sandwich.
Damn!
I had hope Meg would enjoy her sandwich a little more than I did, and she did, so fortunately we weren’t both forced to occupy Dante’s Inferno. (OK, that was a little rough, because my sandwich wasn’t that bad.)
Was the grilled cheese everything they advertised?
Meg had the grilled cheese, which was advertised as being served with “bacon, apples and cheddar.” Hopes were high. Cheddar was melted and tasty. Bread was grilled and crunchy. Bacon was glorious and bacony. Alas, there was no apple, which Meg was looking forward to. But she’s a good sport. “How bad can it be? It was crunchy and cheesy and had bacon.” But she would have liked the apple.
Really, the brunch at Devil’s Alley wasn’t bad. It didn’t exalt, but didn’t leave us descending to the fiery depths either. On my personal rating system for the restaurant (Piss Poor, for the worst; Hypoglycemic; OK, and Rated A1C for restaurants that have great food and are very accommodating for my diabetic needs), Devil’s Alley gets an OK rating. But, as the headline says, the devil’s in the details, and they were lacking just enough to keep it from the top rating.
At this point, I’d assume 90 percent of the restaurants in Philly rate between “Hypoglycemic” and “OK,” depending on cleanliness. This makes me a little sad, as I’d like to see some places that were willing to combine good eats with a comfortable and clean place to test my blood sugar and take my insulin.
Anyway, my rant is done, and here’s my video of Devil’s Alley’s second-floor restroom.
Opa! Zorba’s Tavern in Fairmount, Philadelphia
Zorba's, located on Fairmount Avenue in Philadelphia, between 22nd and 23rd streets.
First, let me preface this by saying I love Zorba’s. Meg and I eat there often. We get take-out from there even more often. We wanted to have our rehearsal dinner there, but, since we married in October, just two weeks prior to Halloween, it was right in the midst of the Terror Behind the Walls madness taking place just down the street at Eastern State Penitentiary.
Second, let me mention that I’m going to try to not have photos of toilets at the top of the entries anymore. So there’s that.
Anyway, we decided to venture to Zorba’s in early February to celebrate the birthday of my former co-worker Joe. As I said before, Meg and I love Zorba’s, and we often pass the restaurant as we’re in the neighborhood, and the family that owns and works there are always very nice and friendly.
The men's room at Zorba's, with my meds and testing supplies on top.
After placing our orders, I, as usual, ventured to the restroom to test my blood sugar and take my insulin. Photos of Santorini abound, and the bright color of the walls, as you can see to the left, offer a cheery environ within which to do what I had to do.
Zorba’s is a storefront that’s been converted from two row homes along Fairmount Avenue, and the restrooms appear to be converted closets. They’re tight, but definitely clean (which, as you’ve noticed in a previous post, earns points). Again, a table would be appreciated, as there was room for one.
And now onto the food.
On our recent stop we decided to start with hummus, and, as always, it was super-garlicy and served with the wonderful toasty pita wedges. I’m also a huge fan of the saganaki, a fried rectangle of kasseri cheese served with red onions, and the spicy feta spread which is, surprisingly, spicy feta. Yummy.
For entrees, I tried a special, beef served with orzo and stewed in a red wine sauce (I believe referred to traditionally as a “youvetsi”) and served with the traditional stewed veggies that come with every entree. Not always a fan of carrots, I could eat them all day and night if they were made at Zorba’s. The wine sauce was a little sharp. Not the best thing I’ve ever had, but the beef was fork-tender and delicious.
I can certainly attest to the gyros, the lamb dishes and the two different souvlaki.
Meg, on the other hand, can only attest to the greatness of one dish: the grilled chicken breast. My woman finds her dish and sticks with it, ordering it each and every time we go to Zorba’s. I’d crack some jokes about this, but it really is fantastic. In addition to the stewed veggies, you have your choice of fries (battered and really, really tasty) or potatoes. Lots of starch, but everything’s very tasty.
Joe, a vegetarian, decided to order the shrimp tourkolimano, which is shrimp sauteed in red wine and tomato sauce, with feta cheese,served on a bed of rice. Sounds good, right? Well, maybe it was an off day, because, along with my dish, Joe only said it was “OK.”
Not our best experience, but, as I said, we love this place and will definitely be back (probably soon). The restaurant, on my patented scale, earns an “OK” rating. And to think, a little table would be all that’s necessary to push them to the top and a “Rated A1C” rating.
An order of rice pudding was enjoyed, a bottle of wine was polished off, and a fine evening was enjoyed by all. Below you’ll see my video of the restroom.
Oh Snow! Dinner at Varga Bar
So, Meg and I had reservations at Mercato during the second of two weeks of Restaurant Week(s) in Philadelphia. We both looked forward to the meal, as we’d heard so much good stuff about the place. Anyway, two snowstorms hit Philly, the second of which was a 10-incher the day before our reservation and, with public transportation non-existent on the night of our reservation, we decided to bag it.
We will return, Mercato.
So a week has passed since our reservation and we decided to meet a friend for dinner. After putting our heads together for a little while via IM today, we decided to give Varga Bar, located at 10th and Spruce in Philly, a shot.
I’d heard a lot about this place. It has a really good beer menu, and it’s very well known for its mac and cheese, which happens to be Meg’s favorite food of all time.
Anyway, Meg and I arrived, and simultaneously we noticed a special app of “popcorn cauliflower.” When we were seated, we asked our waitress about this, and she told us it was roasted cauliflower that was then tempura battered and fried. After hearing this description, we smiled and ordered.
We also ordered our entrees at this point, which I’ll get to, and after that I tested my sugar and took my meds, but first, let me tell you, if every restaurant had popcorn cauliflower, I’d order it every time. It was that good. It was tempura-battered heaven. Served with a truffle aioli, I was tempted to get another order.
Yes, it was that good.
Anyway, I left Meg and our friend by themselves as I left for the restroom. (At this point, I should apologize to Meg because I thought I went to the men’s room, but it turns out there are two unisex restrooms. I made the mistake of telling my beloved wife that I was in the men’s room. When she said “Which one?” I took the opportunity to try to embarrass her a bit, which didn’t go over well, since she was right. Consider this my mea culpa, darling.)
Let me tell you, space at the Varga is a rare commodity. There are only a handful of tables, and a nice bar, but the restaurant has a long, but not deep, footprint. The restrooms are both tucked next to the bar, right next to each other, and they are not the biggest spaces in the restaurant. They maximize their space, I suppose, but, again, I was forced to utilize the top of the toilet in order to lay out my meter, test strip, alcohol swab, insulin pens and syringe-tips, and carrying case, as you can see above, and also just below in the video.
(I did, however, enjoy the fact that they had speakers pumping music into the restroom. I enjoyed their juke box.)
From left, truffle mac and cheese, sirloin cheese steak sandwich, and turkey burger.
For our entrees, Meg, of course, had the truffle mac and cheese, which you can see at right. I had a taste and really enjoyed it, too. I tried the sirloin steak sandwich with cheese, which was served with hand-cut fries with the truffle aioli served on top of them. Yum. Our friend had the turkey burger, served with hand-cut fries. His description of the burger: “It’s OK.” Not the most ringing endorsement.
Anyway, as you know, this isn’t solely about the food, which was really, really good. (By the way, I also enjoyed a couple Laughing Dog Alpha Dog IPAs, which were also really, really good. I’m a big fan of IPAs, and this one had a nice, sharp finish. Yum.) Between the food and the beer, I’d definitely go back.
The rest room, on our rating system (which ranges from “Piss Poor” to “Hypoglycemic” to “OK” to “Rated A1C”), would come in somewhere between “Hypoglycemic” and “OK,” but I’ll have to knock them back to “Hypoglycemic,” because I just had to question the cleanliness of the restroom. Also, Meg got back from her visit to the other unisex restroom (not, for the record, the ladies room, as I believed it to be) and said there was a problem with one of the faucets, which would blow water on the user’s hands whenever they finished using the hand dryer located just above the sink.
Another suggestion for Varga, as well: As you can see from the video, there were some disturbing stains in the sink in the bathroom. I don’t want to see that. Someone should take some tyme and bleach the sink.
No one should see stains in the sink when they visit any restaurant.
Type 1 Philly 