Category Archives: Arlington, VA

Treating Myself VERY Well

Out doing errands trying to be in the now and enjoy my comfortable car, access to almost any food imaginable, quality sound surrounding me in the Honda capsule and general fantastic life. Doing errands alone is boring. And, to be frank, lonely. Sad even.

Remembering errand-doing with my mother in Appleton, Wisconsin when I was too small to be useful, every stop so exciting. Maybe Lester Balliet at the coal company office would pull a nickel from my ear. Maybe I could – this one time – talk my mother into not stepping on a single crack in the square tile linoleum floor at the A&P, provided she let me come in with her. Maybe she would leave me to wait in the A&P parking lot, hunched on the floor of the VW bug, super scratchy carpeting tearing up my tender skin, pretending I was important, left behind to be kept safe.

Remembering errand-doing with my mother in Fairfax County, Virginia, when I was old enough to be useful, we were purposeful and adventurous, exploring a new locale, so far from the midwest and so foreign. She was brave and determined. We stopped for lunch. I felt – and maybe my mother did too – a tiny bit exotic and as though I was growing my sophistication quotient. Steak in a Sack. Oh, that sounds so awful now. We are not new here anymore and we are suspicious of silly names. Steak in a Sack was thinly sliced, seared beef in pita – delicious – unlike anything we had ever seen or tasted or even heard of and I remember a slight sense of reverance when walking into the wafting scent of meat. Pita was new, exciting, warm, tender, and yummy.

Doing errands now, alone, I go for efficiency and wonder why I think that speeding up will make time go more slowly. It will not. This time, this one time, closing in on the German Gourmet, I pull in. The German Gourmet is not for bargain hunters, praise be to Odin.

Okay, okay, I did eat in my car, but only because they do not have tables. Why do they not have tables, I wonder. And why do I not drive the Honda CRV with the picnic table option? That picnic table option is a real thing.

The German Gourmet is a sleeper sandwich mecca.

It is. A mecca. They offer a punch card. And holy cow look at the options on the order sheet. Did somebody say Tyrol Cabbage? Remoulade? Curry Ketchup?

The errand-doing was okay. The sandwich was good. The Muenchner, because it included an unknown to me ingredient, leberkase. So good. Could a person simply slow down for a sandwich mid-errand. Yes, yes and yes. Thanks be to Odin.

Addendum: Thanks be to kramalot who is authorized to order and eat sausage at any turn.

You Know You Can See My House From Here

Just a loaf’s throw away.

Sauca has opened around the corner. Hallelujah.

Eamonn’s is opening on the Pike! You read it here second. With a broader menu than the Old Town location. I’m kinda excited about the opening of Eamonn’s. Critical mass has not yet arrived on the Columbia Pike commercial strip. Still big patches of blistering parking lots, 80’s era car dealerships, check cashing joints, and mattress emporiums.

Living here in Arlington – Arlingtonian’s love it, and rightly so – I have always been conflicted, and have been making an effort to keep my conflicts in suspension.

Now we’ve got Eamonn’s and Sauca as anchor stores on the Pike.This is good news. Even for a skeptic like me. After 20 years living in Arlington, I still don’t get it. A county with no town.  And this is not rural. It feels like a case of No there there. Or, You can’t get there from here. At best, it is geographically awkward.

And “Pike”.  I can’t warm to a main street we call The Pike. I’m tryin’. I swear. For Pike’s sake, I’m tryin’. Thinking nice thoughts about the trolley. Getting fuzzy over the brick sidewalks. Throwing kisses to the knock-kneed baby treelets as I gun it and swerve around a metrobus.

Anyhoo, Sauca on the Pike is a coup. Thanks be to sandwiches.

There’s a Sauca where the diner used to be, and it’s eye-poppingly adorable.
Farhad Assari, the proprietor of Sauca, comfortably walks the tightrope between friendly and overbearing. What a pleasure to be meeted and greeted by Farhad and his easy charisma.
Melissa went with me and was game for whatever.
We loved the place – from orange spinning stools, to delivery scooters, to sparkly staff.  Sauca’s motto is “Eat the World”, which sounds kinda dirty to me, but that’s okay. 
Melissa has a thing about crumbs. She does not like them. Sauca’s griddled flatbreads keep their crumbs to themselves. Phew.And on a pretty day, a person can eat outside under the space agey awning thingy.

Arlington is ok.

Well Enough Left Alone

One of my favorite Onion headlines: “Local Girlfriend Wants to Do Stuff”.

Local wife, Suits-Herself-Cindy, turned me on to American Seafood.

This cute and disheveled older man runs the shop. He is the owner, actually, with his wife, who makes the key lime pies. It mostly operatesas a seafood store (not restaurant), but he serves dinner a few nights a week. Basically, he will cook ANY fish for you. I get the feeling that you could just walk into the shop and say “I’d like that piece,” and he’d cook it up for you.Then you can get fries and slaw or vegetables and rice. (ADORE the lack of choices). The vegetables (summer squash and green beans) came from his garden!!! So sweet.And, boy, he can cook a piece of fish. The grouper I had was by far the best fish I have had in a long time. The owner hustles around in a cheerful but low key way and makes sure everyone is happy. AND you bring your own beer/wine.They have a variety of fish sandwiches for lunch. We should go.
Here is a link if you want to investigate: http://www.yelp.com/biz/america-seafood-corp-arlington
So we went. Here here to BYOB and “lack of choices”.

I had been having restaurant phobia. It is a phenomenon where I basically don’t like any restaurant. They all either seem overpriced or not quite good enough or too fussy (I didn’t want anything seared or crusted or glazed or …you know). Does this ever happen to you? American Seafood Corp was the perfect answer.

I’m tired of restaurants, too. Poor me, like the school boy in the New Yorker cartoon circa 1979. Peeling open his sandwich in the lunch room, brown bag on the table, he says, “Not pâté again.” Poor me, I eat out too much. Too many choices. My brain is tired.

Taking one bowl and one spoon and moving to the country.

Here here is American Seafood. For when this local girlfriend wants to do stuff.