I Might Be in One Place But My Legs Keep Movin'

I'm lying in bed but it still feels like my legs are moving. Maybe it's leftover from the acupuncture earlier today, or maybe I really do have restless leg syndrome. Or maybe my legs are just so used to taking me all over the place that they're not used to staying in for the night.

I was in Chicago again this week, luckily getting a great rate at my favorite Hotel Monaco and having a little bit of time to check out some restaurants I missed on my last trip. After Edith's recommendation, I was excited to try the popular Weber Grill, but it was too noisy to concentrate on my conversation with Kevin, and my steak salad was more like roast beef salad. We pigged out on the onion strings and I splurged on a locally-brewed Goose Island root beer (not diet) so all was not lost.

After a few hours of stressful work, we ended Thursday at the famous Frontera, where we dared to eat goat empanadas, which I washed down with a nice silver tequila and spicy sangrita (garnished with a hot pepper). Since there was an hour wait for the dining room, we sat in the bar area and were waited on hand and foot by the attentive staff, who brought me some ricotta-filled enchiladas topped once again with onion strings, bringing my day full circle and filling my belly.

I only had one night in Chicago and my feet were killing me, and knowing I have another big trip coming, I kind of tried to take it easy. Rather than doing the sightseeing and exploration I would normally do to try to take advantage of a free flight somewhere, I had a quick coffee meeting at Intelligentsia (also recommended by Edith) and then hopped an early flight back to NYC in time for a hair appointment and a big night out on the town.


Knowing I was going to stay in tonight, I was looking for a good New York City night out last night, to show off my hair and get it out of my system a little. Starting with wine and zucchini crostini at Gottino (always a favorite), and moving on to a hibiscus highball, strangely sweet squid and Thai coconut curry-tasting popcorn at the molecularly gastronomic Tailor (which was a bit too weird for me), I should have stopped there. Instead, I moved on to foie gras and too much wine at Blue Ribbon, and a bacon cheese stack (I think) at Marshall Stack before blindly taking a cab ride home and somehow managing to get my contacts out of my eyeballs before passing out.

A few days in the city to recover before heading out on a terrifyingly adventurous trip to Morocco. I'm trying not to think of the movie Babel.