Buried And Reborn

The great thaw continues. Any item recently chipped free from the primordial ice cliffs of the freezer should be considered a candidate for either a salad, a casserole, lasagna (deconstructed or traditional), or a soup. The key is to bury its freezer-burned faults with a barrage of supporting ingredients, a host of scrappy alternates who, together, can obscure the truth of its origin.

In this case, Tamalehawk battles through a clutch of frozen chicken parts. Peaked with icy terrain and bearing sell-by dates that harken an altogether different season, he decides to try for chicken salad. After defrosting, prying apart, splaying, and rotating, he poached them all in chicken stock. When they were cooked, he shredded them, added mayo, dijon, BBQ seasoning, and really anything else that seemed up to the task. Cheesed and lettuced, he decided to pose them in a dramatic angular fashion, as though the sandwich was going to eat you. He eschewed the industry standard sandwich pose, where the corner of one half is stacked gently atop its brethren in a jaunty fashion, as though it were clamoring to find its fate in the first willing maw that came along. In the end, the series of select staples rallied to reveal a rewarding finale.

Unknown Expedition

You can tell the groceries are approaching a dramatic terminus when the freezer becomes a desolate tundra of complicated and unappealing stalwarts. Tamalehawk begins the arduous endeavor of defrosting the long-neglected selections wrapped in unmarked foil and stashed sideways in random arctic alcoves.

He doesn't know what this is. There is Italian sausage, retrieved from antiquity, compiled with a melange of remaining regulars including artichokes, olives, garlic, anchovies, olive oil, tomato sauce. The key here is making something that reaps the meager harvest in a palatable way while yielding lunch leftovers. A mild triumph in those respects, Tamalehawk can't help but long for a bountiful future.

Vice and Virtue

It's been documented that Tamalehawk drinks liquor only as a novelty or at weird weddings on someone else's dime, but his desire to innovate compelled him to create a new cocktail. He did, after all, receive his honorary doctorate in Mixology from a bartending school that is as prestigious as it is non-existent.

Seizing scattered components and christening his cocktail shaker, he added leftover brewed coffee, Maker's Mark whiskey, Triple Sec, and almond flavoring. Shake it up and strain into a glass. You have just made a Cowboy Sunset, guaranteed to blur the line between alcohol and coffee buzz. You're not drinking alone at home, you're just having a fancy coffee drink. Besides, if Starbucks could offer you two fingers of whiskey, you know they would. They would also somehow burn it, overcharge you, and continue speeding the demise of modern music. Oh no he didn't. Yes he did.

Frozen Assets

For Tamalehawk, summer brings a fierce predilection for ice cream. He found this in his grocer's freezer, a low-fat frozen yogurt made by Haagen-Daz, that really transcends any of the deterring modifiers in its title and lives up to the standards of its ultimate namesake. It's really hard not to bypass an actual dinner, eat the entire thing in one to two sittings, and give yourself an old-fashioned stomach ache.

As far as local options, Dairy Queen scratches the ice cream itch in a complete and nostalgic way that Tamalehawk appreciates. He agrees with the heap of good press the butterscotch dip cone has reaped. You can do the Blizzard, as it undoubtedly has done its fair share of heap-reaping, but Tamalehawk tends to grow tired of them a few bites in. Plus, a wise man once stated that you'd have to be a complete lunatic to get anything bigger than a small size when dealing in Blizzards. Also, it's OK to be intrigued by the Peanut Buster Parfait, but don't ever get the Brownie Earthquake. The mantle of stale brownie disappoints to the core. Cold Stone Creamery is really not an option unless you're getting the cake-batter ice cream, in which case, proceed. Get it with: almonds and cherries or just straight up fudge. Just don't even glance at their abhorrent suggestions on the wall.

But For The Gilding

Frying egg or hideous eyeball of advancing robot overlord? You decide. Tamalehawk always turns to eggs when he's alone and has waited too long to eat. He's not always in the mood for them or anything, but they are really fast and versatile. When you've been ranging from kitchen to living room to computer in a doomed triangle of hunger, you settle for almost anything that will put an end to that misery march.

Tamalehawk is sure you've eaten at any number of the city's Golden diner options, be it the Golden Angel, Golden Cloud, or Golden Apple. Normally, the word "golden" would describe something of precious value, however, in restaurant terms, it means "cheap diner with a mind-bogglingly extensive laminated menu." Having eaten at all local Goldens and enjoyed them all, he recommends the Golden Angel. Slight disappointment with the coffee is overridden by a general pleasing vibe. Fresh mushrooms in the omelet is always a sign of a diner that cares, and two kinds of hot sauce on the table is an added bonus. No need to mess with that Tabasco stuff.

Service Defined

According to the sundial, it's high meatball season. These feature the trifecta of meats - pork, beef, and veal - with garlic and all the other stuff. Then ball them, dredge them in flour, brown them, etc. You can purchase the three meats together in one shot at Treasure Island. That is considerate of them.

After an extended trial period, Tamalehawk can honestly say he recommends Treasure Island. His grocery strategy has been, historically, riddled with indecision and dissatisfaction. Jewel has cheap prices, a value card, and lots of recognizable brand names. But awful, detestable produce and completely unreliable meats. Trader Joe's can't deliver on many items, but makes up for it with lots of interesting exclusive products. Treasure Island humbly meets them in the middle, offering great produce and meat while still sort of exuding a somewhat European air. Tamalehawk is not sure what that means or why he likes it, but it seems to work. It's the closest thing to one-stop grocery shopping that he's been able to find. Also the deli people always give you a slice of what ever you've ordered to taste-test, which is a nice touch. Having a man in a bloody apron dangle a piece of ham in your face then wait patiently for approval is far more satisfying than it should be.

Day In The Sun

Some advice: If you buy Nutella, then make sure you have something on hand to dip in it or spread it on. Dipping is less work and therefore superior. In an ideal world you'd have like a pretzel stick or something. Like a shortbread cookie. Or any kind of cookie. A biscotti for sure. Tamalehawk got desperate and tried it on some Kashi Fire Roasted Vegetable crackers. The Nutella kind of takes over completely, so really they worked fine. He finally settled on dipping a spoonful of Nutella into a jar of loose peanuts. That worked out exceptionally.

He's going to go ahead and recommend the breakfast roll at Ginger's Ale House. Consisting of Irish bacon and sausage, eggs, onions, and cheese on a long roll, it just tastes good, especially before witnessing a massive slaughter at Wrigley. Make sure to get an Old Style while you're there. You'll be intrigued by the PBR tall boys, but stay with the classic. If you still have room, pack away peanuts and a dog or two. Also, Tamalehawk noticed they have nachos with like shredded pork on them? Did you know about this? He was mesmerized.