Eat First, Read Later.

Note: If you’re hungry, you’ll want to go get a snack before reading this blog entry because it’s all about food. In fact, maybe I should go eat my breakfast before I write this, because I know I’ll be starved by the time I am done. {LOL}

I have to say, one of the best things about traveling with R. is that he is a bigger foodie than I am. Here we were, in podunk land for our little state conference, and we still managed to find a wicked awesome restaurant. I know, I know. It’s amazing, right? After all, the heartland of America is more about Applebee’s, O’Charley’s, and Damon’s than about ethnic food and local diners.

How did this happen? Well, we started out Friday at our conference: I moderated my panel {which had one of the most entertaining – but completely irrelevant – presentations I’ve ever seen}, we gave our paper, and then we headed over to the conference luncheon where, even though I had pre-ordered, my vegetarian meal was taken by someone else. The food coordinator was mortified, but I let him off the hook by eating just the potatoes and the veggies. I’m sorry, but I’m really kinda’ picky about meat and I’ve never enjoyed the rubber chicken that is served at these things, so I always go veggie if given a choice. This year, they had pork which is another one of those foods that I avoid unless I am cooking it, seeing how I had trichinosis when I was three or four.*

Anyhow, knowing that our hotel was in BFE, we asked the conference president about where to eat. He referred us to a Spanish restaurant in a neighboring town. Now, we went back to our hotel with the intention of changing clothes, but seeing how the maids were still in the rooms, we ended up heading to the neighboring town a bit early. And, yes, we arrived well before the restaurant was open. We ended up spending about an hour in a local coffee shop (such a change from Sorta’ Cosmopolitan where the coffee scene has been hijacked by *$!), chatting and reading the newspaper.** I’m sure we looked out of place among all the college kids because R. was in his three piece suit (which, btw, “suited” him really well – pun intended) and I was still in my new suit with the fancy ass shirt and silver cufflinks. In retrospect, we probably looked more like bankers than academics.

Eventually, the restaurant opened and we scored a table. The meal was my treat because R. had slaved away as my editorial assistant for no pay and I let him pick the tapas because, quite honestly, he’s more knowledgeable about food than I am. So, we started with Jamon Serrano (a sliced, cured Spanish ham that I’ve heard about on the Food Network, but have never eaten) and this blue cheese that was so heavenly that I nearly cried.

Oh. My. God. Delicious.

We also ordered the Paella Marinera for two. Now, I’ve had paella before, at a professor’s house when I was in graduate school. His paella, however, was made with chicken, sausage, and shrimp. This paella? So much better. It was loaded with mussels, crab legs, shrimp, squid, and fish. I love interactive meals. You know what I am talking about — those meals where you actually get to play with your food. It really makes the food rather sensual. And fun. And childish. The whole package.

Of course, my mind did think back to that scene in Pretty Woman where Julia Roberts’ clam (at least, I think it was a clam) when flying across the restaurant. Needless to say, I stuck to the mussels and left most of the crab legs for R. As for the mussels, I remembered that TQE said there was some kind of rule about months that end in Y. Only, I couldn’t remember if you were supposed to eat them in Y months or vice versa. It didn’t stop me from consuming them, though, because that’s what Imodium is for. {LOL} I know, I’m weird about pork, chicken and eggs, but I’m willing to commit death by seafood. Maybe it’s a southern girl thing?

I could probably stop talking about food at this point, but where’s the fun in that? The next day, we decided to get breakfast before heading back to Sorta’ Cosmopolitan. We asked the guy at the hotel desk about our options. He mentioned Denny’s, Bob Evans, and Steak & Shake before he said the words that I love to hear — “There’s also a local diner down the street.” Of course, we opted for what my friend Jean from Ohio would call “a shiny diney.”  I love local places and Sorta’ Cosmopolitan really has a dearth of good breakfast joints, so really it was a no-brainer. The diner ended up being a cheery little place with a cute waiter (although I did manage to whack my leg against the table – ack!) and a decent selection of cheap homey food. I had a hard time deciding what to order, but ended up getting the chorizo hash with eggs and rye toast. Hey, there’s nothing like a little spice to wake up your sense in the a.m.

And the food adventures didn’t end there. We drove the 5+ hours back to our evil little city, stopping once for gas and snacks at a Marathon station that had the nastiest bathrooms I have seen in quite some time. By the time we made it home, R. was feeling better (he was a little ill from the Spanish restaurant) so we went to the Vietnamese place before I dropped him at home.

I don’t know why I have never had Vietnamese food before. Maybe it’s because The Coach isn’t a particularly adventurous eater. Maybe it’s because I hate going to the surburban sprawl on the east side of town. Who knows? All I can say is that this place was also pretty damned good – and cheap too! I ended up with this ginger beef dish that was to die for. It was a perfect balance of spices and texture. Really, the only thing that was weird about the joint was that the waitress tried to dump fish sauce all over my rice before I had a chance to taste it! {ACK!} R. also gave me a taste of his chicken pho, which he described as having a “complex” broth. I had to laugh because the pho was also an interactive dish – here was R. adding basil and chili sauce to his soup while I was chowing down on my meal. In a way, that worked out well because I’m a slow eater so we finished about the same time. Yeah, I’m going to have to add this restaurant to my list of places to take TQE when he comes for his next visit.

Overall, the trip turned out to be much more fun than I expected. Usually conferences can be a little boring, a little lonely, and more than a little tiresome. R. ended up being a really good travel companion, along the lines of M. and TQE. {Trust me – this is a high complement!} I’m sure that this weekend’s trip to Chicago will be nowhere near as fun.

* Yes, this is really true, even though the chance of getting trichinosis in the U.S. is pretty small. My mother was in the hospital for days, I was in the emergency room, and my poor father had to deal with a small barfing, pooping child for the duration.  I don’t remember much about this event, except for the fact that my mother passed out and actually fell through the wall. My grandfather came down from New York to patch it. For the rest of my childhood, I ate burnt bacon and dried out pork chops.

** Just call me a dirty old woman because I was enjoying the local eye candy. There was this really cute — in a “I’m a rich, metrosexual frat boy” kind of way — kid running up and down the stairway next to the coffee shop. I guess my calls for parity have been answered?