angel-minah

[madegeeky]

Is cooking and baking for a tea party dinner an all day thing for other people too or do we just go too insane when it comes to tea party dinners?

[mistressarafax]

KaiJou Week - Day 4: Sundae

I went off and did my own thing on this one...

---

As Joey walked into the dining area, he was surprised to find Seto there, sitting at the head of the table and typing away on his laptop. Not that Seto couldn't be sitting in his own dining area. Joey was simply surprised because Seto had been pouring all his time and energy into a big project at work for the last month or so, and Joey hadn't seen him at home during daylight hours for just as long.

"What are ya doin' home so early?" he asked.

"Nothing."

It was obviously not the truth, and Joey pursed his lips in mild irritation. "You're here for a reason."

"Do I need a reason to be in my own house?" Seto asked, finally looking up from his computer and fixing Joey with an unimpressed stare.

"Well...no. But you've been busy and don't usually get here 'til way later. It's just surprisin' is all. Ya get your project done or somethin'?"

Seto closed his computer and sighed. "More or less. There's a little finalizing that has to be done, but I thought perhaps we could get dinner tonight."

"Ya couldn't have just said that when I first asked what ya were doin' here?"

A smirk graced Seto's lips, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Where would the fun be if I made it that easy?"

Joey rolled his eyes. Apparently, Seto was in a mood. Not that he especially minded. A playful, good-natured Seto often carried over into the bedroom, and he wouldn't complain at the prospect of getting laid even if Seto was being difficult on purpose. Especially after a month where Seto's work had been keeping their sex life almost nonexistent.

"Ya got somewhere in mind?" Joey asked.

Seto nodded. "I set out an outfit for you."

Joey furrowed his eyebrows. This whole thing sounded extremely planned out if Seto had picked out an outfit for him. Which only made him wonder if he was forgetting something. An important date or an anniversary of some sort. He was wracking his brain, trying to go through all the possibilities.

Seto's deep, amused chuckle brought him out of his thoughts. "Go get dressed. You haven't forgotten anything."

Joey shook his head in disbelief, heading to their shared bedroom in order to change. When he got there, he pulled his t-shirt over his head, sliding down his pants before locating what Seto had pulled out for him. Surprisingly, it wasn't anything too crazy. A pair of khaki shorts and a pastel green polo. It was a rather casual selection for Seto, and it only made Joey more curious about where they were going.

He got dressed quickly and rejoined Seto in the dining room. The brunet had packed away his computer, leaning against the dining room table while he looked through his phone. Joey realized he was wearing a casual outfit too. Seto casual, at least. Blue slacks, white button-down, and a complementary tie. Less dressed up than what Seto normally wore into work on a daily basis.

Joey didn't comment on it and followed Seto to the car. Even fifteen minutes into their journey, Joey still didn't know exactly where they were headed, though he had a few guesses based on the general area. Could have been Thai or Korean. Also, one of Seto's favorite French restaurants was around, though they were far too underdressed for it to be where they were headed.

It wasn't until Seto pulled into the parking lot that Joey figured it out. A steak and seafood restaurant. They hadn't been there more than three times in the past, but Joey recalled that it wasn't bad. Not that he ever really complained about food. Seto was the one who was picky, and he hadn't had any complaints either.

A waiter seated them on the balcony, giving them a fantastic view of Domino City as they looked through the menu. Seto ordered them a bottle of chardonnay to share, and Joey sipped at his while he made his dinner choices. Fried calamari as an appetizer. Steak and shrimp for dinner. 

Orders placed, Joey reached across the table and took Seto's hand. "There really no special reason we're here?"

Seto shook his head. "Not particularly. I wanted to spend time with you since I've been busy lately."

Joey smiled softly, pleased. Seto openly expressing his feelings always hits this pleasant note in his heart. "It is nice to see ya outside of bed for once," he teased. "I almost forgot what you liked like."

Seto rolled his eyes. "As if you could forget."

A grin formed on his face. "You're right. I like your face too much to forget it."

"Only my face?" Seto asked with an eyebrow quirked.

Joey could read that expression and all the insinuation behind it. He was definitely getting laid tonight. A flush crept up his neck. "Among other things," he admitted, quietly enough that only Kaiba would hear.

Kaiba smirked. "Good."

"You're in a good mood today," Joey noted. "It's kinda weird, ya know? You're usually grumpy at the end of a project."

Kaiba shook his head, taking a sip of wine as the calamari arrived.

Joey took a bite, marveling at how delicious the food was. "God, this is good."

"Mmm," Kaiba agreed.

"So you're sure nothin' good happened?"

"Trust me, Joseph. I'm just pleased to spend time with you."

"Distance makin' your heart grow fonder?" Joey asked.

"Something like that," Kaiba said neutrally.

Joey just shook his head and turned his attention back to eating the pre-dinner appetizer. Their dishes arrived not long after that, and Joey wondered why they hadn't come to this restaurant more frequently. It was easily one of the best places he'd been with Seto.

"I was going to get you dessert, as well," Seto said as he paid the bill. "There's an ice cream shop right across the street."

Part of Joey couldn't escape the looming feeling of worry that came with Seto being so considerate. Extreme thoughtfulness usually was a precursor to some kind of announcement that Seto was going be doing something Joey wouldn't like in the near future. Whether it was a banquet or dinner party or work trip, Seto often tried to soften the blow with a nice dinner. This didn't feel the same as those. Seto was in an upbeat, almost playful mood, and it didn't fit with his usual approach to delivering bad news.

They stood up, walking across the street hand in hand. Walking into the ice cream parlor, Joey marveled at all the flavor choices. Seto ordered immediately, opting for a vanilla cone. Joey decided quickly after that that he wanted a strawberry shortcake sundae.

He eagerly awaited his frozen confection, nearly bouncing beside Seto. "Calm down," Seto reprimanded gently.

"I'm just excited. I love strawberries, and strawberry shortcake sundaes are delicious."

"Do you love them than me?"

"Maybe," Joey teased. "Not sure which I couldn't live without. You or strawberries? It's a tough call."

"We can see how much you enjoy taking a strawberry up the ass then and find out."

Joey looked up at him. His delivery had been perfectly serious. Like he sincerely meant it and would give it a try when they got home. Joey shuddered at the thought. "Oh, fuck no. No way in hell are ya stickin' a strawberry up my ass."

Seto smirked, amused, and Joey wondered if he'd been replaced by an alien. He was being weird. Like the kind of weird Kaiba normally wasn't. "Seriously, what's up with you today? Are ya on drugs?"

"No. To be perfectly honest, Mokuba lectured me earlier about how much you missed me and how I shouldn't let work dictate my life so much. I'm just..trying to take his advice to heart."

"I did miss ya," Joey said. "I like spendin' time with ya. When ya ain't threatenin' to shove fruit in my orifices, at least."

"Noted," Seto said.

Joey finished up his sundae, sighing out in satisfaction. Seto finished his cone neatly seconds later, and Joey leaned close to him, taking his hand. "Though there's something else ya got that I wouldn't mind havin' in an orifice or two."

Kaiba gave him a sideways glance, an eyebrow raised suggestively. "Then I suppose we better get home then," he mused.

"Oh yeah," Joey agreed.

Hand in hand, they hurried back to Kaiba's car. A long, sweaty night awaited them, and Joey was eager to get started. It had been too long since the last time, and he was not passing up the offer Kaiba had been dangling in front of him all night. No way in hell.

[stusbunker]

A New Normal

For Better or Worst: Chapter Two

Featuring: Sam Winchester x Emery Simmons-Winchester (OFC)

OCs: Emery’s TAs Penelope, Hector, Morgan and Jasper.

Season 14 AU

Word Count: 3382

Summary: The new couple completes their soul oaths and reality sinks in. A different kind of life awaits them, together.

Warnings: Could be considered dub!con smut, but the intention and consent is clear. Hints of infertility. This is the longest chapter for a while. xoxo

Read Chapter One First!

^*^*^

“And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.“ Colossians 3:14

Wedding Night

              There had been no cocktail hour or reception. Once Sam had kissed Emery and they signed the marriage license, with the organist and caretaker as witnesses, they simply gathered their things and went home. Bandit was somehow waiting for them in the backyard, which was perfectly fenced for pets and privacy. The bungalow Sam had woken in, was a three bedroom, with plenty of space for both of them to feel comfortable. They changed out of their formal wear, separately, and went out to eat, each insisting the other pick the cuisine. Sam drove, which was still an adjustment for him, but it allowed Emery to search for restaurants. He kept glancing over at her, a weird feeling of satisfaction flowing through him as he watched her. She was smart and beautiful, and she was his.

              It was a bit of a head rush for her, to be honest. Emery hadn’t been in a relationship in years and suddenly she was seated beside her tall husband with his long hair and five o’clock shadow debating about what to have as their first meal together. Who wouldn’t be slightly frazzled?

              “Okay, we’re just going to find the closest place, and if it’s packed, we’ll go to the next one,” Emery announced as they chewed over their options. Sam had pulled over because he was driving in circles and didn’t know how to navigate the downtown quite yet.

              Sam smiled and nodded, bottom lip popping out in consideration. “Sounds good.”

              They found an Asian fusion place on 6th, it was barely four in the afternoon and therefore nearly empty. They got a table near the windows and took turns people watching. The older waiter smiled knowingly at the fumbling pair. “First date?”

              “Uh, yeah,” Sam chomped his teeth in chagrin.

              “Shut up Sam,” Emery corrected him. “It’s our wedding night, don’t listen to him.”

The waiter laughed, patting her hand. “We take good care of you. Congrats.” He had a bottle of Sake delivered, on the house, before the appetizer arrived. Emery toasted Sam and he raised his eyebrows just before she downed her entire glass, winking at his frozen face.

Emery had gotten comfortable on the ride home, resting her hand on Sam’s thigh and head on his shoulder, despite the space between seats in their hybrid. He felt tight around the collar and kept turning the defrost on and off, the winter air fighting against his growing body heat. He killed the engine, and waited for her to move first, but she just looked up at him, a tipsy smile breaking apart her soft features.

“Hey, so,” she inhaled over her bottom lip before continuing. “Um, I think we have to, ya know. For everything to be official. And, it’s—it’s been a real long time. And I know I just met you and we’re married. Yay! But also, scary—you know?!”

Sam nodded, letting her ramble, taking her hand from his lap, brushing his lips over her knuckles. “Emery? It’s okay. I’m not going to put any pressure on you, besides the whole wrath of heaven thing—” Sam smirked, before he pulled their hands over his heart. “I swear.”

She sighed, face falling nearly into a full swoon before she leaned up and kissed him. Lips slipping before Sam caught her and pulled her closer. Bandit, naturally, broke the moment, barking as a pedestrian crossed behind them where the sidewalk met their driveway. The newlyweds broke apart with a shared chuckle. ­­­­­­­­­­­

Later on, after overthinking, some feet dragging, and a skin care regimen more detailed than she had ever attempted, Emery walked into the bedroom. Sam was stretched out, above the covers, on what was quite possibly the largest bed she had ever seen in person. He wore a plain gray tee shirt and matching black and gray pajama pants, while nose deep in a read-worn hardback with one arm crooked behind his head. Emery herself had gone causal as well, forgoing the lingerie set that was not so subtly hanging in her side of the closet, instead she chose a simple oversized shirt that fell to her mid-thigh.

In all fairness, the delay and Emery’s nervousness wasn’t because she was self-conscious; it was just a lot of pressure. She took a deep breath, and another for courage.

“Hey—” Sam’s voice, still fresh to her ears, but reassuring all the same.

“Hey back,” Emery slipped forward, slow and steady, looking down her nose at his book.

“I hope you don’t mind, I’m sort of used to the left side?” Sam sat up, setting the book on his side table. Emery chuckled as she plopped down onto the cushioning bed top, curling on her side to face her husband, head propped up by an elbow.

“This bed is humongous, I don’t think I’ll even notice you there,” she fell back, kicking out her hands and feet. Suddenly she brushed reaching fingers, threading together in centering connection. She pulled Sam over in mock tug-of-war.

“I think you’re gonna notice I’m here,” Sam countered, eyebrows pitching suggestively.

“Is that so? Oh no, do you snore?!” Emery accused.

“No, at least I don’t think so,” Sam laughed, brushing her bangs back as he leaned in to kiss her forehead. “Don’t usually sleep that deeply anyway.”

“Yeah, sleep is overrated,” Emery agreed, eyes locking onto his shadowed hazels, a near mirror of her own. The quiet of the house echoed their conversation, hushed and buzzing, she wasn’t sure what was felt or heard, it was, just building.

“Tell me about it,” Sam whispered as he took her face in his broad palms, mouth claiming hers in hungered culmination. It was a calm tide, shifting and adjusting as they learned and shared one another. Her soft hands roamed his chest, sending chills as she smoothed over his tattoo. Soon, Emery was straddling Sam, her clothed heat stoking his desire with each gentle roll of her hips. She purred appreciatively as he nipped down her neck, mouth latching over her dark nipple. Memories flooded her, and she shook them away, hours of exhaustion and desperation with her son at her breast. Thoughts that would do her no good in the here and now.

Emery slid back to the comforter, pulling Sam’s shoulder with her, hoping he’d take over. He did, gladly. His hands quickly freed them of the last of their pajamas. Rough fingers smoothing over her tawny thighs.

“Do we need—” Sam started, but she shook her head almost regretfully.

“No, I can’t- it’s okay. We’re fine,” Emery answered without explaining.

“Well, okay, then.” Sam kissed her again, letting his tongue dance away from hers until she was writhing underneath him, knuckles barely brushing her folds. Sam noted every quake and quiver, wanting her ready. Needing her wanting.

The waves pitched and they moved to keep up, with each other and inevitability. Sam dragged his teeth down the valley of her chest, tasting the salty spice of her skin before diving into her heady juices. He teased her hood with the tip of his nose, tongue flicking out, drawing the most sinful exaltations from her. He worked her open, learning her body, bare and blemished with untold stories, yet perfect all the same. Once he added a third finger, she started to retaliate, carding her fingers through Sam’s hair as she nearly sat up, bending with the blossoming pleasure.

“Sam. Saaaaaamm. Sam!” Emery demanded.

“Not yet, Baby, you’re so close,” he shushed her, nuzzling into her thigh before returning with impossibly slow and wide strokes of that tongue. That damned tongue. He was right, but she didn’t know how she could get it out, let it go, or reach it. Everything ached with intensity, and as soon as one would snuff out a match, she barreled down that hill. Sam’s lips and fingers pushing her over and through as heat and sound merged into thought ending euphoria. Sam crawled back up his wife’s body, her blissed out and thoroughly worked over body.

“Oh, I could get used to that,” Emery giggled, kissing him firmly, before breaking off into a pleased groan. Her knees notched around Sam’s waist, as she played with his hair, a mixture of mischief and pride pulling at his features.

“It’ll be even better next time; I’m a fast learner,” Sam reassured her, and probably himself. She couldn’t imagine the learning curve after that presentation. He slowly laced himself with her desire, hard and ready at her core. This was their final hurtle, the last promise, the bow on the knot of their deals. Sam kissed Emery’s cheek, and eased inside her, the sizzling pressure, hot and tight over every inch of him. She whimpered and Sam froze, waiting for her to look back at him. The briefest flash of gold circled her pupil as she locked onto his stare. She saw a similar gilded magic “C” cord through the inside of Sam’s multifaceted irises, knowing it was done. They were permanently bonded, body and soul.

“Wow,” Emery gasped, a breath more than a whisper.

“Yeah?” Sam grinned, breaking the awe with a chest deep laugh before getting to work.

“Yeah,” Emery answered, pulling her knees back, giving Sam depth and space. He braced a hand over her shoulder, keeping her bent beneath him and he hammered into her. Her smooth wetness making his blood sing. The sweat beaded on his neck, his lower back and down his tummy, every inch of him flushed with effort and pleasure. Sam groaned as his balls hitched, he exhaled trying to hold out. He slowed his thrusts, meat of his hand falling over her mound. Emery bucked against the weight of his hand, earning a calculated shove back, losing her balance, her legs fell back down.

They broke apart, electric and panting. Emery rolled to her knees, as Sam’s hands found the delicate catch of her love handles, centering himself. He filled her this way, deep and fast, chest to back, palm over hand. Trembling and overwhelmed, the pair crashed forward. Sam’s solid weight just enough pressure to keep Emery alert, to balance the aftershocks. With the satisfying wedge of his fingers through hers, they drifted off. Naked and bound.

              Magic comes with a cost and a spell that binds one being to another, soul deep and unwavering takes an immense amount of energy. Energy that the casters didn’t have to spare, therefore the newlyweds woke a day later than they expected to. Sam groaned and rolled away from the cool fingers splayed across his chest. He felt his brain thud through his head like a marble in a maze, his every joint ached. Everything came rushing back like every whiskey fueled night rolled into one debilitating hangover and subsequent walk of shame.

Sam met Bandit in the kitchen, doing a double take before the inquisitive boy approached to sniff him out. This should have been the reassurance Sam needed, but his natural instincts left him to distrust the entire situation. Even the affection of a good dog was more than he was used to and therefore something to take with a grain of salt. Sam let the dog out and walked the yard, ensuring the fence would keep the dog in without a leash. Their breaths puffs against the biting chill in the dawn air. Sam was happy they weren’t going to have to keep him penned inside when they went to work.

Work; Sam Winchester had a job waiting for him Monday morning. He was going to be in the archives of the local college, which he was oddly grateful for, familiar toils in an unfamiliar setting was better than nothing. He made his way to the blessed coffee pot, his stomach growled, and he replied under his breath, “yeah, yeah.”

Upstairs Emery stared at the ceiling, the morning light casting streaks of color through the accent windows that met in the corner of their room. Their, shared, as in both hers and his. She had a roommate, an actual partner, a husband now. This deal was as complicated as it could get. The reassurance of the angelic influence had run dry; she felt very much trapped. And ashamed. She shuffled into the adjoining bath and tossed her pajamas into the hamper. The massive shower tried to make amends for the drain on her soul and resolve, jets coming from the walls at amazing angles, hot water pelting against her exhausted body. Her hands brushed past the places where Sam had held her, pinned her, pleased her. She knew it was a means to an end, sealing a deal and starting fresh. But Emery needed this to work. She had to go forward doing good with her life, otherwise, everything, every choice and every memory was all in vain. She finished her shower and decided to make breakfast, everyday needed a solid foundation. Every agreement needed a stepping off point.

Two Months Later

              Emery dragged her feet on Thursdays. She had office hours starting at ten, otherwise nothing until her one and three o’clock lectures. Sam never did, he was up at six like always. Bandit loved the early mornings jogs and Emery liked taking over Sam’s side of the bed. The weather had finally turned into a promising spring, bringing damp feet and panting breaths home with her two boys. Well, two of her boys. She lay in the cocoon of blankets as she heard them in the kitchen. Soon Sam would be back to wake her up, sweaty and insistent. She kept her eyes shut tight, waiting for her good morning kisses.

              “You are such a faker,” he teased, falling to her hip, caging her in with his arms.

              “Five more minutes,” she pleaded, turning her face into the mound of pillows.

              “Let’s go Doctor Simmons, you have students to teacher,” Sam ruffled her hair, earning himself a good swat.

              “Hey, that’s Simmons-Winchester to you, punk,” Emery sassed, finally facing Sam. He had leaned in, hovering with a look of an unexpected tenderness.

              His deep voice came out in a breathy whisper, “if you get up now, we can share a shower.” The hairs on the back of Emery’s neck stood up at his offer, heart beating just a hint faster. Something had shifted in the past few weeks; they had become cohesive, and as insatiable as true newlyweds. Most importantly: Emery felt that Sam had started to truly trust her, and she had started to lean on him in return.

              She raised her eyebrows as she replied, “you just want me to shave your back.”

              Sam chuckled. “Guilty— it’s just so much—” Sam broke off, “you know what, never mind.” He gave her a sad smile and squeezed her thigh through the comforter before standing to head to the bathroom.

              “Whoa, hey, what are you hiding Mister?!” Emery threw the covers back and chased after him, giggling as he turned and scooped her up by the legs, strutting into the bathroom before kicking the door closed.

              “Your nails, I love feeling them, and it’s not the same if I’m all wolfish,” Sam whispered into Emery’s ear, feeling her shiver from the stimulus. He loved watching her react to his every tease and taunt.

              She groaned, grabbing his face in both her hands. “Fine! Asshole. But you better make it worth it.” She was pointing a finger at his agreeing puppy dog face now.

              “Don’t I always?” Sam challenged, walking straight into the shower stall, fully clothed and dropping Emery in a huff on the cold tile.

              Emery arrived at her first lecture a mere ten minutes early, greeting her TA’s as they sorted through last week’s essays to return. One of her freshmen had kept her hostage with worry over their coming midterm exam.  She tried to placate the overachiever, but school was still life or death to these kids, if only they knew what those terms truly meant. She felt a tension in the air and tried to sense what was going on amongst the grad students, but unfortunately, she had given up that ability in pursuit of her deal with Naomi. Instead, she went for the obvious.

              “So, what’s going on guys?” Her smoky voice catching their attentions.

              “Papers. Just alphabetizing papers,” Jasper replied, overenthusiastically. Emery gave him a knowing look, gauging the other three’s sheepish expressions more harshly.

              “Sure, okay, but apparently Morgan and Penelope are on the outs? Is that what’s going on? Because it’s not the time or place for your personal drama.”

              “Sorry, Dr. Sim-Win, it’s just—” Penelope implored. Emery held up her hands silencing the blonde before she got the full run down.

              “I have the spreadsheets with the grades here, why don’t you post them for me, Hector?” Emery gave the remaining TA’s a cool stare before walking to the lectern as the undergrads started trickling into the hall in a post lunch haze.

              It was Sam’s turn to cook, allowing Emery to take her time at school, going over her notes for an inter-departmental meeting the next morning. Joining the school for the spring semester left her jumping through hoops to catch up and network. It was hard learning everyone and everything over from her previous position, luckily the material she taught rarely changed; the blessing of being a History professor. Sam usually worked until six, even though most of his team left on five on the dot, no questions asked. He told her he liked being alone with the stacks, the quiet was comforting.

She checked her watch before closing the spreadsheet she had been zoning out over and headed down to the library that housed the archives. She had started parking in the lot on the far end of campus, even on days when they didn’t drive in together. It was an easy routine and it kept her from circling campus trying to remember where she had parked. Not that she would do such an airheaded thing, more than twice. There were only a handful of faculty cars remaining as she pulled out of her spot, hoping Sam had enough of a head start on dinner; she was famished.

              Bandit greeted Emery at the backdoor, barking over the music Sam had blaring through the house. She left her stuff in the breezeway and snagged the leash before settling in.

              “Hey, fifteen minutes tops!” Sam called over his shoulder. She gave him an answering wave as the dog dragged her back outside, the lingering spices had her stomach growling. The music had been turned down and the table set by the time Bandit had let Emery drag him home. They ate themselves stuffed; the meal was a Jambalaya-like concoction with homemade bread. Sam had enjoyed cooking in a way he never had before, because on some level he was still used to being on the receiving end of a homecooked meal. It was nice to be able to experiment with the cuisine, besides, Emery only had about a three-meal repertoire.

              Later on, the couple sat in bed, watching their latest show on their wall mounted flat screen. Bandit curled at their feet until it was time for light’s out, when Sam would let him out one last time. In the interim, Sam checked the windows and doors, ensured there were guns accessible on every level of the house, though he wasn’t sure he would fire one if he had to. As soon as the dog was back inside, Sam set the alarm. Upstairs, he soon shut the bedroom door, leaving Bandit alone to roam the house.

              Emery snuggled against his chest and sighed in an exaggerated contentment, lips drawing up in a mischievous smile. Sam kissed her hair and shook his head at her intentions, smirking knowingly.

              “We’re in this together, for better or worse,” she promised, like she had the past sixty-odd nights.

              “For better or worse,” Sam agreed with a goodnight kiss. As he lay there in the darkness, feeling her shift against him, he was stunned by the comfort and ease he felt with Emery. He didn’t know what he would do without her now and he certainly didn’t know what he did without her before.

^*^*^

Read On: Below the Surface and in the Wild

[bites-kms]

Chicago, that toddlin' town

I guess very deep inside I love it: I always end up visiting freezing places in December for a quick holiday before the actual big holidays. First it was Russia, then Finland, London and now Chicago. I must definitely have a fetich with the cold, because it’s really unbearable with -18C, and yet, here I am. 

Chicago is cold, yes. But it’s wonderful as well. I can’t wait to come back during summer time. If I find it gorgeous already, I can’t imagine then. Winter isn’t that bad either: all the beautiful places you want to go, see and know are actually empty, picture-perfect awaiting for you and your enjoyment. Some rooftops get cold very easily but, there are other closed ones, surrounded by glass, already ready to fight the winter back, gifting you a beautiful sight of Chicago lights within the comfort of AC. 

You breath and eat its culture. People are polite. The American flavor is present in every corner. It’s hard to describe a particular neighborhood or place; instead, you just have to wing it to discover it. If, as per my point of view, New York City is the heart of the US (at least on the East Coast), where the culture beat and rhythm is determined, Chicago must definitely be its lungs: the air is fresher, the city is cleaner, more tidy yet exciting, smaller but rich, more elegant and better taken care of, making sure the blood stream fluids hassle-free in this living being that is America. I mean, it’s called the Windy City for a reason!

A mix of Sydney, San Francisco, Singapore and Sweden (all of them with S - such a weird coincidence) with a dash of Toronto and Austin, this is a perfect merge of everything. What Yangon is to SEA, I believe Chicago is to North America’s East Coast.  

Downtown Chicago, The Loop & River North, the main stuff. 

Michigan St. is one of the city’s main arteries, it’s fully decorated, with its fancy boutiques, stores and hotels, charming the riverwalk and its surroundings. The sharp cold, the one that makes you feel like you are about to lose your fingers in any sudden bump or gentle touch, paints the city with a crisp white - still figuring out whether it actually came from my frozen watery eyes or the snow itself. Regardless, it’s indeed a charming Winter Wonderland.   

Arriving from O’hare to any part of town is quite easy thanks to the CTA. I went off on Washington stop and walked a few blocks reaching my friend Gabe’s house by New East Park. A compulsory stop at Millennium Park, with a visit to the wrongly named “bean” (it’s actually named Cloud), the Art Institute of Chicago - awarded the best Museum in the World by Trip Advisor until 2018 for four years in a row - is a must. But what is even more important is to try Chicago’s pizza emblem: the stuffed pizza pie at Giordano’s. It has multiple locations, -the original one being at River North- and its menu is full of the good stuff. We went to the one by the Bean instead, and be prepared: it’s a lot of food and it will take at least 45 mins to reach your table. So don’t get fooled, try to hold on and avoid ordering appetizers, don’t be like us, if not you’ll get super full before the main food star. It’s rich and full-filling, the doe is fantastic, it honors the actual “pie” name it stands for, the sauce is delicious and the stuffing reminded me of the pizza rellena my Nona used to make, although with a complete different taste (ours was way better, coz it had bacon, anchovies and eggs). 

After an evident food comma, be prepared to check out a wonderful sunset at London House, a hotel & rooftop bar strategically located on the intersection of Michigan St. and the Riverwalk, where you can be mesmerized by Chicago’s skyline. If you are visiting in winter, remember to drop by early (sunset in December happens approximately around 4:30pm), and if you are checking it out during summer nights, be ready for some music and fun until late. 

A great winter alternative is The Signature Room & Lounge - a closed yet wonderful restaurant, located on the 95th and 96th floor of one of Chicago’s tallest building. A reminiscence of  the Hyatt Hotel in Tokyo and a flashback to Charlotte’s wondering sights at the massive windows in Lost in Translation happens when you first face those monumental glasses, while being charmed by Chicago’s lights and movement. From 5 to 7 there’s a very convenient happy hour, so be mindful to check it out: Prosecco for me, Old Fashion for Gabe. Another incredible talk for our memories. 

Right next to it, you can find The Drake Hotel, now owned by Hilton, also known as the place where Al Capone lived here in Chicago. 

When it comes to dinner, man, you’re in a pickle! Chicago is known for its food scene and for a reason. It’s foodie’s heaven. Thankfully, talking with locals, residents and cross-checking with blogs and seasonal magazines, I can undoubtedly say that The Purple Pig is the place to go. Mediterranean cuisine with a twist, with a wonderful collection of wines and charcuterie. We shared three delicious dishes: whipped feta with honey and sweet heirloom tomatoes, butternut squash with peanut butter and adobo, to finally wrap it up with an exquisite Spanish grilled octopus with potatoes and pesto greens, which made us end up with no extra room for dessert - my friend Belu would be so disappointed on me. 

Right across the street, you can take some pictures at the Intercontinental Hotel, which hosts Michael Jordan Steakhouse (not a biggie, but it’s kind of funny that this legend, Mike 23, has a restaurant on his own). Wrap up your night with some blues. Walk down the area to find your favorite bar, hopefully one with no or little cover fee. We went to Blue Chicago ($10 bucks), grab a IPA Goose Island beer (the local brew) and enjoy some tunes. It was really amazing - I could listen to this music all day long. 

Up North: Old Town, Wicker Park & Longan Park, the cool stuff. 

Head up to Old Town, near Lincoln Park. Take the brown line (if you manage to activate your CTA card, it’s not an easy task if you don’t have a US phone number) and travel 4 long stops. This neighborhood holds St Michael’s Church, one of only seven buildings to survive the Great Chicago Fire of 1871. Start your tour over there, and check out the beautiful architecture that surrounds it. It’s an extremely weird merge of modern and old buildings and styles, with some very well preserved gems. Same happens downtown. I guess that after the fire, the city really focused on keeping its charm as untouched as possible. And damn they are doing a great of a job at it! 

Up there, one of the main roads - which is also a National highway - is North Wells Street (IL-64 Route, oh well hello New York’s BQE deja vu!) and check out Second City, an iconic Comedy Club and Theater in the US - thanks Juan for the tip!-. It started as a small cabaret theater nearly 60 years ago and has since become the world’s premier name in improv-based sketch comedy and education. Steve Carell, Stephen Colbert, Chris Farley, Tina Fey, Bill Murray and Mike Myers are just some of the name-dropping figures that appear as their alumni. 

Right in front of it, there’s Foxtrot Cafe, a wonderful and warm place where to have breakfast. It’s iconic spicy chicken biscuit is a must, and you can pair it with the coffee of your choice. Almond cap for me. After some needed calories to fight the -8C temperature, I headed east to Wicker Park. 

What a wonderful place. It’s dodgy, ruined down and hipster-looking. It is truly fantastic. The best of British’s Shoreditch with the untapped, gritted vibe of Brooklyn’s Bushwick or Flatbush, with the crazy look of Seattle’s Pike/Pine-Capitol’s Hill. This is where High Fidelity (2000s, John Cusack in a record store movie) was shot. Gentrification is the hype word you’ll hear, but still, Wicker Park remains a vibrant hub of culture and commerce in Chicago, riddled with boutiques, restaurants, cocktail bars, concerts venues and condos. It’s main area is located around the six corners of Milwaukee, North and Damen Avenues.

Starting from Milwaukee Ave. South, make a compulsory stop by Myopic Books, a nerdy paradise for all second-hand book fans. Continue your literally hunt down by Milwaukee Av and rejoice at Volume’s Book, get the warm hot cocoa you were craving for while writing your travel blog post about Chicago or read a new book instead. For a more funky venue, walk down a few more steps to find The Wormhole, Chicago’s most visited coffee shop. 

The Wormhole is a place very hard to define, so I will just say that is an '80s-themed rustic coffee shop, complete with a DeLorean, pouring locally roasted coffee. It’s a fun place with great music and even better wifi. It’s easily and strategically located before arriving to some of greatest stores by Milwaukee Ave. Make some time to check out all the fantastic the second hand, vintage and thrift shops like Kokoroko, Free People, & or if you prefer, stop by Reckless Records for some great music discounts.

Make yourself some time to check it by night as well, you can have fun at Emporium, the great arcade place or even have a drink or two at Davenport’s, the great piano bar and cabaret. 

The best place - and most iconic one - to have a cozy, all-time-classic lunch is Dove’s Lunchonette, inspired in old ‘60s and ‘70s Chicago’s soul and blues. It’s really fantastic. Becky (almost certain that was her name) is the great waitress that will recommend you all the goodness available in the menu and refill your coffee or tea, always with her laugh and great vibe. Make sure to appreciate the tunes and the environment, it’s a great memory from this city. A delicious poblano pepper filled with chicken and cheese, deep fried in delicious crumbles, topping a side of mexican rice with house, home-made spicy sauce. Yummy. 

Continue your exploration heading towards Logan Place, where more cool stores like tattoo parlors and skate stores are located. Don’t miss out on the street art scene and the 606, the Chicago’s Highline. Make a stop at the “Greetings from Chicago” mural and don’t hesitate to refuel at Colectivo Coffee, a great place where co-working and coffee brewery merges. 

Going West: Fulton Market, Greek Town and West Loop

This is THE place to eat. All of Chicago’s top restaurants are here, even the ones that have their venues by the riverwalk, they know they need to be here as well. We tried out luck at Au Cheval, named the best burger in America for a while, but it comes with a cost: an hour and a half waiting queue. Instead of getting our burger treat, with it’s typical knife on top, resembling some kind of conquest your stomach is about to achieve and colonize, we decided to give Green Street Smoked Meats a chance. This is one of Gabe’s favorite spots in Fulton Market, and it’s a nice and fancier Texas Smokehouse. Communal, big tables, great music and vibe, where to find delicious BBQ, even better brisket which we tried to tuned down with healthier sides such as yummy broccoli salad as well as the traditional pickle cabbage one, are there to ignite your night. 

The Green Door Tavern is an awesome tip my parents gave me. Apparently, it was vox populi back in the ‘20s that the establishments that had a green door, hosted a speakeasy inside and did not respect the prohibition rules of no-alcohol. So, let’s party like it’s 1921 and enjoy a drink or two in here! Once you enter, it just look like a regular, sports and antique bar, where memorabilia and Irish Pub look-and-feel rules the place. Yet, do not despair: head to the back, go down the stairs and before reaching the bathroom, try to listen to the music. A wall, a tricky one, hidden behind a books and ornaments shelf, you shall find Heaven’s door. A funky, old school, hour-o-clock-show bar, where to enjoy strong cocktails, and around the clock shows. Music, magic or, it’s signature event: burlesque. After choosing your drink from a very unique tarot-card-like menu, indulge yourself in the ‘20s era with the surprise show and the old-school videos played on the stage curtains. It’s a fantastic experience!

Visit the Hoxton hotel (always beautiful, never disappointing according to my experiences in Brooklyn, Paris and now Chicago) and head up to it’s rooftop restaurant Cabra - a Peruvian fusion delight. Great for brunch or lunch, we indulged on it’s sample menu and enjoyed some fresh guac and chips, a pulled pork belly sandwich, a tuna tiradito, goat empanadas and some delicious mango and chocolate dessert. It was a perfect Thursday food-comma. 

Before leaving Fulton Market, walk around and visit the brand new Time’s Out Market. Contrary to the Hoxton experience, Time’s Out is a great content platform with great venues around the world. Although, no market is as nice and as delicious as the Lisbon one. It was the first Time’s Out market they launched, and although I’ve visited some others like New York’s or Chicago’s, they do not manage to create the same vibe and atmosphere you can find in Lisbon. Chicago’s one is nice and you can find top names such as The Purple Pig and so on, but maybe you wanna give some of the surrounding restaurants a try before choosing Time’s Out Market. 

Wrap it up by Navy Pier & a bis on the Riverwalk 

While my stayed in the Windy City was coming to an end, I went to the Navy Pier for sunset to be wonder by the Michigan Lake and its view. We also walked down again the main road and visited The Protein Bar, a healthy venue were wraps and juices are top notch and you with your purchase you contribute to a local start-up. You can also check out a top view of the Bean and the Millennial park at Cindy’s, the rooftop of Chicago’s Athletic Association. Visit the Public Library and imagine yourself studying at the same booths or with the same texts Obama once did. Have a coffee by the Theater District at Goddess and the Baker. 

Head to Nonnina for some yummy Italian and even better service. We had some wine, pasta and salmon to celebrate my last night in the city. Call it a day by visiting another Varela’s Family recommendation and favorite: The Redhead Piano Bar. This energetic, fun and light-hearted venue is a fantastic spot where to drink your sorrows away, sing your heart out and laugh as hard as you can. The talented crew at the piano and mic will sing your requests for tips and will cheer and entertain your night with fine tunes, Chicago’s stories and public interaction that will certainly lift any night and place a unique bow on your unique Chicago Farewell. 

4 days in Chicago is not enough, specially if the cold forces you to be inside. I guess the same applies in summer: it wont be enough either due to the outdoor activities the city will offer.  Next time I will drive a little bit uptown heading to Superdawn, the traditional and well known Chicago sausage drive thru. I would also love to visit Manny’s Place, a traditional deli that’s been around for quite a while now, as well as to Kingston Mines, the traditional blues bar near Lincoln Park and Zoo -which we did actually go but too early for a show- as well as another fun and very hard to find ( I need to research a little bit more) tiki-bar speakeasy called three dots and a dash. Chicago, you’ve been awesome - I’ll be back!

[cw-as-fieldresearch]

The Weird Ways of Camp Life

One of the things that you learn doing fieldwork is that you pick up some weird habits. You know, things that we accept as normal that might seem outrageous to the rest of the world. For some insight into the oddities of living in a remote camp in the arctic, I have compiled a list of some of these things. Enjoy, and don’t judge too hard – I swear we can actually be “normal” people when immersed in the real world!

Tundra Time is its own time zone.

While in the real world people have commitments to jobs, responsibilities to others, social events, and in most places in the world have daylight to give cues to what you should be doing with your life, we lack most of these time triggers up here. Granted, we have jobs to do, but who really cares what time of day they happen as long as they get done? Cory and I have basically given up on watches out here. Firstly because they both were very sluggish when it was cold, so they weren’t doing much good anyway. But it also works out great whether you’ve got a tonne of work to do in a day, or just a few things; when we’re putting in long days, as long as the sun is out and there are lots of snacks in your bag, it’s really easy to put in a 10 hour workday without realizing it (knowing the time just makes it worse). When there isn’t much to do, it’s pretty obvious – there’s no need to rush. And we basically only had a few days where there was actual darkness since we’ve been here, so the sun certainly isn’t helping keep any sort of normal circadian rhythm. In a typical day, we wake up around a very bright 10 am (maybe later lately since we’re just working from camp), have some breakfast, work until mid to late afternoon, have lunch around 5 pm, work more, have dinner around 10 pm (though often later depending on how frozen dinner ingredients still are), and go bed by around 1:30 am (still very much light out).  

Bathing is optional, and rare. Especially in the winter.

While in the summer it’s possible to grab a bucket of water and give yourself a sponge bath, or brave the icy cold waters for a dunk in the creek to freshen up, things get a bit tougher during the winter. It’s cold. Being wet is cold. Clean is just not worth it. In the month that we’ve been here, there was a day not too long ago that I decided that I could survive having wet hair and not freeze too much, so I washed my hair in a bucket. The biodegradable body soaps that we have don’t really cut the grease anyway, so I basically still looked like a dirtbag (but smelled faintly of peppermint). Did some laundry too though, so at least if I didn’t look clean, I had clean underwear. Despite the fact that I am one of the most-bathed people in camp at a rate of one hair wash per month, things are surprisingly not smelly. Either we haven’t been working hard enough, or we’ve all just slowly acclimatized to the smell, it isn’t too bad. We do occasionally take advantage of baby wipes and powder to “freshen up”, so that probably helps too.

In the summer, camp food is limited to non-perishables. In the winter, we eat like kings!

Who would have thought that the dinner menu would involve steak, chicken parmesan, roast beef with Yorkshire pudding, and frequent burrito nights? Not me, given that in the summer most dinner is based around various types of canned things (some less appetizing than others) and whatever onions/carrots/garlic that haven’t gone too moldy. Or pasta. Between the cold temperatures allowing us to bring in meat and keep it from spoiling, and the epic stove/oven that we now have (goodbye days of Coleman stoves!), we’re cooking up a storm here! I’m exploring my inner chef and making some pretty darn tasty meals with all that we’ve got here, and some decent baked goodies too (my peach crumble was amazing, if I do say so myself). We’ve had some weird things … like pork neck bone. Didn’t know that was a thing that people ate, but it came in our bulk bundle of meats so I made something of it. Pretty darn tasty in the end – just a bit of WTF?! upon finding it. Now that things are warming up quite rapidly, we’re on a high protein diet trying to get through all of the meat before things spoil. It’s a pretty tough life having to go through two packs of bacon a day between five people …  :P

Your bowel movements become scheduled to the times when the generator is running

We got new incinerating toilets this year, which is awesome because the former “Ecojohn” was crap (pun intended), but they’re pretty big power hogs and our solar array can’t handle the load (pun intended again). Running a generator all day just to power a toilet isn’t the most efficient, and you’d be surprised how quickly one’s bowels become triggered by the sound of a generator starting. Okay, that might’ve been TMI, but you don’t get how exciting it is to have a working incinerating toilet! Thank you Incinolet, for your fool-proof, auger-less “inshitterator” design!

The internet quality changes with the weather

Do you know what happens when you have satellite internet for which the satellite sits upon a platform that seasonally sinks into the thawing ground? Crappy internet when things warm up! Today we had to readjust the satellite for the first time this season due to its platform dropping and losing signal entirely for most of the day. But, we’re back online! This is going to be a common occurrence as the summer progresses – there are good days, and bad days, and sometimes you just have to re-angle the dish. Still worth it to be able to have internet in the middle of the tundra!

The local helicopter pilot is the camp hero

When you’re in a camp like ours, when once things melt the only option to get anything in or out is helicopter, everyone worships the bringer of the goods! We’re especially lucky that our local pilot, Chuck, is a superstar – we couldn’t ask for someone better to be the one in charge of getting us and all of our stuff in and out safely! So Chuck has gained some pretty high status among camp residents – he brings us food, power, shelter, and sometimes he brings us the only new face that we’ve seen for weeks on end! We might come across as a *little* obsessed, but rightfully so – Chuck and co. treat us pretty darn well up here at Trail Valley, and we’re super grateful for it (and really deprived of human contact). Also, the sound of a helicopter is super exciting, even if it isn’t coming for us. There is usually an exclamation of “CHUCK!!!!” (even though it could be any of the pilots) and a feeling like we aren’t all alone in the world out here.

Anyway, I’m sure that there are more things that I’ve forgotten, but that’s all I can come up with for now.  If I think of more camp-isms, I will be sure to share!

Until next time, from the half-thawed tundra,

Ana and Cory

[oselatra]

2018 Best of Arkansas editors' picks

Exotic sodas, cool relief in July, sweet treats on the cheap and more.

Best multicultural experience on the cheap

My wife loves to cook different curries, so we occasionally find ourselves at Indian Grocers, Mr. Chen's or other Little Rock Asian markets in search of certain ingredients not typically available at the neighborhood Kroger. While there, I invariably am drawn toward the beverage coolers. I don't usually drink sodas, but I lived for a year in Japan and grew fond of its delightful array of canned drinks (with names like "Sparkling Beatnik" and "Pocari Sweat"), and I just can't help myself when confronted with strange beverages from faraway lands featuring a flavor profile fundamentally different from what we usually imbibe. For example, Jeera Masala and Bisleri Spyci (both from India) seem made for people who thought the fundamental problem with New Coke was the lack of an overpowering cumin taste. And if you like your beverages with a little bit of chew, there's Grass Jelly Drink (Taiwan), which comes in an array of flavors from banana to lychee and contains little cubes of grass jelly, a tapioca-like substance. In a similar vein, the Hemani company of Thailand produces several varieties of basil seed drinks that have the consistency of loose Jello with little crunchy seeds held in suspension; my current favorite is lemon mint, but you can also buy rose-flavored. And if you need something to quench your thirst after mowing the lawn under the hot sun, try Yeo's White Gourd Drink (Malaysia), which tastes like a crisp cucumber crossed with caramel.

But let me reassure the less adventurous that there is plenty for you, too, to sample. Quice Ice Cream Soda (Pakistan) is a pleasant variant of the classic cream soda, full-bodied and delightfully sweet, while Sosyo (India) proves an odd little fruit drink just crying out for a shot of rum.

However, even my expansive cosmopolitanism fails when confronted with Bird's Nest Nice Look Drink (Taiwan), the main ingredients of which are water, white fungus, rock sugar and bird's nest. The nest in question is made by Southeast Asian swifts from solidified saliva, so you get bird spit and fungus, all in one little can! The actual experience of drinking it is nowhere near worth the bragging rights, I am sorry to report, for it tastes rather like a mushroom just sneezed into your mouth. But aside from that one, I highly recommend going out and embracing the unknown at $1.50 a can — it's a small price to pay for a glimpse into the other side of the world.

— Guy Lancaster Best escape from Interstate 40 homogeneity

It's probably hard for the youngsters who have never known Northwest Arkansas as anything but the hurly-burly of rampant capitalism and rampant highway ramps to fathom, but the now-sleepy section of U.S. Highway 71 in the region was once the main conduit between that part of Arkansas and the rest of the world.

This section of 71 is the road to get into a literal and metaphoric lower gear — not as low as the steep, serpentine Pig Trail, but getting there. After you hit the antique stores and do the Tony Alamo trail in Alma, head north and make a pickup (or drop off) at the vacuum cleaner hospital. See Winslow — birthplace of writer Douglas C. Jones and forever the home of the Squirrels! Stop for a Mountainburger at Mountainburg's Dairy Dream; it's a loose mix of ground beef with onion and mustard, and a favorite in Crawford County and beyond since the 1950s. Get a milkshake and sit for a spell on the newly renovated patio behind the restaurant and ponder the vistas ... and is that a large, live pig roaming in someone's front yard? Yes, it is a large, live pig.

Other areas just have the skeletal stone remains of attractions like restaurants, tourist courts and artists' galleries slowly becoming kudzu sculpture, but remain just as compelling to sightseers as they were decades ago. (Brentwood in Crawford County — a once-happening burg?) There are breathtaking views of the valleys and peaks of the Boston Mountains throughout. Once you get into the ever-connecting hub of Springdale/Fayetteville/Bentonville, it's a fascinating glimpse of what were once the faces of these older parts of towns. Travelers can take U.S. 71 all the way to Canada. We hope someone we know will do this soon and take us along for the ride.

— Stephen Koch Best venue for emerging artists

Young Arkansas artists whose obvious talent could still use a boost in the public arena have an invaluable leg up: The Thea Foundation's The Art Department, a quarterly showcase of art in all its forms. The foundation, at 401 Main St. in North Little Rock, supports Arkansas schoolchildren with its scholarships for high school students, its Arkansas A+ Schools that weave the arts into the fabric of academic work, and providing music programs and art supplies. With The Art Department, the foundation has brought high-quality work in a wide variety of styles and embodying social and cultural messages. Over the past five years, The Art Department series has shown a spotlight on the gender-focused works of Lyon College art professor Carly Dahl and the abstract, pattern-heavy work of her husband, gallery director Dustyn Bork; Emily Wood's paintings of friends and family; John Harlan Norris' fantasy depictions of people as occupations; Jon Rogers' landscapes; Guy Bell's levitating pyramid. It's shown Michael Church's surreal collages, Sandra Sells' wood assemblages and video art, Kat Wilson's "Habitat" photographs of people in their homes, Michael Shaeffer's images of drag queens, illustrator Chad Maupin's pulp-fiction-inspired printmaking. Coming up: "The Mind Unveiled," an exhibition of works by painter and printmaker Carmen Alexandria Thompson that address mental illness. In her artist's statement, Thompson writes, the work "seeks to unveil, expose and open up a discussion for everyone about the beauty and tragic workings of the human mind." Like all Art Department shows, the Friday, Aug. 3, opening reception will feature heavy hors d'oeuvres, an open beer and wine bar and a chance to win a work of art by the featured artist. Tickets are $10.

— Leslie Newell Peacock Best culinary bargain

Mike's Place at 5501 Asher Ave. is an outpost for Vietnamese food, which is good in its own right. The bun (rice vermicelli) enlivened with bean sprouts, a fried pork egg roll and bits of pig skin, once doused with fish sauce and a dash of squirt bottle hoisin, is interesting, crunchy and filling. But here's the thing: There's a one-line item on the appetizer list that is Little Rock's single best food bargain. It's the banh mih thit, or the Vietnamese sandwich. No slice of pate here. You choose beef, pork or chicken; each comes dipped in a sticky sauce. The meat is dressed with crunchy fresh and pickled vegetables, plenty of fresh cilantro and slices of fresh hot peppers (watch out!). They stuff a torpedo-shaped bun that is served hot and crusty. They call it an appetizer, but it's easily a lunch. And it costs THREE DOLLARS. That's right. THREE DOLLARS.

— Max Brantley Best place to pair an egg roll with a milkshake

For the past few years, Park Avenue (aka "Uptown," aka "Highway 7") in Hot Springs has been attempting an upswing. There's a dope neighborhood community garden, the much-lauded Deluca's Pizzeria and the crisp, clean Cottage Courts tourist court, which looks freshly sprung from a time machine. The Hot Springy Dingy costume shop at 409 Park Ave. keeps it comfortingly weird. But our nation has learned that the path to righteousness isn't a straight line, and there are still pockets of Park Avenue that are ripe for renovation — former Bohemia Restaurant, we're looking at you ... with increasingly misty eyes.

But stalwart amongst the comings and goings in this funky cool section of the Spa City is the tidy and tiny Bailey's Dairy Treat, 510 Park Ave., with its distinctive neon ice cream cone serving as a beacon to those who not only tolerate lactose, but revel in it.

Every Arkansas community needs at least one of these — an ice cream and burger drive-up, hopefully from the Truman era, but at least strongly evoking the days of sock hops and cult of personality radio DJs. (Lucky Hot Springs has an embarrassment of creamy riches in this arena, with Mamoo's ParadICE Cream and a Kilwin's on Bathhouse Row nearby, crosstown rivals King Kone on Malvern Avenue and Frosty Treat on Grand Avenue, and with bougie Dolce Gelato and Scoops "Yes We Really Make It Here" Ice Cream holding frozen court on the other end of Highway 7.)

Bailey's mixes up its menu from the standard dairy bar fare with offerings of fried rice and egg rolls and the like, and they are a refreshing off-script surprise. But if you're here, you're here for shakes, ice cream or burgers, probably in that order, and that's where Bailey's shines brightest. Long may you anchor Park Avenue, Bailey's Dairy Treat.

— Stephen Koch Best non-museum museum

The only place that has issued me a handwritten IOU this century sits on Grand Avenue in Hot Springs, just south of historic Bathhouse Row and the Hot Springs Farmers Market. Google Maps calls it Young's Trading Center Inc., but the business name printed in Durango Western font across the old general store-style façade — Young's Trading Post — gives a much more accurate indicator of what lies within. James Henry, the 83-year-old patriarch of the antique palace, sat in a rocking chair at the open-air entrance last Saturday, occasionally chiming in as his daughter (and Young's co-owner), Karrie Jackson, regaled a few curious visitors about the history of the place.

Jackson pulled out a color photo she says was taken sometime between 1952 and 1955. In it, a surlier twentysomething Henry stands in front of the very same storefront, dressed in a striped linen shirt and dark blue jeans with the cuffs rolled up, with what appears to be a red pencil tucked behind his ear. Beside him are his parents, Willie Matilda and Jim Henry. James, as it turns out, had gone to California to work in the logging fields for three months or so when he was called back to help run the new family business, a store the Henrys had acquired from Monroe Young, whose family was sort of a big deal in mid-20th century Hot Springs. "One set of brothers were in the law," Jackson said, "and the other set of brothers were in the moonshine business." Before their ownership, as a photo with "October 1940" scrawled on the back reveals, it was a fruit and vegetable stand, with the same corrugated tin facade.

Now, it's a labyrinthian warehouse with every square foot of its walls lined with old farm tools and wicker baskets and light fixtures and cookbooks and oil cans. Metal box fans circulate air through the corners and wooden rafters, and there's a loft full of antique furniture up a staircase with a preemptive "Watch Your Step" sign at the top.

It's more likely to smell of WD-40 than Old English — a sort of agrarian counterpart to the strain of antique shops lined with lace and chandeliers. It's a place people tend to recommend when you've searched everywhere else and still can't find a replacement for the broken ceramic radiant on your old gas space heater, or when you want to outfit your workshed with some vintage tin beer signs. It's also good for picking up slightly dusty things you weren't looking for in the first place, which could include, but are not limited to: a maroon-and-gold footstool with the Lake Hamilton Gray Wolf mascot where your feet should rest; a briefcase bar lined in coral satin straight out of a "Mad Men" episode, with its rocks glasses still in their plastic packaging; a 1920s enamel gas range by Laurel; an oversized tin sign advertising Salem menthols ("Menthol Fresh!"); a pegboard full of swing locks and cabinet hinges; a vinyl record titled "Good Times with The Happy Goodmans" next to an Oak Ridge Boys cover album subtitled "Songs We Wish We'd Recorded First" and a Ray Charles LP called "Country and Western Meets Rhythm and Blues"; cast iron skillets in all shapes and sizes; drawers of mismatched silver flatware; hacksaws; old-school stand mixers; blank Scotch-brand VHS tapes; ceramic beer steins from Pabst's and Budweiser's classier days; brass doorknobs; pedestal sinks; snow shovels; birdhouses; birdcages; a Royal typewriter from the Roosevelt era; a rack of glass soda bottles; china cabinets; a "Legend of the Lone Ranger" tin lunchbox; a tiny beige Panasonic TV with an earphone jack; empty cans of every sort of salve, remedy and household cleaner imaginable (something called "$1,000.00 Guaranteed Moth Killer," for one); myriad lampshades and wrenches; washboards; an elaborate hinged octagonal jewelry box made of popsicle sticks; box fans from the days when box fans weren't plastic; and at least a hundred items whose original intended function eludes me. One of these items, I'm certain, is the perfect purchase to make with that lingering $7.50 IOU burning a hole in my pocket, and Young's is a perfectly fine place to get lost in, realizing that you've whittled away your afternoon muttering "Look at this" and "What is it?" to yourself at turns for a few more quarter hours than you'd planned.

— Stephanie Smittle Best summertime sweet treats under $3

There comes a time in the peak of every Arkansas summer when the heat's oppression feels historic: Lethargy sets in, the body humors are overwhelmed by choler and sweat, and even the best conversationalists are reduced to nonstop complaining about the temperature.

Treats of the sweet and frozen persuasion are the best salvation I've found for the proverbial dog days, and Little Rock has some pretty damn good ones. Here are my top three, all found at stellar local establishments, all quick, all easy to take on the road:

Paletas La Michoacana from Del Campo a la Ciudad

I was a paletas naysayer for some years, mostly because they're usually sold at top-dollar by people who don't speak Spanish and at a smaller-than-appropriate serving size for adults.

Enter Del Campo a la Ciudad, a taqueria mercado on South University with countless festive and culinary treasures — delightful paletas de hielo o crema (ice or cream), crispy chicharrón (fried pork belly) and an immaculate piñata display.

The paletas with a cream base are where it's at, particularly those de coco (coconut), arroz con leche (rice pudding), café (coffee), fresa (strawberry) and mango (mango). They are exceptionally rich and velvety, with some notable chunks of fruit or nuts of cookies dispersed throughout. Take the coconut paleta. Something about an opaque white popsicle is just plain satisfying, and the shredded coconut flakes are a welcome addition.

Del Campo a la Ciudad, at 6500 S. University Ave., is open 9 a.m. until 9 p.m. Monday through Saturday.

Frozen lemonade from Shark's

Sharks Fish & Chicken is a chain with a down-home feel and delicious food: Each franchise is locally owned and has specialty menu items, striking real-life shark photography, a bold teal and yellow color scheme, signature lemon-pepper dust (ask for it on everything!), and a brilliant condiment caddy that I give thanks for every time I set foot inside.

The frozen lemonade is of premium quality, and because there's a new Shark's popping up every which way in this town, they are easy to acquire. People tend to have views on ice, and they know what they like — I've heard the term "soft ice" uttered affectionately on many occasions. The frozen part of the drink is exceptionally cold, and the iciness falls somewhere on the spectrum between margarita and snow cone; it's somehow both crunchy and soft, and there's an unexpected delight that comes when the lemonade concentrates at the base of the cup. Last I asked about flavors, I was told each brick and mortar has its own selection (all have classic lemonade, my favorite), including Orange Tang, Pink Lemonade, Cherry Lemonade, Grape, Green Apple, Strawberry and Fruit Punch. I have yet to make this pairing, but I believe any aforementioned frozen drink would pair well with clear liquor.

Shark's Fish & Chicken is open 10 a.m. until 11 p.m. or midnight every day of the week at all of its locations in Central Arkansas.

Sugarcane Coke float from K. Hall and Sons

K. Hall and Sons holds a special place in the heart of the Little Rock community for a host of wonderful reasons. For me, it's a nostalgic spot, reminding me of my days of cutting class at Central High School to pick up a fried chicken to-go box and a bottle of Orange Fanta. K. Hall hosts a legendary Seafood Saturday during the hot months of the year with shrimp, lobster, crawfish and a line of customers around the block. And, for those who know where to look, it sells soft-serve homemade vanilla ice cream in Styrofoam cups.

Slide open the door on the glass-top freezer near the checkout and reach for the unmarked Styrofoam; it looks like a coffee cup with a pull-back drinking tab. The homemade ice cream somehow maintains its softness, even after being immersed in a deep freezer. I recommend purchasing a bottle of sugarcane sweetened Coca-Cola from the ice bath, consuming about half that vanilla cup, then pouring your soda inside the cup (may I suggest creating a few shallow caverns with your spoon for easier saturation?). What results is a coke float of the highest order, one that both quenches my thirst and brings me back to what it felt like to skip school looking for treats.

K. Hall & Sons Produce, at 1900 Wright Ave., is open 8 a.m. until 6 p.m. Monday through Saturday, 8 a.m. until 3 p.m. Sunday.

—Rachael Borne´ Best non-sexy way to be in the dark with strangers

High church and hot yoga are for the devout. And, while the net serenity yielded is, no doubt, commensurate to your 90-minute investment in mindfulness, sometimes you have more like ... 17 minutes. Tops. And an affinity for sleeping in on Sunday mornings. And perhaps a commitment to the idea of divinity that vacillates between lukewarm and "I'm not religious, but I'm spiritual, you know what I mean?" So, for the rest of us, there's the weekly Compline service at Christ Episcopal Church — a quarter-hour of sung prayers, short readings and silences, intoned by candlelight every Sunday at 6:45 p.m. in a 179-year-old church downtown. If you're looking to get right with the universe, and feel like that's better accomplished with psalm than with pranayama, pull up a pew (or a kneeler) at the corner of Scott Street and Capitol Avenue every now and again.

— Stephanie Smittle The best county for cool relief

Last week, some old friends who used to live in Arkansas but now live in New Jersey came for a visit with their kids. It's somehow remained light jacket weather at night in New Jersey and our friends came off the plane in long sleeve shirts and hoodies to 100 degrees. We spent several days talking about frying an egg on the sidewalk. Then we did one of the few things you can do outdoors in Arkansas in July and feel cool, even cold sometimes: We drove to Stone County and plopped our butts into the Sylamore, the mostly spring-fed creek that originates somewhere in the Ozark Mountains. The water was so cold that, even though I'd been cursing the sticky triple-digit heat for weeks, it took me a few minutes of hemming and hawing before I let anything above my knees get wet. It was also crystal clear; you could watch little bream nibbling at your toes. Swimming kept us occupied for the bulk of three days, but on our way home we made the obligatory visit to check in on the stalactites and stalagmites and bats of Blanchard Springs Cavern, where it was a blissful 57 degrees.

— Lindsey Millar Best pizza night shortcut

I can cook, but I can't bake. Whether that's due to some misunderstanding of the craft or some unnamable necrosis of the spirit infecting my being, I'm not sure. I've just never had success with yeast. My attempts at homemade bread or pizza always end up as airless and dead as the surface of the moon.

So, I was pleased to make the discovery recently that Vino's sells fresh pizza dough at a bargain rate. For $3, you can get a double-fist-sized portion of dough, equivalent to a large pizza. It comes ensconced in the same plastic clamshell used to package a calzone or a salad — flour-dusted and pregnant with possibilities, like some great ghostly mushroom harvested from a distant, malt-scented forest.

I like Vino's pizza. But honestly, I like what I've made at home from their dough quite a bit more — maybe from simple pride of ownership or maybe because I get to use exactly the ingredients I want. I suggest jalapeno escabeche (homemade, if possible), a little chorizo from Farm Girl Meats and a modest layer of shredded cheddar. Or, if you can get past the perversity of turning on the oven in August, a summertime Margherita with fresh Arkansas tomatoes and front-yard basil. It's life-affirming even for those of us dead at heart.

— Benjamin Hardy Best local spat

In September 2017, the Eureka Springs Independent reported that six box elder trees in the quaint, quirky mountainside town's North Main Music Park had been vandalized. Well, sort of. The vibrant crochet coverings that decorated the tree trunks — created by crochet artist Gina Gallina for the city's "Art of Crochet" Festival — had disappeared. Rumors circulated. Conjectures flew. Letters to the editor were written. Dendrological hypotheses about whether yarn-wrapped trees are more susceptible to disease and stunted growth were formed and discussed. The breathability of yarn was called into question. "If I find out who they are, and I catch 'em," Gallina said in a radio segment on KUAF-FM, 91.3, "I'm gonna make 'em learn how to crochet!" Would that social divisions in Little Rock could be woven of such stuff.

— Stephanie Smittle Best Little Rock collection

Earlier this summer, an anonymous local started the Instagram account @letterrockarkansas to document the wonderful and varied typography found around town. It's an essential follow for those who enjoy design ephemera or simply delight in trying to figure out where they've seen that type. Favorites include the massive wooden "Club Jimmy" sign, once wired with 255 lightbulbs, but knocked down by a storm long ago, that leans against the side of Jimmy Doyle's Country Club off Interstate 40; a modernist Church of Christ sign with a letter missing that reads "Church O Christ" with the caption "All out of F's"; and the chunky, hand-painted drop-shadow Sims Bar-B-Que sign outside the Barrow Road location.

— Lindsey Millar Best collection of business cards

Foster's Garage, the classic, no-frills body shop mainstay at 409 W. Eighth St., has been collecting the business cards of patrons and vendors apparently since the Eisenhower administration. They're contained within the span of an arm's-length corkboard on the wall in the garage's unceremonious lobby, and the card collection is augmented so gradually and delicately that each card is gingerly tucked into the folds of the cards that preceded it; our own tiny, greasy, secular version of the Wailing Wall.

— Stephanie Smittle Best political protest

Look, when you manage to piss off Willie Nelson — the unofficial ambassador of stoner serenity and goodwill toward men — your path is surely strewn with hubris and folly. The 85-year-old played a June 29 set at Verizon Arena — the finale to an Outlaw Music Festival that began at 4:30 p.m. that Friday — and included a rendition of his 1986 release "Living in the Promiseland." The song, sung as a trio with Nelson and his two sons, is a bittersweet anthem of an America that, theoretically, anyway, counts Lazarus' "New Colossus" as part of its ethos: "Give us your tired and weak/And we will make them strong/Bring us your foreign songs/And we will sing along." And, performed at such a crucial juncture of the family separation crisis at the nation's southern border, it read as a blistering indictment of our broken immigration policy.

— Stephanie Smittle Best return

After a long hiatus, David Jukes, one of Little Rock's greatest — and least heralded — singer/songwriters, dropped two EPs under his Magic Cropdusters moniker this summer. "Snowfall" collects songs Jukes recorded with Jeff Matika (Green Day) playing bass and Max Recordings head honcho Burt Taggart (Big Cats) playing drums in the mid-2000s in a Denton, Texas, studio owned by Matt Pence (Centro-Matic). Joe Cripps, the Little Rock native and famed percussionist, helped pay for an album from the sessions and to distribute it. When Cripps went missing in 2016 (he still hasn't been found), the record fell into limbo. "Snowfall" represents a scaled-down version of that album. It's five songs, many familiar to longtime Cropduster fans, like "Hey Wonder," "England" and "Marry Them for Free." The other EP, "Woodstock," was recorded more recently in Woodstock, N.Y., at a studio owned by Jukes' former bandmate in The Gunbunnies, Chris Maxwell. There's a cryptic beauty to Jukes' lyrics that emerges after repeated listens. That's easy to do because his warble and general pop sensibilities will have you immediately bopping along. The records, via Max Recordings, are available for purchase at maxrecordings.com, and on streaming platforms.

— Lindsey Millar Best, no, actually, the only music festival worth attending

The whole experience of attending a big music festival feels like participation in an overwrought performance art piece on the pitfalls of consumerism. You're looking for a special experience, a fun time, a little reward for your weeks of toil. You pay way too much money to gain entrance to a gated community that promises unique access to an array of precious goods — the bands and artists you adore — and spend hours of extra labor finagling the logistics. It'll all be worth it, though — because just look at that lineup.

You wind your way through an acre of security and get stamped with the imprimatur of elite access. Then, once inside, plot twist, YOU'RE the ones trapped in a borderline humanitarian crisis. It's hot, it's crowded, everything smells like a urinal cake. Induced scarcity jacks up the price of basic commodities (bottled water, kebabs) and you grow to loathe the hordes of fellow sweaty mammals jostling for limited resources. You retreat inward mentally, become beady-eyed and narrow-minded, jealously protect the pitiful patch of turf you've staked out in front of whatever beer-branded stage is presenting whatever performer you've come to see. You damn well better see them up close, and you damn well better enjoy yourself after all this trouble, because you paid for it with your own money, goddammit.

Then there's Valley of the Vapors, the antithesis of all that.

VoV, in case you haven't heard, is a five-day nonprofit-run festival in Hot Springs that captures bands as they travel to and from SXSW in Austin, allowing it to attract a fantastic spread of under-recognized national and international talent. This spring, a day pass was $10. The music is mostly to be found at one of two venerable venues in town, Low Key Arts — the driving force behind VoV — and Maxine's. There are also a few "secret shows" that pop up in unexpected places. Around 4 p.m. on a rainy Sunday this March, about two dozen of us crammed into a Waffle House on Central Avenue to watch a goofily too-cool-for-school Brooklyn rocker named Zuli churn out swaggering guitar riffs, occasionally using a sugar dispenser as a slide. Later, at Low Key Arts, I was treated to a succession of artists playing everything from country to bouncy indie pop to gloomy, Eels-esque bedroom ballads on a tiny electric keyboard. Some of it was good, some of it was not and at least two acts were genuinely terrific.

What makes VoV truly special, though, is the miracle of your fellow concertgoers: You don't despise them. There's just something about being crammed into a big festival that breeds contempt. At Valley of the Vapors, that sour note of impersonal hostility turns to one of, well, actual community. It's an all-ages affair, so you'll see teenagers, a handful of families, older folks. You're in it together, and you're there to hear music you'll probably never get the chance to hear again. What could be better than that?

— Benjamin Hardy

2018 Best of Arkansas editors' picks

[noellewiehe]

I didn’t know how bad I wanted to go on a cruise until I actually went on one.

The only reason I had any idea about a cruise was because of my oldest best friend, Tiffany. She would ask me every year or so ever since we’d been earning our own money if I would go on on with her, but it never seemed fathomable to me. And also, I didn’t know much about it.

At the end of 2017 or the beginning of 2017, Tiffany and I talked about doing a cruise, which turned into a “let’s do a couples’ cruise” conversation which ultimately became a me and Thomas cruise over Presidents Day weekend. Looks like there will have to be a raincheck on the couples cruise. After seeing the fun you had on yours, I definitely want one with you!

Tiffany’s cruise in 2014 still has me jealous to this day! It looked incredible and I can’t wait to cruise with her.

So, it was decided; Thomas and I were going on a cruise! Like I do with anything in my life, I sought advice, tips and warnings from every direction: from the internet, from friends, from Facebook friends I rarely talk to and from anyone I told at Walgreens, Kroger and work that had advice for me. I needed to be armed with the information for a perfect trip. For the most part, come Feb 16, I felt pretty prepared. Things out of my control still were parking and apparently actually finding the correct terminal. Regardless, I’m so thankful for Katie’s advice on dressy clothes, Jordan’s advice on being allowed to bring my straightener, Jeff and Hailie’s advice on the Seabands and countless other folk’s help. I was practically at ease upon arrival of our embarkation day.

I slipped on a dress most of the way to the port on our drive from Savannah at 3:30 a.m. to Miami by 12 p.m.

Fast forward to the cruise day. We chose to leave from Port Miami, Florida, simply because that’s where the four-day cruise was leaving from and we were trying to vacation over the Federal holiday weekend instead of taking time off of work. We called it an early night on Thursday so that we could be up and out the door by 3 a.m. — we almost made it! We were on the road by 3:30 a.m. That left plenty of time for a stop at Dunkin Donuts, one to two gas stops on the way, a stop at a Florida rest stop to switch drivers and getting lost in Miami before our scheduled 12:30 p.m. time to board the ship as part of the Faster-to-the-Fun addition for about $50.

I did try to alleviate this situation about an hour out from Miami, though. I started looking at my Uber app so we could forget parking and just be dropped off. I was all for pulling off an exit and parking in a shady spot at a Rooms-to-go or a Checkers, but Thomas was skeptical of towing signs and the safety of his new Tacoma. We almost parked at the TriRail along the way, but with signs that said ‘no overnight parking,’ we didn’t want to take the risk of having Thomas’ truck towed. Although Uber said we could hop in a pool for $19 headed to the port, we couldn’t risk the parking situation, so we wound up parking at the terminal instead. Didn’t help that Andrea was barking at me over text along the way to stick with the safest bet, too. In the end, I told her she was right (see, I admit it, Andrea) and just swallowed the $22 a day parking fee. (Actually used money from the $500 card Delta sent me for accepting a flight builder, so it was like it never happened anyway!)

There was no need to rush with our success at an early morning on the road, so we stayed calm going through the lines to the ship. We did gasp when we saw the amount of people we were about to get behind, but only until we were escorted to the front due to that $50-dollar fun pass I mentioned. Definitely worth it!

By the time we got on the ship, we were too early to stop by our rooms, so we dipped our feet into the saltwater pools and hung out outside with our bags by us and drink waiters tempting us with umbrella-adorned concoctions. Reluctantly, we indulged, after finding out the boat wouldn’t be treading any water until 7 p.m. that night instead of the scheduled 4 p.m. We had wine bottles legally stowed in our bags but weren’t sure we could just whip out 750 ml in broad daylight with Carnival workers and fellow cruisers around. With our beverage pass, we were only paying for tax on the drinks (as Katie warned us) while in port and our choice of amount for gratuity. In total, we probably paid $5 in taxes and tips before 7 p.m.

Right off the bat, the trip was amazing. I had cell service until we started sailing the open sea, and I was told by more than one person to disconnect and enjoy myself. And I did. In fact, I disconnected from more than just my phone.

We had stopped for McDonald’s just an exit or two before the port, so we held out on any food until our scheduled 6 p.m. early dinner. I want to say: each of these 6 p.m. dinners in the Pacific Dining room were the nicest meals I’ve ever indulged in all my life! One night the waiter put the napkin in my lap, and sometimes they’d scoot my chair in for me — that’s straight out of the movies, folks! I couldn’t quite figure out when to actually sit when they did this, though. Kind of weird. Anyway, we were served appetizers, main meals (as many as we wanted — like, we could literally order a steak and then turn around and order the blue crab ravioli!) not to mention dessert plus a free adult beverage of our choice with our beverage pass. It was all included. We literally ate for free. All that fancy food — free! We paid for the cruise and that was all we were held to. Free fancy dining!

Speaking of the beverage pass, it was very weird and very awesome to keep signing receipts reading $0.00 for a fruity, frozen, neon-colored drink with an umbrella and glass cup. Our beverages were covered under $12 per drink and we got our money’s worth without a doubt! It was so nice to not have to worry in the back of my mind about the drink bill at the end of the cruise, like I was warned about. The drink pass cost us $150 per person added to our initial cruise cost we paid weeks before, but in-total I added up that we would have spent over $400 throughout the cruise on libations alone. Glad we swallowed those costs early. We did tip $1 every drink or so, seeing as we’d be seeing the waiters every day for three days.

Following dinner the very first night, we were one of many couples who crashed in our rooms after the hustle and bustle of the first day’s adventures. Yes, we literally went back to the room and slept from 8 p.m. to midnight. Sue me! We knew we were lame. Thomas and I had gotten some sun due to showing up early and hanging out, and we tried to “nap” only to wake up four hours later when the parties were basically dying down. Whatcha going to do. After talking to similar-aged couples the next day, we didn’t feel bad knowing at least three to four others like us had done the exact same thing, if not worse! We all crashed! Besides, we woke up at midnight and walked around to see if anything else was happening and only found gamblers and clubbers up and about. Didn’t miss much!

Fruity drinks by the pool. We could not resist.

  We did, however, wake up to a letter under our stateroom door informing us our planned Catamaran snorkeling excursion had been cancelled due to “operational difficulties,” which the guest services lady admitted was probably because not enough people booked it. We had wanted to ride a Catamaran boat to do some snorkeling, even not fully knowing what a Catamaran boat was. We were excited damnit! But, due to this unfortunate event, we rebooked a two-reef snorkel by boat instead. Simply went to guest services, she said we’d been refunded the amount and were clear to re-book another trip. She didn’t give any hint of a discount for our troubles, but whatever, it’s not like we weren’t going to re book. We wanted an adventurous excursion! We had our plans in place, so we turned on the TV in our room after drinking some Cranberry wine and hanging out on our balcony for a bit and called it a night, officially.

The second day was the day for our excursion! I can’t remember why, but I was bound and determined to be up at 7 a.m. to get showered before 8 a.m. breakfast. I got Thomas up and we were ordering coffee next to two ladies by the window at the back of the boat first thing! It wasn’t crowded either, and Thomas and I weren’t too tired. I don’t remember my reasoning, but i think we did good! I know we were on vacation, but I’ve never been much for sleeping in real late — those are hours I could be starting my day’s adventure, or at least getting caffeine in me to start it.

Half our time was spent just chillaxing by the pool with drinks and doing some people watching, as Andrea advised we’d love.

We were by the pool and basking in the morning Nassau, Bahamas, sun by about 9:30 or 10 a.m. and just watched the clock to ensure we wouldn’t miss our excursion. We grabbed lunch of fancy burgers and hand-cut fries quick at Guy’s Burger Joint — also included free — before we were told we could leave the boat and step foot onto Bahamian ground. We were greeted just off the ramp by big jugs of Carnival-provided, mint- and fruit-infused water. We needed it, too. Hydration was key.

We made our way into town just inside of the gates where Bahamian guards stood watch who would need to check our credentials before we could be let back through. We shopped at little booths of some tourist favorites — bags with Bahama on them, wood carvings, photo frames, the works! We didn’t buy just yet so that we didn’t have to carry it around, but I had my eye on a few things to come back for.

We found the Carnival guy in an orange shirt with the sign for our excursion. He was completely detached from the situation and much less enthusiastic, but I can’t blame him. We knew we took the easy route for our Carnival-ran excursion, simply due to lack of experience witch such a thing.

Regardless of his lack of enthusiasm…. there was no shortage in me!

The excursion was awesome! I thought I’d be bad at snorkeling (if that’s a thing.. can someone be bad at snorkeling?). I think I was worried swimming with flippers would be awkward or that I’d mess up breathing out of the tube or that my bangs would let water into my mask. Either way, I wasn’t bad. I kicked my flippers and breathed through the tube as good as any of my fellow cruisers. I did awesome and snorkeling was awesome. Fool-proof, basically. I was rocking it. Thomas was even better than me, though — go figure. He was so bold he touched the Bahamian sand at the bottom by the reef, maybe 10 feet down or more. Me, I was happy floating and searching for fish I had never swam with before! We both got a lot out of that first reef. We were told “two reef” snorkel, but listen to this: after we finished our 30 minutes at the first reef, we all climbed back aboard ready to ride to the next and the captain started the boat, turned it around in the water and announced “if you look to the left, this is our second reef” (insert you-are-effing-kidding-me smiley and an eye roll smiley here). Thomas and I decided we’d forgo the second reef and just did some sightseeing from the comfort of the top deck of the boat. About 30 minutes later on the way back, the native-Bahamas-sounding dude was telling us about houses owned by Trump, Jay-Z and Beyonce and the owner of Sandals we could see on nearby Bahamas islands. Cool stories while the Bahamian breeze blew in our hair and dried our saltwater-soaked clothes.

Sufficiently sun kissed (or assaulted from the way my skin looks in the pictures), we

Enjoying a local craft brew in the Bahamas

cruised back to the sight of our cruise boat. Thomas and I ventured into town a little to shop and see what fun we could get into. We wandered into a a local beer brewery — Pirate Republic Brewing Company — so Thomas could continue his tradition of collecting craft brewery shirts wherever we go. The place was really cool but the beer wasn’t so good. Thomas took a drink of one he ordered — Long John Pilsner — and offered some to me. After trying it he asked out loud, “What’s this taste like? I can’t put my finger on it.” And I replied with a sour face “Chef Boyardee. It tastes like ravioli from a freaking can.” Thomas laughed and got wide-eyed in agreement. How does that even happen?

In town, I was guided to lady’s booth as she handed me different wood-carved palm trees and showed me Bahama bags (she knew the way to my tourist, wannabe-island-girl heart). Thomas didn’t let me get suckered; he distracted her by asking about the wood-carved owl on the ground, which she proudly stated she’d take $650 for. Thomas asked me what I thought, and with wide eyes, it only took me a second to realize he was just trying to help take her attention off me. We made our getaway telling her we weren’t interested and took off through the sea of other booths of ladies calling me “pretty” by name and asking if I wanted my hair braided. They were everywhere.

We just went back to the safety of the shops within the gate. It seemed like people were firm on prices and most had be same tourist-loved souvenirs, so we didn’t haggle, even though I wanted to so bad! It felt like they knew if we walked away, they’d sell it to some other sap anyway. No fun! Without haggling, I bought a new beach bag, a liquor bottle painted to say Nassau and another bag to replace my old drawstring one I’d gotten at Vans Warped Tour years back. Thomas got a brewery shirt and stickers from the Pirate Republic Brewing Company. We were loaded with souvenirs and growling stomachs, so we decided to go back and make it on our ship in time for fancy dinner again. We debated on finding food in Nassau, but you really can’t beat fine, free meals.

That night, we were both bound and determined to not sleep away the evening again. We had boarded the boat just as the sun was starting to go down. We both went and rinsed off from our adventures and then dressed fancy — Thomas in his new pink tropical shirt (the image of him in the shirt is permanently burned into my mind as I smile and reminisce) and me in my matching floral pink dress. The waiters joked when we got back, “Got a little sun, ey?” We blushed, or just sat there burnt, either way we were bashful in admitting our tourist error in judgement.

After dinner, we hopped from hot tub to hot tub watching a movie on the Dive-In movie playing over the pool on Lido (like little… lido) Deck. Kids were insane jumping around and running amuck in the water, though. We hung out for a while then got drinks and headed back to the room to change and arrive early for the Punchliner Comedy Club show. I ordered a Blue Moon, took one sip and let it sit. Thomas had a Mango Daiquiri. The comedian was hilarious and relevant. She made boat jokes, talking about kids pressing every button on the elevator and being offered drugs once on ground in Nassau. She was funny and Thomas and I were cuddled up on the couch just enjoying the show. It only lasted a half hour before they were literally flickering the lights to rush her off the stage and end the show. Afterward, Thomas and I wrapped up the night watching the local islands and their lights and trees from our stateroom balcony and watching some TV before falling asleep in the king bed made out two twins.

Fancy breakfast was a highlight of the cruise.

Sunday was our last day. We felt the boat depart bright and early while we were at breakfast. We would be at sea all day. Not that Thomas and I minded; it seemed all the fun and drinks and chatter with human beings happened onboard anyway. That is what we paid for. We did our usual breakfast and trip to the pool. We explored the ship and decided we’d get sushi before it got too close to dinner. In exploring, we found the adult only Serenity Retreat. Where had this been our whole trip!? Not kids splashing about, open chairs and hammocks to lay in and its own bar. This place should have been discovered day one! We hung out most of the day. And when we went and got food, we returned and Thomas left me in the hot tub while he ran to use the facilities. I made friends with a couple sitting across from me, and when Thomas got back, the four of us talked for a few hours. They gave us all sorts of new tips and advice on how to get the best excursion — they swam with a sea turtle! We were in the same waters, so for all I knew we did, too, but they literally saw a turtle! “You win at cruising. You win,” I told them as they laughed. We promised to meet up for drinks later, but it seemed they’d pulled a day-one on us and fell asleep because they were nowhere to be found. After fancy dinner, we made it in time for the third quarter of Sweet Home Alabama at the Dive-In movie and then we went back inside the ship to participate in an 80s and 90s themed trivia game. We made friends with a few couples surrounding us and sang our hearts out to everything from Brittney Spears to Titanic’s “My Heart will go on.” “We should not be playing this song,” said our cruise director who always shouted “Woo-hoo” at the end of his daily or hourly announcements.

The last day was seamless. We got early breakfast, we exited the ship and was asked if we’d bought anything while on our cruise. We said no, showed him our passports and made our way back to the truck to drive back home. Too easy. I did almost get stuck in the elevator in the parking garage after paying my $66 for the three days. But I didn’t. I made it out. Trip will not be ruined by a dang elevator.

Like I said, I had no idea how bad I wanted to cruise until I actually did it. Now, I can’t believe I waited this long. I never did TDY missions that would earn me $1,000 outside of my normal livable pay, either, though. Thomas and I were attached at the hip throughout the four days, and we didn’t kill each other. In fact, I had never felt closer to him! We were each other’s best friends… unless we socialized, we were each other’s only friend! One of us would question, “Hey, you wanna…” whatever ! And we would. What else did we have to do? No obligations, a small room, so minimal cleaning, and food provided for us so no cooking. It was all so relaxing and so much fun. I hate to say it, but I think I’m hooked. When’s the next cruise leave the port?! Woo-hoo!

    Cruising the Bahamas – Woo-hoo! (every fun little detail) I didn’t know how bad I wanted to go on a cruise until I actually went on one.

[twocoursemeal-blog]

TCM Eats: Yamato II

Yamato II (Copley Square) 

“And on the pedestal, these words appear: My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings; Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!” Ozymandias, Percy Bysshe Shelley

Dear readers, let us pause in remembrance of those great and forgotten heroes of old. Those brave, brave souls who once sought to climb great heights and, in doing so, tested the very limits of their endurance. We won’t mince words with you: we ate way too much fucking sushi at Yamato that night.

We ate:

Wayyyyy more than we should have.

We drank:

Hot green tea

Matt’s Thoughts

I’m never one to stand down from a challenge, especially when that challenge is “You can just eat as much sushi as you want - no real strings attached, just finish it.” I first tried Yamato a few years ago, and have been going back ever since for largely one reason: the fish. While it’s not something out-of-this-word, the quality of Yamato’s fish is actually very good! I’ve always been happy, whether ordering a complex roll, a simple sushi, or even sashimi. I’ve never in my many, many, many bites of raw fish at Yamato ever had something I felt even remotely uncomfortable about eating - it’s a huge plus for me.

Yamato also has, for better for for worse, a bulk ordering system. While other AYCE sushi spots may try to throttle you by limiting how many rolls you can order at once, Yamato just laughs and gives you a blank canvas. Order as much as you want, as many times as you want, and the only thing that limits your pace is the speed at which the food comes out, and how often your server comes by to check on you and take your next order.

As with other reviews of a similar nature where we just ate a lot of different things, I’ll break our items down one by one.

Seaweed Salad A fine showing. Standard, but still a nice contrast to all of the fish and rice. Yamaoto’s version was well seasoned, and I always get it when I visit.

Shumai I don’t care if these are frozen or not - Yamato’s shumai come out great every time. Extremely light, slightly shrimpy, and go great with the sauce.

Vegetable Gyoza Not my order, but I tried one anyway. These tasted very vegetable-y (go figure), and had some nice pieces of mushroom chopped up inside. Maybe a spinach wonton wrapper? Eh, I can sleep easy without knowing the answer to that one.

Mixed Tempura Though I don’t get Yamato’s tempura (I’m there to eat fish, and find the tempura to be too filling), every time a dining companion orders it, I’m always happy to try a bite or have a piece. I’ve found their tempura batter to be reasonably light, and their veggies are usually cooked properly.

Eel Sushi Surprisingly excellent - the eel was sweet, clean, and tender. There’s a reason we ordered a bunch of this over several rounds. Points go to Yamato’s eel sauce, which was veered closer to savory than to syrupy.

Tobiko Sushi A personal favorite, though Yamato’s version tends to go a bit heavy on the rice (unsurprisingly). I love the sensation of going into it thinking the whole thing is solid, and then biting into it and finding out that 50% (ideally, at least. Yamato’s is more like 20%) of it is tiny fish roe that proceeds to snap and pop with every bite. Modernist cuisine, eat your heart out.

White Tuna Sushi Another Yamato favorite - the quality of the white tuna is excellent. Buttery, clean, just the right amount of chew. I’m always glad to have some on my plate.

Salmon Sashimi I also love the quality of Yamato’s salmon. Again, clean salmon flavor, with beautiful ribbons of fat throughout. Though I generally prefer the balance provided by the seasoned sushi rice, salmon is one of the few fishes I enjoy as sashimi.

Shrimp Tempura Maki Our first maki! This one is just fine - the salmon is usually cooked well, and is about 50/50 whether it’ll come out hot, but either way it’s tasty. Sometimes, the pieces are a bit on the large side and can fall apart or be hard to eat, which is unfortunate.

Dragon Maki A Yamato favorite for me - I love the combination of crispy shrimp tempura, avocado, cucumber, and eel sauce. Yamato tops theirs with tobiko as well, which is always a plus.

Rainbow Maki I tend not to order the Rainbow Maki when I go, just because I feel like I prefer its components separately, and the many slices of fish tend to get lost. Yamato’s version was fine and enjoyable, but didn’t really change my mind.

Spicy Salmon Maki I’m not quite as large a fan of this one when it comes as a chopped mix, as Yamato’s did. I can’t remember if that’s always the case, but either way, it was tasty.

Spicy Yellowtail Maki Yellowtail was one of the first ever sushi fishes I’d ever had, and it holds a soft spot in my heart. Yamato’s seasoned mayo is has pronounced garlic and spiciness, and it plays well with the slightly fishy taste of the yellowtail.

Spicy White Tuna Maki Surprisingly enough for me, the spicy maki above all others. Take all of the benefits of the excellent white tuna, and add in Yamato’s mayo, and you’ve got yourself a winner.

Cucumber Avocado Maki What you’d expect, with slices of well-ripened avocado inside. Occasional bites provided a respite from the repetitive texture of the fish rolls.

Eel Cucumber Maki Yamato’s eel shines again! This one was tasty, though personally I would have liked a little more eel, and the contrast of the cucumber wasn’t as enjoyable as something complementary would have been, like avocado (Yamato does offer an eel avocado roll).

Sweet Potato Tempura Maki A Yamato favorite (and general sushi stop favorite overall). If you’ve never had a sweet potato roll, I cannot recommend it highly enough (sometimes referred to as Idaho Maki). Though it has some variation from place to place, it’s always some form of tempura-fried sweet potato topped with eel sauce. It’s wonderful. You get soft, you get crunchy, you get chewy, you get sweet, you get savory, you even get some thermal sense from the hot potato plus the generally cool/room temperature rice. It’s filling too, which was bad for this visit, but is generally great when you’re out for sushi and hungrier than your wallet allows.

Spicy Salmon Hand Roll When I say I saved the best for last, I mean that I saved the best for last. I LOVE Yamato’s spicy salmon hand roll, and make sure to include one in every round I order, always. It’s just such a perfect roll for me. Large pieces of that excellent salmon, spicy mayo, tempura flakes, all within a cone of rice and nori that leaves you ripping and tearing your way through a balanced, contrasting spicy, rich roll. Unfortunately this time, the spicy salmon hand roll came with chopped salmon instead of whole! It was a big disappointment for me, but even with the switch up, I enjoyed every bite.

Octopus Sushi / Ebi Sushi / Ebi Sashimi / Mackerel Sashimi / Tuna Sashimi / Philly Tempura The reason you didn’t see these in my review is……. I didn’t eat them! Though I did hear they were good from my dining companions.

Angela’s Thoughts

I’m always excited to go to Yamato, and I’m always excited to leave. It is a place where bad decisions are made for a fixed, all-you-can-eat price. I’ve never left Yamato truly happy, and this visit was no exception. I always eat way too much -- more than I should, and more than you care to read about. I’ll highlight some of the notable things I ate below.

I tend to skip the appetizers at AYCE places; they’re generally cheap and unnecessarily filling (gotta maximize your value with SASHIMI!). The tempura was better than I was expecting, however! The batter wasn’t too overwhelming (a bit worse on the shrimp than the veggies, in hindsight), and the shrimp and vegetables were both cooked well. They also included some sweet potato tempura, which is always my favorite.

The best thing to order at AYCE sushi is definitely sashimi. The ebi and salmon sashimi were quite good. The mackerel sashimi, which is generally my favorite, was small, dry, and left a lot to be desired.

After we had our fill of sashimi, we went on to the sushi. Overall, the sushi was poorly constructed, and fell apart pretty easily. That doesn’t really affect the taste, fortunately. The clear stand-out was the eel sushi. I was solidly full after our first round, and still ordered a few more pieces on the second go. The eel was warm, tender,  and very well seasoned, with lightly charred crispy bits from the broiler. It was easily the best thing I ate.

Next, the maki. This tends to be the broadest category at most American sushi restaurants, and personal preference really dictates what you’ll like and dislike. For example, I am a huge fan of sweet potato tempura maki in any form, even though it is carby, filling, and cheap. On the other hand, I won’t touch Philadelphia rolls with a 10-foot pole (no cream cheese with my fish, please!). I’m a huge fan of shrimp tempura in maki rolls as well, especially when it’s freshly made. The Dragon roll (shrimp tempura and crab stick inside, avocado and eel outside) scratched that itch for me, and added in some of Yamato’s delicious eel on top of everything! The spicy salmon maki deserves a shout-out too, for having spicy mayo with a real kick to it.

One last nice thing is that, while there were a few highs, there were very few lows -- nothing was notably dreadful, or even memorably bad (except the mackerel sashimi… and the fried ice cream, DO NOT order that). Everything seemed ok-to-great quality, which was satisfying for an AYCE sushi place. The majority of my gripes about Yamato II are that I always eat too much, and that’s a personal problem -- and not really a problem for the restaurant at all!

Overall:

For some reason, we continue to visit Yamato II. The many price-hikes over the years means that it’s long since ceased to be a good deal. Instead, it’s a brutal bonding experience, and a weird exercise in perseverance. Despite the hardship we face every time we visit, we have our perennial favorites that we order each time we go. We’ll both be back to Yamato II, because we haven’t learned our lesson.

We give Yamato II 3 obesity crises out of 5.

[twocoursemeal-blog]

TCM Eats: Border Cafe

Border Cafe (Harvard Square)

Border Cafe is a staple of the Harvard Square food scene, and a favorite of ours for years (as a matter of fact, Border Cafe is one of those Boston-area institutions that’s older than we are). Despite its age, it still draws in a hefty crowd even on traditionally off-hours, and especially on weekends. With a broad menu and consistently low prices, it doesn’t show any sign of slowing down.

We ate:

Cajun Popcorn (shrimp)

Steak Fajitas

Chicken Enchiladas

We drank:

Margarita Grande

Angela’s Thoughts

Border Cafe has a special place in my heart. I’ve spent quite a few birthday dinners and gatherings with friends at one of their huge tables, sipping a margarita. One of the reasons that it’s such a popular gathering place is because it’s such a huge restaurant. The Cafe has lots of tables packed in, plenty of stuff up on the walls, and a weird, dim, pinky-red lighting (apologies for our pictures in advance). We went for an early lunch on Saturday, at Matt’s suggestion, and I can never turn down Border Cafe.

Border Cafe starts you off with a basket of warm chips and salsa, that you munch on while perusing their rather large menu. That’s not the only constant in my Border Cafe visiting ritual, though; practically every time I go to Border Cafe, I have to order a margarita, mostly because they’re insanely cheap (All are <$10, if I recall correctly). I ordered a Margarita Grande with salt, on the rocks (they also offer all of their margaritas blended and frozen too, if you’d like, but I’m not about that life).

The margarita itself is good -- it’s a generous portion for the cost, and you can taste the tequila clearly, while the drink is well-balanced. Border Cafe offers more expensive margaritas made with nicer tequilas at slightly higher price points, and, honestly, I can clearly taste the difference between the cheapest margarita and some of the more expensive ones -- that improvement in taste is clearly due to the better-quality tequila. My advice: if you’re a fan of tequilas in general, or looking forward to having a margarita that tastes better than your average, toss in another dollar or two for a pricier drink! Either way, since all of them are less than ten bucks, you won’t break the bank.

Matt suggested that we order the Cajun Popcorn shrimp appetizer! In all my time eating at Border Cafe, I’d never ordered any of their appetizers before, so I jumped on the chance to split it with him. The cajun popcorn were heavily battered, and served with a lemon wedge and a ramekin of Border Cafe’s “Bayou sauce.” The batter on the shrimp was nice and crunchy, and both the shrimp and the batter were nicely seasoned, giving the shrimp alone a lightly spicy zest. The bayou sauce, to my surprise, was fantastic. It tasted like a spicy honey mustard, thin, slightly sweet, and really flavorful. This is an appetizer that I’d absolutely order again.

On this visit, like many other past visits, I ordered my go-to at Border Cafe, the chicken enchiladas, with a side of black beans and rice. The enchiladas come as a huge portion, smothered in beans and cheese, with a tangy salsa verde. There’s also a tiny bit of lettuce and pico de gallo on the side. Both sour cream and guacamole are an extra charge, but the entree is less than $8, so that never bothers me. On my entree, there were, oddly enough, two slices of stray green pepper nestled into the bed of melted cheese, likely stowaways from someone else’s plate. This could be a big deal for those who are concerned about cross-contamination of any sort with their food (I didn’t really care, though; I just picked them off).

The enchiladas are generally a bit heavy, but I quite like them. The amount of cheese that they put on the enchilada is overwhelming to me, so I pick some of it off before eating. After removing the cheese, the slightly vinegary, barely spicy flavor of the enchiladas themselves begins to shine through. The chicken that they use in the enchiladas is shredded, and marinated. The portion is always large enough for me to have lunch the next day, too, which never hurts! The black beans and the rice on the side were also really flavorful, and not just a bland addition; the beans were well-seasoned, and the rice had a small dicing of peppers and other seasonings added that gave it a savory boost.

Border Cafe is everything that I want in a kitschy tex-mex restaurant: friendly service, busy decorations, cheap tasty food, and even cheaper drinks. Most of their beers are four dollars (yes, $4, all the time). Their house “Margarita Grande” is $6.50, and I don’t think that they have a margarita that costs double digits (in dollars) on the menu. When I go in, it’s difficult to remember that it’s 2017, given how cheap the prices are. I’ve never really ventured over to the cajun side of the menu; I primarily order enchiladas or fajitas. Despite that, everything I’ve eaten there has been pretty good, and when you factor in the price, it’s pretty much unbelievable.

Matt’s Thoughts

I’ve never really thought about the Border Cafe as a place where you go for a variety of food, but rather a place that is incredibly consistent and giving you the one or two things you love, and getting them just right, every time. I’ve had a few things on the menu over the years, but I’ll be damned if I can ever go to the Border Cafe and not crave their steak fajita.

If you’ve never been to the Border Cafe, I think it’s truly worth a visit. You go in, and it’s like the extensive wood interior has been seasoned for hundreds of years with hundreds of thousands of sizzling fajita smoke. This is not a bad thing. I repeat: this is not a bad thing.

When you sit down at your table, one of the first things they bring you at the Border Cafe are their house made tortilla chips, often still hot and glistening with oil, accompanied by a side of tasty yet simple salsa. They’re fantastic, and almost always seasoned by the greatest sauce out there (hunger). Often, you may find yourself halfway through a basket before you realize you need to order. There’s just something about a fresh, hot tortilla chip that scratches an itch we Northerners don’t often get scratched.

On this particular visit, dear readers, I’m ashamed to say I waffled. For a time, I even considered getting… a burger. Now, that’s not to say their burgers are *bad*, but let’s be real - you don’t go to the Border Cafe to get a burger (even though they’re like, <$10??). A brief sanity check later and I was back on track for the food I desired in my heart of hearts: the steak fajita. And order it I did.

Buuuuuut not before a hungrier, more foolish, more impulsive version of myself convinced Angela that it was worthwhile to invest in an appetizer. After a bit of discussion we chose the Cajun Popcorn, which came out very quickly.

This was a plate full of small, beautifully golden curls of shrimp nestled next to a glass dish of sauce. I risked the safety of my mouth to try a bite, and successfully managed to avoid burning myself! These were well cooked, and while the batter was nicely seasoned, I was disappointed at how bland the shrimp were. Then, everything changed when I tried them with the sauce. This slightly spicy, reasonably sweet, sharp honey-mustard(?) did a wonderful job of accenting the shrimp, and Angela and I began the important work of blissing out over them. At $7, this is something I see myself having a hard time not ordering during future visits, and if you like shrimp, I’d definitely recommend it.

As we ate the shrimp (and let’s be honest, continued to snack on the chips and salsa), I heard a sound. THE sound. The fajita sound. It’s unmistakable (especially when you’re hungry), and it was soon followed by the fajita steam/smoke smell that dramatically amplifies any vestiges of hunger left in your body.

The Border Cafe’s fajitas come with 4 steamed flour tortillas, beans & rice or jambalaya, cheese, sour cream, and pico de gallo. The fajita itself is simple, with just pieces of flank steak and rings of onions. For me, I appreciate the simplicity as much as I appreciate being able to scrape the crust off the bottom of the blistering hot cast iron skillet and use it as a topping on my fajitas. For me, this is simple heaven. The steak is perfectly cooked - juicy, and chewy without being so tough you can’t bite through it, while the onions still have a reasonable amount of bite without being too soft or too raw. If Border Cafe has got its fajitas down to a science, P is definitely <0.05. I always end up eating more than my fill, and I can’t say I’m ever really too sad about it, since I also end up with at *least* 1 meal of leftovers, if not more.  One minor gripe - this time, my tortillas came out a little bit hard on one side. Not a huge problem or something that stopped me from eating them, but definitely a bit unexpected.

I really do like the Border Cafe a lot, and if you haven’t been, I recommend you pick a cold-ish weekday night and go - you’ll get warmed right up.

Overall:

We don’t think we’ve ever been sad to go to the Border Cafe, and have certainly dragged friends there if they’ve never been before. It works well for groups, or just a quick meal for two.

With affordable, remarkably consistent food, a pleasant atmosphere, plenty of space, and free homemade chips, Border Cafe can really hit the spot.

We give Border Cafe 4 fresh tortilla chips out of 5