And I Can Cook, Too

Thursday, March 15, 2007

Saturday, March 10, 2007

To Market To Market

I had about 15 hours of schoolwork on my plate, (Analyze Allison James’ view of the role of confectionery in England like I care but I digress) when I suddenly realized I wanted something edible on my plate. I checked the clock and realized I had just enough time to catch the train into the city and hit the Central Market before it closed for the day. Not so eager to spend yet another weekend entirely alone, I called one of my classmates and invited her to join me. An hour later we met at the market. After picking up olive oil, persimmons, fresh dates, chicken, and other fresh, organics yummies, we decide that pizza and beer was the perfect way to spend the rest of the afternoon. We found a pizza dive a few blocks away from the market, grabbled an outdoor table, and proceeded to enjoy the best pizza I’ve had west of Chicago. Or east of New York. Or south of DC. North doesn’t come in to play here at all. Several hours later, I remembered I needed to catch the train back home. A quick check of the schedule revealed that I had forty minutes to wait. “No problem” said my classmate, “let’s just go to the Adelaide Central Rail Station (and Casino), grab another beer, and wait for your train. We boxed up our leftovers, and were off. When we tried to enter the Adelaide Central Rail Station (and Casino), however, the doorman cleverly spied the pizza box under my classmates arm. “Excuse me, miss” he said, “is that a pizza?” “Yes” she responded. “I’m so sorry” he went on, “we don’t allow people to bring in food.” As they discussed the fate of the leftover pizza, I pondered the fact that he had not asked about the contents of my bag. He wouldn’t allow two slices of pizza to pass the doors, but bacon wrapped filet mignon, a whole oven roaster, two heads of Belgian endive, blood oranges, pancetta, dried figs, and persimmons were fine. Huh. At last accepting that we were turned away, my classmate and I managed to smuggle our leftover pizza into the bar across the street. Where I managed to miss two more trains.

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