Paleta mania

For the two people who read this blog, so sorry for the lack of fried chicken posts. Turns out, there's just not enough time in the week for finding new and exciting fried chicken while simultaneously working full-time, raising a toddler, and trying to make sure everyone has clean underwear. There's a lot of places I've had good and bad chicken in the last couple of years but didn't write about them immediately and now can't remember enough details. Here's a brief rundown of places about which I'll hopefully write: Thompson's Point of View (so-so fried wings, but AMAZING spicy bbq wings), the Wellington (ungodly salty), and of course the Kingfish Cafe (so delicious, and I just noticed that they have chicken and waffles on the brunch menu--can't think of a better reason to go).

Now the real reason for this post...a new ice-cream place in White Center called Full Tilt. So many people have already discussed the opening of this new joint (for example here and here and even here) that I won't go into detail about the new owners (whom I haven't officially met anyway, though they seem like nice people) or the pinball (which I suck at, so it definitely takes a backseat to the ice cream). Instead, I'd like to take you on a trip to a little town called Nuevo Casas Grandes, in the wild state of Chihuahua, Mexico. As I've previously mentioned, while in graduate school, I spent many summers in Mexico "doing research" (which actually amounted to a lot of hard work on other people's projects, very little research of my own, and very much drinking of cheap Mexican beer). For the most part, I stayed in very small towns with very few amenities, requiring a trip to the big city on the weekends to do laundry, buy groceries, and ogle the menacing Mennonnites. One of the highlights of these trips was a visit to one of the many paleterias scattered throughout the town. All of them were called "La Michoacana," making meet ups difficult:

Person 1: Let's meet at La Michoacana at 3.
Person 2: La Michoacana on the plaza?
Person 1: No the one on the way out of town.
Person 2: The one on the left or the right?
Person 1: On the left just before the turnoff for the prison.
Person2: MMMM, prison paletas.

Like probably every one else in North America, I grew up on the popsicles from the grocery store that come with two sticks that you break in half and share with your brother, or in my case, taunt your brother with and then eat both yourself. Paletas are definitely not your brother's popsicles. They are made with chunks of real fresh fruit and either agua or leche. My favorites were pineapple, melon, and watermelon, which usually had seeds--just so you know you're getting real watermelon. The cream ones are good too (I loved Pistachio), but after a long hot day, the paletas de agua were so much more refreshing.

I had my first Full Tilt paleta at the first annual South Park Crank it Up Festival where they were selling popsicles out of coolers. I had exactly two dollars in my pocket and saw several people walking around with delicious-looking popsicles, which when I found them, were two dollars. Kismet. I can't remember what other flavors they had there, but I got a blackberry cinnamon cream flavor. It was very reminiscent of its Mexican counterparts. There were big chunks of blackberry and seeds that were caught in my teeth for the rest of the day, but in a delicious way.

I was so impressed that the next day I took the very willing husband and son to the store in White Center. In addition to a small menu of paletas, they have ice cream flavors both bizarre (mango chili) and mundane (vanilla). They encourage tasting the flavors, which I greatly appreciate, and although I was very full from lunch, I managed to squeeze into my belly a spoonful of perhaps the weirdest ice cream I've ever had. Based on Elvis Presley's favorite sandwich, it's called Memphis King and contains banana, peanut butter, and chocolate covered bacon bits. Individually, each one of those ingredients is delicious. And perhaps in sandwich form when the bacon is warm and the peanut butter melty, the combination of ingredients would be tasty. In ice cream form, it was just odd. The banana flavor overwhelmed everything else until the ice cream melted, leaving only the chocolate covered bacon to finish the bite. The bacon was a little too chewy and didn't taste that great with the chocolate. Overall, a very strange flavor. The Mexican Chocolate that we brought home was delightful, though. My one gripe is that the plastic container it was in shattered from the cold. Maybe use cardboard from now on...Mother Earth would appreciate it.

Not at all about Fried Chicken

My two BFFs and I have a tradition wherein we go out for a fancy meal in January instead of buying each other Christmas gifts. Generally, I have plenty of funds in January for such a splurge, but this Christmas knocked me on my ass financially (because of non-fun purchases like tires for my car, a roof for the house and, the most non-fun purchase of my entire life, having my poor sweet old dog put to sleep) so we decided to dine in early February before my paycheck was otherwise allocated (sorry, Verizon, maybe next month).

The dinner is always Hallie, Robin and myself, but sometimes if the fancy strikes us, we invite others as well. This year, we invited Tammi, who loves television so much that she has two DVRs with which to record her stories. This makes me enjoy her company, well, this and her unapologetic use of the word cunnilingus in regular conversation. Hallie and I also love television, and the three of us can talk for hours about what we've seen. The conversation that night went a little like this:

Me: Hey Tammi, do you watch Project Runway?

Tammi (looking at me as though I'm totally retarded): Of course I watch Project Runway.

Me: How much do you love/hate Christian?

Tammi: He's fierce.

Hallie: Totally.

Robin (who does not watch television): Blink...Blink, Blink.

We were eating at place in Wallingford called Tilth which is one of those places that changes the menu regularly based on what's in season. Honestly, since we ate way back in the dark dreary winter, and now the sun is shining, I can't remember much about the meal. Except that there was pork belly. And lamb. But the lamb had too much other stuff on it so it wasn't lamby enough for me. Then there were some veggies too. They were probably good.

The best part of the evening (other than Tammi talking about how awesome cunnilingus is) was at the end when a very very drunk guy with Morrissey hair started yelling at one of the servers about being disrespected. Because nothing is more respectable than a drunk 80s-looking hipster. He was kicked out while his girlfriend stayed behind to try to soothe some feathers. Feathers which were promptly ruffled again when the guy smashed a couple of terracotta flower pots on the porch. Sweet.

I suppose it's right and proper that the most memorable parts of the evening involved oral sex and violence to flower pots. But it seems like if the food had been better, I would have remembered it more. Maybe I'll try again one day with a less interesting group of people on a more sedate evening. But what fun would that be?