Binge in the City, Parte Tres

So by now, it was 6pm on a Saturday that I didn't actually have to work. I'm buzzing, I'm full, and Nathan and I aren't ready to call quits on the night just yet. So what is the logical course of action? Catch a movie!
There's been a film out for a couple months now called "Chef". It's the story of a high-profile chef who dicks up his fine dining career and then proceeds to open a food truck. Both Nathan and I had been wanting to see this film for-freaking-ever, and now the golden opportunity arose! The trick was, because it is an independent flick done by and starring Jon Favreau, it was only showing in a small, small handful of theaters. We managed to find one by my place with a 7:15 showing, and headed over.
That movie? Everything I ever wanted in a food film and more. The interactions between the kitchen and front of house staff was accurate, the depiction of home life was mostly on point, and the food? Goddamn. This movie had me craving Cuban sandwiches for a week! Not only was it a solid story, the star-studded cast and the fact that chef Roy Choice produced and mentored the film just created a winning combination. I could seriously watch this 12 more times and still be ecstatic. My favorite part? The fact that NONE OF THE SPANISH WAS SUBTITLED. If you know Spanish, you get an extra layer of comedy to everything. If you don't? Well, it won't take away from the movie, but you seriously took the wrong classes in high school. Also the cornstarch scene is amazeballs. ;) Bonus? If you hang out through the credits, Roy Choi teaches you how to make the best grilled cheese ever.
Afterwards, both of us dying for a Cuban, Nathan and I tried to find a Cuban restaurant open at 10pm on a Saturday night in Atlanta. Verdict? Nada. So, we headed to the Victory Sandwich Bar in Decatur (www.vicsandwich.com). They were serving a sandwich they called "The Castro" (haha punny). Essentially a Cuban sans mojo sauce. It, and a couple of their fun cocktails, did the trick. We called it a night, and my amazing foodie weekend ended. I couldn't have imagined a more perfect weekend.

...well, maybe if I had gotten laid. That'd been cool.

A Love Note

I have been eating an inordinate amount of grilled cheese lately. It's just a magic fucking sandwich, isn't it? Simplest concept ever- cheese+bread=love. And so many different combinations of cheese and bread! Focaccia and Brie, boule with a mix of gorgonzola and cheddar, rye and Swiss...! Add tomatoes, bacon- who gives a fuck? Still delicious! And it all seems to come from a similar story across America- stuck inside on a crappy, grey winter day, Mom calls you to the kitchen table. Waiting there is a bowl of soup... And an amazing, buttery, slightly burnt grilled cheese sandwich. Simple, classic. I always liked mine with tomato soup. NOT tomato-basil, straight tomato. Don't get me wrong, there is a time and place for tomato-basil soup, it is delish on its own merits. Just don't give me grilled cheese with it. That's a dick move.

Surprisingly enough, if I'm not making it, my favorite grilled cheese comes from Waffle House. It is consistently just like mom used to make (and no, my mother never worked at WaHo). For as much as I love gourmet restaurants and stuff like that, Waffle House holds a special place in my heart. It started off as a joke, and grew into one of my favorite things about Atlanta. Now it's a special place, and I have my own traditions there- I will always order a coffee and a water, with a grilled cheese sandwich and order of hash browns (covered at least, and sometimes capped). It comforts me, and even when I toss my life into periods of upheaval and change, those will always be a grounding factor for me. So here's to you, grilled cheese, and you, WaHo. To wherever life takes me, and your disgustingly tasty American cheese product slices!