Gonna Save My Money Someday for Fine Eats

Last night we had dinner plans - my girlfriend's best friend's birthday dinner. So after work, and as the fog was rolling in as thick misty chunks at street level, we went up to Andersonville in Chicago and met up with her at a boutique where she was doing some birthday shopping prior to dinner festivities. A few other female friends of her's were there. My girlfriend asked her if her boyfriend was meeting us "here" or at the restaurant. She replied with neither, he was at home...we very quickly realized that it was supposed to be a "girls" night out, my girlfriend had only skimmed the invite and mentioned to me to plan on it for Thursday thinking it was a group outing. They were nice enough to let me tag along to eat, which was great as I was mighty hungry only having a light lunch. I did feel like a party crasher, and felt bad for impeding on girl's night, but it also would have been awkward bailing on the outing. An odd thing to socially navigate.

We ate at a place called "In Fine Spirits." It was a bit pricey for my income level, luckily someone in our party had a Groupon they happily pitched in which shaved a chunk off the bill. I had the Mushroom Crepe, with Gruyere and maple. Tasty and crafty piece of food, but a little steep in cost and not filling by any means, I'm hoping the ingredients were organic as f*ck and at least heart healthy beyond belief. I washed it down with a Founders Red's Rye Ale which was smooth and hoppy. The girls were all mighty pleased with their cocktails, and had I $14 extra I would have ordered one of them myself, instead I stuck to one of the Red's Rye for $5, the cheapest thing on the drink menu, which for the beer was pretty reasonable, comparable to other bars. Anyway, In Fine Spirits is a place I would love to frequent if I had a bit of wealth going on, that way I could order two food items and multiple drinks without incurring debt. I do love places with cocktails crafted in a uniquely balanced way, as though it's liquid art, ready to vanish in an esophagus, like the Whistler in Logan Square.

At one point I had to run out to the car to re-feed the meter. I almost got hit by a car as I crossed a side street, as the car was seemingly wishing to blow through a stop sign. That's what I did yesterday to get my heart rate going. I didn't bring my phone out with me so had my hip been busted the other members of would have waited awhile before finding out. Note to self: learn girlfriend's phone number by heart in case absence of speed dial and absent minded driver.

When we got home we pigged out on Rahm-en Noodles, slices of cheese, and left over biscuits.