In my excitement to leave my hometown of Newark, Delaware behind as I moved to Philadelphia, Pizza Partying has kind of fallen by the wayside. I won’t sing the refrain of the lazy blogger, apologizing for the hiatus and vowing to post regularly from now on. I have maybe six readers, and I’m sure you all found a way to carry on without me, somehow.
Nevertheless, I’ve missed writing, so I’m using the feeblest of excuses to start again. Here are the meals that kept me from fainting as I moved to Philly during a heat wave:
Onion Bagel with Cream Cheese and an Iced Coffee, Black (Dunkin’ Donuts)
I don’t typically eat bagels in the morning, opting instead for something more utilitarian like plain oatmeal. (What can I say? I like to begin each day by lying to myself, pretending to be a healthy eater.) But on the sweltering Sunday morning of my move, I was sweaty and hung over, and carb-loading seemed like a great idea. Although the bagel was nothing to write home about, the carbs and fat did a great job of soaking up all the leftover beer in my system. The iced coffee, in addition to being a quick hit of caffeine, cooled me off as I sipped it and when I pressed the cup to my red, blotchy face. I’d recommend this breakfast to anyone who goes out drinking all night before a big move on the hottest day of the year.
Organic Tortilla Longboard Chips, Stale (Trader Joe’s)
Since it had been burned away by alcohol, my bagel metabolized more rapidly than usual. Ravenous again only a couple hours later, I ate the only food left in my apartment that didn’t require cooking: an open (unclipped) bag of Longboard Chips. No one else was taking a food break, so I tasted the chips under the guise of testing them for staleness/packworthiness. “Not too stale!” I lied, shoveling the chewy chips into my mouth. These are my favorite tortilla chips, and even when they’re bad, they’re good.
Philly Cheesesteak Pizza (Domino’s)
All day during our move, Gene and I had been looking forward to dinner because of our close proximity to amazing takeout places. It only made sense, then, to order an AUTHENTIC PHILLY CHEESESTEAK PIZZA from a little local pizzeria called Domino’s. This mom and pop shop has been lovingly handcrafting pizzas since 1960. After spending the day hauling boxes and furniture beneath the blazing sun, Gene and I managed to put away the entire pizza between the two of us.
An Actual Philly Cheesesteak (Jim’s Steaks)
On Memorial Day, Gene and I soaked up the 100-degree rays as we moved the rest of our crap to the new apartment. Cooking was not in the cards, so we walked to South Street for cheesesteaks. I marched up to the counter at Jim’s and was promptly clotheslined by Gene since I had accidentally bypassed the proper ordering station. Thankfully my vocal chords were not damaged during the incident and I was able to order a steak with fried onions and American cheese (I’m patriotic). Gene opted for fried onions, mushrooms, and whiz. As we walked home, I ranted about how American is the “ONLY!” cheese that belongs on a cheesesteak, and when I took my first delicious, greasy bite, I glowed with the smugness of being right. Then I tasted Gene’s whiz steak (such appealing phrasing!) and totally changed my mind. Give me fake cheese goop from a can, or give me death!