FAIL

I was obliged to eat out tonight as my decrepit refrigerator left me dinnerless and desperate, AGAIN. Craving comfort food, I headed over to Katz’s to sample the matzoh ball soup. As it turns out, the employees there are just as useless as my fridge. My soup came with a fork and knife, but no spoon. I don’t know if you’ve ever attempted it, but lapping up thin broth with a fork is a downright frustrating practice.

Oh, and my meal also came with salt packets and Saltines, just in case the bowl of dehydration they call matzoh ball soup needed some extra seasoning. Katz’s should save the salt for the pastrami and pickles. The ball itself was flimsy, separating into molecular-sized morsels beneath the substantial weight of that plastic fork.

Lesson learned. At Katz’s, stick with the meat.

Sorry for the scaffolding.

Spice. Kyotofu. Chickalicious. What do these three have in common, other than their spaceship-like, colorless interiors? Their overwhelmingly Asiatic clientele.

Ok, so it makes sense that Asians would flock to Spice, a Thai restaurant, and Kyotofu, a Japanese dessert bar. Heck, they belong there more than I do. But there’s no reason I should also feel like a poser at Chickalicious, a sweets-only eatery which can claim no particular ties to Asian cuisine. So why, when the ‘rents and I stopped in for a post-dinner snack the other night, did we feel like we were the targets of Sesame Street’s “one of these things is not like the other” game? (Unfortunately, the all-white cookies in this clip provide an inaccurate representation of Chickalicious’ actual demographic.)

The only conclusion I can draw from my findings is that Asians dig minimality. A sterile, pure white dining room is their calling. Throw in some plastic chairs and recessed lighting and they’ll really go crazy.

I never did get to try the food at Chickalicious dessert bar. Apparently the atmosphere was too swank for the Geneslobs — after taking one glance at the peppercorn ice cream and cantaloupe soup menu options, my parents decided that Chickalicious to-go across the street was more their speed.

ginger-spiced carrot cake

My ginger-infused carrot cake was tasty (although I’d eat anything schmeared with cream cheese icing), and my parents both enjoyed their mocha and mango (separate, not combined) smoothies. I’m still eager to try the more sophisticated dessert bar, but I’ll have to do some major ‘fro straightening and Hello Kitty shopping before I can fit in with the crowd.

Both have sparkling baby blues and flowing, golden tresses — well, Paula used to be blonde, and C. Mac definitely cheats. Points to Paula for honesty. And both have an uncanny ability to haunt me in my sleep with their seemingly drug-enhanced television personalities and unblinking stares. But who is the creepier of the two? My answer, for now at least, is neither of the above. Paula’s “Tastes Like Lasagna Soup” recipe easily wins the most frightening prize. Shudder. For Thanksgiving, I’m going to request that my mom make “Almost Turkey” and “Mimics Stuffing, but Tastes Nothing Like it Cause it’s Actually Cranberry Sauce”.