Author – Grant
Based In – Pittsburgh
Weather – What I presume it will be like for the 24 hours before the apocalypse
Based In – Pittsburgh
Weather – What I presume it will be like for the 24 hours before the apocalypse
Today's Photos - http://www.flickr.com/photos/32017704@N03/sets/72157610768624427/
I’m not exactly sure what happened to day 32 as it seems like every time I looked at my watch it was always 3 hours later than I thought it would be. I guess having a rare lie-in (9am, positively an early morning for the average student) didn’t help. Nor did spending time digesting our “luxury” continental breakfast (we’ve splashed out on a Hampton Inn, a branch of Hilton…purely because every budget hotel is full of visiting Dallas Cowboys fans and returning home Steelers fans for tomorrow’s clash which I am only just beginning to understand the local importance of). Talking about the football, the rivalry between these teams is crazy although I think that the Cowgirls (as the local paper called them today) are universally hated as the Man Utd of the NFL. It’s a weird sort of rivalry though as, on one hand, it seems to be acceptable for Cowboy fans to wear “Even God Hates The Steelers” t-shirts without having 7 bells kicked out of them and yet, on the other hand, the last bar we were in the previous night had that feel that it was going to kick off at any moment (hence we left as I am far too pretty to risk any facial injury). Indeed, I remember being at a Cowboys vs Giants game a few years back where there was some friendly banter between the Giants masses and a pocket of Cowboys fans but then spurious fights broke out (something I didn’t think ever happened amongst American sports crowds) and finally it was settled by a rumour that one of the Cowboy fans had a gun and was thrown out. It’s nothing like the good old honest pre-arranged no-guns-allowed fisticuffs in rainy motorway service stations in England…
Anyway, that was a bit of a tangent - maybe
that’s where today went. So this morning we went back to Frick Park for a 90 minute undulating (i.e. iron lung requiring) walk with the Molster where Kate had a moment of genius and invented the iGlove. It’s basically a normal glove but has a hole worn in the index finger which allows touch operation of the screen which is otherwise inoperable through wool. Luckily the only people who currently own gloves with holes in are the homeless and donkey keepers who generally aren’t iPhone owners so there’s definitely a huge target market. Watch this space.
Next, in driving snow, we headed to The Strip wh
ich is a 10 block strip of food shops ranging from retail to restaurants. Now anyone that knows my wife will know that she is partial to a fishfinger sandwich (she’s so low maintenance she’s practically Amish) hence our first stop in The Strip was Wholey’s which we heard did a legendary fish sandwich. From their three vat-like fryers came a vast array of battered, fried fish of which we opted for The Whaler (a whole pound of whiting in a bun; that’s 4 fillets) and a cod sandwich (over half a pound of cod in a bun). I consider myself to be a bit of a minor league expert of fried battered fish (four years of chip-shop experience you know…and yes, I still manage to maintain this body…incredible isn’t it) so my conclusion is that whilst the whiting clearly won the size category, the pearly white, flaky cod definitely won the taste category. Pure bliss but next time I wouldn’t bother with the bread. The next hour is a blur of roaming from shop to shop and I might have been hallucinating but I’m sure I remember a shop of piñatas, a great home roast coffee store with at least 50 different blends, a cheese shop that was the perfect nasal blend of belly-button fluff and cat vomit (clearly two wrongs do make a right) and yet another store selling British chocolate bars which we feel obliged to buy from for fear of being sent to the Tower of London for high treason.
After yet more procrastinating, we headed to Station Square which i
s the touristy concentration of bars and restaurants which has more of the slightly differently themed yet strangely generic sports bars that Kate adhered to yesterday. Personally I’m all in favour of wasting away many hours in such establishments but, after the previous night’s terrifying cab ride home at the hands of a mute Pittsburgh mobster, I volunteered to drive. As such, the night out was restricted to a meal in Joe’s Crab Shack. Now there was literally nothing noteworthy about the meal except the hourly dance (“shakin’ the shack”) by the wait-staff who each performed the routine with all the enthusiasm of day-release prisoners bashing out some court-ordered community service. Well, except for the chubby, facially challenged lass who clearly saw these as hourly Broadway auditions. Bless her.
Anyway, that was a bit of a tangent - maybe
that’s where today went. So this morning we went back to Frick Park for a 90 minute undulating (i.e. iron lung requiring) walk with the Molster where Kate had a moment of genius and invented the iGlove. It’s basically a normal glove but has a hole worn in the index finger which allows touch operation of the screen which is otherwise inoperable through wool. Luckily the only people who currently own gloves with holes in are the homeless and donkey keepers who generally aren’t iPhone owners so there’s definitely a huge target market. Watch this space.Next, in driving snow, we headed to The Strip wh
ich is a 10 block strip of food shops ranging from retail to restaurants. Now anyone that knows my wife will know that she is partial to a fishfinger sandwich (she’s so low maintenance she’s practically Amish) hence our first stop in The Strip was Wholey’s which we heard did a legendary fish sandwich. From their three vat-like fryers came a vast array of battered, fried fish of which we opted for The Whaler (a whole pound of whiting in a bun; that’s 4 fillets) and a cod sandwich (over half a pound of cod in a bun). I consider myself to be a bit of a minor league expert of fried battered fish (four years of chip-shop experience you know…and yes, I still manage to maintain this body…incredible isn’t it) so my conclusion is that whilst the whiting clearly won the size category, the pearly white, flaky cod definitely won the taste category. Pure bliss but next time I wouldn’t bother with the bread. The next hour is a blur of roaming from shop to shop and I might have been hallucinating but I’m sure I remember a shop of piñatas, a great home roast coffee store with at least 50 different blends, a cheese shop that was the perfect nasal blend of belly-button fluff and cat vomit (clearly two wrongs do make a right) and yet another store selling British chocolate bars which we feel obliged to buy from for fear of being sent to the Tower of London for high treason.After yet more procrastinating, we headed to Station Square which i
s the touristy concentration of bars and restaurants which has more of the slightly differently themed yet strangely generic sports bars that Kate adhered to yesterday. Personally I’m all in favour of wasting away many hours in such establishments but, after the previous night’s terrifying cab ride home at the hands of a mute Pittsburgh mobster, I volunteered to drive. As such, the night out was restricted to a meal in Joe’s Crab Shack. Now there was literally nothing noteworthy about the meal except the hourly dance (“shakin’ the shack”) by the wait-staff who each performed the routine with all the enthusiasm of day-release prisoners bashing out some court-ordered community service. Well, except for the chubby, facially challenged lass who clearly saw these as hourly Broadway auditions. Bless her.After all too brief a stay in The Burgh, we hit the road again tomorrow; eastbound with two days to get to Philly where the end result is a Brazilian meat buffet…if Bridget breaks down, I probably have the will to jog there.
4 comments:
Ooh...Philly! You are going to have a cheesesteak taste-test between Gino's and Pat's right?
Naah, had one from Steve's (the place the locals tell you to go after they have finished laughing in your face for suggesting Gino's or Pat's) last time I was here and am still trying to shift it from my colon.
I prefer the Gino's/Pat's because you can have one at Gino's and then work up an appetite by walking across the street and wolf another one down at Pat's.
Looking forward to what you have to say about Steve's. You still can't really get a decent Philly in NYC (even from places that ship their rolls in from Philly).
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