PUPUSERIA

 
I’m not a foodie. I don’t go nuts about meals, good or bad,
but . . .

I had a bad sandwich at the Wolfgang Puck restaurant at O‘Hare Airport. Alice and I had just arrived in Chicago, and it was noon (= 1 pm Cleve time), and we thought we’d get a bite at the aeropuerto before taking an Uber to our daughter’s house. At O’Hare, the line for the Mexican place was long so I got a very crappy, expensive Puck sandwich, which was cold-cuts —  “cold” as in just out of the freezer. Bad bread, too. I was “hangry.” Get over it.

Three days later — heading back to the airport — Alice and I decided to pick up sandwiches in my daughter’s neighborhood, in the city. Why did we choose Jimmy Johns? I ordered a cold tuna sub on a spongy white bread roll.

Stop complaining.

Why?

Back in Cleveland . . .  We shouldn’t have stopped for dinner on the drive home from the Cleveland airport. You’re antsy to see if your house is still there. You’re tired.

We went to a hole-in-the-wall, Pupuseria La Bendicion, on the West Side. I’d never heard of it but our son Ted had, and he drove us from the Cleveland airport. La Pupuseria would have been decent but the wait was too long. “Hangry” again. I paced outside the store for 35 minutes. The pupusas were cheesy things that stuck to the aluminum- foil wrap.

Is there a lesson here?

Yes. Pupusas are the national dish of El Salvador.