This morning I attended worship service at the church I attended when I was growing up. There's a new addition to the building and lots of new faces inside but still lots of people I've known my entire life. It was really good to experience the continuity of a place where people don't move around and where there's a sense of community and memory. And lots of children! The church was packed with young families.
This evening I wanted to take our host and hostess to dinner (or supper as it's called here), after picking Becca up from the airport. They asked where I'd like to go and I said the first thing that came into my mind, "
Merichka's!" It's an old restaurant on the north side of Joliet in an ethnic community that has remained pretty undisturbed. It's a place my parents used to take us when I was a kid, a family restaurant has been a family business since 1933. Their specialty is "poorboy steak sandwiches". Here's how one guy describes it:
A steak poor boy is 7 oz. of cubed steak perfectly cooked, then slapped onto a long bun that has been smothered in Garlic Butterine. Top it off with your choice of cheese and perhaps some pickles and we're done! Grab a stack of napkins and a breath mint, 'cuz you're gonna need both.
When he says "smothered in garlic butterine" he really means "drenched" so that it drips down your chin. I haven't had one of these sandwiches since about 1989 and my memory had not failed me - the sandwich was every bit as good as I remembered it. And so was the twice baked potato (I had the foresight to share that with Becca). We're all breathing garlic here tonight - but we're all in the same garlicky boat together. I'm sure my arteries are protesting the lipid load. Good thing I only go to this place once every 20 years or so.
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