food – Page 2 – Britt Skrabanek

The Grit and Grace of Montreal

old port of montreal — Mr. H at Old Port of Montreal

If Brooklyn and Paris mated, their love child would be Montreal.

Grit and grace. Hard asses and romantics. The ones that won’t look you in the eye and the others who stare right at your ass.

This paradoxical city is emphasized further by its language tug-of-war. French is everywhere: the parking signs, the menus, the spoken greetings.

Yet, a sorry attempt at some high school French by an American tourist (yours truly) flips the switch. Seamlessly, as if “Bonjour” were never stumbled over, the conversation morphs into English with a peculiar flourish.

Walking down the street is a puzzling treat as English and French interlace. A couple at a table next to us bounces back and forth – a French question, an English answer, then one, then just the other – like a nail-biting tennis match for the ears.

Taking a road trip will only confuse the American more. Living in the U.S means conquering an ocean to hear that steady foreign hum.

Although Ontario looks a lot like Wisconsin, there are doors like these in the rest areas…

Eventually, there’s no more English. None. Our foreign experience creeps up on us in the form of construction signs and unpronounceable roads.

Where the hell are we? North America? Canada?

No…Montreal, Quebec.

Each languid day is strange – no schedule, no obligations. And, Mr. H. and I wander around this land without time.

One of the deepest ways to connect with someone means surviving together in a place where nothing makes sense, somewhere that is the antithesis of home, routine, and grind.

Travel makes the heart open to possibilities. And, so we opened ours to Montreal and did all of this…

And, we got down at Piknic Electronik at sunset on an island. Yeah, it was cool…

But, what about the food, Britt? Montreal is one of the foodie capitals of the world, isn’t it?

Indeed, it is. So, food gets it’s very own post next week. Get ready to drool.

Montreal suggestions, s’il vous plaît

So at the end of August, Mr. H and I are taking a road trip. Not just any road trip, because naturally…it’s going to be super awesome!

Milwaukee to Montreal.

Originally, we were looking at a European excursion, but let’s face it – plane ticket prices are a bit of a buzz kill. And while we’ve been to Europe before, we’ve never visited our upstairs neighbor…Canada.

The closest thing we have to Europe in North America is unarguably Montreal. The runner-up to Paris, it is the second largest French-speaking city in the world.

I imagine a land of crepes where the air is scented with savory and sweet tones. Mmm, crepes. Delicious crepes. Mouth-watering…I apologize. I keep falling into this crepe trance lately.

(Britt slaps her face twice and continues with her blog post.)

Instead of flying, we decided to enjoy the summer drive. All fifteen hours of it.

As cheesy as it is, we are definitely stopping at Niagara Falls on the way. Don’t judge me…I’m a big sap.

We rented a kick ass apartment for our five-night stay through Airbnb, complete with a ginormous terrace and fancy furniture. You can check out our digs right here.

Obviously with Montreal being one of the culinary capitals of the world, we plan to eat. And, we shall eat like there is no tomorrow.

One adventure on our radar is Piknic Electronik, which is one of those outdoorsy shindigs where we listen to rad tunes and get a little silly.

Other than that, we don’t have any plans. Here’s where you come in.

Calling all Montreal natives or previous visitors…what should we do? Any tips or recommendations for restaurants, sights, etc. would be splendid.

Also, give us the tough love. Are there any tourist traps we should avoid?

Chicago: Beyond the Shamrock Shenanigans (And Dessert)

I don’t know why, but one thought came to me after my recent trip to Chicago…crème brûlée.

Perhaps because it’s complicated, rare, and amazing.

You can try it over and over again, but each time you crack its intricate surface, you’ve barely even started to devour the insane richness beneath.

I didn’t eat any creme brulee in Chicago last weekend for Mr. H’s birthday celebration. That’s because I ate the majority of his birthday cheesecake the night before we left, for breakfast the morning we left, and the moment we got home the next afternoon.

To say I have a love for dessert is an understatement. Without remorse, I devoured my spouse’s leftover birthday cake like it was mine…all mine!

In my defense, he totally had the first piece.

So, where was I? Creme brulee.

Mmm…creme brulee.

Sorry, where was I really?

Ah, yes. The windy city!

The other day I ranted about our St. Patty’s experience. Be sure to check out Chicago: In the Throes of Shamrock Shenanigans if you want to read what not to do for St. Patty’s.

Unless you’re the public lush enthusiast, then by all means…go!

Have no fear. I’m all done bitching about the clover clad half-wits. Moving right along!

So, once the drunkards stumbled back to their emerald caves, the city was manageable again.

This was my fourth visit to Chicago – a few were last minute “Whoo, whoo! Let’s go clubbing in Chicago tonight!” trips, and the other one was spent in Bucktown/Wicker Park visiting a super awesome friend of mine.

(Love Bucktown/Wicker Park by the way!)

But, this particular adventure was all about downtown.

Chicago is a big ass city, guys. Pick a neighborhood and get in there. Don’t bother seeing “it all” because you totally can’t.

GETTIN’ PLACES

Thinking of driving? Imagine this.

After countless hours in traffic jams at unimaginable times, followed by barreling down the wrong way of a one way street that came out of nowhere, you finally arrive at your destination. After your tenth lap around the block searching for a parking space, you think you finally see one.

But, guess what? It’s a mirage, and your ass is parked on the sidewalk and an opportunist is now selling souvenirs from your trunk.

For crying out loud, take some public transportation – the “L” is a guaranteed good time. I even sat across from a questionably alive man during my first ride. Give it a whirl!

And, a word of advice while walking around. Don’t use Starbucks or Walgreens as landmarks because they are on every freaking block, and let’s face it…they all look the same.

CRASHIN’ PLACES

We stayed at the W City Center and it was pretty perfect. An eight minute walk west gets you to Union Station. An eight minute walk east gets you to Michigan Avenue.

Centrally located, indeed.

Because it was Mr. H’s birthday I called ahead that morning and requested a sweet ass view.

I worked for a big name chain hotel for a couple of years right out of high school…in the trenches of guest services. When there’s a special occasion, don’t be shy.

Ask for a little extra, but ask nicely.

We ended up on the top floor with this rad view…

My only complaint with our hotel room was the vent in the bathroom, and it’s kind of a weird story.

Apparently, because we were on the top floor, we were very intimate with the roof top vent. As such, every time we turned on the bathroom light it sounded like a space ship was landing.

And even better, when you gazed up bravely from the toilet to check out what was going on, a strange black thing moved in a slow manner.

Between the spooky ruckus and the intimidating shadow, I whispered a desperate prayer for the aliens to leave me in peace each time I sat on the pot.

And, they did.

PLAYIN’ PLACES

Any die hard tourist would look at our weekend romp and say “Shame on you.”

Yeah, yeah, yeah we thought about going to some attractions – specifically the Museum of Science and Industry or the Art Institute.

But, we were only there for twenty-four hours. So, Mr. H and I did what we always do when we arrive somewhere…we strutted.

We tend to strut.

Even though I’m one of those super organized control freaks just about everywhere else in my life, when I travel I like to wing it. And Chicago is one of the best places to get lost.

Remember that creme brulee opener? Every spectacular building stood on display like one of those dessert trays in a fancy restaurant.

You know the kind, where you drool over every single delight and you can’t choose your favorite.

Like this one. How about this dark chocolate Burberry building with rainbow sprinkles and crisscrossed icing?

Or how about wandering into the old Marshall Field’s – now masquerading as a Macy’s – and hurting your neck staring at this ceiling treat that looks like wedding cake you want to swim in…

When you wander around Chicago, you can sample every tasty building with your eyes.

And, it tastes good…I take that back…damn good.

So, we gingerly cracked the surface of Milwaukee’s famous neighbor, the city of Chicago, our honking piece of creme brulee. But, what we tasted was perfectly charred and just the right amount of sweet.

We’ll be back again soon for more.

chicago jazz hands — I couldn’t resist some Jazz hands. Come on…it’s Chicago!

Beggars and Champagne

Once upon a time, there was a magical land far, far away named Milwaukee. It was a land filled with beggars and champagne…

…at least in my eyes, the starry eyes of a non-native.

Before I moved here I led a previous life in Dallas, and a previous-previous life in SoCal. At a young age, Wayne’s World taught me that Milwaukee was Algonquin for “The Good Land”.

Hey, I thought it must be an alright place if Alice Cooper and the Native Americans said so.

Other than that, people told me it was a land of cheese and beer. Seriously, this is all I once knew.

When I first met my Milwaukeean paramour in Dallas, we interrogated each other – as we all do during the dating phase – and naturally we confessed our first dreadful jobs.

Quite casually, he said, “I used to be a beggar.”

Red flag!

“A beggar?” I asked, batting my eyelashes and trying my darnedest to stay open-minded, because man oh man was I smitten!

“You know…at the grocery store.”

Light bulb.

“Oh, a BAGger! You bagged groceries.”

Phew!

“That’s what I said.”

No you didn’t.

It turns out the letter “a” is pronounced a little differently in the Midwest.

We had a good laugh over that…obviously. And, me and my far-from-bumming beau got hitched and moved to Milwaukee, the good land.

*Read the rest of the story over at OnMilwaukee.com (I was invited to write a “Readers Blog” at On Milwaukee, so it would be awesome if you guys could stop by their place…I promise there are more laughs with this kooky tale.)

Grinnin’ Through the Grind: Keep it Classy

Hey, I’m back with this mini series…Grinnin’ Through the Grind (If you missed the first segment: Keep it Healthy)

Onwards to Part Deux!

We all work our tushes off most of our lives. Whether we’re working our dream job or our day job, we are connected by a daily duty which often includes…DUN DUN DUN…office drama.

Keeping it classy at work would seem like a no-brainer, something we all do naturally, right?

Wrong.

Maybe it’s mob mentality – I’m not entirely sure – but the workplace can be a downright cesspool of negativity.

A snide remark here, a roll of the eyes there…hey look, it’s high school all over again! I think we can all agree that once was traumatic aplenty.

I’ve worked a lot of different jobs and snarkiness, although never fully disclosed in the employee handbook, seems to be a consistent occupational hazard.

So, it’s there – every day, every dusty corner of your drab office. We have to put on our big boy and girl pants, and deal.

It doesn’t mean we have to sacrifice ourselves, joining into the venomous banter just because everyone else is doing it. If so-and-so jumped off the ninth floor, would you join them? You catch my drift.

Here are a few ways to keep it classy around the office…

If you don’t have anything nice to say…zip the lip. Let’s be honest, we’ve all gossiped at one point or another. It takes work to stay out of that mindless trap. Think about a time you said something uncool about someone. Bet you didn’t feel too cool afterwards, did you?

Classy Solution: If you don’t get along with another person for this or that, try a ridiculously positive approach. Give them a little smile and kill them with kindness. You’ll be pleasantly surprised when your crap relationship experiences a chummy revelation, and you won’t be so eager to talk smack when the tension is nonexistent.

If they don’t have anything nice to say…shut it down. News flash, back stabbers! Lowering your voices or even whispering does not disguise your poisonous convo. And, cubicles are not made of soundproof steel.

Classy Solution: Throw on some headphones to block out the nasty. If you want to put an end to the crap talk, you don’t have to blatantly call them out on it like a narc. Just interrupt them with a work question and get everybody back on task.

If you’re frustrated about something…mind the noises. OK, this is a sneaky one that a lot of us do without realizing. The insanely loud, exaggerated sigh which screams “Why me?” or “This sucks!” is bad energy which should be channeled elsewhere.

Classy Solution: Close your eyes and turn your attention inward, practicing deep breathing while you slowly count to ten. If you still feel iffy, keep on counting. Or take a different type of breather, and go for a little stroll.

A definitive result of spreading negativity is the prominence of self-induced misery. Soon enough you won’t be grinnin’ through the grind, you’ll be grunting through it.

How do YOU keep it classy on the job?

*Next week will be the final part in this series. Grinnin’ Through the Grind: Keep it Movin‘ will be a special vlog from yours truly. Stay tuned…