Greetings From the Windy (and Rainy) City!

So I lied. I know, I know, I said I wouldn't post while on vacation, but I just can't help myself. I have things to share!

Vacations can be a most excellent time to get out of your culinary rut. But for me, not so much. Not since losing the weight and building a healthy fear of putting it back on. That meant the elder sister took me around to various shops so I could stock up on Myoplex Lite shakes for the 10 AM and 2 PM meals, high-protein bars and fat-free yogurt for dessert and breakfast kefir and granola. However, sticking to my usual eating routine does leave room for culinary experimentation without the guilt and worry (as does the time spent at the elder sister's gym).

Last night's culinary experimentation involved Irish food. When the elder sister first proposed going to "this place that serves Irish food, except, well, fancier," I'll admit that I had my doubts. European food? I thought. Oh, how...white, how WASP, how dull. But, hey, I'm on vacation. Plus I'd put in four miles on the treadmill at her gym (because I forgot the kickboxing DVD I'd planned to bring--stupid me), so I knew I had a little room for refueling.

Turns out "this place that serves Irish food, except, well, fancier" is right on Michigan across from Millennium Park and isn't some wannabe Irish pub dive. I mean, what Irish pub has a sommelier (well, sommelieuse)? (And my apologies to all you Irish pub connoisseurs and connoisseuses out there: I have no idea if you can indeed routinely discuss your potential libation selections with such professionals at these types of establishments in Ireland.) The Gage is quite the place to go for a good glass of wine or higher-end beer after work, so even though it was crowded and as noisy as a convention of five-year-olds yakking at the tops of their lungs, we got a table right away. Of course, we had to practically yell at one another (for at this point in the day, the younger sister had arrived and we'd survived the trip back from O'Hare) while discussing the menu (and my sisters the wine and beer list), but, hey, table conversation is overrated.

While mes soeurs enjoyed "damn good" hamburgers, I ordered the chicken and giant noodle soup because I'm a fan of mutant pasta. I was torn between that, which I figured would be relatively healthy, and the fish and chips, which I knew wouldn't be the most healthful choice but was really, really curious to try after I'd experienced a hankering for Long John Silvers or any battered and fried fish since watching the episode of America's Test Kitchen in which dear Christopher Kimball and Julia Collin Davison, I think, made them. Turns out the older sister was also interesting in trying them so, we ordered a plate to share all around.

We wound up with a bushel of chips since mes soeurs' burgers came with bowls of them--the same size bowl my chicken noodle soup came in. I tried my best to keep my number of chips consumed to a minimum, but...well, I admit that I had a few more than I should have. But they were quite delicious. And the fish--oh! it was just heavenly! Heavenly isn't probably an adjective you'd connect with battered and fried foods, but for a girl who avoids fried foods like the plague and then gets some that's done really, really well, the adjective is apropos. The fish inside was Icelandic cod, which I'm not sure we can get affordably at HEB, and I somehow doubt the affordable tilapia fillets we can get would work. But after this experiment, I'm so ready to give that recipe a shot

In other experiment news, I accompanied mes soeurs to H&M, where I came *this* close to buying a size 2 dress and a size 4 skirt--but opted not because, well, I don't need 'em really. But, hey, I was wearing a size 2 and size 4--from H&M no less, where the Euro sizes don't normally accommodate for women with American eating habits. We also hit the Nordstrom Rack, but aside from mocking some really ugly, really expensive designer clearance clothes and petting the green rabbit fur coat from Juicy Couture, we found bubkes.

Oh, and I also had a bath! No, it's not like I don't bathe regularly; I just take a lot of showers. Right now, before last night's little sit-down in some water, I can't tell you when the last time I had a bath. Perhaps when I was in Okiemolah last November. Yeah, I think I might have had a bath there for nostalgia's sake. But last night's bath was just a quickie: I wasn't that dirty from the three-hour ride to and from O'Hare and our tromping about Michigan Avenue. However, before I leave my elder sister's place, I am most certainly going to spend some quality time in her Jacuzzi bathtub. Most certainly.

This afternoon we're heading out to Devon Street to explore and then introduce the younger sister to the wonders of Indian food. I'll see if I can't get a post about that experiment tomorrow.