Oy! So, my summer vacation has so ended. I'm back to work behind the line, making money in an attempt to vanquish a level of angst from my situation. Ask those closest to me, and they'll tell you, I'm not what you'd call "Good with finances." I remember when that was pretty okay. I mean, it's never been cool. It's really not good to not understand the system, even if you hate it, but when I was younger, nobody got hurt ya know? But now people count on me, and the government is holding back me and Todd's imagination-powered car, so I cook. At the Forty Acres/Trolley Square border, at 1717 Delaware Avenue (our name is our address!), I cook thirty dollar dinners, like peppercorn crusted filet with rosemary whipped potatoes, spicy broccoli rabe, and Gorgonzola fondue, and tapas like Tempura shrimp atop wasabi risotto with a ginger-honey drizzle. Drizzle is probably not the real word for it. Chef Toby is really, really talented and never busts me for my down-home ways, and I'm learning more than I ever have about the culinary arts.
But, get this: 1717 has stinkin' direct TV, which means, you guessed it- no PHILS, who are exclusive through Comcast. When I'm at work (Tuesday through Saturday nights, excluding Thursday for band rehearsal) I get my updates from the ESPN bottom line or other peoples iPhones (my land-line offers me no such help). No fear though, tonight I bring in the transistor sister and the Phils are at my fingertips. Wednesdays and Saturdays have the added bonus of bartender Aaron "Ace" Marshall of Iron Hill fame, noted baseball fan and philanthropist.
This silver lining, as it were, is huge. 1717 is the bast damn martini bar in Delaware because, on tap, M.F.'n PEPSI. Yup, no lame-o Coke Classic, it's pure Pep! It is so sweet and delicious, it's a deal-maker. SO, after the Phillies beat up on the Florida Fish tonight, come in for a Pepsi, why not.