CHICAGO 2010 BEST. DAY. EVER Part Two: LAWRY'S

Lawry's was old school fancy, with ornate leather seats and deep comfortable booths. The wood paneling made me feel like I was in some exclusive country club. For $14.00 we had a plate full of good food: a prime rib sandwich with perfectly cooked meat, a salad and free side dishes. Creamed corn was extra, but Darrell swore it was worth it and he was right. Halfway through the meal, Neil was serenading his sandwich. "You are the best sandwich, ever," he crooned. It was then that I learned the meaning of Zsosh!


  Zsosh, from what I understand, is an expression of gluttony, triggered by what either Neil or Caroline (or both?) saw at a supermarket in San Diego: a big man walking down the frozen food aisle carrying three one-gallon ice cream tubs stacked on top of one another, and he was eating out of the top one with a spoon.


  "Wait," said Darrell, "Where did he get the spoon?"

  Pause.

  "Oh, shit." Neil said, and everyone laughed. Somewhere out there is a man who loves ice cream so much, he goes to the supermarket armed with his own spoon. Does he keep it in his pocket or does he charge into the market with the spoon in his fist? Does he have an extra? Maybe he hides them in his sleeve and, like Antonio Banderas in Desperado, whips them out at the sight of mocha chocolate chip.

  Speaking of Zsosh, Neil was still hungry in spite of all he had eaten.

  "Kat, are you gonna finish that creamed corn?" he asked his sister, who was sitting across the large round table.

  "Why? Do you want it?" she asked. He nodded. "Here." and she pushed the dish towards him. Neil pounced on the dish, fork in hand, but stopped short and instead looked awkward and confused because when Kat said "Here," she only pushed the plate in his direction about half an inch. Way to go, Kat. The whole table erupted in laughter. Our bellies filled with prime rib sandwiches, we headed out in a much better mood, and this time we really didn't care where we were headed. Honest.