Jeff is one of the founding members of the Montana Embassy here in Chicago. For the past few weeks he’s been working in the busy kitchen at the new GT Fish and Oyster, which opens it’s doors tonight.
After a week or more of previews they gave Jeff a day off. Being the swell guy that he is he took me on a little tour of Vietnam Town. There were some truly excellent, and familiar feeling grocery stores and a few great looking restaurants offering wide, sloshing bowls of Phở. (We ate our massive lunch/dinner meal at Tank Noodle, a popular corner restaurant just off the Argyle Metro line.)
Getting a little more familiar with the extended neighborhood feels great, for one, I know where I’ll be buying my sriracha hot sauce from now on. But I think the best discovery of the night came after dinner. Jeff lives just east of me, but we got off on the same stop and looked for a place to get a drop to drink. As it turns out I live right next door to a humble little bar, The Village Tap.
After a few hoppy beers and a game of Yatzee! with a nurse we met it was time to go. Poor Jeff had to leg it back over to his place while I got to exploit the privilege of proximity. A terrific afternoon Uptown.
Far and away, the most fun I’ve had in Chicagoland has been getting to spend my mornings with my grandma Rose. We’ll share a pot of coffee, flick through the newspaper and chit-chat about what’s coming up in the day or what the weekend was like.
This morning Rosie took me and my cousin Jackie out to breakfast to Dimitri’s Cafe, just a few blocks from Colleen and John’s place in Downers Grove. It’s a fairly typical breakfast diner but it’s Greek-owned, so mounted among more familiar diner wall hangings a there’s a big “ΜΟΛΩΝ ΛΑΒΕ” poster and the menu offers a “Spartan skillet,” potatoes with asparagus and feta. I ordered a huge No Sweat inspired plate of potatoes, broccoli, tomatoes, spinach and cheese, with an egg on top for good measure.
Thanks for breakfast Rosie! That’s not a bad way to start a Friday.
Andrew’s roommate John was on his way to walk dogs and offered to give me a ride up Damen St to my bus stop. A handful of change bought me a bus ride right to the front door of the Steppenwolf Administrative Offices.
Early, thanks to John’s ride, I paced down one side of the street then the other reading my scene and working myself up trying not to work myself up. The auditions are held in a building that looks like any other office with a small parking lot, glass doors, and three flights of low-pile carpeted stairs. Up I went into a little greenroom where I met a flustered young man heading out the door.
“How was it in there?”
“They’re very nice,” he says.
A young woman with a bob and a long sweater sat beside the door with a clipboard and asked if I was Jeff.
“No, I’m early, I’m eleven ten.”
“Well that’s good, were running early.”
I listened to the two auditions before mine. The first, a bigger older fellow, made a southern accent for his monologue but had a quiet scene. The other was a finely featured young man who gave a great audition from what I could hear. Then it was my turn.
Through the door, six people sat behind and around a small table. I introduced myself to the table and was asked what I’d like to start with, monologue or scene. I chose scene then monologue. After I was through, I was thanked “for coming all this way.” I thanked back for the invitation to audition and I took off out the door. It was over just like that!
