When’s the last time you’ve been lost? Really, truly lost?
I’ve always been prone to getting lost. To this day I have no sense of direction.
Back when I learned how to drive, we relied on maps. We had to.
My parents and grandparents always had maps laying around – AAA maps and giant Rand McNally maps that unfolded into a million squares and were impossible to put back together.
Eventually the internet brought us Mapquest. You could simply type in two destinations and it would give you a route. My generation’s car floors were carpeted with Taco Bell and Mapquest directions.
Sometimes the instructions were wrong or you missed a step.
Boom, you were lost!
When I was a new driver, I got lost on the way home from a friend’s house. They thought it was funny when I called them crying asking, “WHERE AM I?!”
Without smart phones, a common thing to do when you got lost was pull into a gas station and ask for help. I haven’t had to do this for decades.
Smartphones were the best thing to ever happen to me.
I haven’t been lost since. Well, until last week.
You know how sometimes someone you know will claim something is the *best* restaurant or food and you know it’s probably not?
At my previous job, I worked with two women who would bicker all of the time. They would turn staff meetings into Dwight Schrute vs. Dwight Schrute pissing contests.
Even though I’ve attended culinary school, worked in restaurants, and dedicated most of my life to trying and writing about food, they acted completed disinterested and dismissive about anything I said about cooking or dining.
One in particular would lecture me on how I could prepare very simple dishes.
I started to play it off and pretend I was actually really bad at cooking.
I know we’re 2000 and late to Malcom Yards Food Hall.
Back in November 2021 I visited here for a quick meal at Bagu.
We tried to go back soon after, but there was such a long line to get into the parking lot that we left.
It’s permanently busy, even on a weekday.
Jake really wanted to try Wrecktangle pizza which recently won Good Morning America’s Best Pizza in America contest. Detroit-style pizza is having a moment here.
The East St. Paul (ESP) scene is underrated. I don’t hear as much buzz as I would expect.
We live close to East St. Paul and drive back and forth nearly daily to our family who cares for our kids during the week.
Restaurants and markets line Payne and Arcade Avenues.
I’m always on the hunt for convenient places to buy fresh fruit and veggies for my toddler, plus takeout. If they serve eggrolls, all the better.
Here are a couple delis and boba tea shop that I like to visit at the intersection of Arcade and Maryland. Plus, another nearby market that serves the most delicious noodle salad. There is still lots to try from just these few places, but here’s what I’ve tasted so far:
It’s supposedly my due date.
My greatest fear is that I’ll have no idea that I’m going into labor arrive at the hospital too late for an epidural.
I’ve been carrying around a handout my medical providers gave for weeks that describes when to go to the hospital and provides the emergency phone number. Now it’s as soft as fabric from me opening and closing it so many times.
“Consume clear fluids! Avoid fatty foods. . . ” it advises if you feel like labor is starting.
“I think I have enough time to get a Korean corn dog,” I said to Jake as I grabbed my car keys and hobbled to my car.
At first I thought of going to Dragon Star to check out their Korean corn dogs, mochi doughnuts and bubble tea, but changed my mind to Ha Tien.