ode to rootstock’s “pork belly on grilled tuscan bread w/ pickled radish, cilantro, calabrian pepper & balsamic soy caramel ~ 10″
it was late. really late. 11:30 pm. but hell, somewhere it was 5 pm.
my feet hurt. i was tipsy. i wasn’t expecting much…didn’t even want you, really. but two other people already ordered the burger. i really wanted the burger.
i thought, “fuck i guess i’ll have the porkbelly sandwich. i’m so fucking sick of porkbelly. i wish chicago chefs would move the fuck on from porkbelly.”
i said “i’ll have the porkbelly.”
then you arrived. under a little nest of frisee. over a slice of schmancy toast. i took a bite. and oh. mah. gah. you were fucking incredible.
so, you know, thanks. don’t get me wrong. i am still so, so sick. of. porkbelly. but for you i’ll make an exception. always.
love,
lisa
