Chilly weather in Chicago had given way to mild breezes, blue skies with wispy clouds, and moderate temperatures. I was off to Evanston, IL, to take my car to the Volkswagen shop to let them have a look-see at my boot. Boot, Gino? Sorry, the trunk of my car was not opening and I could not have that. My appetite was telling me to focus — focus on finding some food. My bottomless belly and my wandering priorities keep me smacking my lips and hunting for something to sate my constant hunger. And being the food addict that I am, I give in every time without a wink. Some addictions are worthy of sacrifice and if the food is incredibly good, as is the case at many of the eateries in Chicago, there is little to no remorse after pushing back from a table.
I was not really in a mood for a quest to find something ethnic before 9:30 in the morning, so I pulled out my fancy-schmancy cell phone, started the Google Maps application, searched for a local breakfast shop, and went about my way to the nearest breakfast eatery that had high recommendations. Is it not amazing how cell phones have been relegated to gadgetry more than for talking? But I digress. Le Peep Pancake House & Grill at 827 Church Street in Evanston, IL, was such a welcome spot, so inviting, so packed for it to be well before noon. But that was not a deterrent, says my appetite. There were seats available and that had meant only a few seconds before my bum was warming some cushion in a chair while I worked a knife and fork on something drool-worthy.
Not being one to waste time — mine especially — I ordered scrambled eggs prepared my favourite way — scrambled well with cream cheese. I also ordered stuffed French toast. Yes, custard-dipped French toast stuffed with vanilla ricotta and cream cheese filling, accented with a touch of orange and lemon zest sat before me. With my eyes wide open, there was a little voice whispering, You are going to eat all that? Topped with strawberries and powdered sugar, I dealt a swift blow to the French toast before I bent over and lay on the table after I moaned from a rather loud foodgasm. Well, actually, I worked the scrambled eggs and the stuffed French toast rather methodically and slowly, savouring each bite, smiling with dumb satisfaction, and whimpering with delight so that the neighbouring patrons did not laugh at my satisfying plight.
It is wrong, so very wrong, that I lose control whenever a plate of bliss sits in front of me. As much as I joke about it, I may need to seek therapy because having foodgasms in public is really fitting for private settings only. Some may say that it is incredibly wicked that my metabolism refuses to slow up and allow weight gain from eating so much food to catch up with me. But restaurants, cafes, and eateries like Le Peep make it hard for me stay away from the goodness. After all, those establishments are better opened for business and dishing out loving from the kitchen rather than serving plates of whatever to cause customers to hurl rotten fruit at the restaurant staff.
After the meal was complete, I waddled up to the cashier and paid the small tab. If I were one to over-indulge on burgers, I could safely say that I had enough money to buy a burger and get cheese on it. As busy as Le Peep was, the service was fast and the wait staff was fantastic. I am thinking that this weekend I may find myself at Le Peep again. There is a menu item called a Belgian waffle that I think is lonely and needs to know that someone loves it.