A Musing by Lee Gerstein

There's a truckload hunting sale on at Galyan's! Rifles of every size and shape and color. I wish. I guess a pink rifle doesn't really camouflage so well. And something happened with a Bears player! I'm not sure which player and what exactly happened, but I heard mention of it on the radio. I do know, however, what movies are opening on Friday and who's on Letterman tonight. I can also sing every word of "Haunted Town" by The Effigies.

However, I can't tell you about the guns they sell at Galyan's or actually even tell you what Galyan's is. Is it in Chicago? A hunting store? Big enough to publish a color fold-out flyer in the Friday paper?

"Of course I know Galyan's," says my mom, pumped up from being able to inform me about this important matter. "You've never been?" As if I never stepped foot into a Starbuck's before, as if there's a Galyan's on every corner. "You should go." Why, exactly, becomes a moot point when it is determined they sell sporting goods. Even my mom gives up, a rare occurrence.

Lately, I've been feeling like everybody else is watching different shows, like any of the reality shows, and they're reading different books, and they're backing the wrong candidate, and they're eating the wrong food.

For example, when did Chinese go out of fashion? There used to be a Chinese restaurant on every corner. Not take-out places, but sit-down restaurants. In the 1980s, Chinese cuisine matured, and featured the more exotic flavors of Szechuan and Mandarin foods. Sure, Americans preferred the food to be extra saucy, but some similarities remained.

These days? There just aren't that many left. It's just like how there was a Bennetton on every corner and a frozen yogurt store in every strip mall. Where are they now? Instead of Chinese restaurants now it's Thai and Indian. They're okay, but give me back my Chinese.

The same is true at popular restaurants. Why is Cafe Adobo, both locations, so mobbed? Just down from the Wells Street location is Salpicon, miles ahead of the food at Adobo. What am I missing? It's not a case of emperor's new clothes syndrome. These diners truly love the place. "They make guacamole at your table," a friend explains, as if the discussion is over. Really it is because I don't even know how to respond. They set cheese on fire tableside in Greek restaurants on Halsted Street, but does that make it fine cuisine?

This past weekend, six of us ate at Adobo, and the bill came to $30 each. Reasonable these days, right? Sure, except it was family that doesn't drink much. There was one beer, one glass of red wine to lower cholesterol, and one margarita for my partner who was with my family and needed a margarita. Besides the one order of guacamole for the whole table, we each got an entrée. No desserts, no second drinks. 30 bucks a person. Kinda steep.

Our gelato nearby was more relaxed and satisfying. And a better value for the money.

I'm most mystified by a friend who swears by Clark's over Ann Sather's on Belmont. I remember when Clark's opened there, and I thought, "No way will that last three months." All these years later, it's thriving. You don't get cinnamon rolls at Clark's. To me, that truly ends the discussion.

To each his own, I suppose. I can go to my neighborhood Chinese place (the only one left in the neighborhood) on a regular basis, and never wait for a table. I can pass Adobo and marvel at the crowds, but slip in next door for frozen yogurt (the only one in the neighborhood), and be the only customer who watches everyone file in at the fancy cafe across the street.

Sometimes, it's good to be different.