Food as salvation.

When life gets really difficult, as it has been in recent months, my best solution is to change my routine. While I can't give up my weekly visits to the "Temple of Podunk," I've been mixing it up for lunch and dinner.

During the worst of it, I had the unexpected pleasure of being invited to lunch by Carl. He was more relaxed, because the public schools were on mid-winter break and the kids were all at home. We met twice for lunch and I took him to Tiny's Giant Sandwich Shop on the Lower East Side (129 Rivington at Norfolk Street) and Shopsins.

This was my fourth attempt to eat at Shopsins, located adjacent to Saxelby's Cheese in the Essex Market (Essex and Delancey Street). I'd been a bit intimidated to eat at Shopsin, but being with Carl, I felt empowered about eating there. He fits the Shopsin's customer mode; quirky, a little prickly and smart.

If you haven't visited Shopsins, it's worth it simply to read the menu, it's packed so tightly with choices. I took one home and periodically read it on the train for fun. I narrowed my choices by figuring out my food mood and finally selected corn cakes with bananas and walnuts. Carl selected pea soup, raved about it and ate most of my corn cakes, which was fine by me. I prefer nibbling, because I can eat more.

When he asked to order, Carl appreciated our server's response, "If you're in a hurry, you should go somewhere else, it's just my father and I". No sarcasm here. Carl is in favor of plain speaking. He frequently accuses me of not getting to the point (maybe that's why he interrupts me so much). The interruptions irritate me but it's true I can ramble on at times.

Carl also raved about Tiny's Giant Sandwich Shop; ee liked the food, he had a vegetarian sandwich, and the vibe. It was very low-key and kind of punk but friendly. Carl appreciates when a place doesn't aim to be something else. I'm open to places trying to be something else, but so be it. I understand Carl's point, he doesn't get lost.

The people eating lunch at Tiny's Giant Sandwich Shop actually seemed hungry, which is important to Carl. We even had lunch this week, (unfortunately after Carl ended up at the emergency room Monday night - no connection to the food we ate - but he's good- no worries). I decided to take him to Papa Lima Sandwich Shop (Bedford at S. 4th Street in Williamsburg). I'd walked by it frequently en route to PienThighs (which, by the way, is closed until Spring). Papa Lima Sandwich Shop seemed right for an-after-a-visit-to-the-E.R.-lunch.

The two friendly, down-to-earth counter guys talked us into the potato soup with bacon and cheese. As they said, it really was the best soup. Carl ended up with my tomato soup after I ate most of the bacon/cheese topping and half the potato soup. He said he couldn't switch tastes once he began eating the tomato soup. We shared half of a sandwich with turkey, potato chips, lettuce and tomato. I brought the other half to give to little one when I picked her up from school.

During the bus ride home, she was in heaven, crunching on those potato chips. Thursday, I continued the trend of altering the routine and took Carl to La Zarza, an Argentinian tapas place (First Avenue between 10th/11th). It was another home run. We tried the datiles (dates wrapped in bacon), the cheese plate which came with jams (orange marmalade and a raspberry jam in hollowed-out cucumbers) and tiny shrimps with garlic. It sounded very refreshing, but I passed on the blackberry Sangria. I'm so tired lately that even a little alcohol is a bad thing for me.

I'd eaten a piece of Sacher Torte at Blaue Gans (Duane Street in Tribeca) earlier that afternoon during Big daughter's 19th birthday lunch, but I still scanned the dessert menu at La Zarza. The lavender flan looked good to me and I seem to recall something made with dulce de leche among other offerings. There was a selection of ports as well. Very cool place.

Last but not least, this morning I convinced little one to try breakfast at Egg Custard King (on Mott below Canal). She was clamoring to return to Chatham Square for Dim Sum. We took a break from Chatham Square after I began feeling very melancholy there and switched to the bright, clean and modern atmosphere of Hong Kong Noodle Station.

A big part of the draw is the milk tea at Hong Kong Noodle Station. A wonderful, strong black tea with evaporated milk added, milk tea is a staple in Hong Kong. The key is the creamy finish and Hong Kong Noodle Station gets it right. We'd been going to Chatham Square but it became too familiar. I think we'll go back to Chatham Square in the summer. Anyway, I bribed little one with the prospect of iced milk tea at Egg Custard King and she agreed.

Due to myriad morning home activities, we generally take a cab to save time. I've justified the expense by figuring it lessens my overall stress and keeps me younger and lets us have breakfast together. This morning, we were picked up by a singing cab driver who said he was a Russian Jew and sings in Italian. He had an Italian flag hanging off the rear view mirror. A few minutes into the trip, the cab driver asked little one her name, pulled out a microphone and turned it on. As his voice reverberated through the cab in surround sound, he turned on some background music and began serenading little one in Italian. With a strobe light, we could have easily been in a Russian nightclub in Brighton Beach.

Little one buried her head in my lap and was simply mortified. Needless to say, breakfast at the Egg Custard King was a bit of a let down after that. We shared fried rice with chicken and pineapple. Little one got a pork bun, which she devoured. The iced milk teas tasted pretty good.

Valentines of fresh fruit and Indian food

Valentine's Day has always been a dicey proposition in our house - probably because the concept of romantic love is viewed very differently by Carl and I. He believes that bringing fresh fruit home daily is a strong indicator of his love for me (even as he packs much of it up to take to work each day). While I truly do appreciate the constant availability of unripe, slightly green bananas, ripe oranges and firm grapes, I see nothing wrong with the occasional surprise present.

To be fair though, this past Saturday, the unbelievable occurred. Carl bought me a beautiful, military-style black hoodie at Atmos, a very cool Japanese-run, Supreme-esque sneaker store in Harlem. Whenever we visit the Studio Museum of Harlem (more on that below), we visit Atmos.

Carl got some really cool sneakers there a few years back, and now it's a tradition to stop in. Carl said he was buying me the hoodie as part of March Madness (the college basketball season just getting into full swing)- but hey, a great gift is a great gift and I love my Hells Bellz-designed hoodie. I am in favor of any day that allows me to give or receive gifts as a way of celebrating family and friends.

In Carl's favor, it's true that I am definitely not marriage-minded. I fervently believe the wedding celebration should occur 50 years later - if the relationship has positively survived the test of time. As well, I have no desire whatsoever for a ring (sorry Big Daughter - she wants a large rock ) since it seems to me a (large) symbol of objectification.

Over the years, I have utilized Valentine's Day as a way to appreciate those who love me and whom I love. Carl's belief that Valentine's Day is a day propagated by commercial business as a means to make him part with his money was never easy for me to swallow, although I understand it from his no-gift point-of-view.

As Big Daughter put it so succinctly this past Christmas, giving gifts is a sign of intimacy with others. I was slightly concerned therefore, when I realized that Valentine's Day happened to fall on Thursday Night Date Night. I anticipated an uphill battle in having any kind of date night, let alone on Valentine's Day.

I should note dear reader that I was greatly reassured by an article in last Tuesday's Science section of the New York Times that noted Date Nights are only effective when there's change involved. Couples must do things out of the ordinary.

I immediately showed the article to Carl, and emphasized the part that said trying new places, and taking drives in the country are important to maintaining a sense of the new and romantic. Ha! But back to Valentine's Day. Last year, Big Daughter and I had a disastrous experience at Blaue Gans on Valentine's Day. Since then, I have become truly afraid of the specter of Dinner on Valentine's Day. (Disclaimer: The chef at Blaue Gans responded considerately, after I wrote a detailed email about the disastrous events that occurred. He honestly and graciously acknowledged that sometimes people make stupid mistakes. He's right -especially on a night like that.)

Yes, Carl, you did warn me about the idiocy of my choice to eat out on that night. I decided to go to Valentine's dinner at Blaue Gans because of the chocolate dessert, mmm hmm. For about a month prior to the special day, I kept reading the Valentine's Day menu on the glass mirror over our booth at Blaue Gans during our annual Saturday breakfast. The chocolate dessert just kept calling to me until I finally caved and convinced Big Daughter to go with me, simply to eat those chocolate pops. Those chocolate pops were very good - despite the mishaps we encountered. If only I'd known, we could have skipped dinner (which they almost forgot to give us) and just dropped in for dessert, like the couple next to us.

Anyway, back to this year's Valentine Day. Going out for Thursday night dinner seemed like another disaster-in-the-making. Each of our regular places had a special menu, even Sanctuary Tea, our new regular spot. As an alternative, I considered dropping in at Hallo Berlin for a hot dog but the reviews indicated that the hot dogs might never arrive, or at least take hours to show up.

Finally, I decided Indian food would do the trick. I reasoned that few people would choose to eat Indian on a romantic night and there was little chance of roses/candles and an amplified menu. I left Carl a message suggesting that we meet at Saravannas, a great place at 26th/Lexington for South Indian food. (In a recent blog, I mentioned their chai tea.) We generally go to Saravanna's in the summertime, so the staff was happy to see us.

Although there was a wait, it had nothing to do with Valentine's Day, it was simply the usual; a mostly-Indian crowd of families, couples and friends, waiting to eat authentically prepared Dosa's, which are the speciality of the house. Despite our three-month absence, the waiter anticipated our order; the Mini Tiffin, which is comprised of Thali style dishes of farina, different vegetables in spicy, stew-like sauces (potatotes, peppers, tomatoes etc.) and of course, delectable little portions of sweets, a tapioca rice pudding and an orange halvah.

I, of course, ate the sweets first. The Dosa (a long thin, crunchy crepe folded over a filling of mashed potatoes and peas)is always placed in the center of the silver tray. The waiter also anticipated our usual order of the South Indian Tiffin. It contains a multitude of Thali dishes, again with vegetables but this time served with chapati (a soft tortilla-like bread) and a type of papadum (a large, circular, cracker-like bread made of plain flour). We brought home a Ravi Dosa which has pistachios and raisins baked into the crepe.

Since this was a three-day weekend, I'm happy to report that a sense of smaller valentines pervaded. On Saturday afternoon, we visited the Studio Museum of Harlem to see a thought-provoking, beautiful and amazing show by Kori Newkirk, a phenomenal new artist. After visiting Atmos, we crossed the Triboro Bridge to Astoria to eat at at Philoxenia, a Greek restaurant that I've long wanted to try (32-07 34th Avenue, Astoria). I was excited to eat there since I'd read that they recently reopened. They closed before I could visit them two years ago.

The dining room is a large, plesant brick-walled room with windows overlooking the bucolic back garden of the adjoining building. The menu at Philoxenia was simple but extremely well-prepared. We shared an appetizer of four spreads: Taromasalata, carp roa caviar spread, Tzatsiki, which is made with cucumbers and yogurt, Melitzanosalata, a roasted eggplant spread with garlic and herbs and Tiriokafteri, a spicy cheese spread. Little one loved the Tzatziki and Carl loved the spicy, cheese spread.

In addition, we ordered Dolmadakia, lettuce leaves stuffed with beef and rice, their homemade spinach pie, Piperies Psites Me Tire, grilled peppers stuffed with graviera cheese and of course, a large Greek salad. Big Daughter got Bekri Meze, veal and pork stewed in tomato sauce and topped with feta. Sbe and little one both ordered the traditional Greek chicken and rice soup which was liberally infused with lemon. For dessert, we all shared Galaktoboureko, a sweet egg custard encased in thin layers of phyllo.

Not only was the food amazing, it was extraordinarily reasonable. Going to Philoxenia was a big step because we usually eat only at Agnanti, another Greek restaurant that we love in Astoria. After a long, hot day at the beach, the food there hits the spot. Agnanti serves amazing Greek Cypriot style food - one salad in particular is perfect on a hot day. It's prepared with tomatoes, capers, feta cheese and cretan husks (little wheat husks) all mixed together and served cold. Agnanti has amazing fish entrees but I love the grilled sardines. With a little lemon squeezed over them, they are a meal in themselves.

Big Daughter and I always get the grilled Kasseri cheese and little one clamors for a cheese puff with phyllo that's made with a tangy, soft cheese. As a family, we always order too much food at Agnanti. We still eat the complimentary dessert, a semolina honey cake with large stewed cherries in greek yogurt on the side. Since the weather was so balmy today, we decided to visit the Pepisco Sculpture Garden in Purchase, NY.

When I called my friend John in Chicago to talk art (he works at the Museum of Contemporary Art in downtown Chicago) and proudly say that I identified a Giacometti sculpture from afar, he was amazed that we were walking around a Sculpture Garden. John said he was stuck at home because it was 14 degrees and windy!! The Sculpture Garden was gorgeous -even in winter-and an easy 45 minute ride up the Hutchinson Parkway. I can't wait to return in the spring, when the Magnolia trees are blooming.

On our way out of the city, we visited Oro, a new bakery/bar located in Nolita, at 375 Broome Street between Mott/Kenmare. That part of Broome is still a little funky which was strangely comforting. So much of NYC is becoming airbrushed these days, and much of Soho is like a mall. Anyway, for breakfast, I selected a bread pudding. It was the perfect eggy mix of bread and raisins. Carl was happy to share it with me. Little one selected a blood-orange meringue.

Together, we ate little spoonfuls of the stiff, sweet meringue topping and I ate the tangy blood-orange filling. Little one then asked for a cup of potato-leek soup. It was creamy and warm with lots of leeks and potatoes. Carl and I ended up sharing that as well. He also ate her cheese bread with chives.

Oro is an elegant space, with seating in the front and rear separated by a sleek bar with stools. I wanted to try a little chocolate truffle cookie and a bunch of other miniature pastries, but figured we can always go back. There was a nice selection of tea and coffee drinks. Oro is open until 10 p.m. for wine/snacks. There were sandwiches (a smoked salmon with dill and creme fraiche) and quiches too. On the way back to our Zipcar rental, we stopped at Parisi Bakery to get little one a Turkey sandwich with lettuce and mayo. When she saw the sandwich, little one's eyes widened and she said "that's so big." The counterman laughed. I overheard the counter lady tell another customer that Parisi's has been in their present spot since 1908 and the world seemed in balance.

The Shifting Mirage called Food in South Beach

In the past decade, it's become a tradition for our family to trek down to South Beach (Miami) at least once a year, sometimes even twice (if we're lucky and Carl is in a good mood). I say trek, because after hauling two weeks worth of clothes for little one -you need 12 days worth of clothes for 6 days, believe me- her car seat and her stroller on/off the plane, I feel like I've climbed Mount Everest. Forget about my luggage, it's the least of my worries. My carry on bag weighs at least 100 lbs and is crammed with a hodge-podge of snacks (nuts, cheese and crackers,etc) coloring books, crayons and games and various articles of clothing. I bring magazines and Christian Science Monitors so I can catch up on fashion and foreign affairs but never get to read a thing. Big Daughter packs separately. She is fastidious and could never tolerate a communal suitcase. We officially retired little one's stroller last fall but brought it out of retirement for the trip to South Beach, because we always do a lot of walking. South Beach runs from 1st/Ocean to 17th/Lincoln road and our family favors the area near the lower-numbered streets. At this point in her charmed existence, little one believes that her legs are not yet meant for walking. Rather than vainly propose the concept of walking, it's easier to offer her the stroller. This means that one out of every passerby motions at her feet, which dangle out of the stroller and begin dragging on the ground. For the past two visits, we've stayed at the elegant, Art Deco-style Astor Hotel (10th/Washington. We can generally be found at the beach or pool around 1st/Ocean. Over the years, Big Daughter, Carl and I have tracked the ascendance of South Beach from slightly gritty beach town to hip, shining star i.e. E. Village meets Madison Avenue at Ocean Drive. It's always fun to observe the residents and tourists meandering down the street in a style particular to South Beach i.e. stylish but bare with great sunglasses and jewelry. Eating in South Beach is also a unique experience; each year the place you remember liking a lot is closed, replaced by something else. Restaurants in South Beach are a mirage. Beckoning from afar, they generally disappear into a morass of overpriced food and convoluted service. To combat this and adjust to our beach schedule, we devised an eating plan which is comprised of an early breakfast (often the price of a good lunch or bargain dinner in NYC), no lunch and then dinner in big, bright lights (figuratively speaking) because after a day of sun/swimming, we're hungry. When Carl is with us, we have the luxury of a rental car. The car pays for itself in the trip to/from South Beach from Fort Lauderdale airport and allows me to map out exotic food adventures in various Miami neighborhoods for a better culinary experience overall. Last year, I created a food itinerary indicating breakfast and dinner choices for each day of the trip. Changes were allowed only after serious debate, weather considerations or the occurrence of sunburn. Big Daughter was a high school senior then, and on that trip she brought two friends - the Devster (her best friend) and Will -a classmate who joined us for a few days after visiting Florida colleges. Will's mother couldn't believe we a) wanted him on the trip and b)loved him after it was over. Also along for the duration was the Big N, big daughter's dad. The Big N was in from Belgrade and in the spirit of roughing it, stayed at the spartan hostel (in a communal room, yikes)a block from the Hotel Augustine. The Hotel Augustine was a nice hotel save for the manager, who thought we were sneaking the Big N in the room with Big Daughter and friends, natch. During that trip, we had some great food adventures. After a day at the beach, everyone would shower and meet outside of the hotel. Off we'd go, Carl at the wheel of the rental car, me holding my handwritten (and often confusing directions). Big N smoking furiously and commenting on the capitalism of Americans and Will riding shotgun in the back, staunchly defending Carl. In the back seat, little one was watched over by the Devster and Big Daughter with mixed results. The culinary highlights of last year's visit were Garcia's Fish Market, (located in downtown Miami directly over the causeway from South Beach), Guayacan (a Nicaraguan restaurant located in Little Havana) and Monty's (located on the edge of South Beach). Garcia's is one of our absolute favorite places to eat in Miami. It's a real down-home fish market that serves all manner of fresh-caught fish and really good conch hush puppies. Whenever we go there, it rains. It's exciting to sit out on the back porch and watch the big rain drops plop into the canal while a slightly chilly wind dampens us while eating. Maine in Miami. Eating at Guayacan was pretty much what you imagined it would be like to be in Nicaragua and eat amazing food. Monty's is a divey fish place on the bay. They have a raw bar with raw clams and mussels as well as boiled shrimp (we peeled off the shells) and all manner of deep-fried fish along with hamburgers etc. Lots of good old boys (and girls) like to go there to drink so we usually go early for dinner. For our most recent trip to South Beach last week, Big Daughter, little one and I spent six great days in South Beach. My challenge was to map out good food in South Beach proper (something that I hadn't done before). This time it was just us girls. At the last minute, Carl found the lure of college basketball too great to resist. In the spirit of harmony, we didn't protest and I'm happy to report it was a win-win for all involved. We loved South Beach and Carl loved being solo in NYC. I didn't mind pool duty with little one. During this recent visit, breakfast wasn't a problem. Little one and I would generally wake up around 7 a.m., get the newspapers at LeeAnns Pharmacy across the street, pick up a coffee for Big Sister at the French patisserie on Washington and then head out again for a proper breakfast. Big Sister always required coffee before her obligatory gym visit to Crunch. The first morning, little one and I ate breakfast at Joley, the restaurant in the Astor Hotel but that didn't work too well. The water for tea was infused with a coffee taste and the manager was more than grouchy which gave me indigestion. Apparently, Joley had just inaugurated breakfast service that morning and it was enough to dissuade us from repeating the experience for the duration of our trip. Because we were upgraded from a Junior Suite to a Presidential Suite gratis, I couldn't bring myself to tell Corey (the amazing, sweetheart of a manager at the Astor) the truth about breakfast. The next morning, little one and I upheld family tradition and ate breakfast at The Tides, a very fancy (newly-renovated yet again) hotel on Ocean Drive. It's a tradition for us to eat breakfast, once per South Beach visit, at The Tides. This time around, their tea water also tasted like coffee. Carl, I'm pleased to report, has gamely gone along to breakfast at The Tides on past visits. He finds it interesting to observe his fellow breakfast eaters. In past visits, we've encountered a "regular" who looks homeless, but staff treats her like royalty. I wonder who she really is? Little one and I didn't see her this visit. Anyway, as is always the case at The Tides, the fruit plate was phenomenal. It arrived with a small, hollowed-out papaya packed with blueberries, strawberries and raspberries along with generous servings of sliced kiwi, pineapple and one plum. Little one kept referring to the kiwi as celery but ate it all nonetheless. The staff couldn't have been sweeter. Nothing beats sitting in early morning sunshine on the swanky terrace of The Tides and gazing at the ocean. It just screams "ahh vacation." The waiter invited us to visit the newly-renovated lobby and as we checked it out, little one said "this is too fancy mommy." As we wandered about, I worried that one of the 2000 turtle shells affixed to the walls of the dining room might fall on my head. There was so much stuff in the lobby seating area, I thought we might get lost especially among the large piles of dried white driftwood artfully stacked around. After that experience, I opted for a few mornings of fruit tarts from the Patisserie and then ventured out again to the Maison d'Azur at The Anglers Boutique Resort (5th/Washington) for Sunday Breakfast. $104.96 later, I decided they too couldn't cut the tea thing, it wasn't served in a teapot and there were tea bags! The hot chocolate was good though, it was unsweetened and made with real Valhrona chocolate and had a creamy finish. Big daughter and a visiting pal opted for omelets and TWO orders of slab bacon (at $7/pop) and little one ordered two eggs over easy with potatoes. I got the traditional Soupe de Poisson with little toasts and Rouille (saffron aioli sauce), in an effort to remain restrained. I truly love this soup (after having it years ago in the South of France) and this one didn't disappoint. It was a good breakfast made better by the fact that the clouds blew away while we were eating and a clear blue sky emerged. The best breakfast was at the Hotel Victor on our last day in South Beach. I was looking for their little tea/coffee cafe (which I discovered last year) but it had closed. The manager was very sweet and hallelujah, they had tea leaves from the NYC-based T salon. Little one and I shared a continental breakfast (which was a basket of pretty yummy pastries, especially the chocolate bread) and two miniature fruit plates (raspberries, slice of honeydew, watermelon and pineapple) drizzled with a mango sauce. Little one was not enthused about the mango sauce, she pronounced it "weird". The waitress (who was a true sweetheart) kindly brought her another mini fruit plate sans the mango sauce. We had lunch only once. Our first day, we stopped at Lario's on Ocean Drive, after a few hours at the beach. Eating at Lario's is primarily about observing the "scene" of Ocean Drive. Considering the abundance of seriously over-priced tourist traps, Lario's is ok. They have very good strawberry mojitos (the only alcohol imbibed this trip) and yes, Big Daughter did get a few sips. In South Beach, the restaurants on Ocean Drive are packed side-by-side on the sidewalks in front of the various hotels. There is a little path to traverse amongst the tables and it's great for people-watching. At some restaurants, there are platters of food for passerby's to examine (usually a good reason not to eat there). Noteworthy places for breakfast/brunch are: The Front Porch, The News Cafe and the Pelican Cafe (which is affiliated with the Pelican Hotel.) None of them display food outside the restaurant. I prefer breakfast early- between 8-9 a.m. At this time, Ocean Drive is empty and blessedly quiet (hence our affection for Washington Street). There's a special early-morning vibe and the blue green ocean dominates, as it should. Besides the tea at Hotel Victor, I had one other truly amazing cup of tea during the visit, at Hakim's Turkish Restaurant(Alton Road and 10th Street). To get there, we just turned right and walked down 10th street for 10 minutes through quiet, residential neighborhoods with well-maintained art deco buildings. (We'd headed that way last year to Taste Bakery, which Carl loved.) Anyway, during dinner, Hakim, the owner, brought me the black tea leaves to smell (straight from the mountains of Turkey where he said he really did grow up) and a tin of Turkish Earl Grey. He then made me a heavily diluted version of his tea. As he predicted, the tea was a real delight. Hakim warned me the tea would "reset my clock." In a gentle way it did. (When I got back to NYC, Elspeth at Podunk was able to recreate the taste for me by mixing Russian Caravan and some Earl Grey.) Anyway, the food at Hakim's was terrific. Big Daughter and I shared an appetizer plate of cacik (the yogurt with garlic), eggplant dip, cous cous, hummus and grape leaves. It was all tremendously fresh. I ordered spinach pie. I couldn't finish it, so ate it for breakfast the next morning. Big Daughter ate the mixed grill with lamb, Turkish sausage, chicken and beef. Little one napped until dinner was over. We brought home a delicious chicken noodle soup with sweet potatoes added to the chicken and carrots. She ate all of it. Hakim was a decent and thoughtful man who wished every customer a genuine good night at the end of their meal. It was nice to eat at a place frequented by "real" people as well. Our first night in South Beach, we had dinner at Frateli Bufala (5th/Washington) an Italian restaurant specializing in Pizza Napolentano. We walked by it frequently last year but never ate there. The portions were quite generous. Little one had a thin crust plain cheese pizza. It was excellent and enough for two very hungry people (so that was lunch the next day). My salad was a bit wilty although the grilled eggplant was very fresh. Big daughter ordered pasta that came in a Parmesan cheese crust. It was a bit over the top. There were two other highlights for dinner. One was DAvid's Cafe, an old favorite for Cuban food. It's located off Lincoln Road on Meridian. They also have a cafe in South Beach. David's Cafe is not too far from the Ice Box Cafe, which has really yummy cakes. Unfortunately, Oprah spread the word on her television show and it's painted on their window (Oprah's best or something). Since then I find it unnerving to visit the Ice Box Cafe. I always think a marching band should strike up a tune or something. David's Cafe on Lincoln Road, is an unpretentious, comfortable restaurant that serves up generous portions of Cuban food. The appetizer platter is comprised of fried yucca, plantain chips, and croquettes, all of which are quite filling. Little one opted for chicken soup and Big Daughter ordered the pork chops. Her pal ordered the Churrasca steak which arrived with sublime mashed potatoes. The other dinner meal highlight was at Chalan's on the Beach (16th Street/Washington. Chalan's serves Peruvian food but the thing to get is the batidos, or fruit shakes. I ordered one made with blackberries in a frozen milk base and it was sublime (and enough for dinner). I knew Big Daughter would be disappointed in her seafood platter because it was deep fried (even the mussel shells). I ordered Bistec with Onions and simply switched with her. After drinking the batido, I didn't need anything else. Little one had chicken noodle soup and finished every drop. Next visit to South Beach, I think I'll just drink shakes at Chalan's every day and skip the food.