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.