#56 Le Pita Pit

Subway sandwiches, but on a pita.

I had fond memories of eating at Le Pita Pit in Montreal--and the tzaziki and falafal--when visiting my friend Carla during college, but either the French-Canadian take on it is just different or Pita Pit has gone way downhill.  Or maybe (definitely) it's just the one in Ithaca that's particularly gross.  The one up-side: they offered me real leaves of lettuce!  Anyway, if I wanted a deli sandwich, I'd go to Rocky's.

On the Road: Eating Boston

I went to visit Miya, my roommate from college, in Cambridge MA a little while ago, so this post is dedicated to her.  We sampled a good variety of restaurants in our three day trip, though for the most part were constrained to locations that were either televising the NFL draft (per Pat’s request) or offering lengthy beer or margarita lists (per the rest of our requests). 

 --Border Café.  Love it.  Best margaritas ever, especially since they come in GIANT awesome glasses.  And the food is delish.  Nothing in Ithaca comes close, that’s for sure.

--Tavern in the Square.  Good standby, although I think best for beer and appetizers.  Nice list of beers on tap, especially seasonals.

--Zoe’s Kitchen.  Mmmmm, brunch.  Standard brunch fare, with really really good pancakes and French toast.

--Pinkberry.  No comment needed, it’s the best place ever.  Actually, I guess second best, to Cultive in SF (because they let you serve yourself AND serve yourself samples without feeling guilty for asking for samples of all the flavors when there’s a huge line behind you).

Overall, a very delicious trip—I’m pretty sure everything we ate was better than what I normally get in Ithaca, and Boston isn’t always famous for it’s high-end fare (at least, not according to Anthony Bourdin).  Thanks Miya and Galen!!!

#55 Greenstar Coop, or, Good in Theory

Following on a common Ithaca theme, Greenstar has pretty good food, but it’s just not worth it.  I stopped in the other afternoon looking for a quick sandwich and drink that I could eat while enjoying the nice-ish (you know, 50 degrees and overcast but not actively raining) day and reading my Kindle.  I ordered a smoked provolone sandwich at the counter, and then went off in search of a beverage and maybe a side dish.  I heard my name paged over the intercom about three minutes later, and marveling at the quick service took my banana and kombucha back to the counter.  Oh, no, wait, they just wanted to tell me that they actually didn’t have any smoked provolone, and would I like a different cheese?  I went with cheddar, paid, and came back to the counter about five minutes later thinking I’d just wait.  After another ten minutes of hippies pushing past me to get to the locally sourced organic all natural olives in the refrigerator behind me, I was starting to get a little impatient.  There was nowhere I could stand where I wasn’t in the way of chaco-clad dads and the egg containers they brought from home, so eventually I decided to go back to my car and wait there for a few minutes until I was sure my sandwich was done.  After another five minutes in the car—bringing my total “quick stop at the deli counter” time to almost forty minutes—I went back in, grabbed my eight dollar cheese sandwich, and made a run for it.

Due to the lack of indoor seating, and the fact that the Ithaca wind had cropped up to the point that trying to eat outside would have led to a hairball foreign body, I ended up eating half my sandwich in the car on the way home, and the other half about an hour later in my room.  The fresh half WAS delicious, but I’m pretty sure that if I had bought some rye bread I could have made it just as delicious in my own kitchen, for less money and without forty minutes of dodging self-righteous coop-ers happily paying $7 for a thing of raspberries.

But I’m not bitter.