Hungry? Honey.

Review for Meli Cafe and Juice Bar; Greektown

A Meli, a Meli, a Meli. . . it means honey in Greek, so you know Lil' Wayne might very well have considered it as inspiration for "Lollipop." Sadly, I'm not sweet over heels for this corner shop. Now with 300+ Yelp reviews, I threw a bookmark on it long ago. With a Monday day off in concert with my refusal to wait to dine, I took Ruthie there for lunch.

Parking in G-Town, if you're not eating gyros or souvlaki, is a grand pain so take the #8 or Blue and make a trip of it or just pay. We got seated right away at 11:30 a.m. on a holiday Monday, which I would say is hardly normal judging by the throngs of people who came in behind us. Nothing makes lunch more fabulous than being able to say, "Man, we got here at JUST the right time."

The menu is ample and everything, seriously everything, sounded good. Fresh ingredients, ample portions. I likey. Like the lovely Jelena Z., I chose the Chipotle Chicken wrap as a tip of the hat to the lunch hour though many a scramble were calling my name. It packs a punch, makes you wait to cool off and then applies an elixir of avocado. The wrap was deep. Poetic, even. And so were the potato crisps (p.s. they're chips, sir).

And hot damn the food came out fast. Everything was lickety split. As I often do with my mom, I got in a few good questions. Today was, "Where were you the day MLK got shot?" She was teaching at Cather Elementary on the West side. Shots rang out around the neighborhood. She grabbed her sister and hightailed it north as things got revolutionary, out of anger, frustration and grief. The next morning? Bullets in the chalkboard as those who mourned made gunfire in the wrong direction. Tumultuous for sure; important to remember.

It seems trite to say, but Meli wasn't memorable.

And, ack, the price. For two juice drinks, a cup of soup and two sandwiches it was over $40 with tip. That makes me sadzies. On the other hand, I will not be eating for the rest of the day, so perhaps it's worth its weight. No matter as time with moms is time well spent, and a good meal is just gravy on top of it all.

Cream Puffery

**Note: I am going to start posting my Yelp reviews here, because I know most of you don't hit up that site and I can't ask you to. Times are tough and at a premium. Without further adieu. . .

Beard Papa's Cream Puffs

"Can you say hype? I mean, who knew the Gordon's Fisherman could be repurposed for such a sweet and nifty gimmicky, trendy, puffy purpose. It's Japanese people. As a business culture they are brilliant masterminds of turning toward Americans and saying, "Look at this. It's cute, you love it, buy lots of it."

Cream puffs are not my idea of a treat. I don't sit at my desk at 3 p.m. (prime craving time) and think, I neeeeeed a cream puff. Well, shit, those days are gone because instead of trying to avoid walking past Sugar Bliss for a frosting shot when I'm itching my arm in anticipation I'm headed underground to hit up BP's.

You can't hide the fact you've eaten one of these puffs, and you certainly can't eat it on the train. No, if you get it to go (and you will) you will need to be patient and get home before you devour. They're beautifully messy, irresistibly marketed and unexpected enough that you ought bring them to any occasion. From birthdays to break-ups, celebrate with BPs. Truth."

p.s. Have my California or New York folks had these??