I thought about ending the year by going through the various clippings I’ve collected and tossing out some rants, but there will be plenty of time (and material) for that in 2006. Better to finish up with something a bit happier. Astronomy Picture of the Day pointed out that 2005 was a wonderful year of imagery and science from Saturn, so what a fitting way to end with yet another stunning colorful picture:
A visit from Liz’s brother Chris provided a good excuse to finally get reservations for Green Zebra, which we’d talked about since it opened a few months back. It’s connection (via ownership) to Spring was immediate, from the design of the menus–both in terms of graphic design and food content–to the diagonal layout of most tables to the recessed wall illumination. The selections certainly spanned a broad range of cuisine styles, and having to hunt for the few non-vegetarian dishes on the menu was a bit novel. In place of Spring’s signature sushi starter, GZ brought out a tasty dollop of bean soup in a two-ounce shotglass. The portions were adequate but didn’t exactly provide a hearty meal; no matter, it’s a destination for snazzy presentations and unusual (exotic?) flavor combinations…all topped off with yummy desserts (mmm, persimmon cake!) and a full French-press pot of coffee. It’s location–amid some run-down storefronts–makes it a cab-in, cab-out spot for its intended yuppie clientele, so I’m not sure why it’s still so hard to get a reservation.
As the taxi glided down Ashland on a snowy evening, it occurred to me that Chicagoans owe the late Michael Bliandic a great favor. His ignonimous mishandling of the 1979 snowstorm that cost him the primary to Jane Byrne is now the stuff of political legend, yet the repurcussions have essentially guaranteed ever after that only the most massive blizzard will stymie the Streets & San fleet (and even that only for a day or two–ask Bobby Rush). Swirling flakes might temporarily blind pedestrians, but the main roads are completely passable. One wonders if that would be so had one ill-timed storm not brought down the protege of the Machine.
Anyway, the taxi was necessary to get over to the Theatre Building for a performance of The Santaland Diaries. For the most part the actor did a wonderful job with the material and the audience; however, I did feel that he spent a little too much of the show intoning as if he were reading for the radio, which is unnecessary when there are costumes, props, and gestures that can be used (and perhaps to better effect). The show itself is classic David Sedaris wit, and this commentary on being a Macy’s elf resonates with two special groups of Americans: those who have worked in a department store at Christmastime and those who may have been in a department store at Christmastime. Too bad they didn’t find a way to work a Marshall Field’s-Macy’s swipe into it, but perhaps that’s just a bit of (bitter) local chauvinism on my part.