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Troubadour Snackbarwatch: It Is Not A Snackbar. It Is Not A Bookstore. It Is A SOUL KITCHEN.

By - Thursday September 20th 2007

soul kitchenSpotted last night @ Clap Your Hands Say Not Quite Sold Out. The discovery floored me. Moments later I would be accosted by a chef in white, asking me if I’d prefer the hummus plate or the giant Hebrew National. Verbatim dialogue:

soul kitchen: DISTANCE SHOTME: I want both man. I want the juiced sausage, but split LONG WAYS – in four parts – for all four of us. On top of the hummus.

CHEF IN WHITE:
We can do that.

ME: You can slice it the long way? The LONG way?

CHEF IN WHITE: What the fuck is wrong with you?

 

 




What now?

8 Responses to “Troubadour Snackbarwatch: It Is Not A Snackbar. It Is Not A Bookstore. It Is A SOUL KITCHEN.”

  1. Posted by shenny 9/20/07 at 12:40 pm #

    Damn, I can’t believe I missed THE SOUL KITCHEN last nite! This sausage talk is making me sad :(

  2. Posted by Jenn 9/20/07 at 1:59 pm #

    Ryan, why must you annoy the Troub staff? Have they wronged you somehow?

  3. Posted by Ryan 9/20/07 at 2:13 pm #

    Don’t kid yourself, Jenn — I spend way too much money on booze there. They love me! Ask the bartenders

  4. Posted by shenny 9/20/07 at 2:16 pm #

    How was the “juiced” sausage?

  5. Posted by Ryan 9/20/07 at 2:35 pm #

    I didn’t order a damn juiced sausage. Elvis perkins did however. Photo en route

  6. Posted by Jenn 9/20/07 at 2:56 pm #

    Photo of what, of Elvis Perkins or the sausage?

    I’m not asking the bartenders. You’re the resident Troub-botherer, not I. Well… I bother Juli with my frequent faxing, but that’s it.

  7. Posted by Ryan 9/21/07 at 2:32 pm #

    As promised, more photos – this time courtesy le phone du victor…

    chef in white

    elvis perkins orders a chilidog from chef

  8. Posted by charlie 9/21/07 at 5:22 pm #

    I had a fat weenie as well, that chef has got way too much pep. he recommended i try the mustard with the relish in it because it’s fucking outstanding. he was wrong though, it tasted like crying.


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