A different home

Apparently there's nothing homey about Home on a Friday night. Scott, his friend Rommy, and I were hoping to eat at Home on Church and Market before seeing the Fiery Furnaces at Cafe Du Nord (sadly, it was sold out, and as I was the one without a ticket, am now here, at my house, on my bed, typing while Scott and Rommy are there), but after a longish wait we left and headed across the street to Azteca for Mexican food.

And, I'm glad we left. I'd been to Home before and enjoyed a very good pork chop there but tonight's 8:30 dinner atmosphere was much different from the Wednesday 6 o'clock one from my last visit. Tonight's crowd was tall, thin, stylish, and clone-ishly alike. The men, most of whom appeared to be gay, were dressed in button down shirts with the top button undone, had short hair conservatively spiked in the front, and nice shoes. The women, in tall shoes (I still don't understand why women wear those hoofy sandles--they look neither stylish nor comfortable) and too much makeup, flipped their hair as they waited for their tables. (There was a pair of Asian women who looked identical except for the color of their hair--one had brown the other yellow.) This seemed like way too much show for mac and cheese. I, in my $8 tank top and lazy flats who had just rolled out of bed twenty minutes earlier, felt like a fish out of water.

So, when the hostess twirled her hair and apologized that we had to wait much longer than she had first informed us and suggested that the best option for us if we were hungry was to find food elsewhere, I wasn't too disappointed.

We crossed Market and went to Azteca for something quick. This was much more familiar: a counter with glass that housed tubs of beans, rice, guacamole, sour cream, and various types of meats; a yellow board with black type menu posted to the wall; a salsa bar and little clear plastic containers; plastic trays on which to carry our own food; and people in sneakers and hoodies.

I had a quesadilla suiza with chicken and a Negro Modelo. This was home.