I had some unfinished business to take care of tonight at Mike's Chili Parlor in Ballard. You may have seen this on Food Network's Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives with the guy named after my Pontiac I had in high school. I'm not a fan of his, the whole mall rocker thang reeks of midlife crisis but then again he can afford the Vette or whatever hot car I'm supposed to get next year when my breakdown starts.
Anywho, my homie Cyril (who I never can find a good nickname for) told me the place was wack so I had to go find out for myself. And I did about three weeks ago when I had a small chili fries order which I though was the large. Tonight I went back for the actual large and like Tiger on Sunday afternoon/Saturday night I was victorious although I have to admit I almost barfed halfway home. Mercedes, the barmaid, told me she didn't think I could finish it. Know thy name is El Sandinista and I can eat anything.
Those two $2 Rolling Rock pints didn't help. I couldn't resist, they came in a bottle green pint glass. Should have stole it for Wolfboy's Irish kitchen.
