Tim’s mum actually suggested we head to ASDA, as I really wanted to get a dressing gown (US: Robe) and the ones we were finding in town were a bit on the pricey side. ASDA would also give us the chance to pick up a few items Tim needed around the house as well.

ASDA is owned by the Wal-Mart corporation, something they are quite proud to tell you right on the sign outside the store. Surprisingly, the store was laid out pretty similar to a Wal-Mart, with the exception being there was more on the food side than the non-food side, and at least three aisles of booze!

After, we went for dinner at Frankie and Bennie’s, a New York style Italian restaurant that doesn’t exist in the US. We went there because I was in the mood for Pizza. The pizza was excellent. Not 100% up to my standards, but at least 95%. They lost a few points for having a too-thin thin crust and for not piling on the cheese (and no Parmesan to sprinkle!), but it was excellent.

half plain (for me), half bbq chicken (for Tim)

I got a few strange looks when I told her I was by myself, but I was seated after a few minutes wait at a very prominent small table for “two” at the front of the restaurant.  I’m used to US restaurants where you get immediately asked what you’d like to drink, so I was surprised when the hostess walked away from me.  I glanced at the menu even though I had checked it out online, and pulled out my book to read.  About five minutes later the waitress came by and took my order. Another five minutes passed before I was brought my beverage, and another ten before I received my pizza. It was about the size of a large dinner plate, larger than a Personal Pan pizza at Pizza Hut (but more than twice as much! My pizza cost $9)…but it was awful. The crust was sickeningly sweet, there was barely any sauce on it, and the cheese tasted funny, but that’s something I’ve actually noticed with all cheese around here – even regular kinds like Mozzarella or Cheddar taste different here. I coated the pizza with fresh Parmesan cheese and dipped the crusts into ketchup to make it tolerable.

I ate two pieces, and figured I’d take the rest and eat it as leftovers once I doctor it up a bit. It took me another 10 minutes, including me starting to read again before the waitress came back to see if I needed anything (like a box?). When I told her I needed a box, she picked up my plate to box it for me and asked me if I needed anything else. I told her no, so she also took my half full glass of iced tea! She quickly returned with my boxed up pizza and bill, and told me she’d “meet me at the front” when I was ready. Problem was, I was ready immediately, and she had gone over to take the order of another table while I walked up to the counter to pay. I had to wait another six or seven minutes before she finally was able to meet me at the front, despite there being several other employees hanging around who saw me. I’m not sure if it’s policy that your server has to be the one to cash you out or if it was just laziness on the other people’s part.

If I was grading Boston Pizza, I think I’d give them a D on food, and perhaps a B- on service. I kind of wish I had just gone to Pizza Hut because now I’m disappointed and still want good pizza! but ‘I won’t go over there, as I really don’t have the money to do it…I’m still trying to figure out how I’m going to stretch my cash to include food for 9 days plus cab fares on the day I leave!

I came away with some fresh raspberries, cucumbers, apples, and carrots. And I really think the raspberries taste better than even the raspberries I bought at the farmer’s stand…..of course, this may have more to do with the fact that I picked them over anything else.

Oh, and purple string beans? Taste just like green ones. C told me they turn green when you cook them, and I was a little disappointed to find that out. I mean, how cool would it be to serve up a dish of purple beans at your next dinner party?

*I’m not really a city girl. But where I grew up, there wasn’t really room to have a garden. I think my mom had a rose bush for a while, but that’s about it. Oh, and my dad and I planted wildflowers when I was 8 or so. Now that mom and I live in a place where we have our own yard to grow stuff in, neither one of us really knows what to do to start a garden.