With the heat here in Seattle the last few days, J.R. and I haven't felt like cooking. Yet I'm trying, again, to get on the wagon and stay there, so I don't want to eat out. Thusly, Panera. I'm currently infatuated with their turkey chickpea chili, especially accompanied by a half Greek salad (no olives, no peppers -- and, if I didn't take pity on the poor checkout girl, half the feta). One lazy night led to another, and we'd managed to hit Panera three nights running. We skip a night, and then we're back the next night, with the kids this time. At first, sweet, slightly clueless cashier doesn't recognize us, but once I hit her with the "no olives, no peppers," it all comes back. We joke that we need frequent flier miles, and she's just happy to get us out of there before I ask for something else weird that she doesn't know how to type in.
It's cold and raining today, and we didn't go to Panera. But, man, it was a perfect night for chili.
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