A Fine Nine North Fourth

At the moment, the wooden telephone booth built into the back of the dining room is my favorite design element of Nine North Fourth. It reminds me of the one at Ray Milland's club in Dial M for Murder, the one from which he sets in motion the plan to murder his wife. But I digress.

Because Nine North Fourth is in nearby Monroe Ward, I was curious to check it out. I waited until after the lunch rush and ambled on over. Four or five tables were occupied and I was given my choice of the rest. I took a booth for two with a chair at the end, creating a three-top near the back.

The specials occupy a giant chalkboard that takes up the north-facing wall, so I read those before perusing the menu. It was about then that I noticed the goose bumps on my arm, caused by the gale-force air conditioning blowing directly on me and moved to the table behind me to escape it.

I couldn't have been the first to do so either, because my server came over and asked, "Too cold for you?" She pointed to the antiquated a/c unit on the ceiling and said they were working on addressing the problem.

In fact, she said that they sometimes have to leave the front door open to moderate the temperature, a practice I love. Please do let in some warm, un-conditioned air.

There are two sandwiches whose preparation changes daily, one chicken and one flatiron steak. Today's flatiron was being served medium rare with sauteed onions and tarragon aioli on grilled focaccia, which had my name all over it. Coleslaw was my side of choice.

While I waited for it to arrive, I enjoyed the cable radio station being played; it was 70s and 80s soul/funk along the lines of Cameo and KC & the Sunshine Band. I immediately presumed that it was the British-born chef's choice and he later told me that it was indeed.

My server asked me if it was my first time there and when I nodded, she said I was the 7th or 8th new customer today. But for lunch, not breakfast. Apparently breakfast is very slow and she said unless that changes, they may give it up, especially once they start doing dinner in two weeks.

I'm pleased to report that my sandwich was the perfect size, stuffed with pink-centered meat, loads of onions, fresh greens and a savory aioli. After all the fish and seafood the past few days. I tore into it just as Chef Phil Barradell came by my table.

When my server mentioned my newbie status, he grinned at me and said, "We love new customers!"

Mouth full, I mumbled that I love new neighborhood restaurants. Sounds like a recipe for everyone to be happy.

The desserts looked terribly tempting (gingerbread, peach ice cream), but I was too full. Sitting there reading my Post, the chef came out of the kitchen, saying something to the server that I didn't hear, but her answer was clear.

"You're full of yourself today!" she laughed.

"Today?" he shot back.

Accented entertainment and good food 3/4 of a mile from home. Keep it up, Monroe Ward.

An Abundance of Exes

I'm back in training for another Census Bureau project and that means a whole new crop of jobless people and colorful stories from the field. It's even better this time because everyone in the group is from Jackson Ward or Monroe Ward, the areas we'll soon be counting. I've already met a neighbor from only a few houses down the block and another who lives just around the corner. Get paid! Make friends!

Like any work-related training class or seminar, they begin by making you stand up to introduce yourself and tell the group why you're there. Since I'd done this just a couple of months ago, I knew better than to say "for the money" but twelve of the other fourteen people said that that was their only reason for taking this job. They just don't realize yet what a fascinating slice of humanity you get to meet working for the Census, and that's before you even hit the streets to count.

One interesting and talkative girl who was 45 minutes late to class put it best. "I'm here because they pay way better than Lee's Chicken," she offered. "And no grease!" Well, I can certainly see where that would be motivating.

Later on in the morning, our trainer put up a big map of the area we'll be enumerating and it stretches from Goshen in Carver down to 8th and Bank, an area I know pretty well. She told us to familiarize ourselves with the area, prompting a few questions about the specifics of our assignment ("You're not sending us to the projects, are you?" one guy asked nervously. No, they're not.).

The Lee's Chicken girl girl raised her hand and disdainfully asked, "We gotta go to Jackson Ward to do this?" immediately making me bristle at the tone she used for my beloved neighborhood. Feeling my inner J-Ward girl rising from within, I shot right back at her. "You got a problem with Jackson Ward or what?"

Well, she hemmed and hawed and finally got it out. "Well, um, it's, you know, it's just I got an ex-boyfriend in Jackson Ward!"

Was that all it was? Really? "Don't worry," I reassured her. "I've got an ex-boyfriend in Jackson Ward, too. We'll figure it out."

From behind me, the trainer interjected, "I got an ex-boyfriend in Jackson Ward myself. Live long enough and you'll have plentyof ex-boyfriends in Jackson Ward."

With that kind of wisdom, is it any wonder that she's the trainer? And just so that you know, the Lee's girl never came back after the first day. I'm thinking that must have been one bad breakup.