Caboose Cafe

Despite my best efforts, there is no clever theme uniting the two culinarily significant things I did tonight. There are, however, some good (by which I mean temptingly unredeeming) reality shows on tonight, so I'm going to focus on precision tonight. I ate at Caboose Cafe. This, despite not being a reality show, was a largely unredeeming meal generally, but it was different enough to be remarkable. Caboose Cafe is a little place along Mount Vernon Ave. in Del Ray and blends into the charming neighborhood around it in the afternoon, offering sandwiches and salads. At night, however, my new friend Rhoda offers the same fare, plus a selection of Ethiopian dishes, as she is Ethiopian.

I indulgently sat at a table for three, had a beer, and ordered the Caboose vegan Ethiopian sampler, five items set atop spongy ingera.


In the middle is Miser Watt (spicy red lentils), above that is Gomen (chopped collard greens), to the right is Kik Alitcha (yellow split pea stew), below is Harvest Veggie (translation: green beans and carrots), and on the side was a cabbage/potato salad. Only the red lentils and the cabbage were really flavorful, but I used my fingers to eat it all and I'm fairly certain the two little girls in dresses at the neighboring table were jealous I got to play with my food.

And while the food wasn't the most inspired (man, two solid nights), like last night, the surrounding charm would bring me back. Plus, new friend, proprietor Rhoda, upon my affirmation that it was my first time there, gave me a full loaf of ciabatta for free.

Now, what's a girl who's had a bagel, rice, beer, bread, and Ethiopian bread today supposed to do with an entire loaf of her own? After 17 seconds, I realized that tonight was the night to try a made-for-blog gift provided to me by a certain loyal blog reader from Massachusetts.

So, tonight, I made my first Fluffernutter sandwich. To begin, I obtained an entire loaf of bread from my local Ethiopan baker:


Step two: I sliced and toasted that loaf, and pre-assembled the Fluffernutter, one part nutter, one part Fluffer.


Notice the peanut butter slowly hugging the curves of the porous piece on bread on the left. Notice the Marshmallow Fluff slowly warming to the receptive bread. However, to arrange for this love story to happen, I had to go buy peanut butter, as I had none. And there is something creepy and over-prefunctory of having to go to Walgreen's at 9 o'clock at night to buy one item, along with the neighborhood homeless lady who's buying a Coke, the drunk guys wandering the aisles for who knows what (Mike and Ikes?), the guy buying deodorant, the uptight business traveler buying a phone charger, and me, buying peanut butter so I can make a Fluffernutter.

Anyway, it was fabulous... it started off with just hints of marshmallow, then the next bite featured the forgiving crustiness giving way to the malleable center. Then, when I reached the middle of the sandwich, for four perfect bites, I had equal part melty peanut butter and melty marshmallow fluff. Thank you Massachusetts and thank you, Phil, for my first taste of what kids on Massachusetts playgrounds have savored for most of their lives.

And for the final non sequitir food account of the night, my dad's dinner in Taos: he got the mixed grill with buffalo tenderloin, whole baby quail and rattlesnake/rabbit sausage with a wild cherry glaze.