Monday I biked down to meet my friend Erica at Pickle Shack in the Park Slope-ish area. Erica and I met eating pickle and peanut butter sandwiches when we worked at Peanut Butter & Co, so this dinner date was fitting. We've dated, traveled the world together, drank too much together, cried together, made zines together, stolen shit, and probably danced lots of weird goth dances together. In the words of Le Tigre, "I'm proud to be associated with you."
We don't see each other too much these days - we are really similar in just wanting to be at home with our cats. But as with most best friends we have a mystical brain connection that we will probably have forever, and whenever we meet up it's awkward and wonderful and validating and powerful.
So, Pickle Shack:
Erica got a vegan grilled cheese, but I didn't ask to take a photo. They actually screwed up her order and gave her regular grilled cheese (the entire menu is vegan, and everything is veganizable with cheese they make themselves) but were very apologetic and promptly brought out a vegan replacement.
The patio at night:
Erica, thanks again. For talking and hanging out. And for being you and showing photos of yr cats. And for introducing me to PICKLE SHACK. And Witch Hunt.