I’m great with keeping secrets.  Heck, if I had been the Potter’s Secret Keeper, that whole fiasco totally could have been avoided.  But, there are some things that deserve to be shared.  And while it does give me pause, I’m going to share with you all a delicious little secret I discovered here in NYC, because it's just too good to keep to myself.

Like most people, I enjoy a good deal.  And ever since moving to NYC, where I rarely eat a meal for less than $12 (unless it’s one of those amazing $.99 slices), I get especially excited about great deals on food.  That’s one of the best parts about visiting WI - I can eat out every day and not feel guilty about it, because the food is so affordable!  And back in Wisco, you always get a lot of food - it’s a real meal, complete with sides and a drink already included.  NYC - erm, not so much.  

Like many people from Wisconsin, I also enjoy a good burger.  Not a “Good Burger” (I’ve actually never been there, though I see the one on 58th and 8th often enough), but just a delectable, juicy, meaty burger.  So, imagine my delight when I discovered a swanky, old-school, beached out décor burger joint called Island Burgers and Shakes right around the corner from my apartment.  The first time I went there was actually the night I saw the apartment, and walking home from dinner was when I decided to move to HK.  Anywho, this is a pretty amazing burger place.  I have never seen such a menu of burger choices! They have 5 different categories of burger alone based on hotness, with each category having a slew of burger names ranging from ordinary to generally descriptive of the innards, to eyebrow-raisingly intriguing (Napalm), to downright sophisticated (Princess Grace, anyone?).  The ingredients cover all manner of foods, including: peppers, avocado, bacon, chili, curry, pesto, eggs, salsa, ham, and 9 different cheeses.  There are so many choices, it’s difficult to decide which burger to get.  I’ve had the Jalapeno and Jack, the Bourbon Street (blackened, bacon, jack, bayou mayo, sautéed onions on sourdough), and something else that I can’t remember because I’d just had 15 vials of blood drawn and Carolyn ordered something that I snarfed down and then proceeded to sleep for 2 days.  Strange thing is, you need to order the fries separately; same with a drink.  But everything is always incredibly delicious.  And the burgers are so massive you probably don’t need (or shouldn’t get, for your arteries’ sake) any sides or appetizers.  The downside to this place is the price.  Burgers range from $9 - $12.75, which is pretty normal for NYC prices, but it still makes the Midwestern girl inside me grit her teeth at the cost.  And that’s just the price of the burger, which comes with lettuce, red onion, and pickles on the side.  A side of fries is $3.75, and their shakes (you can choose from vanilla, chocolate, strawberry, and Black & White) are $5.75, and not particularly large.  And maybe it’s another Midwestern thing, but I like getting the shake in the glass along with the extra, enough for another almost full glass, in the metal mixer cup.  Yeah, that doesn’t happen in NYC.  So, to get a “full meal” - burger, fries, shake - will cost about $20, not including tax and tip.  YIKES! For a non-wealthy actress, that’s kinda pricy for a meal that’s not really a special occasion.  

But, oh ho! Dear readers, this tale is not done! I haven’t told you my secret yet.  And I shouldn’t like to leave you so unsatisfied and depressed at how much was spent on a single meal that, while delicious, left you feeling slightly ill because: A)You spent more than you thought a burger, fries, and shake would cost, and B) There was so much of the delicious, but kind of strange, combination of ingredients, that you ate the whole thing really fast and only then realized you probably shouldn’t have done that.  But on with the tale!  

To continue, we need to go back.  Last week I met up with the fantastic Lizzy for a girls night out in NYC.  Granted, this happened to be a Tuesday night at about 6.30pm.  Yeah. We’re wild.  And being in Hell’s Kitchen, of course we had no idea where to go eat, so we decided to wander around and peruse our options while we let our appetites perculate.  We meandered over to Broadway and up past The Broadway Theatre on 53rd, when all of a sudden, Lizzy did this cat like thing of freaking out then acting all cool like nothing had happened and totally downplaying the situation.  Never having been to this particular restaurant before, I had no idea what the fuss was about.  But then, oh dear friends, then, Lizzy introduced me to the glorious wonder that is Steak ’n Shake.  Now, apparently Lizzy and Steak ’n Shake go way back, as the first one was started in her hometown of Normal, IL.  And while it’s mainly a midwester thing with about 500 locations ranging all over the middle states, this little gem opened in NYC January of 2012, and they plan to open 25 in Southern California.  

Now, let’s just start at the beginning.  We walk in and are greeted by a tall woman in a red and black uniform with a short skirt and heels.  Add some yellow into the mix and you get the restaurant’s color scheme - a retro feel with red counters, black and yellow chairs, neon red and yellow lights, complete with a sparkle-fied print of Marilyn Monroe on the wall.  The menu, while small compared to most Steak ’n Shakes (or so I’m told, and judging from their online menu), is still full of delicious options at crazy affordable prices!  “How crazy affordable?” you may ask.  Well, dear readers, I will tell you.  I got a meal of a Guacamole burger, French fries, and a Specialty Shake (cookies and cream) for only $9.23!!  Yes.  $9.23.  And the portions were just right!  The burger was big, but you didn’t need a knife to cut it (as I’ve seen at IB&S).  The fries were beautiful little works of art that obviously were potatoes and not some sort of perfectly created golden stick of ingredients and chemicals created in a lab like you find at McDs or BK.  And the shakes.  Oh, the shakes.  They are real shakes, dear readers.  Perfectly sized, and complete with whipped cream and a cherry.  They have regular shakes (Vanilla, Chocolate, Strawberry, and Banana) for only $2.99 and Specialty Shakes (M&M, Cookies ’n Cream, Peanut Butter Cup, Cookie Dough, and other delectable flavors) for only $3.49! (Or you can get a split shake, where you get two flavors for the price of 1.  What?!) The last place I really enjoyed the shakes (size and price) at was Best Burgers and Shakes on 46th, but they closed down some time ago, and only had Chocolate and Vanilla.  

Since being introduced to the glorious, stomach filling wonder that is Steak ’n Shake (which happened to be exactly 1 week ago), I’ve been there three times.  Yeah.  Maybe a bit excessive, but their food is excellent, and doesn’t leave you feeling gross and over-filled; but rather, you (or at least I) leave feeling like you’ve just eaten a really good, fresh meal, and happy that it didn’t break your wallet.  Overall, the quality, quantity, and price of the new Steak ’n Shake can’t be beaten.  
So, there it is, my dear readers.  The secret is out.  There is a brand spankin’ new burger joint in NYC: Steak n’ Shake, Broadway btwn 53rd and 54th.  Now you know.  Use this knowledge well.                                                                                                                                           

Someone mentioned to me recently that I should start a blog about what it's like to live in NYC.  I thought, "Eh, maybe.  But isn't that what everyone in NYC does? It seems to be rather a washed up subject."  But, seeing as how I'm trying to get back into writing, whether it be fantasy, fairy tales, or amusing life stories, maybe it's not such a bad idea.  NY definitely provides enough fodder for witty and intelligent discourse. We'll see how it goes.  So, for your reading pleasure, I offer you the first (hopefully amusing, and of many yet to come) story of NYC livin'. 

  When I first moved to NY, I lived in student housing, which was notorious for their bedbug infestations.  I didn’t sleep well a single night there for fear of getting eaten by bedbugs and having them live inside my mattress and the wood of my bunk.  There were giant cockroaches in the communal kitchen and they just loved sticking their disgustingly large and long antennae out from beneath the edge of the sink whenever I drew near.  I, naturally, would freak out.  After living two hellacious months under such conditions (not to mention the rusty tap water or the mold infrastructure - I mean, bathroom), I moved to my own great place on 50th and 9th, smack dab in the middle of Hell’s Kitchen.  It’s a beautiful little cozy building with nary a history of bugs of any sort.  Well, some months in - quite a few in fact, as Carolyn was already living with me at  the time, and she moved in 6 months after I got the place - I came across the carcass of a large cockroach.  I’d never seen one so big before, but luckily it was dead.  Nevertheless, I was completely disgusted and freaked out, and made my brave Alaskan roommate dispose of the body. 

   Fast forward to a few months later.  It’s late at night, and I’m home alone.  I’m watching something, probably a Doctor Who episode, when Stry starts going crazy chasing something about.  Thinking a toy of his got under the couch, I kneel down and peer under.  And what should I see but a crazy-ass, scary huge cockroach racing across the floor.  Granted, it probably wasn’t as huge as I thought it was, what with seeing it in the dark with the glow of the computer behind me and all, but it was the first time I was alone, face to face with a terrifying creature of the NYC streets and sewers.  With a frightened gasp, I leapt up and away from my lovely red couch, flipped the light on and, armed with my trusty dust buster, moved the couch cautiously away from the walls.  Nothing.  There was nothing there.  A bit relieved because I didn’t have to deal with this dark nemesis alone, but also freaked out because I didn’t know where the heck he’d vanished to, I trepidatiously put back the couch and huddled on the far end to continue watching - fervently praying The Doctor would come save me.
 
    So, lights up on my kitchen a few days later, when all of a sudden I see skittering across the wall near Stry’s food dishes, a large (though not super huge) bug that moves incredibly way too fast.  This was it.  This show was about to go down.  But, luckily for me, I had my trusty Alaskan roommate to back me up this time ‘round.  Or rather, Carolyn could take care of the whole bug issue while I rooted her on from my perch atop a chair in the kitchen.  I frantically called for her assistance and pathetically whined for her to kill the giant beast, which by now had raced its way into the living room and was behind the large bookcase.  Carolyn couldn’t move the large piece of furniture, covered as it was in cookbooks, acting books, playbills, and countless pages of random sheet music, so I had to brave meeting my 6-legged, fast as lightening moving foe, and ventured into the next room to cautiously move the bookcase away from the way.  Well, there the little bugger lurked.  With careful corralling, and not a little shrieking from me, we got the bastard into such a position as was amenable to a good shoe smashing.  Crisis averted.  Skinny white girls = 1.  NastywickedevilfastandcreepyNYCbug = 0.  

   Then there was that other time a few months back when I was watching something or other, most likely another Doctor Who episode, when Carolyn mentions there’s a big flying cockroach buzzin’ around.  Again, I freak out a little bit - though not quite as much as last time.  I leapt up from the couch and into the kitchen, away from the nefarious villain.  American cockroaches get pretty big and they can fly, which makes them all the more creepy and utterly disturbing.  It flew up and was near the top of the brick wall and the ceiling, just kinda sittin’ there, doing it’s thing, walkin’ around a little bit, so I braved a little and peaked my head in.  Carolyn was standing on the couch trying to reach it, but it was too high for her.  I handed her the wooden easel that wasn’t put together so she could try to squish him.  But she didn’t want to disturb him and then have him fly away.  So I grabbed the bottle of Febreeze and spritzed away at the little fucker.  I completely doused it, and as it was trying to clean its antennae off, Carolyn, in a beautiful and swift move which would’ve brought a proud 10 points to Gryffindor, brushed it off the wall and again did some mighty shoe crushing action.  Definitely much more team work and less timidity by yours truly this go round.

And that, my dear readers, brings us to tonight.  Stry, as he is often wont to do, threw up, so I cleaned it up and went to the kitchen to dispose of the soiled paper towel.  I turn the light on, see an adolescent sized cockroach on the wall a bit below the cabinets over the sink, throw the paper towel away, and turn back towards the bug and watch as it scrams its nasty little ass back up behind the cabinets out of sight and reach.  I fill a spray bottle with water and alcohol, spray up behind there a few times, then turn the light off and come back into the bedroom.  I say to Carolyn, “There’s a cockroach in the kitchen.  It went behind the cabinets.” “How big is it?” “Eh, not that big.” And that, my dear readers, is how yours truly has grown from a frightened, shrieking Wisconsin girl into a wizened, calloused, and uncaringly nonchalant New Yorker. Bam.  (And if you actually read all of that, kudos to you. You're amazing.)