Having spent the previous night acquiring food and drink after a long trip by bus and rail from Las Vegas, my first morning in Sacramento had a late start. I spent some time online looking for breakfast and tracking down the nearest Walgreens to acquire some blood glucose test strips.
Finding a queue for tables was intimidating at first, but flying solo afforded me a better opportunity to be seated sooner than the growing number of groups lining up and out the door.
With coffee in hand, I ordered up a Benedict Arnold, which offers two poached eggs and your choice of meats, spinach, tempeh, or tomato, on a split English muffin, with a Welsh rarebit sauce. Sides of either breakfast potatoes with onions and peppers, or a fresh fruit medley are included. I ordered my Benedict with house roasted and finely chopped corned beef, and a side of fruit.
The rarebit sauce was delicious, with a texturally appealing mouthfeel that bespeaks more of a homemade sauce than something from out of a can. Overall the Benedict was a masterpiece – properly poached eggs are always a gift, never to be taken for granted.
A side of bangers was extraordinary. Velvety, seasoned, with just a light pop when biting through the browned casing… superb!
With a delighted belly I continued my explorations a few more miles south to score test strips, marveling at the flora still in bloom. After crossing through an underpass I came to a revelation of common sense…
When you come across some guy pounding the shit out of traffic sign with a two-by-four, it's a good indication that you should walk past on the OTHER side of the street.
On my return home I couldn’t resist the opportunity to take a ride on the SACRT Light Rail, boarding at the 16th Street Station and riding to the terminus outside the Amtrak station. From there it was a couple of blocks to the hotel. A late-morning nap was in order at this point.
The night before, during my late night meal at Pizza Rock, I came across two young women sporting knit caps designed to look like the TARDIS of Doctor Who fame. The geek in me compelled me to ask where they scored them. After my mid-day rest, I ventured over to Old Sacramento intent on finding the source of the knit caps – Evangeline’s.
Evangeline’s is a fun gift shop to browse over a plethora of pop culture themed items of varying functionality. I scored the last two TARDIS caps on the shelves and a Hulk coin bank, all for gifts but I couldn’t resist a selfie.
With booty in hand, I visited the nearby California State Railroad Museum. As a railfan I couldn’t repel a tourist trap of this magnitude. After braving the crowds within the Museum, I sought out a bar for a gin and tonic, and all the water I could drink.
Late in the afternoon, curiosity compelled me to ride the Light Rail out to Folsom. Sadly, I had waited too late in the day and could only muster a quick walk up and down the main drag of Old Town Folsom, with a quick break at the Sutter Club Sports Bar for a George Dickel on the rocks, before the long ride back into town.
I had not eaten since breakfast and a vain search for a nonexistent pizza place had me in a crabby mood. I should have revisited Pizza Rock but instead walked back to Old Sacramento for pizza with pepperoni, jalapeño, and garlic at Slice of Old Sacramento. I had planned on dining in but closing time approached and I opted for carryout instead.
That proved to be a mistake as I ate the whole pie in a matter of hours. A practice not uncommon to me in the past, but since being diagnosed as diabetic nearly a month prior I had since taken pains in avoiding such indulgences. The occasional splurge aside, this was my first official fall off the wagon.
The pizza itself wasn’t half-bad, but for garlic it had a sprinkling of powder. A disappointment considering that its listed as an ingredient on the menu, but is nothing more than seasoning. Diced jalapeño added a light heat though, and the crust was chewy and pliant. Only a very light crisp on the rind; fairly comparable to your average chain franchise pizza. Its a good, kid-friendly pizza, but given an option I’d rather walk the extra mile – literally – for Pizza Rock [see blog post].