The funny thing is, I never had any idea where the place was. The phone number was on the fridge. The menu was in a drawer. They showed up at the door. With great food. This is something I never questioned, never thought about. It just was, and boy, was it good.

When I moved back to Phoenix, I missed this food so much I could barely believe it. After fifteen years, I still dream about those egg rolls. I could remember exactly how they tasted. The only other foods I dream about, with the exception of a certain Mexican food restaurant here in Phoenix, are foods my mom, dad, or grandma made when I was a kid. So it’s a big deal that I dream of Pekin House egg rolls.

So when I went to Chicago for BlogHer this past summer, I had to see if I could find the place. I found an address on the web, and figured out how to get there. It would be a 45 minute journey by El-train and bus from my hotel room. I talked up these egg rolls all day long to everyone I met, but at the end of the day, nobody wanted to be adventurous and go with me.

There was no way I was going to give up on these egg rolls, so I went all by myself, even though my very favorite thing is sharing good food with friends.

So I brought you with me. It was better with you there. We had an adventure together on the streets of Chicago. I’m sorry I forgot to tell you that you came with me for this long. Thanks so much for coming along with me. It really meant a lot for me to share this with you.

I got truly crappy audio in the restaurant, because I was a little embarrassed sitting there telling my camera about dinner, so I did it quietly. I got even worse audio on the El, because it’s just so loud. So I subtitled myself. If you have trouble reading the wee little version, consider downloading the mid-size.