juste quelques jours à paris

me, i think i could be in paris indefinitely but we just had a few days here. not sad about that because i know i'll be back again and again.


i'm not going to drone on [for once] about my experience as if it's any more significant than yours is or was or could be. everyone's trip to paris is going to be different.

i'm just going to offer some tidbits about what you might consider if you ever feel like being a reckless wastrel and boozehound while in paris. it could happen to you. it happened to me and my girlfriends last fall. some would say i abused my time in paris because by day i treated it as a shopping mall and by night a club. perhaps i should be embarrassed to admit it but i'm not gonna be because i do lots of other things more worthy of embarrassment.


firstly, if you're to behave like this, it matters not so much how luxurious your hotel. romance isn't in the equation [to your knowledge] so stay somewhere in a great location, close to the action that's not too pricey (a sweet boutique hotel - not in faubourg st-honore or champs-elysees, but relatively near to one of the two, which btw can be accessed quickly by taxi from anywhere or jump on the very clean metrorail). this allows you to focus spending on other things like clothes and cuisine. and, get ready btw to spend your arse off on coffee. unless you don't drink it and if you don't, well i'm truly sorry about that, ya weirdo.

what we decided to do last fall was play it by ear. yep, you heard me. save for one of my friend's magazine clippings on where to dine [a la gwyneth paltrow and the like] we didn't have much of a plan. we had one reservation for thanksgiving night at chez dumonet. i have read about their sketchy wine operation [bringing the bottle you ordered already decanted to your table] as well as their unfriendliness to americans. i didn't experience that at all, however and perhaps it's because i could understand the french menu - it is tres francais this spot, that's the only thing i feel i need to warn you of. if you can't read french food, you may be screwed.

hey, another poem.


i had the pigeon [that's french for squab, don't be alarmed]. it was tadiefor. all caps. can you see that sauce? like satin. we were absolutely thrilled with our time here. and as a side note [to me, not to them] i invited a guy from highschool who i hadn't seen in xx years because i knew he was working in paris over the holiday. turns out he and my bestie developed a romance still in existence to this very day. good for them. onward.





so chez dumonet was our only reservation on the trip. i suggest that you make one good one but beyond that it's fun to not have a godforsaken plan of action at every moment of every day, if you're asking me. desserts included the traditional paris brest and a souffle bigger than my arse. which is small, but the souffle was big, trust me.

otherwise, for the wheres to go, we enlisted the brilliant help of concierge services at the nice hotels we weren't staying in. porquoi pas? all you have to do is smile, be polite and tip. being a girl probably doesn't hurt. they're happy to help, that's what they do.

one night we headed to the supersmall and quiet bar hemingway at the ritz. i highly recommend you treat yourself to this some day. as you well know, my "some day" is usually right now if i want something. all cocktails are 30 euro. minimum. once you get past that alarming fact, settle in to your club chair and peruse a very small menu of cocktails. yummy. try to drink slowly because the ever so tiniest amount of guilt is running traces through your brain. squash it with another drink though. you'll be fine. and enjoying cocktails in a bar wholly dedicated to papa is worth every penny. the bar across the hall is more euro-mod but still fairly cool. we had a bottle of champers over there and it's fantastic people-watching. at the time i also re-engaged my princess diana obsession, imagining where they entered and exited in those still video shots we all saw.

on the way out we popped over to concierge who happily called ahead to new st germaine hotspot, la societe, to reserve us a table. we enjoyed several appetizers and a chocolate fondant cake. i highly recommend this coolcat locale both for the ambience and the well done food [it's swanky, high-fashioned and reserved but feels like it could turn into a raging party at any moment]. i have, btw, recommended it to even the pickiest and they weren't disappointed.

we got a little crazier later that night at a bar situated around the corner which i can't recall the name of but it's directly across from louis vuitton. innocent-looking by day, the late-night downstairs dance party is not for the timid. note: don't get into taxis headed to an after-after party at 4 am with boys you don't know. your mama tells you this your entire life and you should listen. in this case, i was safe but they had no money to pay for the taxi so i kicked their cheapasses out and mosied home alone.

on the next night we opted for the other uber-lux hotel, georges v. four seasons. an absolutely stunning decor for the holiday season.

sitting in [another club chair] the lounge we ordered a bottle of champers - 120 euro, not too bad. seriously between three of us, that's really good. and you get limitless free nuts. beware though, those nuts are salty and you want to order more cocktails. they're not stupid over there at georges v. here's where we got some really good gouge [military word for 411] on where to go.


they gave us great info. here's a card for a swank new spot [new at the time, perhaps defunct now, who knows], le prescription. really kickass bar and lounge at which you might spot paris or lilo partying. small dogs are allowed. the backside of this card featured another rec, l'alcazar, exclusive little speakeasy lounge up the street (rue mazarine) with gourmet cocktails and sofas. we enjoyed both spots and even a late night breakfast at a bistro we stumbled past.





what else? well nothing too touristy, except riding that rockin ferris wheel in montmartre. again, why not? we hung out in montmartre for the day, eating a really $hitty lunch at a spot run by brits, no offense. steer clear of this joint if you happen upon it. not good. and for the love of all bohemian artists, do not order the steak tartare or get a bloody mary to attempt curing your pounding headache. they haven't a clue what they're doing there.


i purchased two antique advertisements at a shop in montmartre. one, an old chanel ad from 1941, limited edition and another hermes ad poster, circa the 30's. sadly i put them down at an atm and like a huge jackass left them there. i went back to retrieve but they were long gone. still sad about that.

we really shopped our tails off too. in all the names you've heard and some you haven't. note: when asking for directions to prada, it helps if you pronouce it 'pwada'. r's are different in fwance. i purchased a puffer jacket from the moncler store, $200 cheaper than i found in georgetown. lucky girl. and a couple of bracelets at barbara bui. bad but not too bad, considering we were in hermes and missoni among the many other places i could have dropped my savings.

that was our trip for the most part. lots of coffees in between. lots of walking around. and a ton of wine and champagne. i sure wish you could grab a taxi more easily in paris, but beyond that i can't wait to get back there. perhaps i'll visit a museum next trip or even a michelin-starred.

croatia + montenegro

recently, i learned that a friend i met in dubrovnik, croatia passed away. though i can't do our trip justice via blog, i still dedicate this story to him.

rip, cameron wilson.

note: i began this story shortly after our trip but i just finished it today, july 7.

here we go.

who thinks of going to croatia for vacatia? for many years it was on my list, the dalmation coast and dubrovnik. my besties and i did a good amount of research on how to get to the adriatic islands off the southern coast of croatia to enjoy the outta this world spectacular views of the dalmatian coast in perfect 80 degree weather. preferably from a hugeass yacht. with goodlooking crew.

well 5 years ago it proved to be too costly to get there: a layover in frankfurt, followed by one in vienna and a boatride from there down the coast through the adriatic. blah blah blah. it seemed too convoluted so we scrapped the idea for the time [to have an equally complicated trip to spain instead].

i still can't tell you how to get to the islands, because i didn't make it to the islands this time either. it's not the season, november. but when a girlfriend organized the trip, it only took me minutes to say da, da, da [yes, yes, yes]. learn something here, people.

so, off to dubrovnik, the old city. thanksgiving-ish. site-seeing and enjoying a city not too many on this side of the atlantic know much about.

it's not easy to get here to the big city either, by the way. though dubrovnik has its own international airport, we flew from dulles to paris, from paris to zagreb (the capitol of croatia), from zagreb to dubrovnik. approximately 17 hours total. easy breezy.

old dubrovnik from the outside looks like an enormous fortress. your driver drops you outside the colossal walls of the ancient city and it's not at all indicative of how really big it is inside them. you then drag your sickly overpacked luggage over the drawbridge through the massive gates, and over its uneven marble cobblestone streets. not quite home yet, you carry those bags up some 100 steps which look charming and all but they're supersteep. well, whatev, never hurts to get a workout in.

we opted to stay in an apartment since we'll be city girls this trip. i.e. no beach time. as you know, normally i'm a girl who likes to stay in a hotel with all the amenities, only occassionally exploring villas and private apartments. for this time of year and in this city, an apartment is perfect. it's mildly chilly in the month of november (50-60 degrees). we're sightseers here this week.

our apartment, it's very european of course. charismatic, old, tidy, two-storied. the spiral staircase adds to the charm except when the luggage is involved. we must've looked like buffoons dragging all those bags through the city. funny now. not as funny that day.

all streets are tiny, dimly lit and staircased alleyways that run directly into the stadun or the main street which is lined with boutiques [sans haute couture thankfully], gelato shops, taverns and restos. we arrived early evening and people in europe don't get out and about until 9pm, whereas americans have to have our arses on the sofa to watch reality tv by 8/7 central.

i'm hungry and need a cocktail like it's my job. i'm happy to take full blame for the executive resto decision, "captain's restaurant". elvis, the proprietor, is pleading with us to eat at his restaurant. he's missing many of his teeth, his shirt is open, revealing a gold chain and he's promising a free bottle of wine with our dinner. using every last drop of his charm to entice us, he later turned into quite an annoying ogre.

you know i don't give a rat's ass about free but he was the only proprietor asking for our patronage so we fell for it. note: avoid these places, friends.

we ordered a platter of seafood including grilled octopus, shrimp, mussels. seafood [canned clam] risotto. prosciutto. our free bottle of wine came as well. we thought the glass smelled like dead fish. but i'm pretty sure it was the free wine that was fish scented. the food was well below average and that's being generous.

onward, in search of what to do next, as the three of us were waiting on two others, who were stuck in germany. we were so tired and wanted to get to bed when alas, we stumbled upon a wine bar, d'vino. and as you know, this girl doesn't pass up a wine bar.

d'vino is tended by a rather attractive croatian, frano, and wouldn't you know, owned by a young canadian ex-pat. how happy we are that they can help us with our wine selections. and cameron does. we were served some lovely croatian wines here and had a night that would linger on until the rest of our party made it in from germany and a few other stops, and a bus ride, perhaps a ferry. they were real happy to find us at this sweet spot.

the highlight here, besides the wine of course, and meeting a couple of new gents to chat with, was cameron's beagle, emma. emma is the mascot, maitre d' and busboy (as she's anxiously awaiting any crumb that may drop). cameron says she's not that social, however she warms up to these three dog-owners rather quickly and i taught her high-five and shake before the night was up.

heading back to our apartment, more than slightly inebriated, we find that our apartment is situated in an alleyway nestled between 5 bars. yep, innocent looking doors by daylight turned into open doors leading to bars full of young croatian men by night.

remember the hot guy on ER? croatian. and most of the gentlemen here look much the same.

only two of us ventured into our neighborbars. i'm sorry to report that i was one of them because i was in no condition by this point to be doing so. both in appearance and my conduct after several glasses/bottles of wine. we hobbled around with some newfound friends though until they took us to a bar with a 20 kuna cover. enough was enough. i'm quite sure i had one eye closed to maintain proper balance.

i woke up feeling like someone was taking a hammer to my head. before you feel sorry for me though, one of us girls was sick - food poisoning no doubt from elvis' joint.


after a shower and as i start to get ready, i too am troubled with the same affliction and find myself hugging the porcelain god of croatian cuisine as well. sorry to be gross. be careful of what you eat out there people. and i have an iron stomach. mostly.

only a minor speedbump though and we head out for the day of exploring within the walls of our city and out. up the road a few blocks, just outside the city we happen upon the excelsior hotel where we hope to find a fabulous view of the adriatic sea - and an absurd sunset from their vast terrace.



we find here that you can get more standard fare: the [later we determine] indespensible club sandwich and french fries. sometimes that's what you need [when the cuisine doesn't meet your expectations]. the hotel is really a ghost town. we're out of season like linen and white shoes.

back inside the walls of the old city we found another wine bar - they're all the rage since cameron opened d'vino, these wine bars. it was empty except for us and our tranny bartender who from all accounts looked like a fairly attractive woman but sounded like a man. or a barking seal.

a late night dinner and a lot more pulled together, we went up to the hilton. hey, don't judge, people. all the local resto menus looked exactly the same. while i don't like to hate on anyone's cuisine, we found the food to be not so good. and these girls needed a decent meal. we were really happy with the hilton - not to mention it's a really lovely hotel [though not on the beach]. they had 13 guests.

side note: we even tried a pizza joint one night. doused with hot sauce the pizza was edible. but the wine they gave us there undrinkable. oh, we're supposed to add water to the wine, according to proprietor. have you ever heard of such a thing? perhaps you can see why our favorite wine bar was so crucial. croatia is a wine-growing nation. i unreservedly suggest you take advantage of the wine bars and hotels however, and don't necessarily trust the mom and pops places for wine recs.

we got into bed quite early afterwards. as we had an early 8 am meeting with a driver who would take us to visit montenegro the tiny neighboring country about 40 km away.

early a.m. after a stop for coffee over at the hilton (thankfully i'm never the only one who must get her day jumpstarted with little roasted beans) our van is ready. at first i was bumming to ride shotgun with malden, our bald-headed, post-middle-aged tour guide. turns out he's a real doll-baby and he speaks very good english and knows a thing or two about montenegro, i'm in the right seat.

about one hour later, entering montenegro, it's just picturesque. kotor bay is surrounded by the mountains and in the center of the bay is a church and a monestary, accessible by boat. we drive along the coast until we stop at a tiny fishing village. situated here is an adorable cafe. we indulge in another coffee at the base of these green and gray mountains on a crisp morning. we're told by malden that michael douglas and catherine zeta-jones are contemplating buying property here.

20 minutes down the old road and we arrive at a walled city, kotor. through the giant gates, we couldn't believe our eyes. people. [finally, people.] enjoying coffee and beers and wine and cigarettes in this tiny piazza lined with restaurants and shops. i think we could have stayed all day, especially once we found what was to come but we spent only one hour. curiously, though the men here are also quite good looking, nearly every one of them had sweatpants on. not 2009 sweatpants, whatever those are. joey buttafuoco sopranos, weird too-thick gray sweatpants with pockets. it was like a sea of brody jenners from the neck up and a jc penney advertisement for athletic pants from the waist down.

we coffee'd for a bit then back in the van. an hour-long wind to the top of the mountain, 2522m. for a ham sandwich. we're told by malden that we can't miss what everyone travels to the top for, a cured pork sandwich and a glass of honey wine. along the lonely road we stop and photograph the the unspoiled beauty of the valley below. and the cows in the road. the ham sandwich is nothing to write about but the sweet cafe we enjoyed it in and the conversation with malden made up for it.

back at the bottom of the mountain we meandered through the town of budva, the other touristy spot of shops and eats. we met a dog there too, we called him monty, who followed us through the streets as we shopped and joined us for dinner and wine. i did not enjoy leaving that scruffy dog behind.

the following day we spent on top of the wall of the old city, back in dubrovnik, which was a fantastic idea and cost about 8 kuna. you can enjoy the complete view of orange-tiled rooftops in a couple of hours, walking along the tops of the walls. today, it's stunning. and you wouldn't know just by looking that in 1991 this old city was besieged by serb forces for 7 months and heavily damaged by shelling. it has been fully restored.

later that evening found us at our local watering hole, d'vino where we felt very at home. we had some joiners that night to add color. i'm certain we solved a lot of the world's problems that night during our discussions. once again, our sweet friend cameron generously provided bottomless bottles of croatian wine along with plates of charcuterie and cheeses. he even let me use his laptop to check email. i couldn't resist facebook friending him. even philippe and emma became dogbook friends.

the trip was made so much more fun by our friends, bar manager frano and cameron and the beloved beagle emma. imagine the surprise last week as i went to wish him happy birthday on facebook. cameron died a few weeks ago. and so, what should have been 34th birthday wishes on his facebook page were actually messages of love and missing him. my heart stopped.

his heart stopped.

so my friends, a toast to cameron wilson. i didn't know him long. to me, his lesson in his life and death is to dream and do. don't wait. it could be over tomorrow. be in the world.

the proud, the few. and 26.2.

thinking is overrated. so i say, stop already. stop thinking, just do. trust me when i tell you this is a pretty good way to navigate life.





as you well know, i don't like to think about things much before doing them. mostly this works out nicely.

let's for a moment review some life-changing decisions i didn't give much thought to:


adopting philippe, one of the smartest, most handsome and fashion-forward dogs i've ever met;
buying house;
moving to dc;
quitting well-paid job with lots of vacation and bennies, and going to culinary school to make $11 an hour for three years;

i do all sorts of wild and wacky without thought. and look, i turned out ok...right? i'm sure there are some doozies i can't even think of right now.

so back in april, i received a quick email from best girlfriend that probably went something like this: i'm signing up for the marine corps marathon. here's the link if you want to join!

without thinking, i clicked the link, typed in my cc info and was redirected to the confirmation page. i'm officially signed up to run marine corps marathon, october 25, 2009. easy breezy. and everyone says it's so hard to get in.

i started training immediately by buying new shoes, cool running clothes, the nike+ ipod gear which tracks all that mumbo jumbo about how far you've gone and your pace. the best thing about it is the kickass feature of "power song" where you simply hit the center button and your most motivating song of choice immediately takes over your ipod, sending your tired ass into overdrive. i created a playlist called "marathon" with all my favorites to keep me in the training mood.

i was doing good in my pre-training. up to 8 miles for my weekly long run and philippe was right there with me too. he's amazing that one. handsome and athletic.

well two months later my training hit a speed bump, called burn out. i just stopped running.

then official training season began in june, my girlfriend she just keeps at it. she's given up fun friday nights for pasta and making bogus banana bread, and running those dreadful saturday morning long ass runs when you and i are still in bed - well not you and i together - you in yours and me in mine. i quietly attend to my sleep or coffee-drinkin and meet up with her for brunch as if i was right there with her. exhausted. sometimes wearing workout gear [poser].

i never officially decided or spread the word that i wasn't running the marathon. don't ask, don't tell. i appreciated that no one was asking because i wasn't comfortable with being a backer-outer. i don't like to half-ass things.

you know i'm an all or nothing girl head to toe. i'm either fully engaged in something or i want nothing to do with it. to the extreme.

as the race day approaches, i'm taking on all sorts of cheffing jobs before and after because the mcm is not on my calendar. wtf? why did i never actually put it on my calendar? [does this mean i never intended to do it, doctor?]

subconsciously trying to weasel out, i scheduled 7 events in the 3 days following marathon day. busy week, no? but the day i really realized, was when a client asked me to cook for a sunday afternoon party, late october. never wanting to turn business down i got the job covered by a chef friend. i'd cook, she'd pick up food from me at 2 pm, race day. i can figure this logistical nightmare out. or if i can't - work is a great excuse to not run, right?

mcm eve, i went over to friend's house to prepare for race: carbo-loading on two enormous bowls of pasta bigger than my head. yum. if you saw how much i ate you'd realize why there was no choice but to run. i tell her i'm going to run half with her and then peel off.

in store for me the rest of the evening is party prep. totally opposite of a marathon, a sprint to get finished hors d'oeuvres for 50.

at 6:15 am, friend and i are heading towards the air-filled balloon arches that are the starting line of the marine corps marathon. i assure you whatever your level of ass drag this morning, you are suddenly alive and attuned to how magnificent this is. what a tremendous spectacle unfolds.

there are thousands of runners. the race begins with the wheelchair marathoners. if you can't get inspired by that, well put your head back into the sand, ya jackass. seriously.

my girlfriend and i start off together but i separate because last-minute dude decided to show up to run and they're all chatty and gaga.

the people running: in all shapes and sizes. in halloween costumes. in t-shirts with their names on them. in shirts with the name of a soldier they run in honor of. dead? alive?

and many are soldiers themselves. in fatigues. and combat boots. carrying flags. and backpacks. there was even a barefooted man. next thing you know 9 miles have come and gone.

now my knee hurts but i'm looking for my friend who is coming to support and cheer. i know she's surprised to see me because well, if i didn't think i was running this thing... this gives me a much needed burst of energy. i've lost marathon girlfriend and as i decide to text her to ask, i find that my beloved bberry is malfunctioning due to being in sweaty back pocket. that's gross. i know. huge bummer.

a sign from the crowd keeps appearing throughout this race btw.

pain is temporary, glory is forever

i thought it was cheesy the first time i saw it. but by the 4th time i thought, hell yeah, no $hit. bring it mothertruckers.


streets of dc are lined with thousands of cheerleaders. this is probably the reason people finish this amazing race. i know without question if not for these people i wouldn't have.

so at mile 13, in my mind i give myself permission to stop at any time. i have $20 taxi fare in my pocket, next to my lipgloss, which i have reapplied at least three times by now. hey, you never know who you're going to run into.

every 5 miles i'm eating these jello shots my friend told me to eat. i think these are baby miracle-makers because i feel good. and btw if anyone tells you that chocolate flavored goo is disgusting, don't listen. i got my paws on one and it was like chocolate pudding. hit the spot. when doesn't chocolate come in handy?

i'm pretty sure i consumed more calories than i expended that day. hmm.

at mile 14/15 i see cheerleading friend from mile 9. what, is she a vampire? how does she get from place to place so freakin fast?

at mile 17 i have to use the facilities on pennsylvania avenue. i saw portapeepees with no lines. this is like seeing an oasis in the desert. did you know they stock them with purell hand-sanitizer? brilliant.

at mile 18/19 i know i have friends who came out to watch the runners. i spot them. yay. you have no idea how important this is.

approaching mile 20 i haven't a clue as to what i'm about to be in for. you see, i never checked out the map because that would've been like i was planning to be at mile 20. it's here i tell myself two lies: 1) the marathon is only 25 miles because the last mile doesn't count and 2) i can run 5 miles - anyone can run 5 miles

mile 20-22 is the most brutal segment: the 14th street bridge taking you from dc back into virginia. i see some smileycheering friends - yay. but i'm really pissed i didn't jump out the race because now i just want to jump off this bridge. so boring, so devoid of cheerleaders, so flat and boring. people are dropping like flies here needing to stretch out the kinks or cramps or whatever. i scream in my head: if this bridge is only one mile long i'm going to kill someone. because it feels like 5.

on the other side of the bridge i'm hysterically searching for a mile marker. i need to know how far to go.

i finally see mile marker 23, which i'm sure is a typo. because i feel like this must be 26.

miles 24/25 are truly loathsome. this is where the wheels fall off/the wall is hit for many. it's not a pretty stretch. thankfully this was one of the most gorgeous days of the year. it's probably 60 degrees and sunny.

at this point your brain can tell your body to get a move on but your body gives you the bird, the double bird and a few choice words. i temper this urge to sprint with the thought i don't want to be one of these people on the side of the road with massive cramps. slow and steady wins the blah blah blah, right?

mile 25 the crowd gets bigger again. you see people who have finished meandering back this way - people have finished and are still alive is positive reinforcement. my friends again. happyconfused to see me, cameras in hand, wtf? is that jt? yes, it's me, people, and i'm almost done and in a hurry no less.

i smile and pose continuing. no time for hugs and kisses now. i'm sure of only one fact: my lipgloss is still perfect.

mile 26 is amazing. then cruel because the final .2 is a crazysteep hill. that's not a funny joke. i'm thinking in my head, you've got to be effing kidding me. no i just said that aloud. click: power song.

thank you flo-rida. seriously. you do spin me right round, baby. right round and up the hill to cross the finish line.

i grab my medal and an aluminum foil snuggie i think you're supposed to don for drama's sake, kudos and poor babies. i have got to motor like nobody's business. as much as i'd like to wait for friends and hugs and congrats, i've gotta get my fanny in a taxi. i have frosting to make. and dijonnaise. and shrimp to marinate.

first i have to walk a couple of uphill miles to find a taxi. i'm cussing like a sailor. my driver gets a full on $5 tip i was so happy to find him.

thankfully operation party food is also a success so i can spend the remainder of the day at marathon after party, sipping champagne with my brave friend who dedicated herself to training for months. what a champ. because without thousands of cheerleaders i could never do those distance runs on saturday mornings.

i can't effectively put it into words without sounding cliche but the real heroes are the people who we run in honor of. the soldiers and vets. the wounded alive. the dead who gave. it's tremendously awe-inspiring. once i finally had time to reflect i think the whole day was a perfect miracle because we have to thank them somehow.

p.s. i just now read all the potential hazards of running a marathon, including death. see, this is why you just do, rather than think. wiki would've scared the bejesus outta me with all that info prior to running.

churchkey, 1337 14th st nw, logan circle, washington dc

i'm becoming predictable, no? checking out the new happenins at 14th st nw. again. perhaps i'll name my first-born logan shaw since i'm preoccupied with the eats and drinks in this 'hood. tonight, a friday, another new resto/bar is our destination. opened by the neighborhood restaurant group within the month, birch & barley [the downstairs resto] and churchkey, the upstairs beer bar with over 50 beers on tap and 500 bottles. oh and if this means something to you: 5 english-style casks sans excess co2. evidently ground-breaking in dc. to me less co2 just means a hangover-free saturday.

note: the birch & barley restaurant looks like a great date spot. sparsely furnished and very dimly lit. i think you can bring a less than attractive date here and be ok with it. the walls are amazing - looks like tree trunks are built into them. wild guess: birch?

until i can manage a date, upstairs to churchkey.

well, not exactly. you have to stand in line for a while staring at the steps that you're praying lead to hordes of cool goodlookings. yep you heard me. this blows people. it's a beer bar. standing in line to go to get a couple of beers feels ridonkulous. especially in a faux fur vest and my new platform barbara bui boots. (my new barbara bui boots; mine are gray and totally out of control.]

the doorgentleman has a really crappy job i think. would you like to be the guy throngs of thirsties are glaring at? he should try to be more entertaining to take our minds off the fact.

we were first in line so the wait wasn't too dramatic. upstairs, it's much bigger than birch & barley, deceptively spacious. and packed with all types clientele [except hot straight guys of course]. this place is superbly hip. the decor is a combo of gritty rustic with sleek elegant. anything goes i guess and i like that.

if you didn't know, i'm not a beer connoisseur [i can't know everything about everything. my pea-brain is kind of like a crowded bar - one in/one out, you know?]. i like beer. ummmm beer. no i do, i like a cold beer sometimes. drinking draught beer often lands me in bed with a post party headache for which there is no cure. therefore i avoid it at all costs and typically go for lame american bottled beer served superfrigid. tonight i'm throwing caution to the wind. while in rome, blah, blah, blah. expanding horizons, becoming more well-rounded. whatev you get the picture. i love to learn new stuff.

each beer is properly served: in the glass that emphasizes its nuances and at the temperature it tastes best. who knew beer was so complicated? this is no bar for homer simpson. and i didn't see any duff.

this also isn't a bar to really mull anything over if you don't have a barstool. be ready to tell the bartender what you want when you make eye contact. you know that game. stand there staring with mouth open ready to pounce when he looks your direction else wait like a buffoon wishing for beer. having a cc in hand or cash helps too. actually this bar is well-staffed and it doesn't take long at all to get served.

my girlfriends are considerably beersmarter than me and know what to get. i decide to start with the tap on the far left. no matter the beer, that's what i'll have and proceed to work my way from left to right. a good strategy, no? you just have to be able to keep count of how many you've had. which can be tricky when the alcohol percentage by volume is slightly higher in these beers than that of coors light. you can request a tasting glass of beer before committing. a great idea for most. i'm trying to move beyond my commitmentphobia. if you recognize this, color me impressed: i start with the kasteel triple, exclusive to churchkey. 11% alcohol by volume, in a 13 oz tulip glass. i like it but it's mammoth-strong like donkey kong.

check out the menu first. though overwhelming, it is well-organized for beerignorami like me. choose from crisp, hop, smoke, authentic cask ale, malt, fruit & spice, roast or tart & funky.

isn't it every person's dream to happen upon barstools the moment you walk in? it's not gonna happen here. people stay the dur here. once you're in, you're in and not leaving. we actually had a very minor scuffle with a pot-bellied grumpasaurus rex who got a little pissy with us when we made a barrangement with a couple getting ready to leave their seats.

you see what i'm talking about? men are so not gentlemanly in this town sometimes. he actually looked at three cute chicks and said he'd been waiting longer than us. man up, dude. for real. how terrifically whiney of him. we graciously relinquished those stools but not without the gentle reminder that it's friday, he should try to have some fun. fun hater beergut man. he should be ashamed and you just know he's wearing sensible shoes.

as you well know, good things happen to good people and we eventually got our lil butts into a booth. which is crucial because we need food as alcohol takes effect quickly when you're not used to strong beer. mac & cheese sticks. highly recommended by a couple of people, though not by this girl. sorry but i'm not a fan. a nice charcuterie board though, with pork rillete i believe. yummy. grilled bread was served with it, but why are they so miserly about it? ordering more, here's what we got:

(are you joking me? 3? why so tightfisted with the bread?)

we also ordered some fries. all food was pretty pedestrian, which is fine but it's not done well. they really just focus on the beer. as long as your barfood expectations are low you'll be ok with it. i read the burger's good from the same people that liked the mac & cheese sticks.

i also read about servers not being knowledgeable. i can't report on that. like i said, i worked my way from left to right and managed to drink four, which i is respectable because they sneak up. and beer is filling as you know.

oh and there was a line to get in here all night. i don't know what to tell you to do about that. i think you can call for reservations but there's nothing on opentable.com except for birch & barley. here's the number: 202.567.2576. give it a whirl. unless you like standing in line.

quill, the jefferson hotel, 1200 16th street nw, washington dc

i love the smell of new. especially when it's wafting within the splendidly-detailed vestibules of an authentically old building. the folks who redesigned the jefferson weren't playing around; they expertly managed to preserve all the grandiose and stately elements you'd expect of a hotel named after the great thomas jefferson. in washington dc. a tourist's dream. sometimes i feel so important-lucky. this place makes you feel lucky to be here - and not in a condescending pretentious way. it's an elegant treasure and i'm officially revering it as such.

i didn't even know the jefferson hotel existed until all renovations were complete and it reopened with the news of new dining spots. powerfully stunning, this place. the girls and i popped in for a bite and some cocktails just after it opened a couple of months ago. we saw everything - kind manager played the role of our personal tour guide upon arrival [we might've gotten thirsty as he was showing us the conference rooms and libraries. though they were impressive, we were ready to get our paws on some cocktails].

so, plume is the uber-serious looking fine dining resto featuring chef damon gordon [formerly of alain ducasse, ny]. i say uber-serious because of silk covered walls, 18th century reproduction chairs, and over-the-top wall sconces. but, tucked away is a suprise cozy fireplace. tres romantic. another night perhaps.

the jefferson is also home to the greenhouse, serving power breakfasts and express lunches, according to the website. i probably won't be dining here anytime soon. unless for some kickass reason i end up having a room there for a night. yahoo.

tonight we opt for quill, the lounge and terrace. it's another dc bar following in the trend of hand-crafted cocktails. handcrafted equals high dollar too normally, and perhaps i'm impervious nowadays but these are all $15. i think it's brilliant that they're all the same price. keeps it easy. hey, some places have $20 cocktails.

we ask to sit on the terrace. it's tiny, very dark and cozy and we're treated like the princesses we are. led to our seats, don't think for one second we didn't notice the hottie bartender. at least i did.

my friends who can't not do champers didn't indulge in the complicated cocktails. but, always wanting to experiment, i opted for something called the master mind. not to be confused with the mind-eraser, i can't remember what the hell was in that thing - it was a long list of ingredients. i think i should've had the strawberry basil mojito like another friend did [tho i'm pretty sure she ended up having 9 of them and spent the following day experiencing their subsequent wrath]. after that i tried the maya, which included a not-so-fun molecular foam of orange. foams are fun to bath in but i don't want to drink them.

on to the food. the salmon tartare was perhaps the most beautifully presented tartare of salmon i've ever seen. [and that includes bouchon.] it was also perhaps my favorite of all the dishes we tried.

let me take a moment to yell at the top of my lungs that if you ever see anything on a menu with both foie gras and bon bons in the title you should indisputably get it. would you question that? would you even need a fraction of a moment to deliberate? if so, get your head checked on the double. holy mother of monticello, someone should sell those from a street vending cart. seriously. anyone with me on that, gimme a call. i'll sell those little yummies all day long. i was a tad sad that for $18 you get three miniscule bon bons. fortunately one friend didn't care to partake. and yes, i strongly suggest she address her fear of foie with her therapist.

opting to check out the bartender hottie, we pay tab and move the party to the bar. noticing couple enjoying a basket of fabulous looking french fries, we ask for those. ok, so the bartender has one of those deep sexy baritone voices. that's hot. he's also got a nice smile and clearly he knows what to do with his hands as we gaze upon his cocktail shaking and stirring in wonder. i order another, this time bartender's choice [as you well know, i like to put the onus on the staff]. moments later we've befriended him. he's funny, interesting; he writes sit-coms too. something sexy about a bartender [lots of drinks helps]. alas, dc might be getting cool. it's about freaking time we attract a new lot of cool people. and the more male, the better.

noticing what looks like a wedding band on his right hand, we discuss what that might indicate, hopefully discreetly but likely not. someone finally gathers some cahones to ask.

evidently he is married. to a greek orthodox, who i'm sure is gorgeous. he informs that in greek orthodox marriage, wedding bands are customarily worn on the right hand. hmm.

amongst ourselves we called bull$hit on that. we did. i'm only slightly embarrassed to say that after researching it [all in the interest of accuracy as well as education for this blog], this dude's for real. to that i say: that's just not fair. it's false advertising. if i get married, you're wearing your ring on the left hand, buddy, because you're hot and i don't want chics like me scoping out your chili. period. irritating.

p.s.

eat at quill anyway. i liked everything i ate, plus the service was fab so i highly recommend but i'm still a little miffed about barhottie, if you wanna know the truth. i was really over it til i wrote this and was reminded how cute he was.

potenza, 1430 h street nw, washington, dc

long overdue, this bit on potenza, italian food, bakery and wine. i'm super-conscious of that as i'm freezing my arse off now while remembering the frock i was spotted wearing that night [more on that below]. apologies to both of you for the non-blog of late, but i'm sure you've found more educational things to read in the meantime. plus, you know how i love shoes. and handbags. thus, work has taken primacy over the fun of the blahg.

so a veritable acquaintance of mine asked me via the wondrous wall of facebook if i'd care to have dinner with him. i love when people are just forthcoming and easy. and make a plan. and most importantly follow through with it. none of this "let's do dinner sometime" then you never hear from them again bull$hit. we're all busy people. does it really need to be difficult? seriously.

my cohort this evening is the brother of one of my clients. i've cooked for him at several parties hosted by brother over the past few years. he's a total coolcat so of course i'm gonna join for dinner. duh.

i should mention that he's a local bartender and an artist. in this town that's aka renaissance man. a couple of the girls and i went to one of his exhibits last year. fantastic, intriguiging. f i wish i had money for art. i have a soft spot for artists and their craft, i do. i wish i was artistic. and by that i don't mean creative; i covet the ability to construct physical art. i really want to share with you a pic of his 2D art right here and now, but i fear the laws of copyright [funny since i break several other laws, yes?]. rephrase: i respect my friend's copyright and so i shall ask and hope to gather this as a treat for you.

(yay. permission from the artist is granted. so cool of him. and yes, do i wish i could use impressive words that properly describe his art? duh, but i also don't want to sound like an art snob either. slippery slope and i like to remain the approachable girl you know me as. just lemme know if you want the artist deets - most friends on here prefer to remain anonymous for obvious.)

"south wall. oil on canvas. 36 x 60"

potenza's been on my ever-loving list of spots. i've heard mixed about it but i'm not gonna let that stop me. you know the location is fantastic. and on a summer evening with gorge weather, we opt to sit on the patio, beneath pellegrino umbrellas and some of the most architecturally imposing buildings in dc. if you didn't have the perfect view of the washington monument, perhaps you'd forget you were in dc for a sec. bad suits and poorly heeled pumps bring you right back to reality though [seriously - either wear flats or wedges or full on 3" or higher heels. any pump under 2 3/4" should be eliminated]. me, i'm dressed in a silk to-the-floor strapless ivory hippie beach dress from calypso. fabulously so happy to have an occasion to wear it before it gets too cold.

before i get to the food, lemme mention that the bar scene looks lively. it's thursday so that's a good sign i note to self. lots and lots of young single professionals sipping and they might even be unwinding more. you can certainly tell that $hit-tons of money have been spent on the design of potenza. it is striking and dramatic yet still has a coolly casual buzz. i think i wandered through 4 rooms altogether. bar: hopping. on-site bakery: impressive. waiting area/loungy sitting area: rando but lovely. back dining area near kitchen: i don't want to sit there. weird vibe and too much waiter traffic. patio: always in fashion for this girl.

i'm so happy when dudes don't even ask but order a bottle of bubbly. take note, people. girls love this. all girls love bubbly. period the end. period. you cannot go wrong. all caps. we started with a couple apps. i ordered the veal carpaccio because, as you know, i love raw meat [speaking of raw - they do offer raw oysters along with some additional frutti di mare]. my carpaccio was topped with white anchovies and mache lettuce and drizzled with truffle aioli. it was delicate and yummy. i think my companion ordered the mussels - and i think he thought they were just ok due to lack of flavor.

i have had for a long time a suspicion of pasta prepared outside of my kitchen. i eat everything in the world, save for overcooked pasta and that's usually what you get. this in mind, i crossed my fingers and ordered the orrechiette with sausage and broccoli rabe. orrechiette is my favorite shape and i felt like this would be the best bet to obtain the elusive al dente. i am happy to report it was cooked to perfection. the dish needed salt but i think i was so delightedly relieved it wasn't overcooked i was entirely pleased. to further indulge, we opted to share the wild mushroom risotto, which was nice and rich and creamy. salt, please.

after some research i find that potenza chef bryan moscatello won a food & wine best new chef in 2003 in denver. impressive, no? i noticed some unexpected attention to detail, including fresh and well-respected ingredients. then i read he was at indigo landing of alexandria during a period of time i definitely visited. and if you've been you know the low-country food served there is a complete disaster. mystifying. his last name sounds italian so i'm going with the theory he's now in his element.

you know, i think potenza is a likable option for a night out. is it the best resto in town? no way. it does have a fantastic patio and a bustling atmosphere [i'll totally check out the bar for happy hour]. the food's decent. the service was great. i'm not rushing back, but i'm all over it for a patio evening out and some yummy snacks with the girls.

mostly i'm thankful to have an evening out with an interesting friend. if you know dc, you know cool people are often hard to find.

fried blah blah blah. a recipe.

you know you can fry anything right?

people love fried. they love you for making it. they love you for serving it. they kinda want to hug you. they gaze upon you with admiration and awe. their gaze moves from you to the fried blah blah blah and they get all mouthwatery googly eyed. some even get a little romantic.

i don't blame them. i get it.

last night i was the girl serving fried oreos. fried what? yep oreo cookies, fried. evile.

(btw, people also like things served on a stick. so next time you're throwin a party and feel like doing all the work yourself, just fry stuff or put a stick in it. or put a stick in it and fry it. hell, double up and you'll get loads of kudos. besides, once you commit to the heat and mess and smell and possible fire danger a fryer provides, you might as well batter and fry everything in sight.)

one of my fabulous clients asked me to create state fair food for a themed event. as you well know, i love a challenge.

sometimes luck's on my side though. and this didn't turn out to be a challenge at all. it was easy as pie, as they [and by they, i mean people who've never made pie] say.

it was easy as fried oreos.

so, here ya go. i'm sharing on this happy friday, an easy recipe because sharing time's a happy time. and i love to spread the happy. whatever. i'm cheesyhappy to be off work for a couple days.

these were the hit of the party, as you can imagine. i totally recommend making these for breakfast on sunday. try it. and this batter is a good catch-all recipe for frying fillintheblank pretty much whatever i think.

ingredients:

2 cups bisquick
2 eggs
1 1/2 c milk
3 teaspoons vegetable oil

plus vegetable oil for frying
1 package oreo cookies
powdered sugar

method:
whisk together bisquick, eggs, milk and 3 tsp oil until smooth

heat oil in a pot to about 375 degrees

dip oreos in batter to cover and carefully place in oil

using slotted spoon, turn them to brown on both sides

remove to paper towel

dust with powdered sugar

serve warm

die

go to heaven