give it a whirl. that's my motto.
and so i did unsuccessfully give it a half-assed whirl. running for office, that is.
just a quick follow-up to food and politics. politics and food, for those dying to know the results of the election. in a nutshell, i wasted a perfectly good evening at the annual park fairfax neighborhood board meeting for the elections last wednesday.
we lost. period the end. it was lame, it was a silly waste of valuable time that i'll never get back.
so, why am i bummed about it? seeing it all unfold confirmed that the only people who give a rat's arse about the neighborhood are busy-bodied, ill-fashioned, single-minded old fogeys. i can't begin try to change a neighborhood that's afraid of change. it's overwhelming and requires time only these others have.
it's frustrating when you realize you cannot make a difference, even if it is for silly neighborhood elections.
that's all i have to say about that.
lastly, to update on ugly naked man: i saw him/tried to avoid him at the meeting. evidently someone posted an anonymous note on his door asking him to please close his blinds and have some decency to not parade naked around his house where we can all see him. someone else issued a complaint to the board about his nakedness. his response to this: there's now a hand-scribbled note in his bathroom window that reads, "FYI. Voyeurs."
huh?
Monday, April 20, 2009
Saturday, April 11, 2009
brabo by robert weidmaier, 1600 king street, old town, alexandria
first of all i'm shouting, "bravo!" that someone has finally invested in the revival of old town alexandria. {if you want my thoughts on old town, click on the entry for jackson 20}.
chef robert weidmaier, of dc's brasserie beck and the lovely marcel's, has expanded his repertoire of resto's.
not only has robert weidmaier opened brabo restaurant, named after the roman hero, silvius brabo, just next door is the tasting room and next door to that is the butcher's block, a wine and gourmet shop. all by robert weidmaier. thank you, merci and grazie, chef.
this trio of treats is gorgeous too, from the outside. what a refreshing addition, see i can't say enough. they've opened in connection with the new lorien hotel and spa (a kimpton property - hotel monaco, et al.).
so, frenchy is back in town for three weeks of work. [see cafe du park entry for first dining experience with frenchy]. he happens to arrive with perfect timing for once - i have four days off from cooking and can finally fathom spending four to six hours of speaking loud and broken english (which has been daunting the past two times he's been in town, therefore his company being avoided). silly me.
brabo's on my running path through old town, so i've been frothing at the mouth to see what it's all about since i saw it's opening nearly a month ago. i was actually running one day when chef michel richard himself pulled his car over to tell me he was on his way to lunch there, asking me if i'd been yet [damn, i wished could've scooped michel].
btw, on this side of old town there's plenty of street parking so this is a huge bonus. so frenchy and i meet on the street and i get kissed on both cheeks. we accidentally walked into the tasting room, which by its name gives you the impression this is a chef's tasting spot.
oh no, friends, this is a coooool hangout. small and high-ceiling'ed, bustling with good energy, we're greeted at the door by chic hostesses and chefs welcoming us in. people in there are both attractive and having fun. my kinda place. i didn't realize i was in the wrong spot til i said i had a reservation. one waiter tells me i should've come here instead - it's way cooler. ah, but no, we are on a mission to eat so the kind hostess escorts us just next door to brabo restaurant. how sweet was that of her? that's service we're not used to in these parts, i assure you.
brabo is much bigger than i thought it would be. i had requested a quiet table (online, via opentable.com) due to our communication challenges. we stand at the door waiting to be seated. it's hot in here too. i'm starting to sweat. we must've stood there awkwardly for four minutes before the bartender tells me the hostess stand is behind a huge column in the middle of the room. strike one, i'm thinking.
don't worry though, there are no other strikes against brabo. none, nada.
the front dining area seems much more interesting but i'll have to try that another time as we're led to the rear dining room (for peace and quiet, i assume). i notice it's pretty slow for a thursday night, unfortunately.
our server, katherine/catherine greets us immediately with menus and wine menu. she's very sweet and knowledgeable and fortunately patient - little does she know this night's going to drag on and we're to be the last people outta here and i hope she didn't have an early night planned. because i was hot, i needed a glass of champagne on the double, so i went with charles de fere (at $8 a glass) and it was quite good. date wanted me to order the wine, but because i really wanted white, rather than red i asked him to please choose. they have a lovely and extensive wine list - pages and pages. he chooses Perrin & Fils, les Christins’ 2006 Vacqueyras for $57.
it's a nice menu too. there's not too much to choose from but it offers a good and interesting variety. he was going to order exactly what i had my eye on so i had to rethink. [and of course, i was going to order an entree this time rather than apps only.] date ordered for appetizer the wild mushroom and foie gras ravioli with truffle madeira sauce. it was quite good though the sauce alone has a really strong flavor of black licorice, not my favorite - it didn't seem to be anise, it was really really black licorice-y in flavor. the sauce was perhaps over-reduced too, as it left that weird coating feel in your mouth that only a chef would notice. but, as i said, all together it was nice.
i guess some of you probably don't care about the food. you're wondering how my date, part deux, is going.
well, strangely, the fact that we can't communicate very well is much more enjoyable than it was last time. we're using the dictionary a lot to muddle through but we were laughing and having more fun with it. i think since he showed the confidence to make fun of both how fast i speak and my terrible french accent, i loosened up - it was surprising to see his sense of humor. the waitress was probably laughing her arse off and feeling for me. i really had fun though - i swear.
my appetizer was fantastic. upon the recommendation of katherine, i ordered the duo of shenandoah smoked trout, which i never would've ordered otherwise. beautifully presented, it came with a perfect quenelle of smoked trout mousse atop the best potato blini i've ever had. alongside, another potato blini with a small piece of smoked trout filet and another perfect quenelle of creme fraiche. paired with these a small salad of julienne of granny smith apple (beautiful) and another tiny salad of shaved fennel. nicely done as well, but completely void of salt. those blinis were little pillows from heaven - creamy with an ever-so-tiny bit of crunchiness on the outside {it's like when you make pancakes and put too much oil in the pan, you know that little crust that develops? yummy}.
second course - date ordered the seared turbot with potato gnocchi, baby artichokes and black trumpets. it was gorgeous. it was slightly overcooked for his taste but i thought it was close to perfect. golden brown and the buttery sauce was delicate. i was interested in the skate wing, but on katherine's advice i ordered the grilled lamb tenderloins. they came with a white bean puree and ratatouille (normally to me ratatouille is icky, i thought brabo's was delectable without any pesky skins on the eggplant or peppers). the lamb was cooked perfectly medium rare. i wish i could complain about something. i can't. i really, really can't.
i will mention that there are several former citronelle buddies of mine working there - front of the house. eddie a busboy (i say busboy but he's an asian gentleman of probably 60 years) was working this night. he tells me that a couple of bartenders, an expediter also work there now. it's good none of them is working tonight as i need to really focus on my date.
i think we probably were vip once katherine realized she was waiting on a former citronelle cook and a french pastry chef. not that her service was lacking in any way, nor was the food to this point, but you just get a feel when things are ever-so-subtly ramped up. i'm ok with that.
by this point, flipping through le francaise-anglaise dictionnaire is 2nd nature. there are very, very few things that i smile and nod at, not really understanding. and i hope vice versa.
for dessert, he ordered the triple chocolate mousse terrine. sounds delectable, no? it was just ok. and if it's just ok to me, imagine it being so not worth the calories to a french pastry chef. three types of chocolate in the terrine and lacking in any rich chocolate flavor. pastry chef/date says it's too much sucre. that's sugar for you non-french speaking amigos.
i enjoyed the lemon "tart", which was really more of a lemon mousse served with a sable cookie and a tuile, alongside cilantro gelee - sounds weird but it's good with the lemon. certainly not my favorite dessert of all time but you know, i have to give brabo lots of kudos. i can't wait to go back again.
you know, being an american girl, i tried to pay too. last time was on him, this time, i think should be on me. he wouldn't hear of it. wouldn't even entertain the idea for une minut. tres gentlemanly.
i'm sad to report that the tasting room was closed up for the night at 11:30 (though the website says it's open til 1 am nightly). the boys getting off work told me they do last call whenever the crowd appears to be dying down. i understand. i'll go next time. that place is cooooolio. i promise. let's go out there sometime, friends.
we popped up the street to vermilion, another spot i've been meaning to revisit for some time. i won't get into the details, as we just had a cocktail there (have you ever seen anyone get a peppermint schnapps on the rocks? whatev. it was probably much better than the revolting glass of sparkling i was served).
i kindly gave frenchy a ride home though he wanted me to introduce him to philippe. think about that one for a minute. sly these frenchies, but come on.
bravo to brabo. we've been dying for a spot nearby to call "home." i can't wait to get over to the tasting room so i too can be one of those attractive people having fun with my friends in this sleek new spot.
chef robert weidmaier, of dc's brasserie beck and the lovely marcel's, has expanded his repertoire of resto's.
not only has robert weidmaier opened brabo restaurant, named after the roman hero, silvius brabo, just next door is the tasting room and next door to that is the butcher's block, a wine and gourmet shop. all by robert weidmaier. thank you, merci and grazie, chef.
this trio of treats is gorgeous too, from the outside. what a refreshing addition, see i can't say enough. they've opened in connection with the new lorien hotel and spa (a kimpton property - hotel monaco, et al.).
so, frenchy is back in town for three weeks of work. [see cafe du park entry for first dining experience with frenchy]. he happens to arrive with perfect timing for once - i have four days off from cooking and can finally fathom spending four to six hours of speaking loud and broken english (which has been daunting the past two times he's been in town, therefore his company being avoided). silly me.
brabo's on my running path through old town, so i've been frothing at the mouth to see what it's all about since i saw it's opening nearly a month ago. i was actually running one day when chef michel richard himself pulled his car over to tell me he was on his way to lunch there, asking me if i'd been yet [damn, i wished could've scooped michel].
btw, on this side of old town there's plenty of street parking so this is a huge bonus. so frenchy and i meet on the street and i get kissed on both cheeks. we accidentally walked into the tasting room, which by its name gives you the impression this is a chef's tasting spot.
oh no, friends, this is a coooool hangout. small and high-ceiling'ed, bustling with good energy, we're greeted at the door by chic hostesses and chefs welcoming us in. people in there are both attractive and having fun. my kinda place. i didn't realize i was in the wrong spot til i said i had a reservation. one waiter tells me i should've come here instead - it's way cooler. ah, but no, we are on a mission to eat so the kind hostess escorts us just next door to brabo restaurant. how sweet was that of her? that's service we're not used to in these parts, i assure you.
brabo is much bigger than i thought it would be. i had requested a quiet table (online, via opentable.com) due to our communication challenges. we stand at the door waiting to be seated. it's hot in here too. i'm starting to sweat. we must've stood there awkwardly for four minutes before the bartender tells me the hostess stand is behind a huge column in the middle of the room. strike one, i'm thinking.
don't worry though, there are no other strikes against brabo. none, nada.
the front dining area seems much more interesting but i'll have to try that another time as we're led to the rear dining room (for peace and quiet, i assume). i notice it's pretty slow for a thursday night, unfortunately.
our server, katherine/catherine greets us immediately with menus and wine menu. she's very sweet and knowledgeable and fortunately patient - little does she know this night's going to drag on and we're to be the last people outta here and i hope she didn't have an early night planned. because i was hot, i needed a glass of champagne on the double, so i went with charles de fere (at $8 a glass) and it was quite good. date wanted me to order the wine, but because i really wanted white, rather than red i asked him to please choose. they have a lovely and extensive wine list - pages and pages. he chooses Perrin & Fils, les Christins’ 2006 Vacqueyras for $57.
it's a nice menu too. there's not too much to choose from but it offers a good and interesting variety. he was going to order exactly what i had my eye on so i had to rethink. [and of course, i was going to order an entree this time rather than apps only.] date ordered for appetizer the wild mushroom and foie gras ravioli with truffle madeira sauce. it was quite good though the sauce alone has a really strong flavor of black licorice, not my favorite - it didn't seem to be anise, it was really really black licorice-y in flavor. the sauce was perhaps over-reduced too, as it left that weird coating feel in your mouth that only a chef would notice. but, as i said, all together it was nice.
i guess some of you probably don't care about the food. you're wondering how my date, part deux, is going.
well, strangely, the fact that we can't communicate very well is much more enjoyable than it was last time. we're using the dictionary a lot to muddle through but we were laughing and having more fun with it. i think since he showed the confidence to make fun of both how fast i speak and my terrible french accent, i loosened up - it was surprising to see his sense of humor. the waitress was probably laughing her arse off and feeling for me. i really had fun though - i swear.
my appetizer was fantastic. upon the recommendation of katherine, i ordered the duo of shenandoah smoked trout, which i never would've ordered otherwise. beautifully presented, it came with a perfect quenelle of smoked trout mousse atop the best potato blini i've ever had. alongside, another potato blini with a small piece of smoked trout filet and another perfect quenelle of creme fraiche. paired with these a small salad of julienne of granny smith apple (beautiful) and another tiny salad of shaved fennel. nicely done as well, but completely void of salt. those blinis were little pillows from heaven - creamy with an ever-so-tiny bit of crunchiness on the outside {it's like when you make pancakes and put too much oil in the pan, you know that little crust that develops? yummy}.
second course - date ordered the seared turbot with potato gnocchi, baby artichokes and black trumpets. it was gorgeous. it was slightly overcooked for his taste but i thought it was close to perfect. golden brown and the buttery sauce was delicate. i was interested in the skate wing, but on katherine's advice i ordered the grilled lamb tenderloins. they came with a white bean puree and ratatouille (normally to me ratatouille is icky, i thought brabo's was delectable without any pesky skins on the eggplant or peppers). the lamb was cooked perfectly medium rare. i wish i could complain about something. i can't. i really, really can't.
i will mention that there are several former citronelle buddies of mine working there - front of the house. eddie a busboy (i say busboy but he's an asian gentleman of probably 60 years) was working this night. he tells me that a couple of bartenders, an expediter also work there now. it's good none of them is working tonight as i need to really focus on my date.
i think we probably were vip once katherine realized she was waiting on a former citronelle cook and a french pastry chef. not that her service was lacking in any way, nor was the food to this point, but you just get a feel when things are ever-so-subtly ramped up. i'm ok with that.
by this point, flipping through le francaise-anglaise dictionnaire is 2nd nature. there are very, very few things that i smile and nod at, not really understanding. and i hope vice versa.
for dessert, he ordered the triple chocolate mousse terrine. sounds delectable, no? it was just ok. and if it's just ok to me, imagine it being so not worth the calories to a french pastry chef. three types of chocolate in the terrine and lacking in any rich chocolate flavor. pastry chef/date says it's too much sucre. that's sugar for you non-french speaking amigos.
i enjoyed the lemon "tart", which was really more of a lemon mousse served with a sable cookie and a tuile, alongside cilantro gelee - sounds weird but it's good with the lemon. certainly not my favorite dessert of all time but you know, i have to give brabo lots of kudos. i can't wait to go back again.
you know, being an american girl, i tried to pay too. last time was on him, this time, i think should be on me. he wouldn't hear of it. wouldn't even entertain the idea for une minut. tres gentlemanly.
i'm sad to report that the tasting room was closed up for the night at 11:30 (though the website says it's open til 1 am nightly). the boys getting off work told me they do last call whenever the crowd appears to be dying down. i understand. i'll go next time. that place is cooooolio. i promise. let's go out there sometime, friends.
we popped up the street to vermilion, another spot i've been meaning to revisit for some time. i won't get into the details, as we just had a cocktail there (have you ever seen anyone get a peppermint schnapps on the rocks? whatev. it was probably much better than the revolting glass of sparkling i was served).
i kindly gave frenchy a ride home though he wanted me to introduce him to philippe. think about that one for a minute. sly these frenchies, but come on.
bravo to brabo. we've been dying for a spot nearby to call "home." i can't wait to get over to the tasting room so i too can be one of those attractive people having fun with my friends in this sleek new spot.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
politics and food. food and politics.
dubbing myself, "caterer to congress" sounds snobby, doesn't it? kind of like caterer to the stars. i'm fortunate to have clients who hire me to feed u.s. senators and congressmen. these congressman and their staffers love my food.
[duh, they've been eating crappy food from bull$hit caterers for years, when all they really want is one of jt's mini-burgers.]
i can't say i blame them. we all have to have something to hang our hat on and strangely, this is becoming mine.
honk honk.
remember, this isn't hollywood - our stars are members of congress. more powerful, less attractive. smarter, um, more educated, less fashionable. just look for the little lapel pin to know which one's the star in the room.
it so happens that i have a b.a. in political science, with minors in communications and criminal justice [wow-wee]. i am forever 9 hours short of a master's degree in public administration. i also graduated summa yum foie gras from l'academie de cuisine's professional culinary arts program.
i'm not making this up. i know about both food and politics. [which by the way does not serve me well on dates: one you're not supposed to discuss until like, date #10, and the other has ruined many a potentially romantic evening's dinner by blabbing on and on about the food.]
i wish i could share some interesting nuggets with all of you [both of you] reading this after serving food to some very influential people. this is top secret info. you've heard of doctor-patient confidentiality. i can't tell you what i hear at these dinners and receptions - it would chill you to the bone. it's more drama-filled than that 22 yr old bombshell's story who broke the scandal on the wonkette blog a few years back before we even knew what the f a blog was.
not.
come on, i'm busy making perfect food so that i get hired again and again. i got nothin. i'm not trying to start a watergate. foodgate. i'm just trying to happy up our too-serious and self-involved town with my food, one political fundraiser at a time.
i always wanted to be a politician, growing up. i was the girl {attention-seeking nerd} who ran for every possible office in school (especially the ones with big titles but few responsibilities - like, key club vice president. i suck at math as you may know). my mom told me in high school i had too many skeletons in my closet to be a politician. what, what? seriously? it's not like i was sleeping with prostitutes or forgetting to pay my taxes.
my political career started early. i was the instrumental brainchild of a backdoor vote-trading scandal that got me the illustrious position of state speaker of the house (youth & government) at age 16. impressive, yes?
at last, my dream of becoming a politician is now in bud, much like our beloved cherry blossoms in the tidal basin.
a member of the board of my condo association/my former dog-walker has approached me to be nominated from the floor of the upcoming board meeting where annual elections will take place. she has collected the proxy's of many apathetic condo owners so she can vote on their behalf. if she wins her seat on the board, she can then nominate me from the floor and use all those proxy's to vote me in. as winner. as the politician i was always destined to be.
it is a one-year position to finish out the term of someone who couldn't fulfil her obligation {read: someone who has a more interesting life; a non-meddling, nosy neighbor who's probably had it with the redonkulous nonsense that goes on in the board meetings}.
after a few days of thinking about it, i thought, "hell yeah, i have a platform."
and i'm not referring to my fabulous new louboutins. i have condo needs and want to see what the f is going on in our 'hood. it's high time the hip young people in our neighborhood take over and make this a cool place to be. is it possible?
"we" are running against a couple of people on the "evil" side. read: old, boring and unkempt, nosy, narrow-minded, keeping our neighborhood in the dark ages, blah, blah, blah. "they" think they are running unopposed. little do they know we're gonna backdoor them. heee, love it. who doesn't love a good scandal? did i mention richard nixon used to live in my neighborhood in his early political years - just across the street from me.
oh and if you're wondering what my agenda will be:
of nearly equal importance:
a) the "cool" pool/lyon's lane pool should not open in late JUNE for the love of all things holy. why doesn't that mother-trucker open memorial day like the uncool pools do? wtf? oh and change that baby pool into a hot tub. every pool doesn't have to have a cesspool for toddlers. we can have one for adults, right?
b) dogpark - i'd like to meet a hot guy in my neighborhood and let my dog romp around off his leash. we have plenty of unused land. let's do something productive with it, like create a happy place where dogs run free and attractive single people can begin a spring romance. i'd even be willing to graciously sacrifice some of the park my condo overlooks for that dogpark/hot guy hangout. i'll even serve beers and margaritas/gourmet snacks wearing a very cute apron
c) some condo owners who aren't officially in "patio units", but have the means and wherewithall to create a lovely patio setting that enhances and beautifies the neighborhood should be allowed to have a patio. take that suckas
c1) correspondingly, those who have trailer-trash sanford & son bull$hit junking up your yard will be placed under citizens arrest if it is not removed. kidding, sort of - get rid of it. just cuz you have a patio unit doesn't mean you can put a bunch of crap out there for us to look at. i can only imagine what's inside your house if this stuff is spewing to the outdoors
c2) unrelated but this reminds me: that ALL lower level (lincoln model) units must have blinds/window coverings on the bathroom windows. imagine the horror of catching a glimpse of my 400 lb neighbor sitting on the growler taking a grumpy while reading his paper!! omg! gross! ice cream~palm trees~happy place
d) direct tv - if you want direct tv, you should be able to have it. period. i don't want it but i don't give a frog's fatass if someone else does. knock yourself out. it's supposed to be a free country
e) christmas decor on the outside of the house should be taken down by jan 31 you lazy bastahds
f) why can't the recycling guys come more than once per week? if the world's to become a greener place it can start with us. plus, i can't keep saving all my recycling up for a blinking week, it's out of control. see, i'm not totally shallow, people
g) why are the people in the office so rude? i'm paying over $300 a month to pay your salaries. act nice, you grumpasaurus rexes. piss me off.
h) can we talk about central heat and air? geez, how hard would it be to just get it over with already. baseboard heating and window a/c units are unattractive and sooooo 30 years ago. let's spend that rainy-day money
i) snow-shoveling of our steps. do iiiit. i'm a girl. i need it
10) take the locks off the tennis courts. i can't find my key and i want in. i haven't seen any rogue tennis players in the neighborhood lately, i think we're safe
11) dog swim. dogs like to swim and they should be able to from time to time - fairlington lets their dogs swim on the last pool day, as well we should
12) parallel parking. if there's like 3' between your car and the next car because you don't know how to park, you're under citizens arrest. i hate coming home late and can't park because everyone's got too much room between their cars. perhaps you've heard me yelling/cussing like a sailor late night? i'll stop if you simply learn how to park. let's be courteous to all our neighbor parkers coming home late from the bars
13) park fairfax workmen should be working, not sitting in their parked vehicles for an hour whilst i carry in 900 lbs of groceries
14) free wi-fi. i hate comcast. 6 people per bldg are paying for wi-fi. we should have it for free - paid for by the association and give comcast a set neighborhood fee. they own us, and it pisses me off. losers.
15) i'll bring yummy gourmet snacks to the condo association meetings
there's prob more but i'll keep you posted on this heated election as necessary. rock the vote on april 15.
Monday, March 9, 2009
60 thompson, new york, a weekend in the city, sans food
food isn't always my number one priority when i leave the house.
sometimes i like to shop. when i'm not busy caring about food i'm thinking about clothing myself. well.
my friend and i took a quick jaunt to the city last weekend. just us. we booked a room at swanky, star-studded 60 thompson, a boutique hotel in soho (you may have seen it featured recently in the rachel zoe project on bravo - love her, by the way, in an "i wanna be her for halloween" kind of way). my friend treated me to a belated bday blowout. love her too, by the way. we went all out, starting with the hotel. www.60thompson.com
we took a seriously early flight outta dc at 7 am saturday morning. sounded like a good idea at the time, maximizing time in nyc. whoa that's early. we got there at 10 til 8 and we were at the hotel by 8:15 am, looking probably like eager-beavettes, but who cares?
the people at 60 thompson are fabulous. head-to-toe in black cute boys greet your taxi, whisking your bags from your hands before you can feel the stress from your sickly overpacked bag which is holding enough clothes for a week when you're staying only one night.
mike, doorman, was a perfect gentleman, and so perky for that hour of the morning. {what's he on? i need somma that}
they also let us check in at this ungodly hour; how cool is that? ahh this recession sometimes has its positives. [got the room for a real deal too, relatively speaking]
mike brought up our bags and made himself at home in our tiny but stylish room while he asked us our plans for the night. we didn't have any plans. the plan was to not have a plan this trip. no reservations, no tickets to a show, no schedule whatsoever. the plan was to shop, drink some bloody marys, shop, grab a bite, go out. wake up, repeat, leave town. that's it.
this sweetheart of a sweetheart said he'd be back momentarily with a list of places we should check out that night. sensing his ability to be perky 'round the clock, i stressed that fact that we weren't thump, thump clubbers. he himself was going to a brazilian dance club. i heart new york because you can find anything there. they probably have an oklahoma line dance club somewhere.
or not.
we set out pretty early, grabbing some java and headed down the street in hopes of a manicure/pedicure. what else can you do that early?
just after that, we tried to hit the shops of soho, only to find they don't open til 11 am. damn - the city that never sleeps sleeps in on saturdays. to bergdorf goodman it is, we said, as we hopped into a taxi. off to 57th st and 5th ave it was.
but first, a cocktail. we went to a spot i know from a new yorker i went out with all last summer. not a great weekend spot, shelly's, situated less than a block from bergdorf goodman's but i knew they had yummy bloody marys. spicy and filled with lots of goodies floating around and a big, fat shrimp perched on top. hello new york. we had some oysters, which were fantastic. then a waiter came around with fresh-outta-the-oven focaccia bread, flatbread, biscuits, etc. free, all free. as much as you want.
who said nothing in life's free?
on to bg's. my friend needed a new tote for work. she's really responsible and sensible with a goal in mind. walking into bergdorfs is like walking into heaven for me. the sky opens up and i can hear angels singing.
hmm what do i need at bg's? (nothing really, i just paid off my neiman's card which was a wonderfully freeing experience.)
well, maybe i do need a clutch. all i have are ginormous handbags - no really cute clutches to speak of for going out on dates (and i plan to have a lot of dates real soon). all of a sudden i had a goal. one should always have a goal while shopping or you can get into some serious financial trouble.
we split up. i encountered a rude salesman (why the f is there a man in ladies handbags? unless it's tim gunn or carson kressley i don't want a man trying to outfit me with a bag). he tries fairly hard to sell me a carlos falchi bright blue crocodile clutch that's unquestionably adorable. i really saw myself enjoying that this summer. well it was $750.
i'm not paying $750 for a clutch - it's too expensive for me, i say, sadly. {really it's not exactly what i'm looking for is the problem.}
"that's a great price for a clutch," he says, condescendingly.
look here, mister, i don't give a rat's ass what you think about "great" price. does he not see the bigger-than-dallas balenciaga i'm carrying? clearly i'm ok with dropping an arm and a nut on a bag. sheesh. does he really think that i'm going to be persuaded to buy a clutch because he says it's a great price? i got the hell out of his "area" because i felt he was trying to make me feel inadequate. he doesn't get it.
i be-bopped over to find my friend who was chatting it up with a much more pleasant sales associate who was also getting out from its case a whopper of a gucci tote. darling, you'll have and love it for years and years to come. it actually was a great price; for a clutch, a bag, a tote {a vespa}, whatever. a great price. sometimes i wish i had a job so i needed a bigass tote like this one.
what? ex-squeeze me, is that a cute little gucci clutch whispering my name? oh yes, it is, indeed. soft as can be and oh so sweet, and sensibly, black with the signature bamboo closure and tassle?
well 10 minutes later we each had our bags wrapped in be-purpled bergdorf bags.
and a list of recommended restaurants to hit from our lovely sales lady. i wanted to tell the big dumbo over in carlos falchi that i got a great price on a lovely clutch, sans attitude. fool.
on our way up to 5F, "my" floor, the elevator doors just happened to open to the shoe salon. do you know what shoes they have displayed on tables you practically trip over as you get off the elevator?
christian louboutin.
it's just not fair. all just standing around like whores on a street corner, rubbing up against you, asking you if you're in the mood for a good time. that kind of selling tactic should be illegal. well i've never purchased a pair. i don't need them. i barely go out, i don't have a job requiring heels. it's so frivolous.
10 minutes later i was the proud owner of my first pair of louboutins.
(yes, he loves it, goes so well with his coloring - he's a winter, for sure)
sometimes i like to shop. when i'm not busy caring about food i'm thinking about clothing myself. well.
my friend and i took a quick jaunt to the city last weekend. just us. we booked a room at swanky, star-studded 60 thompson, a boutique hotel in soho (you may have seen it featured recently in the rachel zoe project on bravo - love her, by the way, in an "i wanna be her for halloween" kind of way). my friend treated me to a belated bday blowout. love her too, by the way. we went all out, starting with the hotel. www.60thompson.com
we took a seriously early flight outta dc at 7 am saturday morning. sounded like a good idea at the time, maximizing time in nyc. whoa that's early. we got there at 10 til 8 and we were at the hotel by 8:15 am, looking probably like eager-beavettes, but who cares?
the people at 60 thompson are fabulous. head-to-toe in black cute boys greet your taxi, whisking your bags from your hands before you can feel the stress from your sickly overpacked bag which is holding enough clothes for a week when you're staying only one night.
mike, doorman, was a perfect gentleman, and so perky for that hour of the morning. {what's he on? i need somma that}
they also let us check in at this ungodly hour; how cool is that? ahh this recession sometimes has its positives. [got the room for a real deal too, relatively speaking]
mike brought up our bags and made himself at home in our tiny but stylish room while he asked us our plans for the night. we didn't have any plans. the plan was to not have a plan this trip. no reservations, no tickets to a show, no schedule whatsoever. the plan was to shop, drink some bloody marys, shop, grab a bite, go out. wake up, repeat, leave town. that's it.
this sweetheart of a sweetheart said he'd be back momentarily with a list of places we should check out that night. sensing his ability to be perky 'round the clock, i stressed that fact that we weren't thump, thump clubbers. he himself was going to a brazilian dance club. i heart new york because you can find anything there. they probably have an oklahoma line dance club somewhere.
or not.
we set out pretty early, grabbing some java and headed down the street in hopes of a manicure/pedicure. what else can you do that early?
just after that, we tried to hit the shops of soho, only to find they don't open til 11 am. damn - the city that never sleeps sleeps in on saturdays. to bergdorf goodman it is, we said, as we hopped into a taxi. off to 57th st and 5th ave it was.
but first, a cocktail. we went to a spot i know from a new yorker i went out with all last summer. not a great weekend spot, shelly's, situated less than a block from bergdorf goodman's but i knew they had yummy bloody marys. spicy and filled with lots of goodies floating around and a big, fat shrimp perched on top. hello new york. we had some oysters, which were fantastic. then a waiter came around with fresh-outta-the-oven focaccia bread, flatbread, biscuits, etc. free, all free. as much as you want.
who said nothing in life's free?
on to bg's. my friend needed a new tote for work. she's really responsible and sensible with a goal in mind. walking into bergdorfs is like walking into heaven for me. the sky opens up and i can hear angels singing.
hmm what do i need at bg's? (nothing really, i just paid off my neiman's card which was a wonderfully freeing experience.)
well, maybe i do need a clutch. all i have are ginormous handbags - no really cute clutches to speak of for going out on dates (and i plan to have a lot of dates real soon). all of a sudden i had a goal. one should always have a goal while shopping or you can get into some serious financial trouble.
we split up. i encountered a rude salesman (why the f is there a man in ladies handbags? unless it's tim gunn or carson kressley i don't want a man trying to outfit me with a bag). he tries fairly hard to sell me a carlos falchi bright blue crocodile clutch that's unquestionably adorable. i really saw myself enjoying that this summer. well it was $750.
i'm not paying $750 for a clutch - it's too expensive for me, i say, sadly. {really it's not exactly what i'm looking for is the problem.}
"that's a great price for a clutch," he says, condescendingly.
look here, mister, i don't give a rat's ass what you think about "great" price. does he not see the bigger-than-dallas balenciaga i'm carrying? clearly i'm ok with dropping an arm and a nut on a bag. sheesh. does he really think that i'm going to be persuaded to buy a clutch because he says it's a great price? i got the hell out of his "area" because i felt he was trying to make me feel inadequate. he doesn't get it.
i be-bopped over to find my friend who was chatting it up with a much more pleasant sales associate who was also getting out from its case a whopper of a gucci tote. darling, you'll have and love it for years and years to come. it actually was a great price; for a clutch, a bag, a tote {a vespa}, whatever. a great price. sometimes i wish i had a job so i needed a bigass tote like this one.
what? ex-squeeze me, is that a cute little gucci clutch whispering my name? oh yes, it is, indeed. soft as can be and oh so sweet, and sensibly, black with the signature bamboo closure and tassle?
well 10 minutes later we each had our bags wrapped in be-purpled bergdorf bags.
and a list of recommended restaurants to hit from our lovely sales lady. i wanted to tell the big dumbo over in carlos falchi that i got a great price on a lovely clutch, sans attitude. fool.
on our way up to 5F, "my" floor, the elevator doors just happened to open to the shoe salon. do you know what shoes they have displayed on tables you practically trip over as you get off the elevator?
christian louboutin.
it's just not fair. all just standing around like whores on a street corner, rubbing up against you, asking you if you're in the mood for a good time. that kind of selling tactic should be illegal. well i've never purchased a pair. i don't need them. i barely go out, i don't have a job requiring heels. it's so frivolous.
10 minutes later i was the proud owner of my first pair of louboutins.
sexy, no?
up on 5F, nothing too raunchy happened. i'm a sucker for all things theory and vince - very casual and easy clothes. i made a couple "small" purchases and we made our way over to henri bendel, my friend's favorite store.
i too love bendel's except for two things: one, you get mauled when you walk through the door by salespeople; and they're good. i wonder what kind of class they take. i think if you've sold at bendel's on the first floor you should be able to get a job selling anything. these people are amazing. {note: really the reason i don't care for that is that i always buy a bunch of products i don't need and i'm never gonna use - makeup}.
the other thing i don't like is it's so confusing upstairs. mostly because i'm so flipping directionally challenged. i don't get it. i'm not gonna explain it. go and figure it out and if you can; good for you. i know i'm retarded with both directions and math - i admit it.
as we walk in the door they're having an AG Jeans [adriano goldschmied] extravaganza. in my defense, i think i mentioned if i needed anything this trip, aside from my clutch, perhaps it's a new pair of jeans. i happen to love ag's. they always fit my arse, no matter if it's small or even when it's a little bigger than i like it to be.
jackpot.
did you know ag jeans is making these hot new boyfriend jeans? you can get them distressed in all levels: 5 years, 12 years, 25 years? (25 years supposedly exclusively found at bendels)
i can't mention how much they are because sometimes car payments are less. and that's just crazy.
i purchased a pair that had been distressed 25 years. man, do these look like they've been through hell. i love them because they remind me of old school levi's 501's. my friend bought two pairs. plus jean shorts. plus a jean skirt. ag is her best friend now. [why do i feel like she's making smarter purchases than me?] we are truly buffoons at this point.
a linebacker tackled us in makeup, of course, exactly what i was afraid of. the same white-spiky-haired, butchy woman who sold me a couple hundred bucks of freeze 24/7 last time i was there stopped my friend and started the whole, "look years younger in one minute" schpiel on her, while a jersey girl had me in a chair for a make up "touch up".
for the love of jesus joseph and mary. i looked like a hooker when she was done with me. i'm not kidding. this is why i dread makeovers. everytime i caught myself in the mirror afterwards, a shriek came out of my mouth. i just don't wear that much makeup.
i'm so proud i only spent $89 with jersey girl.
upstairs, my friend had the courage to try bikinis on while i wandered around in circles getting lost. as usual. i couldn't find anything i liked there, being lost and all, except i happened upon a table of goodies for pets. huh? yes, even philippe benefitted from this trip.
philippe is now proudly wearing a henri bendel collar. he looks gayer and frencher than ever.
love that handsome lil guy.
(philippe models his new accessory)
love that handsome lil guy.
(philippe models his new accessory)
(yes, he loves it, goes so well with his coloring - he's a winter, for sure)after this exhausting trip we needed a bite to eat and then a nap, plus we couldn't carry anything else - we were bogged down with a lot of [stimulus] packages. we slept til 9 pm, got up, refreshed ourselves and headed to our ultra-exclusive hotel bar, thom bar, downstairs on the 3rd floor. already bustling with models, euros and other hotties, drinks served by little black dressed waitresses, we were lucky to grab a table. it was still early at 10 pm. very quickly afterward it got packed. uber swank and just a cool place to see and be seen.
you know you can only get up to the bar if you have a room key (or slip the doorman a cool $50 [$100?], as my new york boy did last summer when we came here for drinks on the kickass rooftop bar - not open in march - i should add). we had two champagnes each at $17 a glass, but were only charged for one.
see all the freebies you can get in ny?
we didn't meet anyone here and decided to walk up the street to a recommended spot called cafe noir. two blocks one way and up a block another, we're here. we snag a seat at this bar. cool vibe - we think - maybe/maybe not. either way, we're here, let's get a cocktail. a rugged looking chap next to us says this guy's the best bartender in town {clearly a regular barfly}. we opt for cocktails and since he's the best bartender in town, i tell him to surprise me with vodka and something not too fruity. i get my drink and with the first sip nearly cough it right back up it's so stiff. guy next to me says, he might be the best bartender in town but he can't make a drink.
hmm weird. that would never work in the world of food.
i had to get my drink adjusted, poured into a taller glass, and lots of soda water added to it. it was still awful. we chatted with chap next to us for a while, had a snack with him and headed back over to 60 thompson. we were exhausted.
and by the way, barfly took care of our tab. more freebies in the big apple.
as we approached our hotel, a couple of gentlemen stopped us and asked us if we'd like to head to another bar with them. um no, we're not getting into that taxi. my louboutin-ed dogs were barking and we definitely wanted to wake up at 60 thompson the next day, no matter how cute they were. we talked them into joining us for a cocktail up at the thom bar. well this fine fella, called za za, is charmed by me, for some reason. could be the new ag's, the louboutins or the new gucci clutch (what a fool i am wearing all my new stuff out at one time - hee, i love it). he kept trying to kiss me at the bar, even though i'm telling him i'm not into pda.
really i'm not into over-agressive, ny-accented, personal space-invading guys called za za i think. he was really nice though so i indulged him with a couple of kisses. the guys left later and we headed up for some room service and bed time.
next morning we or, i had an adult-sized bangeroo of a head-ache. my friend, she never gets hangovers, lucky biatch. we showered and made our way out to the shops of soho after checking out with the again, overly sweet folks at 60 thompson. we shopped again, til we dropped.
at olive and bette's we had a minor spending spree on over-priced-but-super-cool t-shirts - the e.vil tees with horoscopes. here's mine.
it says,
Relentless. Opinionated. Belligerent. Good-Humored. Authentic. Individualistic. Visionary.
Zsa Zsa Gabor. Rosa Parks. Charles Darwin. Balenciaga. Mozart.
pretty cool, no?
I dropped a fortune at calypso, as well. purple dress, silk/cashmere scarf, black cashmere shrug, clu t-shirt, amongst other items.
you think i'm crazy? well at least i didn't buy the gold clutch with bright blue lettering: EAT CAVIAR.
do you know how cute that would've been? i love caviar.
i'm doing my best here, people, to stimulate this crappy economy. i think it's safe to say i took one for the team.
we also found a great little treasure of a store called madewell. well it's a treasure because there are steals to be found. the clothes actually don't fit though they look cute on the skinny-ass mannequins, they look like hell when you try them on {after a bit of research i find they're part of j. crew - a lower quality, clearly, like old navy to gap to banana republic}. i bought the biggest slouchy hobo you could ever find though - for a total deal. i could fit inside this bag, if i was that flexible.
after spending all our money and before we started feeling guilty about it, we popped into a charming little taco joint for some tacos and perhaps the best damn bloody maria ever - made with jalepeno tequila and a bunch of other juices. oh my. i took the recipe from the waitress and will be using it to impress my friends.
we decided we'd try to get out on an earlier flight but we had a little time to kill so we wandered in and out of a few more boutiques. off to the airport we realized, sadly, that time had sprung forward though, and we were going to be sitting at the airport waiting for our original flight for about two hours. ah well.
there's always airport shopping.
i heart new york.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
not a review, just a scam
so, i'm in the process of being scammed. only the scammer doesn't know i know i'm being scammed.
for some crazy reason there's a catering/personal chef scam "ring" out there.
wild and crazy, huh? bored much?
do they sit around a conference table and discuss who their next con-victim's gonna be?
scam artist #1: hey, i have an idea! let's screw over the private chefs. they're probably stupid and will fall for anything.
scam artist #2: yeah, that's a great idea. let's do it. let's ruin them all, one by one.
a catering friend of mine was recently almost scammed but the whole thing started getting fishy when they wanted her to mail a cashier's check to someone for them (while their check was en route to her). yeah, right. what kind of brainless idiot would do that for someone in the uk they've never met? oh and hello, cashier's check? my red flag alert would have gone through the roof. who uses cashier's checks? what's a cashier's check anyway?
she called the cops. and the fbi. and the secret service. and the news. no one gave a frog's fat ass.
i've always been super-skeptical of weirdos. i can smell a rat a mile away.
what's really funny is that another personal chef friend of mine got the exact same email request for a private dinner party from someone on the west coast trying to arrange a party here in dc.
fortunately we're really, really smart girls. you can't scam us, you knuckleheads.
we're going to catch you and blow your weird-ass con-game outta the water, you rat-bastard, time-wasting buffoons. so if you're reading this, stop f*ing with me.
thanks.
for some crazy reason there's a catering/personal chef scam "ring" out there.
wild and crazy, huh? bored much?
do they sit around a conference table and discuss who their next con-victim's gonna be?
scam artist #1: hey, i have an idea! let's screw over the private chefs. they're probably stupid and will fall for anything.
scam artist #2: yeah, that's a great idea. let's do it. let's ruin them all, one by one.
a catering friend of mine was recently almost scammed but the whole thing started getting fishy when they wanted her to mail a cashier's check to someone for them (while their check was en route to her). yeah, right. what kind of brainless idiot would do that for someone in the uk they've never met? oh and hello, cashier's check? my red flag alert would have gone through the roof. who uses cashier's checks? what's a cashier's check anyway?
she called the cops. and the fbi. and the secret service. and the news. no one gave a frog's fat ass.
i've always been super-skeptical of weirdos. i can smell a rat a mile away.
what's really funny is that another personal chef friend of mine got the exact same email request for a private dinner party from someone on the west coast trying to arrange a party here in dc.
fortunately we're really, really smart girls. you can't scam us, you knuckleheads.
we're going to catch you and blow your weird-ass con-game outta the water, you rat-bastard, time-wasting buffoons. so if you're reading this, stop f*ing with me.
thanks.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
ceiba, 701 14th street, nw, dc
ceiba used to be a thursday night hangout for my friends. the bartenders practically used to shout, "norm!" when we walked in. now it's probably considered washed up and old news. it is like 4 or 5 years old, afterall. it's seen its scene.i met my friend for a drink the other night so we could catch up on what's going on in our worlds.
what happened to the corn nuts? they're no more. how very sad they've been replaced by their very distant and less-exciting relatives, spiced almonds. well i guess the good thing is your breath isn't as bad. i did proceed to eat the entire bowl of almonds. what i wanna know is where can you get your fill of corn nuts [besides 7-11]?
looking around, things have changed a little. they converted part of their dining room into a lounge area. cool idea but i think they should make it viewable from the bar by removing the divider wall between the bar and the new lounge. i wanna see if there's a more interesting group of people in the lounge as opposed to the bar, where cool people are not this night.
yes, that's the other noticeable change. no cool people which makes me sad. remember, i don't get out much so it's key to see as many single, attractive people as i can in a short amount of time.
the bartender was quite friendly (and pretty cute, i should add) though slow to keep our wine glasses filled and take our order.
he won me over by id'ing me.
we ordered the crab and shrimp nachos. we always used to get this. some chefs would say there's a law against cheese and seafood. i would tend to agree. except in this case. they're just as good as i remembered them. cheesy, i know.
we also shared the hamburgesa (it sounded so much like marchesa i had to try it). oh my, i don't know what they're doing to that burger but it's really the dish to order, i promise you'll be thanking me for trying it. on buttered sourdough and served with hand cut fries. i'll go back for that snack for sure. we gobbled up and left. on to proof in hopes of seeing some interesting washingtonians.
{something must've been going on thursday night; some big party we didn't know about. we kept trying and we didn't find cool people anywhere. fortunately more friends joined us. sometimes we just are the cool people i guess.}
capitol lounge, 229 pennsylvania avenue, se, dc
bored on a thursday night? can't decide where to go? before you make any rash decisions (like popping in to capitol lounge), ask yourself the following questions:
am i in my 20's?
am i broke or nearly so?
do i live within 4 blocks of capitol lounge and without car/bike/metrocard?
am i literally dying of thirst?
am down to my last 5 bucks before payday?
are all my friends, plus someone i want a meaningless, tawdry one-night stand with enjoying cap lounge right now?
if you answered yes to all of these questions, knock yourself out. go on to cap lounge. it's ok, this could be the place for you.
if, however, you answered no to any one of these, don't go. just don't do it. even if you're
30 something and look 20 something, i cannot stress this enough - it's not gonna be your cup o' tea.
if, however, you're not going to follow my new and official capitol lounge rule, you best get half in the bag before you go. and whatever you do, never admit to it, like i'm doing here. just deny you were there. no one will remember you anyway so you can deny it.
i'm horrified it was the last on our stop of dc bar-hopping on a random thursday evening. do we still call it bar-hopping?
so, we were perusing the town for an interesting social scene. i'm even more horrified that we struck out so much so at previous two restaurants that we ended up at dc's famed capitol lounge. if walls could talk i bet this place has some really disgusting stories to tell.
i heard someone once say that the best thing that ever happened to cap lounge was that it burned down. rebuilt it, they did, though.
what i wanna know is did they rebuild it with the stinky, slimy remains of the burned down building or what's going on here? who's their contractor? for the love of all things holy, why are they burning 15 glade strawberries and cream scented candles all over the bar? that smell, combined with the smell of the bar sludge might be the grossest combination i've ever experienced. the bathroom was a nice departure from the smell of the bar area.
did you know cap lounge claims to be a wine bar? ha, ha, ha, that's so funny - seriously that cracks me up.
who gave me the shot of southern comfort and lime? it's taken me two days to get over this place.
oh and this is a good one: to cap off my night at cap lounge, i almost got in a girl fight on my way out.
a young, ill-mannered and sadly fashioned hill staffer had the nerve to call me 30 and told me i was too old to be there (guess she was afraid her beau was enjoying my rock and republic'd arse).
all i have to say to that is, honey, you're right. i am too fabulous for this place and so you can have your beloved capitol lounge - you fit right in. stinky slimy bars are not my scene. {just in case i was wondering, which i wasn't.}
am i in my 20's?
am i broke or nearly so?
do i live within 4 blocks of capitol lounge and without car/bike/metrocard?
am i literally dying of thirst?
am down to my last 5 bucks before payday?
are all my friends, plus someone i want a meaningless, tawdry one-night stand with enjoying cap lounge right now?
if you answered yes to all of these questions, knock yourself out. go on to cap lounge. it's ok, this could be the place for you.
if, however, you answered no to any one of these, don't go. just don't do it. even if you're
30 something and look 20 something, i cannot stress this enough - it's not gonna be your cup o' tea.
if, however, you're not going to follow my new and official capitol lounge rule, you best get half in the bag before you go. and whatever you do, never admit to it, like i'm doing here. just deny you were there. no one will remember you anyway so you can deny it.
i'm horrified it was the last on our stop of dc bar-hopping on a random thursday evening. do we still call it bar-hopping?
so, we were perusing the town for an interesting social scene. i'm even more horrified that we struck out so much so at previous two restaurants that we ended up at dc's famed capitol lounge. if walls could talk i bet this place has some really disgusting stories to tell.
i heard someone once say that the best thing that ever happened to cap lounge was that it burned down. rebuilt it, they did, though.
what i wanna know is did they rebuild it with the stinky, slimy remains of the burned down building or what's going on here? who's their contractor? for the love of all things holy, why are they burning 15 glade strawberries and cream scented candles all over the bar? that smell, combined with the smell of the bar sludge might be the grossest combination i've ever experienced. the bathroom was a nice departure from the smell of the bar area.
did you know cap lounge claims to be a wine bar? ha, ha, ha, that's so funny - seriously that cracks me up.
who gave me the shot of southern comfort and lime? it's taken me two days to get over this place.
oh and this is a good one: to cap off my night at cap lounge, i almost got in a girl fight on my way out.
a young, ill-mannered and sadly fashioned hill staffer had the nerve to call me 30 and told me i was too old to be there (guess she was afraid her beau was enjoying my rock and republic'd arse).
all i have to say to that is, honey, you're right. i am too fabulous for this place and so you can have your beloved capitol lounge - you fit right in. stinky slimy bars are not my scene. {just in case i was wondering, which i wasn't.}
p.s. all this aside, if you saw me at cap lounge the other night, you'd think i was having the time of my life; i even broke out my best michael jackson impersonation, which is quite a scene. well it wasn't the time of my life but it sure was fun. at the end of the day, i'm a firm believer in it doesn't really matter where you are if you're with fun people. true dat.
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