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.

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)

(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.

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.

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.}

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.

central michel richard, 1001 pennsylvania avenue nw, dc

my beloved central. it's pronounced "sen 'TRAHL" just so you know. i will try to keep this on the up and up and report as unbiased as possible.

you see, it's hard to do though. having cooked there, i've sampled nearly everything on the menu at one time or another. i could go on and on and on but i need to keep this succinct.

i cooked for michel richard for nearly three years all together, a third of that time at central. i loved central the first time i went - two birthdays ago, after they'd just opened. i love the concept of this restaurant - it's open and airy with great lighting, cool seating no matter where you're placed. (i prefer the bar area.) i love that michel's big jolly face is plastered on the back wall, though if your eyes don't focus properly it just looks like a big red and white abstract painting. i think the wall of glass holding all the glorious bottles of wine is genius. i love the sculpture of stacked oversized plates greeting you at the door. and of course the view of the kitchen is probably best since i know what really goes on in there....watch next time you visit. pay attention to what's going on in there. it's not a picnic; it's not for the weak at heart. it's a crazy show and if you look carefully you'll realize you can see and hear some of the magic of cedric's kitchen. ok i might miss it a little. while all this attention to detail in the decor of central is important in creating an atmosphere, what it comes down to is the food. the food is is the central focus.

back to the food. well here i chose to spend another birthday. i know how much effort goes into each dish. i know that each menu item was designed with love and creativity and care and is executed with pride, technique, attention, top quality and then more love.

this was a birthday i didn't feel like going out at all for (i want to stop getting older for crying out loud, i just want it to stop already!) i told the girls early in the day: game off, i don't want to go out and celebrate. i didn't give them the gory details because they're ridiculous: i didn't feel pretty, didn't feel motivated to go out, didn't have anything to wear, felt fat, i didn't want my girlfriends spending a bunch of money, just got back from a week of drinking and eating in the islands, blah, blah, blah.

i had plenty of reasons not to go out. but then i realized: i am tan in february. i am so going out. so i emailed the girls: game on. i emailed my friend and chef, cedric, to tell him i'm comin' in for my birthday, hoping they'd have key space in the bar area for us.

oh the good karma (barma) we had - and help from bartender friends who tipped us off about who was leaving from the tables in the bar! yippee. there were just 6 of us. nice, manageable group (i don't like it when there's 10-12 of us and you can't talk, it's an unruly number of people to fit places, etc., probably because i'm officially a dinosaur/stick-in-the-mud).

we had at first a too-sweet bottle of sparkling (probably a prosecco or maybe it was the rose, it's a little blurry). we quickly remedied that by drinking it off and ordering a different bottle, i think the gosset brut excellence. i popped over to the kitchen to say hi to my friends and colleagues working. (while i love to work in the kitchen, i think i'm still glad i don't right now, especially because i can enjoy a night like this like it's meant to be enjoyed, stress-free, filled with good food and drinks and my dear friends in what i think is my favorite resto in town.)

the service was embarrassingly good. the waiters and bartenders (some of whom i used to get into arguments with - sorry) were doting on us - we were treated so kindly and like queens for an evening. i certainly felt more special than i had in a while. it was exactly what i needed on my birthday.

what didn't the kitchen send to us? the kitchen sink. in my head i can hear cedric yelling at the cooks - VIP!!!

we had a dozen plump oysters, served with cocktail sauce and red wine vinegar.

next - a mountain of frogs' legs that were simply wonderful. if you think you might not like frogs' legs, you should definitely try them at central. stop turning your nose up at them. they're so delicately perfect yet love a great sauce because they're fried. they have the texture of a white fish but taste more like chicken. they use a sweet and sour and spicy "bbq" sauce here. they're not just for hillbillies. try them, they're yummy.

we also had wonderful steak tartare with french fries. i always think the tartare needs a bit of salt but i love it - it is one of my all-time favorites. it's so rich but i could eat the entire large order myself. i know i could.

oh and make no mistake: the fries are the best in town. hands down. no question. stop questioning it. stop arguing it. stop voting on it in magazines. they are unequivocally the best. i was sad i only got two fries. wait, what the?

we had the salmon tart - probably an underrated appetizer - i don't know. it seemed like we sent out a lot when i worked in the kitchen. please do order it: if i was a regular here, i'd order it every time. i love love love it. crispy, salty, creamy. oh and cedric put some secret stash of caviar all over it. how indulgent. i love caviar. i need caviar. where can i get a good caviar service in town? dc coast? i digress.

i think that was it. i hope i didn't leave anything out. i feel like i'm leaving something out.

well until dessert came. holy mother of sweetness.

banana split - amazing, sinful, should be illegal; it probably is in montgomery county
"kit kat" bar - way better when someone else makes it for you and serves it to you. the hazelnut sauce is to die for. i could just eat that. like soup.
creme brulee - the creamiest most delicate creme brulee texture you could dream of. (needs more vanilla maybe?). i'd like to know what's up with that. it's definitely hard to get that perfect of a texture. it was like pudding. i'm gonna ask how it's done over there. flawless.

oh what a marvelous night it was. there was nothing missing from it. nothing at all. i don't even wish there'd be a cute guy hitting on me. it was a perfect night.

matchbox vintage pizza bistro, 521 8th street se, capitol hill, dc

so a couple saturdays ago after my birthday evening out, my dear friend and i (in rough shape much like our younger years found us on saturday mornings) decided we better check out the new matchbox location on capitol hill in hopes of curing what was ailing us. the night before was a champagne wonderland of girls being girls. girls gone wild. minus the midriff baring, beer-chugging keg-stands. our version of girls gone wild is much more civilized than it used to be but so much fun, nonetheless.

so, i picked her up saturday morning (at 1:30 pm) from undisclosed location near cap hill wearing same outfit as night before. black, sequined shirt, skinny black pants, platform pumps and all, slightly less glamorous than she looked the prior night. let me tell you this was no ordinary february 7 - it was gorgeous outside - nearly 65 degrees - so her get-up was even funnier we thought.

oh thank goodness the fine folks at matchbox had a seat for us. (rumor has it it's been jam-packed since day 1 and it's a biatch to get in to). sadly they didn't have a booth for us. isn't that all we really want in life - a nice cushy booth with lots of space and no one touching us, no one close enough to hear us, smell us, or even look at us when we're hung over? oh well we can't have it all. we were actually sitting uncomfortably snugly between two couples along the wall. and you know what? we didn't give a rat's arse - we were happy to be laughing and rehashing the night before - again, just like old times.

everyone has already been to the matchbox in chinatown, i'm sure, but i'm writing about this one, ok? i haven't been to the old location in moons as it happens so i'm talking about it like i've never been, which i haven't, to this just-opened location.

oh my brain was not functioning that day. how i went from not wanting to celebrate my birthday at all to having a full-fledged 3:30 am stumbling home blowout i don't know. what the heck happened to me? i'll tell you what happened. i never go out - i'm boring and busy and never go out. therefore when i do, it's like letting a wild, caged animal out of the zoo. he goes crazy, throws caution to the wind, finds a lampshade and puts it on his head, dances in public like michael jackson and thinks he's really funny. really really funny. that aside, back to matchbox, the new locale.

it's so incredibly big, ginormous. you think it's going to be a tiny little hole in the wall from it's downplayed location on 8th street, nestled amongst the beer pubs, and old mixed with new shops of all sorts. everything is new and shiny and clean but rustic with exposed pipes and brick. i love the look of it. they have a loft upstairs too - thank goodness they didn't make us walk those stairs though. i think it'd be fun to sit at the high-top tables at the bar too next time. note to self for future: i think there might be some hotties hanging out here on the weekends, drinking beer with their gourmet pizza. could be my type of guy.

we were so excited to get a pizza. matchbox is known for having great pizza - the kind i really love - thin, crispy crust with simple toppings. we had a hangover hankering for a tomato and mozzarella pizza with basil. simple.

well that is until we saw the mini burgers! we must order those too, we said. and we did. you should know mini burgers are all the rage now. but people call them mini burgers and they're really not that mini - they're actually the perfect size burger. (i make the smallest burgers in town - and they're mini burgers - they're tiny burgers; maybe i should call them mini sliders, because a slider is a mini burger, right?)

anyway, we get three mini burgers, ordered with bleu cheese on top. well, we think our neighbors got our burgers and ours came with smoked gouda or something. oh well, they were still really good. they come with a mountain of fried onions on top. impressive looking but they're too thin to eat. they're also not crispy. they're limp and oily. hey, limp and oily actually reminds me of another story. well, perhaps another time. i know a lot of people really go crazy for these but not me. they fall into the shoestring fry category for me. i like a little more substance in my fried onions (and my french guys, i mean fries).

we ordered our pizza and started to eat it when sadly, the crust isn't crispy at all! turns out the mozzarella and tomatoes have so much water in them they can't get the crust crispy! what??? oh no - this won't do. no gummy pizza when you're hung over.

our neighbors sitting {in our laps} next to us to us (probably annoyed with us eye-balling their pizza like starving children) inform us they too have ordered the mozzarella tomato pizza with disappointment, sent it back to be "crisped up" without luck. damn, sam. they said we could have some of their pizza if they wanted. sweet, no?

see, this is what i'm talking about: you're just too close to people in some restaurants. somedays you feel like making friends with your neighbors and some days you just don't. when i should have been a grumpasaurus rex though, i actually didn't mind - the alcohol level in my blood was still fairly high i think so i was somewhat perky and still pretty darn funny. my friend couldn't resist telling them she doesn't normally dress like this on saturday afternoons.

by the way, they don't have fresh tomatoes - we asked! darnit, they were using stewed whole tomatoes. i know tomatoes aren't in season but still, roast up some fresh ones - that's what you do when they're not in season! please for the love of all things holy!! call me for a quick and useful lesson on making fresh tomatoes taste good - roast 'em up! garlic, olive oil, herbs, salt, pepper, sugar. geez, louise!

instead, we ordered a different pizza. sausage, roasted red peppers and onions. it came out hot and crispy and perfect. i wished we'd gotten a large but we only had a medium. neighbor boy ordered the best looking bloody mary i think i've ever laid eyes on. for once i just couldn't do it though. i knew it would easily send me back into la la land and i had to get home and watch some quality lifetime television for women movies and rest. (neighbor boy was, by the way, pretty cute my friend tells me - i was too blinking close to distinguish his features - kind of like a monet.)

you know, one of the things i think is kind of strange in this today's age of restaurants shutting down all over the place because of the economy, lowering their prices, firing people, etc., when i see the amount of money that must've gone into the menus at matchbox i think what a waste. they're gorgeous, sleek and chic as can be bound with real wood on the front and back covers. the decor of this place is so cool because it's done so perfectly well - it's so clean and new but has a rustic, not trying-too-hard, casual appeal to it. then the menu goes against everything else they've done to create this feel. i don't get it. i'm sure no one else thinks of this but me. just an observation.

i was real happy with that place, i gotta tell you. i love the atmosphere. the 2nd pizza we got was perfectly done just right. we boxed up the first one and i ate it later. from the comfort of my sofa as i used the rest of my day to fully recover from the transgressions of the night before.

thank goodness for matchbox pizza.

jackson 20, hotel monaco, 480 king street, old town alexandria

jackson 20, an american tavern. walking through the king street entrance i'm greeted by a life-size bronze pig (perhaps the most charming thing about this place), said to be president andrew jackson's favorite animal, and a symbol of hospitality and abundance. i like pigs. and i know, i've dated a few. kidding. i do like pigs and all pork products.

i don't know how long it's been open - a year or maybe two? whenever holiday inn transformed into hotel monaco (thank the lord for signs of coolness coming to old town). i've been wanting to check it out, hoping that old town would start its resurrection of hipness and and stop being so bleeping old.

sadly old town alexandria is not so charming as it used to be. back in the day you could wander in and out of endless shops packed with art, furniture, italian, french gifts and antiques and whatnots. you could pop into one of many pubs to grab a beer or a bloody mary on a saturday afternoon and just enjoy relaxation and old town-iness. now old town is empty, closed down, bankrupted businesses and lame restaurants (with the exception of a couple, like restaurant eve, union street - not for their food - or maybe even vermilion).

just this past summer (as i continue to digress), 6 gorgeous ladies were walking around in the heat of summer longing to sit at one of the charming resto's lining king street for a bite to cure their horrendous hangovers - on the patio. well we happened upon landini brothers (a great place to go in the winter months - speaking of charm), whose patio was completely empty. we asked to be seated on the patio and were refused. yes, refused. but why? the patio's empty. we're told they don't have a table for 6. can you please push two together? nope, nada, not happnin. what in the world? who would rather have $0 than push two tables together - or at least offer up a 4 top and a 2 top. sorry - that shoulda been a story of it's own - perhaps i'll do a blog titled "buffoons running businesses without customer service: how do they survive in this economy?"

back to ye olde towne. it's called old town becaue it's 250-something years old and boring and dying. perhaps if you're a tourist it's doesn't seem so boring (it's rampant with tourists and browsers aimlessly meandering the streets all summer long). i can't blame them. i too bring guests down to visit charming old town. or i used to. what do you people in your cute, historic townhomes do???? what a perfect town for walking, shopping, eating, drinking. geez, i swear if i lived in the heart of old town i'd never drive anywhere; or at least i wouldn't have when all the businesses were open.

{off the subject but of important note, hotel monaco hosts doggy happy hours from 5-8 pm on tuesdays and thursdays april through october in their courtyard. i've been wanting to go to that too (in hopes of meeting a cute boy). evidently my dog philippe went once last summer when i was out of town. i hear he had a great time but he did not mention whether there were any hotties for me.}

so i met a couple of girlfriends and a guyfriend for a couple of cocktails and hors d'oeuvres president's day night; how apropos i now think, president's day, having a drink at a bar named after a former president. they wanted to start drinkin' early since everyone had had the day off (except for me, i just started nightly cooking for a family this very day so i had to meet up later, ugh, sigh, i knew this new gig would be a commitment that i didn't want to keep for fear of it cramping my social life). anyhoo, they'd gotten well into a bottle of penfold's bin # something. old reliable. jackson 20 has 20 bottles of wine for $20. way cool considering everyone's in the poorhouse now. pourhouse?

the appetizer fool that i am is always excited to see what's on the menu. what's on the appetizer menu here is disappointing though. crabcakes, fried green tomatoes and a bunch of rabbit food. nothing good for sharing. if you want some things to share - peruse the "sides" section of the menu for more options. we opted for the fried green tomatoes, a side of macaroni and cheese, asparagus - for something green and not fried and cheese fries (ok, so no one's on a diet here - but there were 4 of us - and we were sharing. besides - isn't the pig at the door supposed to give you an idea of how you're supposed to eat?). also of note - the regular dinner menu looks fantastic with lots to choose from.

the fried green tomatoes were really good actually. they needed salt, but they had a tangy little salad of arugula on the side and a buttermilk blue crab dressing which went nicely. the cheese fries were nothing to write home about (especially for me - i couldn't write anybody at home about these because it's in stillwater, oklahoma that the best cheese fries in the world are made at eskimo joes, once famously mentioned in a speech by none other than President Bush I) - clearly not homemade fries and WHERE'S the godforsaken cheese, people? how lame, how sad. what would old hickory say about these cheese fries? not much. i've already said too much. don't get 'em, they're not worth the calories.

i would like to mention, however, that the mac and cheese was heavenly!!! angels were singing. and i am not normally on the mac & cheese bandwagon like everyone else in this town. the cheese sauce had lots of earthy oregano infused in it and was just perfectly cooked - not overcooked like most mac & cheese. yum and i will use that idea - just lovely. white and creamy - i didn't think it was going to be good - the breadcrumbs on top were not properly gratineed (they weren't browned at all). surprisingly i was surprised. we were actually still hungry so we got some pretty decent little rolls with butter brought to us.

what i noticed most about this place - for somewhere that's supposed to be named after andrew jackson, in a town with lots and lots of presidential history, it was actually pretty nondescript inside. the photos online make it look pretty hip but it didn't come across in person. the service was good yet it was nondescript too.

the other thing i noticed and this is a doozy for a single girl like me (or for people who like to go where there's good people-watching) - jackson 20 drew an amazingly unattractive group of people. rarely do you look around you and find that not one person in the place is nice to look at. what gives? i asked my friend. he says to me, "well today is the equivalent of a sunday night since it was a holiday." ah, true dat. i forget from my restaurant days of not so long ago that sundays are for early birds, non-appetizer eating eaters who like to get in/get out and not fuss with the rest of the world who eat out all of the other nights of the week. rude? perhaps it is. it's a generalization! don't get angry at me. after all, we were out and we are really attractive people. i had to go look at myself in the restroom just to remember that attractive people are out and about on a holiday.

i will give jackson 20 another chance because it's so darn easy to get to from my place. plus, my friends promise that normally there's a better crowd. plus that dinner menu had a few things calling my name - and that's unusual for appetizer girl.

for all the negative things i said about old town. i'm just sad about it and venting. i'm actually a hopeless romantic for old town alexandria, praying it makes a comeback soon.

more to come this spring from doggy happy hour at hotel monaco. cheers, people!