objects in rearview mirror are less important than they appear

happy procrastination friday. facebook's 25 things about me that might bore the bejesus out of you.
originally published 2 february, 2009.

1. i avoid using the shift key and rarely use caps. i like to type as fast as i can. someone told me for christmas he'd like to buy me a shift key. who cares? at least i don't shorten everything on top of that, like lol, lmao, lmfao, ttyl, bfn, bff, etc. i also do not use emoticons or put :), :P, ;) or any of that baloney after my sentences. (i think it's pretty cute when guys do it though.)

2. i never update my facebook status. why? because mine would just constantly say, jennifer tye is procrastinating. jennifer tye is being nosy and checking out your info. jennifer tye is mentally beating herself up for not doing what she really needs to be doing. jennifer tye is lazy. etc. and i really don't want you all to know that. p.s. for those of you who can "cook dinner, put the kids to bed, take apart your car engine and put it back together" while on facebook - rock on.

3. i am addicted to caffeine and don't feel bad about it at all. Never have, never will. my mom gave me coffee when i was 3 and i never looked back. at christmas my dad swapped out the hi-test for decaf. after a day-long headache i figured this out. i am addicted to caffeine.

4. speaking of coffee, i drink it with full-on heavy whipping cream and don't feel bad about that either. i think skim milk is horse-puckey and you might as well just put water in your coffee. if you haven't treated yourself to this little luxury, you should. did you know that skim milk is only 2% less fat than 2% milk? and 2% milk is only 2% less fat than whole milk? that whole milk is only 16% less fat than half and half? and half and half is only 18% less fat than heavy cream - which is only 36-40% total fat (way less than a stick of butter)? let me tell you that culinary school has paid off in more ways than you can imagine. oh the knowledge i have. thanks, chef brian.

5. my highschool boyfriend told me i was getting fat and i think i've had problems with body image ever since. thanks, rusty. no, really, thanks. it's thanks to you that i get my arse off the sofa half the time.

6. i only really started cooking when i was in my late 20's and before that i knew practically nothing. that's all i'll say about that for fear of giving my age away. turns out i have a knack for it.

7. speaking of age, i don't answer that question anymore. i won't join the stillwater class of 19XX because of that. i don't have my birthday on here because of that. for those of you tagging me in photos from the 80's i will tell everyone that you were my babysitters. i don't know why and i don't know when i developed a fear of people thinking i'm old. my friends think it's weird. i feel young and i just don't want to talk about it. that's all. next.

8. i read a lot. i read all that "crap" we were supposed to read in high school and college. i can't stand mindless romance novels. surprise, surprise, i know, coming from the girl who likes lifetime tv for women movies and reality tv.

9. i have enough "self portraits" to fill multiple photo albums. i love digital cameras for this reason alone - the days of wondering if they're gonna turn out are gone. click, view, oops, repeat, click, view, oops, repeat, click, view, nope, repeat, til you get a good one. try it.

10. nerd alert: i do sudoku every morning while enjoying my first cup of coffee.

11. i often buy things without thinking about the consequences. it usually works out well. this goes double for my dog, philippe.

12. speaking of philippe, he has chewed up more things than i have admitted to friends. if i told the total value of what he's chewed/destroyed you'd wonder why i've kept him at all. i sure do love that lil guy. he makes me real happy most of the time.

13. when i moved to stillwater after having lived in greece for two years, i was traumatized when i went to school in my wal-mart clothes and payless shoes only to find that children developed style when i was overseas. everyone looked so cute. we didn't know where to buy anything, not that my parents would've cared since i was only 10. i wore fake nikes and a fake "fur" coat and fake boat shoes. it was painful. see #14.

14. i buy shoes, handbags and many, many clothes, with very little buyer's remorse. (i also have a knack for justifying purchases so call me if you need help with that.) i can't admit how many points i earned last year at neiman marcus or my friends would put me in the looney bin. this does not include purchases made at my friends' boutiques, which can also be problematic. i need to stop. see #15.

15. i am paying off my debt and will be debt-free, except for house and school loan, by the end of this year. stop laughing, i'm serious.

16. i cannot have the following items in my house as i cannot be trusted with them: peanut butter, nutella, cereal, ice cream with little treasures in it like ben & jerry's, leftover pizza. i eat these things until they are finished - i cannot sleep until they're gone. i have thrown out nearly full jars of peanut butter when i only needed a small amount for a recipe because of this, even though there are people starving. i also believe that if you're gonna be bad, do it all in one day - don't drag it out for a week/month/year.

17. i would cook in a restaurant the rest of my life if chefs weren't so underpaid. i love the action. i love all the wonderful ingredients at your fingertips, stainless steel workspaces. i love a 1500 degree french cooktop. i think i also secretly love getting yelled at. in french. by an attractive french guy.

18. i drive really fast on the highway. i have to be the car in front and for some reason can't just drive behind someone in the slow lane. see a pattern here yet? gosh i have issues.

19. the saddest day so far in my life was when my cat, toby died. sounds shallow but i've been fortunate enough that no one close to me has tragically died, except from old age, which is different.

20. i have tried online dating and blind dating, getting set up, hiring a matchmaker, but found it all to be useless and unromantic. i am a walking seinfeld episode, keying in on the weirdest things, knowing full-well i am far from perfect. i believe i might be single forever. honestly. and i don't know if i'm ok with that.

21. i have loved matt damon since i saw him in mystic pizza and school ties. i'm real sad he keeps having babies that chick.

22. my right foot is nearly a full size bigger than my left. this does not handicap me in any way though. no pain, no gain.

23. i never judge people by what they do. i believe you have no idea why people do things unless you're them. i appreciate the same non-judgemental respect in return. i might judge people by what they wear though. personal style, whatever it is, is critical. i write this while wearing my sweatpants, of course, but that's because i should be walking my dog, not this silly long list.

24. even though i'm a chef, i love tony's frozen pizza. original crust. none of this monkey business with di giorno and freschetta, blah, blah, blah. cheap and crispy. i also love the whopper with cheese though i haven't a clue where the nearest burger king is.

25. i'm a sucker for a guy with an accent. or a guitar. or these days, even a large knife.

26. please brace yourself for a doozy/little known fact a few lucky people who finished this huge list get to know: i have a led zepplin tatoo on my butt that was put there by a peg-legged man called harpoon barry. i also own the full collection of britney spears. i still love her classics.

cava mezze, 523 8th street, se, barracks row, washington dc

ok, so lately i'm socializing on 8th street, southeast. aka barracks row. it's so easy to be there. if you wanna see me, invite me to nearly anywhere on 8th street and i'm alloverit.





i kinda want to move to that 'hood. seriously.

the restored barracks row district has it all in this smartly-dressed girl's estimation. and it keeps gettin better.

starting with the new greek resto, cava mezze. and as you well know, i love all things a la grecque [that's french for greek]. and since i can't seem to get my we-wear-short-shorts wearin' arse overseas, i'll happily settle for cava mezze for now.


the 8th street se corridor is a peaceful, casual neighborhood lined with historic rowhouses, in walking distance to lots of stuff. and there are always people out and about. if you don't have a dog, get one or borrow one. they have no less than three doggie boutiques on 8th, which is peculiar. but cool. philippe digs it too. [love that little guy with curiously good taste.]


i've kinda been obsessing about becoming a part of this community lately. the neighborhood is an amalgamation of all kinds: young broke hill staffers, military, cute young couples, baby buggies, gay guys, and hopefully attractive single straight guys if i'm serious about moving there.


of important note, the place is crawling with captivatingly cute marines milling around. the marine corps barracks are situated at the end of 8th street and that's where they live i guess. you should really try to get over there at the crack of dawn if you want to see them working out. who loves ya, baby?

my, my, they are fine specimens to behold. all fresh-faced, and perky and angular. and those summer blue-white dress uniforms are tadiefor. meow. my heart beats a little faster when i'm on 8th street. i feel a spring in my jimmy choo'ed step.


[i know, i know what you're thinking. i don't need a lecture. these young boys are like fireflies - they're fun to look at but you don't really want one to land on you.]


back to the newest spot to grace 8th. cava mezze. if i used caps i would capitalize the word coolio here. i totally have a crush on this place.



firstly, i love a summertime patio. cava mezze has a rooftop deck as well, sadly it's only open on thurs-fri-sat. what the?

for the love of the few, the proud, open that bad boy up. what are you waiting for?





cava mezze's got a chill vibe with undeniable style. really interesting mod lighting fixtures. it only took us 10 minutes to grab a spot on the patio. bonus. it was a monday.

i should mention it's half-priced bottles of wine on mondays. i don't give a black-footed ferret's ass about prices but hey, it's nice when something's almost free.

we enjoyed a couple three bottles of segura viudas cava, normally 40 but tonight only 20. guess that's why they reserve half-priced bottles for mondays - we all need to be back to work the next day. it was yummy bubbly and beyond that the bottle was cool. it was worth 20 bucks empty i think.

as you probably guessed if you're smart, which you are, because you're reading this, this spot's all about small plates. mezze.

appetizer-lover that i happen to be, i feel like i just entered st. peter's anteroom, the waiting area just outside the pearly gates. this menu, it's overwhelming me with so many small plate choices. it's enormous. where to begin. hoo rah.

oh and they bring you for free pita with olive oil, some red-orange spicy-as-hell pottage for dipping and warm kalamatas. i can't express how lucky i am for all the freebies i've been getting lately. what gives?

we share more than our share of goodies. before we can decide upon anything, we saw some jaw-dropping fries walk by. this summer's must have accessory.

how absolutely darling is that sweet little fryer basket? those handcut fries were evil good.

we also ordered the obligatory hummus and pita. just in case. yum, standard. yum.

greek grilled cheese was stickyummy. kefalograviera [huh?] cheese melted on yummy bread and drizzled with honey and sprinkled with thyme. holy mother of socrates. brilliant i say.

calamari: how boring. admit it though, isn't it your life's mission to find the perfectly cooked calamari? i don't know why it's so hard, but most places can't get it crispy. there's nothing worse than floury tasting calamari that's mushy. ick. cava mezze's is pretty good, some of the better that i've had i think. the best is still found over there at the capital grille. hands down. but, this shouldn't disappoint less critical eaters.

so brace yourselves, the both of you, for this one. lamb sliders. chopped grilled leg o' lamb with (not-so-greek) jalapenos, feta, arugula and yogurt. if you can take the spice you're gonna love these little darlings. just make sure you've got a grip on your glass cuz they're they're fiery little bastards. served on toasted and good but not homemade buns.

so, mezze. (meh-zay). the pleasure of savoring little plates of food with wine and drinks. according to the menu. i can't wait to go back. new hangout, no question.

heaven knows we need to consider abandoning lola's [home of what we're not-so-fondly referring to as spring break '09] where we get ruffied by the bartender.

i took my heart to san francisco, final chapta

it feels pretty gross to wake up in your adorable black vera wang lavendar label frock. not to mention it's terribly uncouth. at the ritz. at motel 6. wherever. why am i in 14.5's room [rather than my rain man suite]? great. the walk of shame at the ritz-carlton san francisco. and i don't have a reason to feel shame except i've mistreated one of my favorite dresses. made exclusively for bergdorf goodman's.

quick like a bunny i scurry into the elevator up a floor and back into the cozy and private embrace of my suite without a soul seeing me. lucky again. gosh i keep getting lucky in san fran.

of course there's no real time to relax. 14.5 and i are going for a run. he tried to weasel out with the old "let's have breakfast and run later" strategy. yeah right. wrong donkey kong. in 15 we meet in the lobby, donned in work out gear; he forgets his ipod. and why the hell do i have my purse? am i planning to run with black gucci? think not. clearly we're having trouble today getting it together. brain cells were damaged last night, no dispute there. regrouped, we're in a taxi to the marina. plan is to run to the golden gate and back. approximately 6 miles. impressive, no? it's a great way to avoid a hangover. it is. a little tired, but it's invigorating because it's cold as hell in may in sf. perfect running weather. gorgeous setting, passing families and runners and doggies at the beach. who gets to do this? lucky me, that's who, suckas.

later that day we meet up with another of 14.5's friends. really cool dude down from marin. we're off to a great place recommended by none other than cool wife from last evening. bar jules. this casual bistro with new york attitude is my kind of place. a bottle of wine and yummy food [me i had squab with polenta and cherries] in our tummies, how is it possible it's time to get ready for tonight?

what's on tap for tonight is baseball. st. louis cardinals at san francisco giants. i love a baseball game [not on tv - in person]. i'm happy to report that i didn't freeze my arse off because i broke out the jeans and sweater at last. more of 14.5's friends met up with us. i don't have much to say about the game. i chatted the entire time like a girl. the stadium was freakin awesome, dude. there. there's my baseball knowledge. and the giants won. and our seats were kickass. and i got a yummy hotdog.

i coulda looked at all of this surrounded-by-friends business as a romance-killer, but if you read chapta 4 you know i'm keen to this situation and there wasn't any romance to kill. moreover, i was totally and completely delighted and won-over by friends. this boy has a lot of friends. i respect that and believe that people with lots of good friends usually make for good friends. these guys are cool and fun and funny. after the game we decide to embark upon what might be the silliest thing i've participated in lately. notice i said might. we headed to bar none specifically for beer pong. i happen to like a rousing game of beer pong. who doesn't? this bar was incredibly disgusting [see cap lounge review for other gross bars i frequent]. hole in the wall would be a step up. once i saw the bathroom, i was wishing they had port-a-potties. sadly i never got to play beer pong. not sure how that happened. perhaps it was because i was enjoying the company of my newfound friends.

stumbling back to pimpdaddysuite, for the life of me i can't remember what happened next. [sorry because i know after all this reading you want details but i remind you that even if i could i don't dare share because that wouldn't be ladylike.] i know there was some browbeating on my part and i'm sure i mentioned the word rebound. or karl [the mailman] malone. and some such childish discussion of who knows what that led to his getting one of my 10 pillows and heading to the sofa in the parlor of my suite. we had our first/last fight i think. see? i'm not perfect.

i don't really know where i'm going with this or how to wrap it up. 14.5 years is a long time to not see someone you didn't know in the first place. i haven't the foggiest if this was a date weekend or just a friend weekend. or a let's see weekend. sometimes it's just good to have a good friend. 14.5 put himself in the friend box because that's what he can manage right now. the good thing is i have a new old friend. $hit, could i mention the words "good" and "friend" more in one paragraph? crappy writing. my brain is fried.

i took my heart to san francisco. i didn't leave it there. for me it would be easier to accept that i wrecked something than to know this has nothing to do with me. [control freak?] in life timing is everything. this i know. i get the sense i'm not gonna see 14.5 again. for a long time. oh and i'm real sad to leave my baller suite at the ritz even though it was a tiny financial speedbump.

i'm really happyproud that once again, i can't be accused of not giving it a whirl.

i took my heart to san francisco, chapta 4

sad, so sad to be leaving the astonishingly beautiful countryside and hills of the napa valley and sonoma, i look ahead to what might lie ahead tonight. or not. pahleeze. who gives a frog's fat ass, i'm having a fabulous time.

i enjoy a leisurely drive. i'm not in a hurry, savoring my visits to bouchon bistro and the oakville grocery. i feel lucky. which is only slightly better than feeling cute. which i also feel. an electrifying combination. the bloody marys didn't hurt either.

as i reach the fog/golden gate, burr, it's jarringly cold and cloudy again.

i did just leave behind the best place on earth. where i had a lovely hotel room, paid for. and my potential dream man that i did not meet in napa. [he was probably working in his winery and i didn't make it there due to over-imbibing last night].

i got a little lost finding my way back to my home-pimpin-home known as the ritz. under normal circumstances i'd get a little stressed, if not full-on frenzied on the verge of crying, i'll admit. i know it's a small town though, san fran. plus it's really just a cooool town, no worries getting lost. nothing wrong with getting acquainted. due to the run i took earlier this day i easily recognize the track i need to get on, but not before meandering through the rolling streets and gardens around presidio boulevard - which is enchanting, romantic and i don't know, i think reminded me a little of newport for lack of good comparison.

how strange timing is though, and i pull up to the circle drive at the ritz directly behind 14.5 as he's removing those silly golf clubs from his rental. lucky for him he gets to admire my cute tibi dress. in the elevator on the way up i bestow upon him his winegift as well as two macaroons i picked up for him at bouchon bakery (situated btw right next door to bouchon the bistro - so totally darling). sweet of me, no?

because i got lost, i don't get to catnap like i would normally like to do. instead i need to get my fanny in the shower and get ready for exciting night out with a couple of his friends. hell. nothing that another $4 minibar red bull can't fix.

oh and if you're wondering, of course i donned the ritz-carlton bathrobe. duh. i contemplated having one of the ritz-angels come draw a bath for me [a cool bargain at $75] except that the bath menu states that it takes an hour and i don't have that kind of time. [yes, i just said "bath menu".] i didn't even have time to unwrap the ritz-carlton slippers. i love everything about this suite. i love that i can plug my ipod in and blast it like i'm at home. i love the lighting in the bathroom. i'm having a love-hate with the lighted 40x magnifying mirror; mostly love. i love the iron, i love the blowdryer, i love the fact that they're always coming to turn down your bed and leaving chocolates, water, more towels [more towels? what the f do you think's going on in here - believe me 18 towels is plenty]. i don't want to leave and if not for my dog philippe i think i could stay. is it my imagination or does everything at the ritz work better than my stuff at home?

so be-bopping down to the lobby, i'm gorgeoused up and we pop into a taxi to michael mina's latest greatest, rn-74 in the millennium tower on mission st. michael mina is one of those chef gods. not to the level of thomas keller or michel richard or my beloved wylie dufresne, but right up there. almost. i'm on the edge of my seat. rn-74's been open only a month. long enough to hopefully have ironed out any grand opening kinks. it's a resto that is heavily focused on wine - with a wine list long enough to impress even the snobbiest - 80 some pages. the restaurant is the benefactor of a sf gentleman who has opened his private collection to their patrons. it's very very dark in here. i like it. cool bar and bar scene to the right, we meet up with 14.5's friends, a charming, funny, sweet couple, and did i mention funny. and cool. i'd like to be a part of a couple like that. i'm envious. after a cocktail we're seated in the dining room situated to the left. of interest, perpendicular walls have high hanging, old-school train signs highlighting wines of tonight. one of them, supposedly, features wines of which there's only one bottle left - priced to move. cool concept, no?

i order for my appetizer the beef carpaccio. something raw is always on my list it seems. must be the wild animal in me. [roar.] goodness gracious - not only beautifully presented, categorically yummy. charred scallions, kohlrabi (ah ha, couldn't place it that night), macadamias and black truffle [that you could in fact taste] creme fraiche. a true gift this appetizer and one i couldn't be happier with.

my entree: grilled cobia amandine. served with sauteed blue foot mushrooms and romaine hearts and nicoise olives. and lots and lots of crunchy almonds coating the fish {perhaps too many?}. i really loved this dish too. i have no complaints. almost everyone loved their dishes as a matter of fact. except that 14.5 ordered the pan-seared halibut which was disappointingly overcooked to the point that it coulda been called fish jerky. ick. poor thing was terribly let down. huge bummer. i can only imagine what woulda happened to me working the fish station at citronelle if i'd sent that $hit out. i would have been sent home for the night. but not before receiving a bollocksing that would surely leave emotional scarring.

for dessert, i went what i'll call "off the registry" and mistakenly ordered the kumquat confiture. there was nothing confit about these kumquats. i might as well have been gnawing orange peels. son of a biatch. i think they should have been brunoised, or tiny diced and the dessert would have been better. back to the positive, 14.5 ordered yummy vanilla bean gelato that was a homerun. [more on homeruns later.]

wife of fun cute cool couple is really in the know. a girl after my own heart. she suggests that we head to a speakeasy not too far away. sadly they won't join as they've gotta baby at home. i'm pretty sure she's got the number in her cell phone, which is tres cool. she calls ahead to [warn] let them know we're coming and asks for the password: gatecrashers.

we head to bourbon and branch, a door without a sign. ring the doorbell, give him the gatecrasher password and host lets us in, leads us to very old, tiny booth table. good thing we're skinny. i ate a $hit-ton today and that could've been embarrassing trying to squeeze my non-spanxed arse in there.

hmm. i ordered a fruity something - you know you have to get extraordinary drinks at a speakeasy. none of this vodka soda nonsense. we had a nice time. i think at least. 14.5 likes deep discussions, as he's taking this period in his life to do some reflective introspection after icky buzzkill breakup. i'm pretty patient about this stuff. it's been a few conversations since the topic's been brought up. i gotta say though, to me, when someone continues to bring up the old ball and chain, it's a neon-flashing-honking-screaming sign that reads: i'm not gonna be into you no matter how cool you are. [this of course doesn't make me any less cool.] i'm just sayin. beware these people, people. and whatever you do, don't get yourself all lost and wrapped up. because it's a train headed to heartbreak city [population: me]. i'm saying this to myself mostly, because as outsiders, you already know this.

we're really sleepy after this long long day. we head back to spike lee's place [the ritz] and fall asleep. seriously. we do. that's it. i swear.

the oakville grocery co, 7856 st. helena highway, oakville, ca

love at first sight.

{it's not just a song by kylie minogue}

some would argue that love at first sight is horsepuckey fairytalery. it's not possible. it's silly and nonsensical. well it is silly and nonsensical but you can't help it when it happens.

[if you must know, i think it's happened to me many times: matt damon in mystic pizza, dude from columbus, mr. strong, geez could i go on? i should really get a handle on this boycraziness.]

believe it when i say it's possible. i've somewhat successfully achieved it. at times. but i've preserved a love at first sight love for only one thing. and it's a place. here i go again sappy-sentimental me.

people wanna know why i'm a chef. well here's the real story. what sparked what i do today. i'm not makin this up. you never know what might inspire you.

as i was experiencing career-boredom in an irksome and dead-end corporate marketing job, my girlfriends and i took a trip to the napa valley. giggling, hungry, buzzed between wineries [and driving a rust-colored and heinous pontiac aztec i recall, that we were inebriatingly referring to as "the ass tec", which we thought quite funny] we happened upon the oakville grocery co., where we found the motherload of all things snacky to indulge in as we went about our winery tours. a happenin' place, the oakville grocery. it's packed with people. it's completely and utterly overwhelming with stuff you need and then there's a whole bunch more stuff you don't. but you know someone who might.

in a merryhappy wine-induced state [kind of like beer goggles i guess], little did i know i'd started obsessing about this place. long after i came back to dc, i was still harboring romantic feelings for the oakville grocery co.

the oakville grocery might be the best market ever. the idea is you stop in to grab some bread, snacks, gifts, whatever, between wineries. they have everything from wine to charcuterie to fresh salads and sandwiches. all to go.



then they have an inundating array of jams, tapenades, oils, vinegars, baking ingredients, chips, salsas, sauces, i could go on and have.



officially in love with the oakville grocery, i resolved to bring a similar concept to the dc area.



but once i started investigating what i thought i needed to do to get this endeavor going, i got sidetracked. you see, i am an all-or-nothing chick. overwhelmed by the fact i didn't know enough about food to open a market, i got paralyzed and gave up. that is, until my job pissed me off to the point of no return.



next thing you know i'm in culinary school. in order to graduate, i have to do an externship at a restaurant for 6 months. two years later i leave what was going to be a 6-month stint. and, i'm teaching at the culinary school. and then i cook at another restaurant for a year. all the while catering on the side to make ends meet. [never did miss a mortgage payment but there were some scary close calls].



blah, blah, blah. a major detour off highway 29 north. enough of that boring stuff.



i revisited the other afternoon before heading back to san francisco. it's exactly the same as i remember it. and i'm still head-over-heels.

i took my heart to san francisco, chapta 3

a.k.a. bouchon, 6534 washington street, yountville, ca

fog or no fog it's scary as hell to photograph the golden gate bridge whilst driving across it.

you know how i know going to napa must be like going to heaven? because it's 80 degrees and sunny as you get past the bridge. curious weather phenomenon of the bay and the valley, low pressure, warm air getting trapped, blah, blah, blah.

gracious me and speaking of fog, i feel one of those nasty delayed hangovers coming on. entering sonoma, viansa winery and marketplace captures my wandering eye. i can have a picnic here, signs indicate. in exchange for buying two bottles of wine per couple. [seriously. does everyone have to be a couple?]

right now i need a picnic like you read about. and a view with some vitamin d shining down, making girl brown. the property is breathtaking really. wandering aimlessly-yet-adorably through the market/wine tasting room i realize i can't stomach any wine. how very sad to be in wine country without my big girl panties on.

crap i can't focus. i settle for a baguette and brie. most importantly i got a requisite handle on some pellegrino. and, so the winecops didn't come after me, i sprung for a $45 sangiovese for 14.5. i hope he appreciates my thinking of him, especially since he better-dealed me. [and what, btw, could be better than this day?]. boys are silly.

for 45 minutes i bask in the rays, overlooking a valley of endless rows of grapevines. the grapes are small right now, barely recognizable babies. but the grapeleaves are full and lush, providing a stunning view for my picnic. i don't mind an iota that the cutest couple is having a picnic next to me. nor do i mind there's a family of 8 just over yonder livin it up. i stretch my legs out for some quiet peaceful sun [paying no mind to the flocking birds eyeballing my baguette. i can't even be bothered when i realize my table resembles a jackson pollock spattered with bird doo-doo]. ahhhhh. this is the life. i wonder what the poor people are doing today.

yountville: this is where i stay when i come to the napa valley. in fact, i have a room reserved for me here tonight, because my original plan was to spend the night in napa. 14.5 was invited, but plans for golf got in the way [see chapta 2]. his hardsell tactic to come back to sf and join him and another couple for dinner probably worked, evidenced by the fact that i have already secured my suite at the ritz for the night.

snuggling amongst thousands of acres of vineyards yountville is tiny and just a pleasantly sweet curb-free road of restaurants and shops and inns, including michael chiarello's bottega, napastyle and thomas keller's french laundry. it's my dream to eat at the french laundry. i called in a favor to get a reservation this trip but no joy. too last minute - you really have to get reservations two months out and even though i have some notable connections, i couldn't manage it.

next best, i pop in to thomas keller's bouchon bistro. charming inside and out. so welcoming. psych myself up i do, to go eat by myself for the first time ever.

did i mention, i spent 5 hours on the plane mapping out my wine tour plan? due to hangover and late start to my day, i have wholly abandoned it for bouchon the bistro. belly up to the bar.

the bartender, jeremy, is a sweetiepie. what's a cute girl like you.... geez, i can't think, jeremy, just make me a bloody mary please and then you can ask whatever you like.

his hangover theory is you have to start with what you ended with: white wine. no way, man. no can do. this is the kind of day where only a bloody mary can hook a sistah up.

so i'm at a thomas keller restaurant for the first time ever and not hungry. you think that's gonna stop me? i've read that you must order the bibb lettuce salad at bouchon. i do. please add crumbled roquefort. jeremy suggests i also get the salmon tartare, as does man at end of bar. ok. send them to me. my salad, it's superb. little sprigs of surprise tarragon tucked in between layers. it's perfectly dressed. like me.

jeremy gets annoyed with me when he finally finds out i'm a cook. and formerly for michel richard. he's kind of pissed at me "michel comes in here all the time, why didn't you say something?"

well i don't want to be a name dropper. how trite.

my salmon comes. it's a pretty dish. it needs salt. i think it has gelatin in it but jeremy denies this.

something is binding it together perfectly damnit, jeremy, what is it? for the love of young boys without direction or money living in group houses in napa, what's in the salmon tartare?

next thing i know the kitchen sends me the red wine poached egg with sweetbreads and wild mushrooms. it's about to be removed from the menu. so rich, i'm so full. so yummy.

for dessert they send me a tiny bouchon (chocolate brownie with melty gooey chocolate chips in it), normally it comes with three on the plate. i asked for a "tasting". oh my - i could've forgone everything for three of these. not really. no really.

"would you like a tour of the kitchen?" jeremy asks. hmm, let me think. does a one-legged frog hop in a circle? i'm wildly excited by this. i know that's odd to the readers; but to me it's like going back stage at a concert. he's off to arrange it when thomas keller himself walks in. the thought of meeting thomas keller sends shivers. i'm all palms sweaty nervous, heart pounding. i can't think of anyone i'd rather meet. well, matt damon would be slightly above thomas. especially if he was single.

i don't get to meet thomas because he's gone just as soon as he'd arrived. i do enjoy a mesmeric tour of the kitchen. which is brand new. and quiet. and clean. the walk-in houses same-sized containers labeled with green tape the contents and the date. all containers lined up just like the perfect rows of grapevines. 90 degree angles. not a sprig of thyme out of place. i should inform you that there are some hotttiesss workin in that kitchen. i'm drawn to guys with knives or guitars, which you already know.

a measly $28 tab and a considerable 4 hours later i'm on the way to my next stop. my day's not over. not by a long shot. i have to make a stop at my inspiration and the reason i'm a chef today. my muse.

sorry this one was so long-winded, friends. please bear with.

i took my heart to san francisco, chapta 2

disoriented, i wake up in my absurdly luxe pad to the doorbell. room service at 6:45 am seemed like a good idea the night prior because i can't function until i'm mainlining the french roast. that was before i knew i'd be whoopin it up til three. my $30 pot of coffee was magically here, delivered by an angel of the ritz. actually i think the coffee was $23, but the cream was $6.50. [they do provide a single rose with your coffee, for free]. it's exceedingly early; i hop back into cushy big bed for a little more sleep. as tired as i am, the little hamster's on his wheel racing. i think, what have i done? bygones. more importantly, what am i going to do?

let me just say too that i'm asked if i regret prior night. i find that question to be a really peculiar one. gimme a chance to wonder if i regret it, man. it's too damned early. briefly i'm wondering if i do. should i? am i to discover something that'll make me regret? regret is a word we could all live without. do i wish i handle things differently sometimes? well, of course. regret? not so much. i beat myself up for too many things as it is. i'm not gonna beat myself up for maybeperhapsalittlethoughishouldn'tbe liking this person. not today anyway. i'll save that for later.

i've got places to go today: sonoma and napa. alone. by myself. and spend the night in a quaint but luxurious spot called velaggio, in yountville. this could be the most grown-up day so far in the life of miss tye, guest, ritz-carlton san francisco. i've scheduled this because i cannot and will not go within 45 minutes of napa and not go to napa. 14.5 put the hard sell on me last night to at least come back and join for dinner. today, he's playing golf with some very important people. or some such nonsense. practically every guy i've ever dated is a golfer. i think it's weird if a guy doesn't golf, even if he's a really bad golfer. [annoyingly i am always attracted to good golfers, i.e. addicts.]. however, being a golfer also makes for some really ill-timed interferences in life. such a fine line that golf thing.

i have slight apprehension about the day ahead. i've never eaten at a restaurant by myself. i don't do anything by myself that is more socially acceptable doing in groups of two or more [pretty much]. i'm excited, but can i handle it? what will people think of the wine tour girl all by her lonesome? maybe i'm on what was to be my honeymoon. but i got left at the altar. maybe i'm a food and wine expert conducting research. maybe i'm a local, enjoying the day off. i can be anything i want today i suppose. i think i'll just be a stylish cute foodie taking it all in.

did i mention that i have for some time secretly believed the man of my dreams lives in napa? i do, i really do. he looks like a young sun-kissed robert redford and owns a boutique vineyard, that only produces 3000 cases a year, but is highly acclaimed. you have to be in one of those clubs to acquire his wine. there was a feature on him in food and wine magazine. for once i don't care he wears old cowboy boots. he'll never sell out and get mondaviberinger big. he's just looking for a little lady to join him in his dream. this notion squashes any anxiety i have because i do believe in fate. i also believe you have to put yourself in the way of it.

my car arrives at 9 am. when you stay at the ritz you can order a rental car to be delivered at specified time. they handle everything. except the cost of course. and hertz doesn't bring guests of the ritz those wimpy and embarrassingly small subcompact jobbers, no offense if you drive one, but i'm a big car kind of gal. suv all the way {i did turn down the lincoln navigator, before you think i'm shamelessly wasteful and vain}.

firstly i'm going for a run, which i'm real intimidated by and certainly don't feel like it. because leaving the ritz if you look to your left: huge hill. look to your right: 90 degree angle hill. i'm so tired. i think my head hurts just a tad. poor me.

not.

for the love of burt lancaster, birdman of alcatraz i'm at the ritz. no time for poor babies.

so, i'm off like a prom dress - or in my case - lbd - for what promises to be the shortest run in history. i'm tired, not feeling too great. somehow - and it must be my fabulous ipod mix, called "marathon" - i accomplish 4 miles. the streets of san francisco look menacing - but they're not as bad as you think. upon my return, i see 14.5 at concierge, so i turn down the ipod's blaring volume. he's saying something about his friend being a chef so he wants to go somewhere really good. nice. making plans to impress me behind my back. this is delightful. but don't read too much into it.

i haven't mentioned yet that it's f-ing freezing in san fran. this i do not remember from my last trip. i am ill-equipped for cold weather, having packed nothing but super-cute summer dresses. today i am wearing a darling blue and gold tibi circa 2008 to go wine touring. getting my car, i hit the road in search of the golden gate bridge. i heart san fran. and the ritz. and those guys in top hats.