Discombobulation Station

E.'s Best of NYC

I have a few friends that are visiting NY this summer and asked me for restuarant picks. I usually repond with a bewildered expression, wondering, do people go to NY to eat foods? I guess they do! And I have a few, and some bars, and some fun things that I need to get down for posterity anyway. So here are my best pics for a NYC visit.

Bryant Park for lunch/coffee

My first destination in the city was Bryant Park, the stuff of Project Runway dreams. What I didn't know is that when its not fashion week its the most charming public park right in the middle of midtown, littered with tiny cafe tables and chairs which are free to use. You can see people playing boccie ball, having work lunches, enjoying their children and the sun (when its out).

NYC Library Visit at 5th & 42nd

I saved this for nearly the last day and I wish I hadn't, because I would have spent more time there. Was suddenly jealous that I was not once a student in New York as I would have loved to study there, taking breaks on the grand steps to get some sun and admire the lion statues. Smells like old books and history and smarts. Also, you can see where Carrie realized Mr. Big was not coming - I didn't think of it until I left, which is a credit to me as a woman, I suppose.

Grand Central Food Court

Midtown lunch options can vary from some newfangled food that made its way from a popular food cart (schnizel sandwiches, anyone?) to $.99 pizza. But for a nice break from the midtown din go downstairs from Grand Central and choose from a variety of great NYC foods - pizza, deli, sandwiches, Chinese. I love the dimmed lighting in Grand Central, as if it were still lit by gas lamps.

Grand Central Oyster Bar

If you really want to splash out a bit in Grand Central try the Oyster Bar. I had wanted to go and got a co-worker to go with me, and upon looking at the newspaper sized menu I realized that absolutely everything on the menu involved fish. And I don't eat fish! However, I do eat fried calamari, and it goes nice with a Sauvignon Blanc. Also, I heard if you sit at the bar you can watch them make the clam chowder, if you're into that kind of thing. Its a beautiful space though, with the curvatures and subdued lighting of the rest of the station.

Zabar's on the UWS

On the way to a rooftop party on the Upper West Side my friend Jen had us stop in Zabar's - which I knew I had heard of but had never been able to place. Its a deli, right? Oh lord. The cheese section was an entire expanded aisle, piled with cheese in refrigerated shelves on one side and a cheese counter staffed by at least three busy people on the other. Meats, fresh bread, jams and delicacies of all sorts. Worth a stop in if you're in the neighborhood. I wanted to live upstairs.

W. 47th Diamond District

Once I realized that walking down W. 47th street before 10am was much easier than navigating multiple lanes of foot traffic on 42nd street I started getting off the F line at '47th-50th Streets Rockefeller Center.' I have no idea why this train stop name is so complicated but emerging from the underground you are immediately in the heart of Jewish jeweler's heaven. You can see Hassids bustling to and from work, regular Jewish dudes, hispanics and arab hawkers trying to get you in off the street and into the shops and malls. I didn't find it but my friend Susie swears there's a diamond mall which, at the very back of it, has a bonafide Jewish deli that serves the most delicious sandwiches. Just don't ask for cheese or milk with your corned beef.

Spuyten Duyvil/Fette Sau

While I've never really been a big fan of Williamsburg, already being a bit too old to enjoy the manic sense of its fashionability (the girls and their slouchy boots all looked the same to me, and the dirty hipster boy thing lost its appeal some time ago), there are a few reasons to go. There are a few good thrift stores, after a tour of which I decided that good old Beacon's Closet Williamsburg was the clear winner, and there is Spuyten Duyvil. My friend Susie's childhood friend owns it with her husband, so we always get a warm welcome and it brings back memories of previous trips with A. They have amazing Belgian beers on tap, lovely meat and cheese trays, and a back yard that has now expanded to two lots so you can actually bring all your friends. Get there in the afternoon to beat the hipster traffic. And if you're really brave you can try waiting in line for some delicious BBQ across the street at their sister location Fette Sau. They are also planning to open yet another restaurant next door (this is why the yard is now so big) - check to see if this place is open and report back svp!

The Redhead

Once my friend Deb mentioned taking me to someplace called the Redhead, the onetime (and some time) redhead in me was intrigued. When I told my roommate Susie that I was headed there she was instantly jealous and excited. "We love the Redhead!" We went for a post thrifting drink and nosh and it was just plain lovely. Sitting at the bar, the owner was showing off his new infant baby, we were served craft cocktails and savory snacks and chatted amiably with the bartender who was originally from WI. Do try the bacon peanut brittles (which look like bar peanuts, but no you may not share with the stranger next to you because they are just too damn good - and you have to order them!) I'd love the chance to go back for dinner sometime.

McSorley's (just the once)

My friend's dad, a long life Manhattanite, made fun of me for going to McSorley's for drinks - its touristy, the beer is terrible (even though you get two for every order, its flat and not really cold), and the other patrons in there are loud and often stupid. But I had to just go the once, because the place is a historical landmark for NY. Nothing has been removed from the walls since 1910, the wickipedia page is a good read in itself. The historian in me could not pass it up.

Ikea Ferry

Headed to NY on the plane from Chicago, I looked up my new neighborhood to be Red Hook on wikipedia, and saved the entry in my phone so I cold read it before the wireless cut off. I was surprised to see that Red Hook was once one of the worst neighborhoods in the country. Filled with violence and poverty and crime. But now it is being gentrified and I really fell in love with the industrial/waterfront nature (being the daughter of a tugboat captain can have that effect). What also piqued my curiosity was this small entry about the new Ikea in Red Hook, and the free ferry offered from Manhattan. Well, as it turned out the ferry didn't start running until 11am on weekdays, and it was only free on the weekend, so that is when I used it. Who needs the Ellis Island/Statue of Liberty tour when you have a free Ikea ferry? It takes you from the Ikea to the 11th street pier which is near Wall Street. A short bus ride will get you to the heart of the Lower East Side. Or similarly you could just take the ferry to Red Hook and back but it did look like they made all passengers disembark and each port and get back in line, so on a busy day you might not get that same ferry back. I heart Ikea ferry!

Tenament Museum

My friend Jen highly recommended this tour of a restored tenement building on the lower east side. Although grandparents, all from Ireland, did not come through Ellis Island or stay in NYC very long (I'm told they had their paperwork done in the old country and probably hopped on trains for the midwest as soon as they arrived in NY), I found this tour really fascinating. Tenement to us is a bit of a dirty word, but back in the late 19th/early 20th century it was where middle class working people lived. You have your choice of tours to take, and the giftshop and small video center are a nice way to kill time before your tour.

Hidden restos around LES

On our way to the museum we needed to stop for a hangover brunch, and once you walk away from Allen Street its starts looking a lot less Chinatown and more hip heaven. We wandered into a random spot called Little Giant, and it was one of those tiny overcrowded bistros but the food and service were both divine (farm fresh, sustainable and delicious). We left feeling refreshed and stimulated. Check out any of the good stuff near Orchard & Broome.

Hotel Metro rooftop bar

One night Susie met me after work and she had a flash of an idea - her and A. used to go to this hidden gem of a rooftop bar at the top of the Hotel Metro on 35th street. Ask the bellboy or front desk to direct you to the express elevator and enjoy the view of the Empire State building. I love hotel bars because locals often overlook them, and the few hotel guests will not overcrowd you.

Frying Pan boat bar at Pier 66

Susie was walking around town and ended up here, texting me a picture of a Corona, on a boat, with a view of the water. I shut down my work computer, got on a train and a crossown bus within 15 minutes. Its one of the few spots in the city where you can sit on the water, facing New Jersey, and watch the sunset. The Frying Pan is an old red working boat that sits on this larger restuarant/bar complex called Pier 66. Get there early to avoid the crowds and then have a leisurely walk down to Soho.

Les Halles

Ok I have a really unhealthy crush on Les Halles former executive chef Anthony Bordain, who I now know only gets better with age. I watch his show, read his books, follow him on twitter. So although this is kindof a typical French bistro with plenty of out of towners, its worth a stop, and you can get steak frites for $20, and half price wines on Monday nights. I had some lovely pork tenderloin and my friend had the cassoulet which was pretty heavy on white beans and made her a bit gassy later. But all in all it was a lovely meal, so really not a bad deal at all.

Minca Ramen Factory for rainy night noodles, LES

Best udon noodles ever. Makes super leftovers too if you can't finish. We all just went for the Minca noodles with pork. Perfection. 

Brooklyn

Brooklyn Social, Smith Street Carroll Gardens

For an excellent craft cocktail nightcap, check out this nice little spot in the north part of Carroll Gardens.

Great Lakes Bar - Park Slope

This is a classic nieghborhood bar, friendly staff, good beers, fantastic jukebox. The kind of place you can wander in at 4pm and then at 2am wonder what happened to the night. Always met interesting people here too, like Eugene Mirman!

Abeline - Carroll Gardens

After trying some of the more trendy restos and bars around Brooklyn, this place was more my speed. Loads of big open windows, formica covered kitchen tables, friendly bartenders (well watch out for the young guys they are a bit snotty when its closing time). Food is standard bar fare, but a satisfying grilled cheese and tator tots is to be had.

Bait & Tackle, Red Hook

I was only in here once, and it was very late at night, but it had really interesting decor. Motoboy and I somehow got served (we shouldn't have been, really) and sat up on a little stage watching all the red hook citizenry finish their Friday nights.

Ice House, Red Hook

This is probably Susie's local if she had to choose one. Very laid back, low key, wood paneled one-bartender run place. You can get a pulled pork sandwich or a corned dog and take it out to the ample back yard, a little smokers haven as well.

Sonny's Red Hook

Ah what can I say about Sonny's? Its a little neighborhood beer joint near the waterfront that will make you fall in love with whoever you are with (thankfully for me it was motoboy, and we just went all goo goo eyed all over again). There was music in the back room, then music in the front bar. An amazing alt country band that would have commanded a crowd of 200-300 people in Chicago, and they played right next to our bar stools. When we went outside for some air the bartender gave us cowboy hats to leave on our stools and kept an eye on our drinks too. It was absolutely dreamy.

What are you favorite spots? A. wrote this up for Eva once too. Leave notes in the comments, and travelers please to report back! I will be back in the NYC maybe soon.

E.

Fixin'

Today: 

Farmer's Market. Honey, goat cheese, brussels sprouts on their stalk, red russian kale, spinach, delicata squash, onions, shallots, and potatoes for roasting (one lucky kiddo got to ride in a wagon and carry the honey bear for the WHOLE TIME).

Harbor Fish Market. 4 lobsters, 3 pounds of steamers (one delighted toddler got to touch a real live lobster OMG SO COOL!!).

Standard Bakery.  Loaf of seeded white whole wheat slicing bread, fresh baguette (one hungry baby never wanted to leave the bakery AAAAHHH MAMA I WANT TO LIVE IN THE BAKERY AND HAVE COOOKEEEEEEEEES! SHALL FLOP DRAMATICALLY IN FRONT OF THE BAKERY IF DENIED. WATCH ME!!!)

Feast's on at 6 pm.

What are you up to this weekend?

xoxo, A

WWAD*?

So, say you're sitting on your deck, on a fine summer night, drinking a glass of white wine.  You're a little sad because your awesome houseguests have returned to their metropolis but happy because the oppressive weather seems to be breaking.

Say you have been distracted from your wine for just a few minutes thinking about perhaps going upstairs to get a pair of jeans. JEANS! you think. How novel! To cover one's legs! And then you remember that this was an IM exchange with your coblogger this morning. I am really losing my shit, you think to yourself, repeating oneself to yourself. Oof, I'd better have another sip of my reisl....

Then, you see it. Yep. A fly is drowning itself in your off-dry white. Buzzkill much, little black fly?

READERS, I ask you. Do you:

A. Throw away the remainder of the wine, put the glass in the dishwasher, and and wash your hands for good measure?

B. Fish out the fly with your fingers, but then before you drink it, toss the wine off the side of the deck, then refill your glass?

C. Sip the remaining wine verrrry carefully, leaving the dead fly in a tiny little puddle of wine at the bottom of the glass? 

Well?

Waiting with wine-baited breath --

xoxo, A

*What would Alanis do?

77

My grandmother brought her famous molasses cookies to our Memorial Day barbecue.  After the  heroic clean-up efforts of the next day, I stopped and looked closely at the tin holding the cookies. It has the White House on the front and is ringed with U.S. Presidents. The most recent President on the tin?

Franklin Delano Roosevelt. F-D-frickin-R! His FIRST term! Which started in 1933! 

I want to sit and listen to the tin's stories all day. It must have been a gift, full of crunchy shortbread cookies, to my grandmother's young family. And she's kept it -- in perfect condition -- all these years! It is an honor to have it in my house. And even more of a wonder that my 93-year-old gramma drove herself over an hour to my house, with her 77-year-old tin full of cookies, to hobnob with 3 generations of her family and friends, weed my scruffy little garden, and eat steak. 

What will we carry with us for 77 years? What will even last that long?

Maybe I should buy one of those Obama Inaugural Plates. You think that would look good with cupcakes on it in 2087?

Whoa. If I am making cupcakes at 112, somebody better call Guinness.

....And there you have it, deep thoughts while watching SYTYCD on a rainy Thursday evening.

xoxo, A

Time fo' PIZZA

Dear New Haven,

Please accept my apologies for the gluttony that lead to the consumption of all of your fair city's pizza pies. And consider this a shot across the bow for our next pizza-plunder, likely to take place in early July.

Sincerely,

A.

[Seriously. It has been a long time since our last New Haven adventure, and the FYC really went crazy this time. We had a special guest (the FYD's rockin' friend Ryan), went to a ska show (we were out until 1!) and went out for pizza twice in one day. And had gelato and cannoli in between. That has to be some kind of (gross) record. Little A. enjoyed it (but enjoyed the aquarium visit the next day even more) and even bonded a bit with her Grammie and Pop.  All in all, a good, if gastrointestinally-damaging, 2nd Mother's Day weekend for me.]

(And to make up for the extreme tardiness of this post, here is a little photo album.)

(xoxo, A)

Caribbean Queen

WARNING: This post is very long, and all about going on a luxury vacation from someone who hasn't even worked this year at all. I am an asshole, but A. made me write it. I wanted to write about motorcycle school, so I guess that will have to be next. 

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I had one big nagging worry about sailing in the British Virgin Islands for eight nights - what if I got seasick? It could turn a fantasy vacation into a nightmare, or it might mean that I spent the week alone, at a beachside hotel. Which wouldn't be terrible but would be boring for me. I wanted to be ON A BOAT, I wanted to be SAILING, I wanted to be a CARIBBEAN QUEEN.

So when I realized after the first day or so that I was fine, it cheered me immensely and put me in good form for the rest of the trip. So here's how you do the BVIs! Or, at least, one of the ways you can do it. Its a pretty large area so I'm sure there are lots of ways to attack it.

We flew from Chicago to St. Thomas' Charlotte Amalie airport, a direct flight on the way down. All seven of us managed to get on the same early flight, and our friend JH even handed out little snack bags that had cartoon pirates printed on them. It soon became apparent that it was spring break all over the country as the airplane was dominated by family vacationers. We were going to be soon on our own boat, however, so this didn't matter much to us. From Charlotte Amalie (named after a Queen of Denmark - the Virgin Islands have a rich and confusing past of European colonists) we took a taxi to the ferry dock, and then an hour long ferry east to enter British Territory and Tortola, the largest island in the BVIs and the capital as well. Another taxi to our boat dock and we found our lady cruiser - a 38 foot catamaran called Kioara, which everyone else had pre-dubbed "Clothing Optional." No one was still in the office to check us in, but our groceries had been delivered and put in the kitchen, but our liquor delivery man had to be chased down in the parking lot. Whew! The boat certainly would not run without our $500 worth of beer, wine and rum.

We took the dingy over to a harbor restaurant that night, and cracked into the rum upon our return, christening the boat and having a small dance party in the outdoor salon. Around bedtime, one of our sailors decided to take a walk, I forget why - maybe to use the head on land - and he didn't come back until 7am. The story was that he met some people, went to town, got lost and tore himself up trying to climb a fence. We later learned a taxi driver dropped him off at the wrong yard and he was being chased by security. The next morning we left Tortola and let him sleep it off until early afternoon. I couldn't really relax until he got up and showed us all that he was ok, a little banged up but in good spirits nonetheless. I popped open an ice cold Carib and settled in next to my boo in the captain's chair.

 From Tortola we decided to go south to Norman Island, and picked a small harbor called Privateer Bay. We happened to get a mooring right near some caves, so everyone was eager to get in the water and do some snorkeling. Except for me, of course, who hates the idea of swimming alongside fish. I did get in the water to cool off but I kept myself floating on the surface by using the emergency life buoy and ignoring everyone's exclamations. Once some kid from another boat started shouting barracuda I got out and toweled off. Later we played with the surfboard by towing people along in the dingy. Dinner options on Norman Island are located in the much busier Bight Bay, where you have the Willy-T pirate ship restaurant, or the beachfront Pirate's Bight, which is where we went. My introduction to Painkillers was akin to trying a new drug - they are sweet and powerful and a new kind of drunk I had never felt before. A little hallucinogenic almost. We were all hooked. One couple went off to find a geochache (in the dark!) and me and motoboy had a romantic walk on the small beach before we were seated for a drunken dinner (that's what an hour and a half wait will do).

Our next adventure was going to be to make a quick stop at Salt Island to snorkel the wreck of the Rhone. It was busy here and hard to find a mooring (or one with enough swing room - we were politely asked to move on by a lady with a British accent at our first attempt). I still wasn't sure I wanted to snorkel but I was getting a lot of peer pressure. I managed to avoid it until the boys offered to dingy me over closer to the wreck so I couldn't argue not giving it a shot. Motoboy was in the water with me, encouraging me to use the snorkel but it was all a bit much for me so I left it and just went with flippers and face mask. It did feel good to be out there looking down through the clear waters at the wreck. A little creepy knowing so many people died there. The RMS Rhone was an iron hulled cargo ship that was also a favorite with passengers for its lavish cabins and fast speeds. It had weathered many storms before but on the fateful night of October 19th, 1867, with passengers tied to their beds for safety, the Rhone got hit by a second round of a hurricane and crashed into the point. Plus there's this murder. What is it with husbands killing their wives scuba diving? Anyhoo, as soon as I saw a fish as big as my cat swimming about twenty feet below me, I booked it back to the dinghy and clumsily clawed my way back on board.

From there we continued east, skipping over Peter Island to find lovely Cooper Island, and found a perfect mooring there close to the cliffs and away from the traffic. Cooper Island also boasts a beautiful beach club, with wooden high top tables in the water so there is no need to leave your rum punch ashore. I went on my first geocaching exploration with TH, who has nearly 300 finds under her belt, and we were greeted by our return dinghy driver who wanted to stay for yet another drink. Sun set in the bar, painkillers were consumed, and all was right with the world. We had our first meal on the boat here, and if I remember correctly it was steak and baked potatoes, which took forever in the oven so we ended up finishing them up on the grille, along with grilled broccoli. Caribbean seasoning was our friend, and went on everything. 

Now it was time to do something new, which Motoboy and our friends the couple did not do last year in their smaller boat. We were going to really sail, head out into open waters and head due north to Anegada, a remote, flat island which has the ring of a pirate tale to it. Unlike the rest of the BVIs it is made from coral and limestone instead of volcanic rock, so it looks quite different, flat and grassy. It felt good to be out in the big blue really hauling ass, like we were actually sailing and going somewhere and putting some miles behind us. Anegada isn't always a kosher place to go for bareboat (i.e. self-captained) boats as it is surrounded by a very shallow coral reef, which is both precious and dangerous. We called it into our charter company, and they said it was a beautiful day for the trip. You have to approach the island from a certain angle and follow green and red buoys (red on your right on the way in) in order to find the safe channel into the harbor. We were captivated at once - it was remote, wild looking, and somewhat quiet. There were a lot of boats there but it somehow just felt more mellow. We moored directly across from Neptune's Treasure, one of the few restaurants in the harbor, and set out for an expedition to find our dinner and get ice. Anegada is known for its lobster dinners but one must make reservations and dinner choices by 3.30pm. Neptune's was booked for dinner already, so we set out along an interior road to find Pomato Point Restaurant. The sun was beating down and there was no shade to be found, so after about ten minutes of walking and a huge turn coming far down the road, I had to back out. Fortunately our Portuguese friend decided to accompany me, so we of course ended up back at Neptune's having a rum punch. If I ever go missing on vacation, just check the closest bar, I'm likely to be there. We did get a reservation at the remote restaurant, but they came to pick us up at Neptune's a few hours later for dinner, and we were the only ones there. It was an open aired  beachfront room, absolutely charming, and a quick walk out to the water proved that the sand at the point, in one person's words, "felt like mashed potatoes." It was true. Half of us ordered lobster, which was broiling away on the grille when we arrived, and everyone agreed it was the best lobster they had ever had.

Because this was all so incredibly awesome, we decided we couldn't leave the next day. Besides, our next destination was Virgin Gorda, which we knew to be a bit touristy and it was hard to fathom sailing into that. So we got our Portuguese friend's rented surfboard to shore and took an open aired taxi (basically sitting on benches on the back of a truck) to a beach on the famed north side of the island called Loblolly Bay. Again, we had to order our lunch upon arrival, and the orders were taken by a very English looking woman with dreads and a West Indian accent. The only other Caucasian person I encountered with this native tongue was also a very young girl who appeared to be in charge at Neptune's, and I was fascinated. There's a great setup at Lobolly Bay with a restaurant (lunch is served at 1pm by  group), a beach bar staffed by handsome local men, and tons of beautiful beach replete with thatched umbrellas and wooden benches. Unfortunately, there was way too much coral reef for surfing, so poor DV was foiled again. We would have to tow him around in the dinghy some more to get his money's worth. It was hard to leave the beach but our ride arrived at 3.30 so we traveled back to the boat and had another lovely meal onboard.

The next morning we headed for Virgin Gorda, mostly so we could visit The Baths, a series of geological volcanic rock which the local authorities have built a fun walk through, up and down boulders and through small watery areas until you are deposited into foamy "baths" and a gorgeous beach. (I had to steal this photo from the internet as I didn't have my camera with me.) Part of my adventure here was that I had to swim about 50 yards to shore, which I did mostly in the backstroke in order not to disturb any little fishes that might want to brush up against my ankles. For the night we headed up to the north part of the island, home to giant yacht clubs and organized outings and people who don't really sail, but we aimed for a smaller harbor in the North Sound called Leverick Bay. It had one main resort, which boasted an overpriced restaurant, an internet cafe, and a pretty decent beach bar. But now we were spoiled and all this modern convenience just wasn't our style. Although I did get a great t-shirt that had a pinup girl in a bikini on the beach on the back and reads "Good Girls Go to Heaven, Bad Girls Go Everywhere." As someone who has been doing nothing but vacationing since January, this spoke to me in volumes. We managed to make a little party after dinner that night at the beach bar, but I think we were all looking forward to getting over to Jost Van Dyke (rumored to be named after a 17th century Dutch privateer), our last destination of the week, and what was promised to be a relaxing, quiet yet good time.

We settled into a little harbor on the east side of the island called Diamond Cay, which had one single restaurant, Foxy's Taboo. Foxy is a famed character and owner of two restaurants, he is also a musician who can often be found entertaining his patrons. The other nice part about staying here was that we could dinghy to shore and follow the trail to the Bubbly Pool, a little beachside pool that is fed from waves to the north, making for a fizzy and rumbling adventure. People had stacked flat white rocks in little towers all over the pool, to which my boyfriend decided he should shoot down with empty beer cans (yes we brought beer for our hike). I wasn't too impressed with our filthy American ways, so as everyone got into the beer can flinging contest, I climbed a little path and was suddenly high above, looking at the other body of water to the north from the top of the crest. It was really  good to be out in the wild nature, off the boat for a respite. Our dinner at Foxy's was divine, I had some meat kabob that was seasoned to high holy hell and I loved it even though it came back at me later (which is awkward when you're sharing a closet toilet with three other people).

We couldn't leave Jost Van Dyke without a visit to Ivan's Stress-Free Bar.  This was in another harbor, one shared with the Soggy Dollar Bar (so named because you have to swim up to shore, no dinghies allowed). Ivan's often doesn't have electricity until the evening, or staff for that matter, so one is expected to make their own drinks, sans ice, and put the money in the till. We did encounter a woman behind the counter however who made super strong rum punches with just the right amount of grated ginger on top. Relaxing by the sea, we met some other midwestern sailors, made some Mac Race connections, and also got to meet Ivan himself, who was celebrating his birthday.  We cheered ourselves up the next morning, on our way back to the harbor at Tortola, by giving into DV and pulling him on his surfboard while we were in full sail. I don't know how fast we were going (maybe 30 miles an hour?) but it certainly did not look easy. We dropped him a few times but got big cheers from a passing speedboat. We went out to dinner in Road Town, found a somewhat fancy French restaurant but all the creamy food was too much like civilization for me. The last few nights on the boat I was sneaking off early to bed - after drinking rum all day and stuffing in a big dinner sometimes I just couldn't party any more (or I needed a few minutes to myself, I did bring a Sookie Stackhouse novel and was eating it up).  The next morning everyone was pretty quiet, which is why we weren't organized enough to know that the ferry we needed to catch was an hour earlier than posted. We left the boat quickly, not able to clean out the fridge, got into a taxi with another pissed off couple, got to the ferry dock and barely made it on board. I lost my favorite hoodie and jacket (thinking of the long trip north) in the taxi as well as I ran up to buy tickets. Oh well, I thought, if this is the worst thing that happens today then that's ok. Everyone made their flights, barely, as the customs and ticket counters at both the ferry dock and the airport were mildly organized chaos.

But by the time I came home I knew that this trip was the trip to kill all other trips - it had everything: freedom, beauty, nature, good friends, great food, and of course, the Painkiller. I'll never do the Caribbean the same way again. If I can afford it. 

E.

Vegas for Newbies

When my good dear friend SH first started dating her current fella, SW and I decided that they would some day get engaged, and when they got engaged then we would get the chance to go to Vegas. We spread this around our group and soon enough everyone was ready to go. Only thing was, the couple had only been together for a few weeks, and SH shrugged off the engagement topic as it was too soon. But, we were right. We were psychic. We only had to wait about a year or so and soon enough we were planning our sin city weekend of debauchery.

Having never been there I assigned each of the eight or nine girls a few hotels to research, and then I built a spreadsheet that soon included pasted pictures of each giant shrine to Vegas style fun and luxury. Working long hours in post-production afforded me computer time to make use of google images. After weeks of organizing and research, we let the bride pick and she found a deal at Excalibur, a castle themed casino/hotel which seemed perfect for our princess. Plus, I was adamant about us attending a male revue show called the Thunder From Down Under and for our bachelorette package we got 2 for 1 tickets. 

I decided to use my miles to get there as I had many trips coming up and no work in sight, and traveling alone I can get away with the odd flights. Hence, Friday morning I had to get up at 4.30 to get to the airport for a 6.45 am flight. Flying that early in the morning tends to make me nauseous so what I really ought to do is go to bed early and get my beauty rest right? Ummm no. Roommate was having a drinking game to match our viewing of Celebrity Rehab (I know, pretty dark right?) so I went to bed a little tipsy at midnight. Hence, I had a rough ride over. I got sick on my first flight (in the bathroom, thank god) and was better once the sun was higher above me. Landing in Las Vegas you are immediately reminded of where you are - there are slot machines in the terminals as soon as you get off the plane, and people are ensconced there, drink in hand, pushing buttons and staring away. 

I had a lovely white haired older cab driver who was very welcoming and gave me the best advice - even if you think you can walk there, you probably can't. Vegas has giant landmarks that look close from wherever you are - but the pathways to get anywhere are meandering and full of slow moving, often drunk tourists. Plus, you know heels. When I walked into the room, I was greeted by SW, CQ & KF who had already  unpacked and arranged all of their heels and shoes along one wall. I couldn't get my coat off before they were yelling at me to do the same. 

We headed downstairs to the "Sherwood Forest Cafe," which was basically a windowless diner, so we could get some food and the first Vegas cocktail. We all ordered something different off the frozen cocktail menu and I was giddy with anticipation and also a bit worried about how much more tired I could possibly get. After touring the nearest other hotel, New York New York, which boasted about 5,000 restaurants and a roller coaster, we met up with three other girls who had just gotten in, including our bride. She was excited to be there and we sent them off for food while we rested up for the evening's activities.

I was in charge of getting ready to go out party music so I packed a playlist of stuff I would never normally buy or listen to - Beyonce, Rhianna, Lady Gaga, Amy Winehouse and umm also someone called Lil' Whyte (NSFW). I tried out some heels on my way to the hotel's spirits store and realized I was not quite there yet. We managed to get some free jello shot coupons on the way back but this involved going into the Dick's Last Resort, where we first had to have a magic show demonstrated by the toothless bartender with SW's expired license, but our charms won the day. Biggest pain in the ass ever for a free jello shot. Upon returning to the room we realized a girlsplosion had occurred  - there were clothes and jewelry, makeup and scarfs streaming everywhere. The bathroom was full of product and appliances humming and burning. We got to know the new girls we hadn't met before, and people were tarted up to an inch of their non-prostitution-worthy credibility. It was time to head out.

Eight girls walking through the casino dressed to impress was a fun group to be in. We cabbed it over to the Bellagio, which is beautiful, elegant and refined. Sure there are still lots of unattractive tourists tramping through who look like they might shop at Wal-Mart, but this place was classy. With a C. We ate at a cozy Asian place called Noodles that seated us immediately, had a small discussion about next plans which went nowhere,  and eventually decided to find karaoke to please our bride. First we had one quick round of gambling in which some first time wins were made. 

Consulting my handy iphone, I decided we could all walk to the Imperial Palace as it was only on the other side of the next intersection. Remember what my cab driver told me? I ignored it. It especially wasn't fair to the other girls as I had changed into a more sensible pair of heels (medium height Mary Jane's) and most everyone else were still rockin' f-me heels. Some grumbling occurred but we did get our second view of the Bellagio fountain display which is so good its almost emotional. Oh screw it, I'll admit it. It's that good you might well up a tear or two. What we didn't count on, on the end of this long walk, was the fact that Imperial Palace is a total shithole. The karaoke was up a narrow escalator from the strip, there were no tables to hold us, and it was a crummy bar. See, now we were spoiled from our fancy upper crusty ways. Just when we decided to go across the street to Caesar's Palace, our more club minded member stopped us at the taxi rank and again made her plea - "come on guys let's go to Tao. Let's just do this thing." We all shrugged our shoulders, and four of us climbed into a cab and asked him to take us there. It's in the Venetian. "The Venetian is next door," he says. Oh. But you know it still took us about 25 minutes to walk there, and we even had to duck into another casino to lose some mouthy guys on the street.

So the club. At first it seemed like your typical bottle service club. Very cool looking and I guess very expensive for people who think that spending money in this way is a smart thing to do. We found a tiny dance floor in the middle of the roped off areas and I started to enjoy the music a little. Then I found I was the only one dancing and our club minded friend was leading everyone away into another room. Gamely following along we entered a massive room that was very overcrowded. This club seemed to be a big hit with Vegas's Asian set and people were shoving and pushing and barreling their way through. Not very club-like etiquette if you ask me. I couldn't stand were I was, and you couldn't stand where you wanted to go, so I went back downstairs and found two other girls by the door. Well, that lasted long!

Trying to navigate the agendas and hopes and expectations of eight girls is certainly exhausting, so when we got back to the hotel I promised myself a moment of quiet. I told the girls I was with in the cab,  who weren't my roommates, that I was going to have a quick cigarette and then be off to bed. I was so happy for the moment alone, and ordered a beer, and then noticed a text from the bride: "f u are u bailing. weare peeing and this shit is on." I guess someone had a few beers at the club? I met up with the two S's and we giggled along at the slots until 4am, when we knew we had safely made it over 24 hours awake.

Saturday morning I actually felt ok. Most of the girls were up early and went off to find breakfast, while CQ and I decided to take advantage of the quiet room and I got us coffee and breakfast things. It was nice to lay in bed and drink tea and watch bad MTV (whats with all the teen mom stuff anyway?). We then took taxis out to the largest outdoor outlet mall in the world - or at least that I thought ever existed. I wasn't interested in shopping but I was interested in being outside and getting fresh air, and after a while four of us make a breakway to go to the Peppermill, a famed 24-hour restaurant on the strip that had a lounge with a fire water pit feature, great cocktails, and waitresses in long black dresses and slits up to THERE. It was fabulous. We also ducked into the Wynn, which was stunning. By far the fanciest place I had ever been in, and as you approached a balcony overlooking the floor below, the air filled with varying colors of fabric parasols, outside all you saw, about 70 yards away, was a giant wall of light with water running down it. We went out a little balcony to take a closer look at it was a giant flat pool, with a few statues of people who appeared to be in the water, staring at the giant wall of changing light as if it were the second coming of god. Fucking A.

Saturday night was our big night out so we settled in for naps, got ready by 9pm and went back to the Bellagio for what we thought was our buffet night. After learning it would cost $45 pp we decided to try another option. I mean we're 8 girls, and 2 of us hardly eat anything at all (that would be me and KF). So
even though I was told it was overrated we had a perfectly lovely, 45 minute meal at Olives with a view of the fountain. Well, half of us had a view of Prada but that was ok as well. By 11pm we were in line for Thunder From Down Under and I was beginning to wonder if I was in the right mood for it. Some of these girls were really fired up and I was still digesting a pear and endive salad that went down quite quickly. Once the lights dimmed, however, and the boys came onstage doing a really badly choreographed dance, I knew it was going to be a good time. They seemed much more talented once the shirts came off. I think I spent the entire show either staring delightedly with my jaw dropped, or clapping hysterically and screaming "fuck yeah!" I will save the details as not to ruin it as I am now declaring it a must see. One word: firemen. Yeah it still works.

After that there was no way I would try a club again and most everyone decided we would have a night in our own casino. I wasn't gambling but trying to play lady luck, and I naturally ended up at the bar talking to SH and her friend from Jersey who I had met the day before (our club loving girl). Getting more and more comfortable (you can still smoke there, which is such a novelty I can't stop lighting up) people came by and joined us briefly, some eventually going to bed for the night. At about 5am it was me, SW, CQ and a small contingent of fans. I will have to leave some things in Vegas, but consider it fair to say we stayed up until dawn, realized it was so, had a photo shoot, went to another hotel for breakfast, and were back in the room by 11am. Our other roommate was up and showered and a little disappointed she missed the chance to walk around with us.

I had all day Sunday to kill and with 1.5 hours sleep (pictured), walking around and drinking a smoothie was not going to do it for me. I made it as long as possible, trying to have quality time with the bride, but eventually I had a mini breakdown and could not take any more casino noises. I went back to Excalibur, got a cheapo Sunday rate on a room, and laid down for the next 5 hours, intermittently sleeping and watching tv. When I got to the airport at 10.30pm I thought I actually might be able to do it. And I did. I made it home, bless you sweet sweet Jesus. And long live Vegas because it is amazing. And it just might kill you.

E.

Turkey Daze

Holy heck, you guys. Since Tuesday, I have spent 1 million dollars (approx) on food items. I have baked 4 dozen rolls, 2 loaves of cranberry orange bread, made pumpkin and squash puree, cooked cranberry sauce, roasted & spiced pumpkin seeds, prepped leek & mushroom stuffing, and brined a 20 lb. turkey.

So. I am taking a goddamn Glee break and going to bed early. That turkey ain't gonna get itself in the oven.

Happy Thanksgiving-Eve to you all!

xoxo, A

Nein More

Well, the party was a success. The surprise-ee was indeed VERY surprised (there were even some tears). There was tons of excellent food & great company and I had a cocktail and stayed up past 10! Woooo party animal! And then Little A. decided she could not, would not sleep in her crib, so we had a snugglefest and slept very well.  The FYD very very quietly stumbled up to bed very very late. And in the morning I counted 3 sleeping bodies strewn about the house.  A very good party indeed.

The only mishap: the cake, 'pon which I had painstakingly candled "30!" (is challenging to write in candles), was...um...dropped.  I won't name names but it was someone who had his very own 30th birthday party in this very house last February and now has his very own BABY living in this very house (HINT HINT). This person may have been feeling a touch, um, enthusiastic, and miscalculated the gravitational pull of the earth on a "best creme"  sheet cake decorated with orange frosting, 36 candles, and rainbow sprinkles. Maybe he didn't account for the weight of the sprinkles, for halfway through the Hap-B-day song, the cake, tipped slightly to show off the candle-work to the birthday boy, was tipped a little bit too far. And we watched in slow motion...

Wha? Eeee! Oh? No! Maybecatchit? HALP! TiltitthiswaymaybeeeeeeAGGHHH NOOOO!!!

Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday dear Bri--oooooh. We all moaned collectively. The cake crashed to the ground, leaving a smeary gash of orange frosting on a bottle of Amstel Light, our countertop, and the knife caddy on its way down. And there was a silent 5-second pause while we all looked at cakefail on the floor. The birthday boy, first to collect his senses, quickly flipped the cake back on its platter and declared it the most perfect cake presentation ever! And the FYD I mean the anonymous cake-bearer shook his head in rue and named himself King of all Assholes.  I plucked the extinguished candles from the top of the cake and cut many many pieces. Everyone wandered away for a bit.

But you know what? That cake got all ate up.  Mostly by the dog, but still. Drunk people love cake. It was a very good party. 

Hope you all had fantastic weekends, too.

xoxo, A

Buying Stock in Motrin

Oh, mah good bloggy intentions got derailed by sobby toothy baby.

So all I got for you tonight is what I made for dinner: this. Magically delicious -- and I didn't even use the fabulously named Prima Donna cheese.

Hope you all are having delicious humpdays. One week til Thanksgiving, woot!

xoxo, A