If You Go to San Francisco, Skip the Flower in Your Hair

Lesson One: I’m so East Coast.

Upon landing on the coast the Thursday after taking my last final of my undergraduate student roughly four weeks ago, I was greeted by a sea of dungarees, v-neck tee shirts and people who were just… friendly in a way no one is in New York.  My BlackBerry’s battery died somewhere over Oklahoma because it found a way to turn itself back on (my BlackBerry has a mind of its own; this shouldn’t surprise me because every device I own has a mind of its own) and then proceeded to drain its battery before we landed.  When I landed in San Francisco, I had no way of calling Kevin, my younger cousin who I was visiting, because I left my calling card (don’t judge) home and didn’t have any coins.  Fortunately, the silver lining in my bag not making it on my flight since I didn’t think I would actually make it on my connecting flight in Atlanta was that the nice lady at the Delta luggage counter let me use her phone to call Kevin.

Lesson Two: They Have Wine on Tap

After getting to Kevin’s apartment, located just off the Embarcadero, we went straight to dinner at the Hillstone Restaurant located a block from where he lived.  Hillstone is a chain of restaurants located across the country; they also own Houston Steakhouses and one of my favorite places, The Palm Beach Grill.  Plus, all their restaurants seem to all have the the Roast Beef Au Jus on their menus, and it is the only thing I ever order at the Grill.

Following the hellish flights I took just to get to California, I was in desperate need of some wine (y’all would be as well if you had unruly children making too much noise and kicking your seat from Norfolk to Atlanta and then, SURPRISE, Atlanta to San Francisco while their parents failed miserably at the “I am your friend, not your parent” method popular with parents these days) and when I looked down at my menu, I was surprised to see that in addition to beer on tap, there was wine on tap.  I couldn’t believe and had to investigate so naturally I ordered a glass.

To my astonishment, the Saintsbury Pinot Noir was delicious!  As for dinner, it was great, though they had regular fries instead of the usual shoestring fries that are simply divine, which is not a word I throw around often.

I must say that people in San Francisco take casual dining to a whole new level.  The dozens of young people in the restaurant were dressed in just like the same people in the airport.  My khakis and oxford shirt that I consider casual was apparently too formal.  They also act like Middle School girls, texting everyone they’ve ever met while seated at dinner.  When I asked Kevin if anyone still has manners, he told me to relax because “this is how it’s done out here.”

Lesson Three: People Arrive to Work Whenever They Feel Like It

On Friday morning, Kevin took me to his internship for “the day.”  Kevin was interning this summer for his soul mate, Richard Thalheimer, the founder of The Sharper Image, at his new business, RichardSolo.com.  Not only were Kevin and Richard meant for each other, but this business was meant for Kevin.  He’s loves gadgets and other assorted chazerai.  He was so obsessed with The Sharper Image that he still has the catalogs in their plastic wrappings and bought Richard’s autobiography, which he had autographed just before I arrived.

When we arrived at the office, which is also where the warehouse is located, we were the first people to show up.  We arrived at 10h30.  No one else would show up until 12h15.  Unfortunately, Richard himself was unable to come in due to a summer cold, but after meeting the rest of the RichardSolo team that included Richard’s assistant and the guy who runs the warehouse side of the operation, we sat down to try Richard’s obsession: Domino’s Artisan Pizza.

[youtube:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HkUIGDSx0Dw&feature=results_video%5D

Now the last time I ate Domino’s was in the 12th Grade because once a month we had pizza for lunch and it was nothing more than grease-coated cheese and bread.  That summer, I figured out how to make it myself or found really delicious pizza in Italy.  As for the Domino’s Artisan Pizza, it wasn’t the best pizza I’ve ever had, but for a multi-national brand that is desperately trying to change its public persona, it was surprisingly good.  Of the four varieties available, I found the Tuscan Salami and Roasted Veggie pizza to be the best.

Following lunch, a tour around the office/warehouse and watching Kevin get some work done, we took off for the day just after 13h30.  Not bad for a workday.  Plus, we beat all the traffic going back into San Francisco.  His commute isn’t the worst either.

That afternoon, I did a little post-end of school retail therapy in Union Square, which was so nice, especially when they had to take the mannequin hanging from the ceiling at Barney’s to get the pants I wanted in my size.  I also managed to get mother one of her birthday presents before we headed back to change for dinner in China Town.

Lesson Four: When It Says “Hot & Sour” Next to the Soup, It Should Say Fire-Breathing Dragon Hot

It was this night that Kevin realized the purpose of this visit (other than to see him): food!  For dinner, we went to what is quite possibly the most well-rated Chinese restaurants in the city: Oriental Pearl, which I actually ate at eight years ago when I was in San Francisco with Mother and little Mao.  It’s always those restaurants that put no money into the decor, have overflowing dumpsters next to the entrance and waiters who don’t care about providing customer service that always seem to have the best food!

It was rather chilly that night so Kevin wanted to get soup so he ordered the Hot & Sour Vegetarian Soup.  It was so hot, the two of us were schvitzing after the third bite.  It was like a fireball had exploded in my mouth and I’m not exaggerating at all!  I downed that plum wine, which I had recently discovered while dinnering with Grace at Mizuno in Virginia Beach, so quickly and then downed the water glass and ate all the ice cubes!

Dinner itself was much less dramatic and not spicy at all.  The Almond Chicken with Cashew Nuts was better than any of the Chinese food we get in Baltimore and P.F. Chang’s can’t even lift a fork to this place.  Kevin’s Sweet and Sour Chicken was equally delicious.  The food is so fantastic that one seems completely oblivious to the lousy service and the 80s Chinese restaurant decor complete with ubiquitous fish tank.

Lesson Five: If You Want Really Good Ice Cream, Get in Line!

We left China Town and headed toward the Mission District for dessert.  The Mission District is the Williamsburg of San Francisco, but without the “Brooklyn is better” attitude (Speaking of the outer borough, how is Brooklyn the second most expensive place to live in America?  I mean, isn’t it’s appeal the fact that it’s New York, but without the Manhattan price tag?).  We were heading to Bi-Rite Creamery, a San Francisco sensation that was started in 2006.  Now I didn’t really realize that nearly all of the restaurants/food destinations I wanted to visit were in the Mission District, nor did I know that Kevin lived nowhere near it so we had to drive out there and then find a parking space.  It took twenty minutes of going around the block over and over again.  I swear, the people we passed five times must have thought we were casing the block!

Finally, though, we found a spot that no one else thought was a spot because people don’t bother to read signs, thankfully.  As we walked up to the creamery, my mouth salivating at just the thought of ice cream, we noticed a line, well part of a line.  Turns out that this place is so popular, the line was extending around the corner from the entrance!  For the next thirty minutes, the New Yorker in front of us tried hitting on these two girls who were beyond not interested in his “charm” and nonstop talking about himself.  Worse, he thought he was getting somewhere with the one who was polite enough to talk back.  It was so sad.  Then we made it to the door and like someone who hasn’t eaten in days, I went wild and got four scoops  of ice cream:

1. Malted Vanilla with Peanut Brittle and Milk Chocolate Pieces.
2. Honey Lavender (the version I made earlier in the summer was almost as good, if I may say so myself).
3. Olive Oil (all I needed was a little bread and I could have easily been at an Italian restaurant).
4. Balsamic Strawberry (only available on Fridays and without-a-doubt the best of the four!  If they hadn’t closed right after we left, I would have probably gone back and gotten more of it!)

They just came out with a recipe book containing 90 recipes for ice cream and other frozen treats, as they put it, and I was just so excited about it (given that I just finished a summer of love with my ice cream maker) that I didn’t even hesitate and bought it!

Kevin, meanwhile, was less insane and only got two scoops: Salted Caramel and Cookies & Cream.  The Salted Caramel put the one Talenti makes to utter shame while Kevin declared that the Cookies and Cream was out of this world not only was it definitely worth the wait, but that he might go back before leaving San Francisco! (sadly, he didn’t make back before leaving)

Lesson Six: Food, Glorious Food (and Foodies)

Saturday morning and it was off to the market we went!  Despite being nowhere near where he worked, Kevin’s location meant that we were just five minutes from the legendary Ferry Building Marketplace.  If you don’t know what the Ferry Building Marketplace is, you should feel ashamed because even little Benitio knows what it is; in fact, he wanted to go the last time he was in San Francisco and this is someone who thinks that a pickle on rye bread with mustard is the greatest thing he has ever consumed.  If you don’t feel ashamed and want to know, let’s have a little history lesson:

The building was first opened 1898 and enabled people to reach San Francisco from all over the West.  It served this purpose marvelously until this little thing called the Golden Gate Bridge was completed in 1937.  After that, it was considered an afterthought until the 1989 earthquake that rocked San Francisco in honor of new of my birth reaching California.  When this happened, the highway that ran directly in front of the building was torn down and a revitalization began, culminating with a renovation of the building in the early 2000s .  When it reopened in 2003, the foodies that have invaded/emerged from this city created an elegant, yet useful, space that plays host to local farmers, butchers, fishermen, florists, and activists (this is San Francisco after all) each Sunday from 10h0-14h0 and it’s incredible!

We got nectarines, plums, these grapes that were so sweet I swear they were coated in sugar while they were on the vines.  I was basically in heaven and Kevin didn’t know what hit him.  Grace and Justin would probably replace “heaven” with some perverted sexual something (which I believe one of them did in a text), but I’m trying to be more mature now that I’m a college graduate.

The fruit was so fresh and juicy and those yellow plums… I’m salivating just thinking about them!  After my tastes buds and I returned to my body, Kevin took me to see the nut guy.  The way he went on about this guy, you would have thought he found a cure for cancer or something.  The nut guy, a man whose name I never got, worked at the outdoor stand for G.L. Alfieri Fruits & Nuts (there’s also a permanent stand inside).  I instantly figured out why Kevin loved this guy: free samples on steroids.  It was like Costco, but for nuts and brittle, and without the hairnets.

Next thing I know, my “diet” has turned into me trying everything he offered us.  I ended up leaving with dark chocolate brittle (which is shocking for me even a month later because I despise dark chocolate; milk chocolate for life) and a bag of trail mix that was later devoured in about five minutes.  Kevin bought some brittle and chocolate-covered raisins (whoever thought of covering raisins in chocolate deserves a monument of some kind) for “his friends” before we headed inside to face a mob of people that resembled Penn Station on a Friday afternoon, but nicer.

On the advice of my aunt, we made our way through the herd to Miette, this charming little bakery that has several locations throughout the San Francisco area.  We were there to get mother their gingersnaps, but that turned into me getting a breakfast of a buttermilk panna cotta topped in fresh strawberries served in what appeared to be glass containers about the size of a baby food jar.  Once again, so much for the “diet.”  It was so good I ate it in about 30 seconds!  Even the girls behind the counter were shocked at how fast I devoured it.  If it weren’t for those pants I had just purchased the day before, I would have probably gotten a second.

The woman who started this bakery has the most amazing story about having such poor vision when she was little that the first thing she ever saw when she finally got glasses was the glass counter in a bakery and you just can feel her warm personality everywhere in this little pink and light green (not Lily green) explosion; there was even a 1950s refrigerator!  All of the staff were beyond friendly and couldn’t have been nicer when I asked if they could wrap the things we had purchased.

Lesson Seven: Grilled Cheese Should Be Its Own Food Group

After dropping off all our edible treats, Kevin and I began a very long walk to lunch.  Apparently, I’m not capable of finding places to eat near his apartment and though that “very long” walk turned out to be a measly two miles, we were starving by the time we got to our destination, The American Grilled Cheese Kitchen.  Now I love a grilled cheese sandwich, but I’ve never been one to enjoy Kraft Singles on Wonder Bread so when I learned that there were people crazy enough to open a restaurant that “lifted” this most delicious of foods to new standards, I couldn’t say no to going!

First of all, they have fences made out of metal spatulas that cordon off their outdoor eating area so naturally we give them 100 points for creativity before walking in the front door.

However, before we go on, I should note that the beer I had was revolting, but the beers being ordered by every other patron seemed to be good enough to finish.  This shouldn’t come as a shock since beer and I don’t exactly get along.  Now that we’ve cleared that up, onto the food.

Like the name suggests, the restaurant, which is located just three blocks from Giants’s home at the AT&T Park, is all about that classic American food staple, grilled cheese.  Though there are salad options, Kevin and I decided that wouldn’t feel right and spent the next two minutes staring at the menu board displaying the seven sandwich options.

If you think Kevin’s choice of the Mac n Cheese Grilled Cheese sounds like a 5-year old’s dream come true, then you’d be right.  The only thing it’s missing is a carton of ice cream.  Frankly, I was expecting some heart attack-enducing platter one might get at a Cracker Barrel.  However immature and disgusting it might sound, even I was shocked at how good it tasted, let alone how appetizing it looked!

I opted for the Mushroom Gruyère and devoured it before I could manage to take a photo.  The mushrooms tasted so fresh and when mixed with the nutty flavor of the gruyère, they gave off the most amazing aroma.  Because we opted for the Red, White and Blue Plate special, a good-sized bowl of smoky tomato soup accompanied our sandwiches.

Lesson Eight: You Simply Cannot Resist the Temptation of a Cream Puff

Stuffed like a turkey on Thanksgiving, we slowly made our way toward Union Street, a 3.5 mile hike through the city, which is home to dozens of little boutiques and “quaint” restaurants.  The highlight of these places was Pacific Puffs, a charming little bakery that specializes in one thing: cream puffs.

Now I love a cream puff.  The ones that they sell at Costco in that plastic tub are simply delicious, but as good as they are, there’s something about eating cream puffs that come out of a tub that can be reused for way too many things that doesn’t seem right.  Thankfully, the folks at Pacific Puffs have created an alternative to the Costco option (favored by the same people who also love the tub of éclairs sold in the same freezer door).

Though they run between $2.00 for a mini and $3.25 for a regular-sized one, these little bundles of butter are worth every penny.  The cream filling puts anything the folks behind the Kirkland brand (why am I even comparing these to ones that can be purchased at Costco?) to shame and you could tell that everything was freshly made that day.  Because we arrived later in the afternoon, I missed the Fruit Whip option, and was forced to settle for a classic mini, but I don’t know why I’m making it seem like it wasn’t good because it was scrumptious.  Plus, it’s so small and adorable like a puppy that you can’t say no.

Lesson Nine: I Finally Found a City in America That Embraces My Love of Pimm’s

Following a leisurely stroll that took us to the beyond touristy, and dare I say tacky, Ghirardelli Square and the first of our two failed attempts and getting decent photos at the Golden Gate Bridge (beware the raccoons that live beneath the storage unit adjacent to the payment kiosk for the auxiliary parking lot), it was time for dinner.

We ate at Absinthe, a French restaurant located in Hayes Valley, and though it ended up being more expensive than I had hoped, as the rapper Drake says, YOLO.  It was here at Absinthe where I first realized that the people of San Francisco actually like Pimm’s.

Few restaurants and bars have the English drink in stock and so it was a complete shock to see cocktails on the menu that were made with my beloved Pimm’s.  I couldn’t resist and ordered a 21 Hayes, a shaken drink consisting of Damrak gin, Pimm’s No. 1, cucumber, and lemon juice.  Now I had a bad experience once in my youth with gin and have since refused to drink anything with gin, but that ban was done away with at first sip.  The lemon juice and cucumber overpowered any bitter taste I might have otherwise noticed and made a drink so delicious that I quickly began to re-enact the scene from Something’s Gotta Give when Diane Keaton’s character is drinking martinis with the same pace at which frat boys drink when racing one another to chug cheap beer.  Needless to say, I couldn’t resist ordering a second.

For dinner, Kevin had the French Onion Soup Gratinee (he was nice enough to share half a spoonful) and the 7oz. Bistro Filet.  He claimed it was the best meal he had had in San Francisco.  I, realizing that a dinner consisting of booze wasn’t the smartest idea, chose the Mixed Local Greens salad and the Coq au Vin.  The orange-almond vinaigrette on the salad was topped only by the use of grapes from nearby wine country.  As for the coq au vin, I could never say anything negative about chicken that has been soaked in a bath of red wine and vegetables. Despite being a very heavy meal (there’s nothing light about coq au vin), dessert was a non-negotiable.  Chocolate Pot de Crème is something I absolutely love.  I’ve even made it once myself and devoured four of the individual ramekins myself.  Unfortunately, it was the first thing on the menu so I didn’t even give the other items on the menu a chance!

After dinner, we walked up Hayes Street for a few blocks until we came across this bar called Marlena’s and it was definitely not something either of us had ever experienced.  Peering through the windows and doorway of the bar, we saw a “larger” drag queen wearing a bright sequined mini skirt belting away to the stylings of Ke$ha on a stage with plenty of other drag queens in the wings waiting for their chance to perform.  It was a spectacle just watching and I don’t even want to imagine what would have happened had we entered the bar!

Lesson Ten: Fog and the Golden Gate Bridge Are Almost Always Inseparable

Sunday morning saw me waking up way too early for anyone on vacation because we had to go schlep all the way back to the Golden Gate Bridge and make our second attempt at visiting the landmark.  While it rather quiet when we went Saturday afternoon, it was busier than a Wal Mart on Black Friday when we pulled into the parking lot on Sunday morning.  There we were, stuck between the boats that can go in the water (they scare me) and the double-decker tourist buses.  I have nightmares about moments like that.  Fortunately, a nice police officer took pity on us and helped us navigate our way into a free parking space right in front of the entrance to the Visitor’s Center.  I was just glad we didn’t have to go anywhere near those raccoons again.

For the next two hours, we walked through the fog as we traveled from one end of the Golden Gate Bridge to the other and back.  I could say how beautiful and spiritual (this is California after all) the whole thing was, but I really spent the whole time terrified that I might lose my camera.  That said, I got some lovely shots of the bridge and by the time we made it back to visitor’s center, the fog was beginning to disappear.

Lesson Eleven: Brunch is a lifestyle No Matter Where You Go

After violating at least four traffic laws in order to get out of the parking lot, we headed to brunch at Zuni Café, a San Francisco destination since 1979.  Seated at a copper bar for two with a spectator’s view of the main dining room, brunching began with mimosas before Kevin’s pizza and my baked egg with tomato sauce decided to join our little party.  The pizza was whatever, but that baked egg with tomato sauce was sinfully good!  The only thing that made the whole experience better was the mountain of shoestring fries we ordered.  Our waiter said they were highly addictive and I am truly embarrassed at how I refused to stop eating them.  I couldn’t stop!  For the next twenty minutes, I felt like a junkie.  I highly recommend them.

Lesson Twelve: They’ll Make Ice Cream Out of Anything Now

Remember when ice cream came in three flavors?  Well I don’t and thanks to my ice cream maker, I’m now 5lbs heavier than I was at the beginning of the summer. Once we paid the bill and I finally finished listening to five different conversations taking place in our vicinity, we returned to the Mission District once again to try another ice cream vendor, Humphry Slocombe.  Though not nearly as long a line as the one at Bi-Rite Creamery, this was still a very popular place.  That said, I wasn’t impressed.  Of the three flavors I got (Brown Butter, Cinnamon Brittle and a third not worth remembering), only the Brown Butter was actually good.  Kevin said his two flavors weren’t even worth mentioning.  The problem was really the fact that they were making ice cream out of things that should never be turned into ice cream.  In my pre-trip research, I learned that they make Prociutto ice cream four times a year and that they also have Government Cheese and Bacon listed as seasonal flavors.  If I could have done this over, I would have just gone back to Bi-Rite Creamery.

Lesson Thirteen: Napa is Not a Place.  Napa is a Lifestyle!

There’s something about Napa that just makes everyone who visits want to move here and start growing vines of their own.  I don’t blame them.  Despite not having any tours arranged (even though I called four wineries for a week and never heard back from one) because the winery I had wanted to visit the most, Dominus, didn’t have some permit that allowed them to do tastings/tours, we burned rubber up to America’s Bordeaux for what turned out to be a very relaxing and very hot afternoon.  We headed to St. Helena, a small town located at the northern tip of Napa Valley where I rediscovered Woodhouse Chocolates and Olivier before we turned around and found some wineries still open after 16h0 for tastings.

Opening the door to Woodhouse Chocolates is like entering a completely different atmosphere.  The air is filled with the scent of chocolate and naturally all worries immediately disappear.  In the center of the ivory-painted interior is a display of a chocolate fish that just looks so luscious and heavenly.  Behind glass sit hundreds of little pieces of chocolate just begging to be eaten by you, the nice person with an American Express card in your wallet.  The next thing you know, the chocolate aroma in the air has taken control of your motor functions and you’re buying a box of twelve little pieces of heaven even though it’s nearly 100°F outside and you’ve got two wineries to visit before heading back to the much more comfortable weather in San Francisco.

I’m sorry, just writing about Woodhouse Chocolates put me into that same trance.

A few doors down is Olivier, an olive oil store that uses local olives to produce six equally incredible extra-virgin olive oils.  They also sell a myriad of sauces and a few home goods, but the olive oil is undoubtedly the center of attention in this store.  They stay resting in massive copper vats and it’s up to you to try them all and then bottle the olive oil you want.

We both bought our mothers a bottle of the Manzanillo olive oil before braving the heat and returning to the car for our trek back down the St. Helena Highway in search of open wineries.  We ended up stopping at two wineries that were still open along the highway.  The first was so bad I don’t even remember its name.  All I remember was me chugging through the four wines so we could get the hell out of there!  The second winery we visited, Alpha Omega, was much better than the first, but I feel they spent so much on the tasting room because they knew their wine wasn’t THAT great!  It was fare.  Of the four wines I tried, the Proprietary Red was the best/the only one I could actually see myself buying a bottle of sometime.  The rosé was not good at all and the chardonnay was so-so.  As for the Cabernet, I didn’t finish it.  However, that Proprietary Red was actually good.

I will say that the very nice server at Alpha Omega did have a very heavy pour so I was definitely buzzed by the time we pulled out of Napa, which I feel is required by all over the age of 21 who visit.  I wasn’t too sad about not going to some of the better wineries largely because I toured the Opus One winery before it was treated like Cristal by mass society.  I did feel bad for Kevin, though, because we didn’t go on any tours and since he was still 20 at the time of our visit, he couldn’t have any wine.  But, I made up for it by getting him some Jamba Juice on the way back so everything was fine.

Lesson Fourteen: The Most Interesting Conversations Occur in Restaurants

Sunday night, my last in San Francisco, was not spent watching the Closing Ceremony of the London Olympics, but instead dinnering at Locanda, an Italian restaurant I read about in the Times in July of 2011 and had wanted to visit ever since.  Once again in the Mission District, we were seated at a table next to these two guys who were explaining how each one came out to their families, so not exactly light dinner chat, and it was riveting!  Oh My God!  One has a mother who is super religious and though his father was okay with it, his mother has only now just begun to accept him and other one came out on a family camping trip and his mother broke down crying!  I couldn’t believe they were talking about this when we were sitting six inches from their table!  Worse, when they left and I turned to Kevin to analyze that entire conversation, he looks at me and goes “What conversation?”  I couldn’t believe he didn’t hear a word they said!

Kevin redeemed himself that night by leaving his comfort zone and ordering a duck egg for an appetizer.  Kevin has a “limited” palate that hasn’t changed much over the years and so for him to go out on a limb like this and try a duck egg was very impressive.  It was hysterical though, because before eating it, he remarked that the egg on his plate “could have been a little duck if I hadn’t ordered it.”  Turns out, Donald was delicious and Kevin ate the whole thing so I’m very proud of him for that!  I decided to not be as adventurous and instead started with the Jewish-Style Artichokes.  As far as I’m concerned, you can’t ever go wrong with artichokes, except for that one time when I tried steaming them at home and burned the bottom of the pot so badly that I had to throw it out.  Oops!

For our main courses, Kevin thinks he had the Linguine while I ordered the Rabbit Sugo Pasta.  He thought the dinner the night before was better, but I was blown away by my dinner and thought that Bugs tasted excellent!  We split the Ricotta Fritta for dessert and I highly recommend it, if I may say so myself.  Everyone there was so accommodating and friendly and just made it great way to end the trip.

Lesson Fifteen: Apparently People Don’t Wake Up Early Out West

While driving me to the airport Monday morning, Kevin claimed that he didn’t realize people actually got up before 9.  With that comment lingering in the air, I boarded my flight home to begin my Summer Hiatus, which, as y’all can see, has ended today.  It’s been nice.  I’ve learned about this wonderful thing called sleeping; I’ve emptied rooms filled with chotchkies; I baked something from “Mastering the Art of French Cooking” in honor of Julia Child’s 100th Birthday; I finally made marshmallows (they’re out of this world!).

I visited Charlottesville to attend the UVa-Penn State game with Lindsay (I’m told they lost and we didn’t win, but  a win’s a win as far as I’m concerned) and then drove to DC the next day with her to see Julia Child’s Kitchen (there was more square-footage in the gift shop devoted to her than there was exhibit space); and most importantly, I graduated!

That’s right, after four years, two states, two schools, one second-world country, lots of new friends, countless papers, a few sleepless nights, and five pounds, I’m DONE!  As for the future, we’ll see what happens, but until next time…

-JD

Next Year, I’m Either Picking Up the Turkey From Daniel Boulud or Following Everyone to Boca

Despite the fact that I might actually love Thanksgiving more than I love my own birthday (for which I devote an entire month to celebrating), this year’s Thanksgiving just killed me in a way that may have rivaled the death of Muammar Gaddafi (or whichever of the 112 different spellings of his name y’all prefer).   So my grandmother is on her 900th life and isn’t really able to leave her home anymore, but she insisted that she be apart of Thanksgiving  this year, which we do at my house.  Even though we didn’t really start cooking until after the 85th Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade ended, Mother and I managed to stay on schedule, despite one of our ovens deciding to suddenly act like the electronics system on a 1980s Jaguar, until about Four when it was decided that we would move the entire dinner to my grandparents’s house.  That is when uncontrolled chaos began to ensue.  We had to transport all of the food, plus their serving platters over to their house, where we would finish cooking the stuffing, sweet potato pies, corn muffins, and the two French Apple Tartes.

The traveling and packing/unpacking may have put us behind schedule, but my younger cousin, Kevin, who this year sported a “limited edition” Black Friday 2011 tee-shirt (not kidding), wasn’t thrilled that we were starting dinner so late because as y’all may have heard, Wal-Mart, a place I’ve proudly only been twice, started its sale Thursday night, and he wanted to be there to the point that he spent most of dinner away from the table and glued to his computer screen.  I’m sorry, but it’s a holiday designed to celebrate the family—many thanks, Norman Rockwell—and not about spraying people with pepper spray in a Wal-Mart over a $249 40″ LCD television that isn’t even that good of a brand!

That, combined with some other “interesting” (that’s the best way to describe it) events has made me realize that maybe Andrew, and about twenty other people I know, are on to something by going to Bubbieland USA Boca and letting someone else do the cooking for them.  We’ve only done the restaurant gig once and that was in 2001 because we were in New York for Thanksgiving.  My only issue with being in South Florida for Thanksgiving is that it just doesn’t seem right to be surrounded by people in short-sleeves and palm trees and other plants with leaves on them in late November.  Now oddly, I have absolutely no problem with this same scenario in December for Christmas.  I don’t know why, but the whole White Christmas thing doesn’t appeal to me at all.  This might have something to do with the fact that I’m Jewish, but I may be wrong.

The other alternative I’m thinking about for next year is Daniel Boulud’s $395 pre-made Thanksgiving Dinner for eight to ten people, sans desserts (my stomach is already getting excited).  Yes, that sounds like a lot to spend on a meal, but if you do the math, it’s kind of the same amount you’d spend if you made it all yourself.  Plus, the difference is that you can avoid hell grocery stores and the lovely human satans suburban housewives that can’t competently shop in them, not to mention the fact that you get your dinner prepared for you by a world class restaurant team!  And, you just get your guests, family included, to bring the wine and dessert so you don’t have to pay for them.  Who ever thought that I would be somehow saving people money?  I blame the sleep depravation.

The rest of my time home can be summed up very quickly: I was a vegetable.  In fact, the only time I actually left my house following Thanksgiving was on Saturday night when I went with Mother and Fozzie Bear to dinner at Todd Jurich’s Burger Bar in Virginia Beach.  Todd Jurich is a local chef whose hugely successful and award-winning Todd Jurich’s Bistro has given him a bit of an ego.  M. Jurich opened and then closed a French bistro-style restaurant before deciding to jump on the high-end burger joint train started by Danny Meyer with Shake Shack (an affordable version of heaven).  I hope this somewhat out-of-the-way restaurant is a success because it was delicious!  The All American Bison Burger with Sweet Potato Fries were excellent, although I did have to basically deconstruct the burger in order to eat it was it was rather large.

The reason to go to M. Jurich’s new restaurant, however, isn’t even the food, but rather the Nutella and Burnt Marshmellow milkshake.  I can’t say that I’ve ever had a Nutella milkshake before, and while I’m curious as to how they managed to turn a product that specifically says that you’re not allowed to freeze it into a milkshake, I’m also afraid to ask because what I don’t know, won’t hurt me!  I will say that I would have preferred a little more milkshake and a little less burnt marshmallows, but it was delectable nonetheless and I highly recommend that y’all go if in the Virginia Beach area.

Justin, whose ancestors attended the first Thanksgiving, briefly went back North to Cape Cod to freeze his little tuchus off for 48 hours before getting on the first flight back to Florida because he’s now afraid of the cold.  Each time I spoke to Justin while he was home, he did nothing but complain about how it was bitterly cold even though was born and raised in Massachusetts.  My how three years in Florida can change a man.  While on holiday, Justin did mention something to me that I’ve found to be both wonderful and depressing.  Apparently, the wonderful people behind Nutella, my well-documented addiction,  have created two Nutelleria cafés, one in Bologna, and the other in Frankfurt.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m over the moon excited that these two places exist, but I’m so mad that I didn’t see the one in Bologna when I visited the hidden Italian gem back in April, especially since I was only two blocks from it at one point!  I guess there has to be a reason to go back, right?

Finally tonight, there is something I’ve been meaning to share with y’all for way too long and my earlier mention of M. Bunga Bunga himself, Colonel Muammar Gaddafi.  Following the eccentric Libyan leader’s death, the folks at Time got creative and put together a slideshow documenting the many outrageous outfits that Muammar wore over the years.  Despite these lasting images, I feel my lasting image of M. Bunga Bunga will forever be this clip from SNL:

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Okay, well I’m off to go watch The Godfather for a class so until next time…

-JD

PS: There are only seventeen more days until I board the Auto Train to Florida!

And the Holidays are Officially Here Which Means I Can Finally Blast Christmas Music Nonstop!

Did I mention I was Jewish?  Anyway, Happy Belated Thanksgiving!  I know mine was just a tad bit more of a fuck-up than usual, so hopefully it was the same for y’all.  So Justin decided that since he couldn’t kiss-ass his way into the Kennedy Compound at Hyannis Port this year, he’d travel to the “Real South” for the first time (yes, Florida is the southern-most state in the Nation, but with everyone’s bubbe and zayde on the Sunshine Shuttle between Zabar’s and Boca, combined with the extreme insanity of the state:

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and

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Florida is basically the Northern-most State in Union, while Maine, with its lobsters (they have them in Florida too), basically hillbilly-esque residents (not all, but most) and the Bush Family Compound in Kennbunkport (Florida, Florida, Florida), basically should be below Georgia (which would make more sense since both states are a little… special:

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I rest my case.)

As I was saying, Justin made his first venture into the South this past week.  Since there was obscene traffic getting home, we stopped in Williamsburg so Justin could play hopscotch around horse manure in the dark while strolling down Duke of Gloucester Street.  We then had an absolutely fantastic dinner at the Fat Canary, which The New York Times said was the place to eat when it did its “36 Hours in Williamsburg” article in June of 2009.  It has to be one of the best restaurants in the state of Virginia and has turned the once unrivaled Trellis into a tourist-only freak-show complete with a kid’s menu and food not worth its price.

Following dinner and our stroll along Duke of Gloucester Street, Justin and I climbed back into Old Faithful and drove home to Virginia Beach.  On Wednesday, I took Justin to see all of the historic sites of Norfolk including the Battleship Wisconsin (from the stoplight), the Moses Myers House, my grandparents, the Chrysler Museum, ODU, their house, our Temple, the original Norfolk Academy, Ghent, the Virginia Zoo, they have original Westinghouse appliances that still work, the Hunter House, Scope, Chrysler Hall, the Harrison Opera House, and because the MacArthur Memorial was closed, I took Justin to see MacArthur Center.  In addition, I took Justin to Doumar’s, the Norfolk institution that is more important than just about every other site in the city.  By judging the small stain on his jacket after lunch, it’s clear to say that Justin was more than satisfied by his visit.

Then came Thanksgiving, which started off alright, but then it became painfully obvious that Al Roker had taken too many crazy pills and that should have been a sign right there that I should have just gone back to bed and slept through the day.

So mother imprisoned Justin in the kitchen and basically chained him to the counter so he could peal vegetables for her and help with the sweet potato pies.  I, in addition to making desert, was forced into slave labor so we could have the haricots verts with crispy fried shallots and whatever else needed to be done.  Justin got to see a side of me he never thought he would ever be fortunate to witness: me being domesticated, cleaning dishes, cooking, screaming at people for being incompetent (okay, so he’s seen that before).  The table was even a diva experience as mother was unable to find the right table cloth she wanted to use and, as usual, made it my fault somehow.  She looked like she was on the verge of tears when the turkey came out a tad bit overdone, but I reminded her that the only thing people remember is desert and that it doesn’t matter how the turkey tastes.  This year, I made three deserts: a French chocolate bark, an apple crisp and a vanilla armagnac ice cream (yes, all three are Ina Garten recipes; I love her because her recipes are designed for humans, unlike a particular nutcase:

Prison did wonders for her!).  Sadly, due to technical difficulties with ice cream maker, which was acting like an incompetent fool, it wasn’t done in time.  Twice during the course of dinner, we seemed to lose my Uncle, who lives for his sports and just went away unnoticed for a good ten-fifteen minutes.  Grace, as usual, came over, having spent part of her day out hunting for ducks.  She was kind enough to send a photo:

My cousin Kevin, crazy person, informed us that he had been online from 23h0 the night before until 7h0 Thursday morning shopping the sales before sleeping until 16h0.  After dinner, he went to Wal-Mart and Radio Shack before collapsing in a bed.  Black Friday was spent showing Justin the oceanfront’s sites: the boardwalk, the Dairy Queen that puts on a firework display for the 4th of July it’s so popular and many other touristy areas before getting dinner at Mizuno.  We then joined Grace and my cousin Holly to see the film Love and Other Drugs, which was a huge letdown.  Let me break it down: two hours of random, pointless sex (not that there’s anything wrong with it), a rich people pajama/sex party, a great plug for Viagra, and then trying to find a plot in the final ten minutes of the film.  This was a huge letdown for all of us, who were all expecting so much more from Jake Gyllenhaal and Anne Hathaway (Grace was sad that Anne Hathaway wasn’t as bitchy as usual).  The film just lacked any sort of direction, it was pointless, boring, made no sense whatsoever, and as a classmate of mine said this morning when agreeing that the film was bad, «At least someone else paid for my ticket or else I would have demanded a refund.»

Saturday morning began with brunch with Grace and Annie at Mary’s, a «favorite» local diner before going back to their house to watch Virginia Tech destroy UVa.  Justin got to meet  Walter, which was purely wonderful.  Meanwhile, I took this photo of Annie, to which she responded, «That’s why the boys like me!»

Following this, Justin got to go walk on the beach, which was FREEZING, but nice:

After this, it was time to head to Richmond so Justin could go where no sane person has ever gone before: a Greyhound bus station.  It turns out that he has completely lost all sense of sanity since he’s been out of school and didn’t understand why I was yelling at him for even considering taking a bus to Manhattan in the first place.  He wanted to get some reading done and thought this would be the only way possible.  IT’S CALLED AMTRAK YOU INCOMPETENT FOOL!  There aren’t fights that break out on a train, you don’t have to sit in fear the whole time worrying that you might get shot and there are no changes in DC.  Instead, you get two power outlets, a café car, a footrest, and a pillow/blanket!

Grace spent her Saturday night in a deer stand, but sadly turned up with no venison for me to cook.  I returned to Charlottesville to find my basil basically dead:

I’ve brought them back to life though:

And yes, I’m reading «True Prep,» which Justin, it mentions my beloved Tiffany & Co. monogramed belt buckle that you said was hideous as being very preppy, so as Jim Cramer would say, BOOYAH!

Finally this evening,  Andrew spent his Thanksgiving with his family (<3 them) in BOCA and he sent me fifteen photos from inside Donald Trump’s Florida club/private hair plug treatment center, Mar-a-Lago in Palm Beach.  I thought I’d pass a few on:

Ladies, if that pose doesn’t make y’all swoon, frankly I won’t blame you because that is kind of a scary sight.  And yes Grace, I can see he has a large bulge; they’re called socks.

I wasn’t aware that you could earn Six Stars, especially since the American Academy of Hospitality Sciences only has Five Stars on its logo.  I’m looking into this and will report back later.

So, clearly it’s been a freak week, but as Cyber Monday turns into the Tuesday after Cyber Monday, and Hanukkah is now less than twenty-four hours away (seriously, it’s starting this early?  I mean if we had moved it up a week, we could have done latkes and turkey on the same day (and I bet that would go well with the apple sauce and Costco caviar)!  Andrew and I wish to inform whatever idiot that decided Hanukkah could start this early in the season that we’re not prepared!  I’m not supposed to buy Wikileaks his annual Brooks Brothers tie with his Brooks Brothers MasterCard (which is only used when making purchases at Brooks Brothers I might add) until after New Years, when I get it for over 60% and am fighting little old ladies on Worth Avenue who tell me that I’m too young to need a tie and then I have to remind them that they’ll probably be dead before they get home!  What?  It’s part of the tradition.  Besides, I don’t even know what I want for my four gifts.  All our goyim friends get an extra month practically to pick out their thirty-six presents, decorate their trees, bake the cookies for the pedophile, and listen to Christmas music while we’re stuck watching oil burn in a candle for eight nights (and they say it’s wrong to stereotype)!  Anyway, until next time…

-JD

PS: Congratulations to Jean and Lily for managing to avoid their government-mandated fondle at Newark and for both making it to France safely!  Justin, on the other hand, experienced something like this when flying to Richmond last Tuesday:

My Coco Has Returned to Me

That’s right folks, as I begin to write this, Conan O’Brien’s new show, CONAN, is about ten minutes from premiering after nine months, sixteen days, and let’s go with 23 hours (math is not a strong suit) of being off the air.  In response to Coco’s sacking from The Tonight Show, I have since boycotted the jealous crybaby Jay Leno and have had to fill the void for my nightly comedy fix with something else, Chelsea Lately, which is okay, because that is where I found my love, Loni Love!  However, Coco’s hair color seems to have changed from his reddish/orange to nearly a dirty blonde.  As Grace would probably ask, does this mean he had his downstairs dyed as well?

Moving on, it was parents’s weekend this past weekend here at UVa and people who know me know that weekends like this are the weekends that give me more stress than anyone can imagine.  I say this because they just like to ask too many questions and you can’t hang up on them when they start to annoy you.  Fortunately, Friday was Annie’s birthday so on Saturday, Grace had a party at her apartment for Annie’s friends.  I lent Grace my juicer (which she has agreed to never again refer to as a sex toy) for who knows what and as my gift to Annie, I sabered a bottle of champagne for her.  Sadly, no one bothered to capture it on film, but it was fun regardless.  Grace is now using the bottle to try and hide the hideous paper towels she bought that have animal prints on them.  It was a lot of fun, expect for seeing this guy from one of my discussion groups relieving himself on the side of Grace’s apartment building.  Apparently, he can’t use a lavatory.  He also said the same thing to me every time he saw me that night, which was, «DUUUUUUDE! YOU’RE IN MY DISCUSSION GROUP!  DISCUSSION GROUP DUDE!» in his very fratty voice.  After the fifth time, I finally just told him that he had to come up with something better to talk to me about because the last thing I want to think about on a Saturday night at 23h30 is homework.  It was a really fun night and I hope Annie had a good birthday in general and that she gets over her strep throat by Wednesday so that I can buy the Munchkins I told her I’d get her to eat in class (with me).

Before mother and Yuri Andropov arrived on Saturday, Andrew helped me buy the website domain www.theyapper.com.  I haven’t had time to get it set up yet, but it will be the new domain for this blog soon.  Thank you, Andrew for all your help!  Andrew has been prepping for his Thanksgiving that will be once again in Boca!  Honestly, I have no recollection of what we talked about this past week.  Usually I keep my notes from the week on my BlackBerry, but this week, I just have nothing because it was a busy week school-wise.  Plus, I didn’t finally post last week’s post until Thursday, so most of week was already finished.  Additionally, I haven’t forgotten about last week’s Saturday Night Out With…, I just haven’t written it in a way that pleases me.  Hopefully, I’ll write it in a way that please me by Thursday.

Justin and I have spent much of the week arguing about politics and discussing politicians and their sex lives (basically a continuation of last week).  Someone gave Justin a computer game recently, so he’s been occupied with that as well.  My cousin, Kevin, sold my old iPod Touch recently for $125 on eBay, so thank you to Kevin for that.  Because I’ve got a few papers and projects coming up, I’m going to call it a night, so until next time…

-JD

PS: In Basil Watch, they’re really growing now and I’m hoping that I’ll be able to cook with the basil I’m growing before I leave for Italy.  Also, while I didn’t get to meet her parents, I was able to meet Sarah’s sister, who is basically an identical twin who just happens to be shorter and older.