EastGirlsWest

Tay and I have finally collaborated in writing (sort of). We bantered our way through a restaurant review for Angela’s blog Culture Lust, and you can read it here.

Hopefully this is the first of many more online conversations about the activity we indulge in and enjoy the most. We could post a new piece every day and it would only reflect a few crumbs of the hours we spend talking about what we eat, processing the most insouciant details of what passes our lips. Thankfully, San Diego’s palate is growing more eclectic, sophisticated and delicious by the day, leaving us with much to chew on.

Tay picks me up at work. We drive to the smoothie place, and she runs over a pigeon when we get into the parking lot. The pigeon does not die, but in the rear view mirror we can see it pointlessly flapping its wings, scampering across the pavement, going nowhere fast.

She cries in the car. There are tears while we order and wait for our smoothies.

We drive to Tay’s new apartment, which is quiet and mostly empty, still waiting for her to inhabit. Our only effort to spruce up is to quietly hang a temporary shower curtain - just a liner, really - while we drink our smoothies.

We leave Tay’s apartment. On the way back to my office, a monster pickup truck rolls through a stop sign at an intersection. We are headed directly towards the pickup, at a normal rate of speed since we don’t have a stop sign. I scream. Tay slams on the brakes, and the car skids and squeals and uses every bit of restraint it can muster to come to a stop about .5 inches from the pickup. We are terrified, holding our breath, not blinking. The pickup driver doesn’t flinch. Or stop. He turns his head, looks right through us, and keeps driving.

Two blocks further she drops me off. Lunch hour is over.

We go to the beach. Trooping across the sand with bags, chairs and blankets. We finally settle, sunscreen on, eyes on the waves, magazines in hand. She announces:

“Not only did I make turkey sandwiches with hummus, avocado, cheese, lettuce and tomato - but I also made us each a to-go mimosa! Here’s yours.”

Check it out - the best of our fair city this fine weekend, as discussed on These Days this morning. I’m liking John Vanderslice and Joan As Police Woman at the Casbah (Friday and Saturday, respectively), and had fun telling Tom about dining in the dark. That’s right, as in: you can’t see your food.

David recommends the Ocean Beach Jazz Festival, some hard core musical nostalgia, and this wacky play about time travel. Communicating Doors is playing at Cygnet Theatre, and we (me, The Husband) went to see tonight! We enjoyed, and definitely endorse a trip to The College Area to enjoy this show.

Listen here. And plan your weekend carefully! There’s much to do and you must be judicious.

UPDATE: Check out Angela’s review of Communicating Doors over at her blog. I agree with every word, and would only add that this play piqued my interest in finding my own time portal almost as much as the film Sliding Doors.

Angela and I go to Vagabond in South Park for the basil martinis. The sweet, green, citrus cocktail comes with floating flakes of it’s namesake herb, and is unexpectedly delicious. Additionally, I am addicted to the frites, supremely skinny and seasoned perfectly, served with some kind of tasty aoili that might have crack in it. Once I’ve chased the frites with a second basil martini, I’ve reached a near nirvana. Other menu highlights include the Thai calamari, salad nicoise, and mussels that come with…frites.

We try to arrive early enough for seats at the bar, where we can order food and immerse ourselves in the warm, social buzz of the room. It’s loud enough to feel happy and comfortable, and to have a private conversation even while seated right next other customers. Quiet enough to hear each other spill our stories and secrets and not have to shout. The space is electic and welcoming, and we almost always end up chatting with a friendly stranger while we’re there.

At the end of our last visit we locked ourselves in the ladies room together to take turns draining our bladders and reapplying lipstick. While standing in front of the mirror, side by side, we quickly realized there was a problem.

“Is it the lighting? Or maybe my hair looks bad?”
“No, your hair is good. It’s not the hair.”
“Oh no. It’s a fat mirror.”
“Yes! Michelle has told me this. Definitely a fat mirror!”
“Fat like fat.”
“Let’s get out of here.”

We fled the scene, dashing out past the poor pregnant woman who had been patiently waiting her turn outside the ladies room door.

In summary: Vagabond, we love you. We’d love you even more if your bathroom mirror did us a few more favors than the dreaded dressing room at The Gap.

Which makes me a duck and cheese filled croissant drizzled in chocolate and a rich butter sauce, with a side of frites, a bottle of wine and a beef tart with more cheese on it for dessert. (this explains my previous post)

People keep asking how our honeymoon was. To which I reply:

“Food, wine, sex and scenery.”

Sometimes adding, “not necessarily in that order.”

Since my mother AND mother-in-law read this blog, I’ll skip writing about all the hot honeymoon sex. And the scenery? I mean, it was outstanding. But how many ways can I describe the beauty of an endless field of blooming sunflowers? Or the charm of a fairytale medieval village nestled in the hills? See, I just did.

The reasonable cost, wide availability and uniformly delicious taste of modest, local wines is one of the treats of France. And if my sister joined us on our honeymoon she’d have kept a wine diary, recording the vineyard, region, grape varieties and tasting notes of each bottle. There would be words like “plummy, smoky and cherry.” Maybe “soft tannins and a fruity finish,” or even “cedar aroma and medium body.” She also would have stoppped me from eating that sixth macaroon, but that’s another story.

Much to The Husband’s delight, my sister was NOT with us on our honeymoon. So I am limited in my ability to describe the Bacchanalian beverage I overindulged in. My summary might be:

Damn that was some good wine! Especially when combined with a block of gruyere, confit de canard, hot honeymoon sex and a walk through the cobblestone streets of a charming 15th century town.

Not necessarily in that order.

While we savored many gastronomic feasts, I can’t say there was one meal or dish that warrants exhalting above all others. From the street cart crepes to the duck carpaccio at Lard et Bouchon, it all made me sigh with delight and satisfaction. Really, any place with the word “lard” in the name has GOT to be good. Can you imagine that flying here in Southern California?

Now, back to the elliptical. Because currently, the lard and the wine seem to be preparing to settle in for awhile and make themselves comfortable on my thighs.

Mask

…livin’ crazy is the only way.

Girl’s Night

Soundtrack: Michael Jackson ‘Off the Wall‘ (yes, we danced)

Cocktail: Rivola Sardon del Duero 2003 (still enjoying leftover wedding wine)

Dinner: Pasta Primavera (Tay says this dish is from the 90’s, but it was delicious anyway)

Activities: purifying facial masks, wine knowledge flash cards, outfit consideration and packing for France

Dessert: popsicles

TV: Carnivale (season 1 finale)

“So, I’m thinking of making lamb chops tomorrow night.”

“Oh.”

“You don’t like lamb chops?”

“I don’t know. Lamb just tastes…”

“Not like steak?”

“Exactly.”

Escolar with avocado butter, cooked to perfection on the grill.

Corn on the cob, also cooked on the grill (shucked, in tin foil, 20 minutes). Served with the leftover avocado butter!

Sweet potato fries.

Salad of romaine, radishes, celery, dill and a simple, homemade vinagrette.

Elk carpaccio, with blueberries.

Olive oil ice cream.

Lobster bisque, which I drank out of an unbroken eggshell through a straw.

Tonight, it’s big portions of all kinds at The Hash House, where we’ll be celebrating Michelle’s last night of work there!