I Ate My Heart Out in San Francisco pt I: Commence Roadtrip pt III: Getting Cheesy in Carmel

This was my second trip to Carmel.  The first was last summer, where I spent a weekend there, but barely getting much of a taste of all the wonders that exist.  This place is like my mecca.  It’s Clint Eastwood’s town. CLINT!  I dreamily fantasize about running into him in his bar, Hog’s Breath Inn.  One of those moments where I walk in and order a beer and glance over to see a stranger’s back right next to the framed photo from Dirty Harry.  You know the one I’m talking about, with the gun pointing out and an amazing depth of field.  At the moment I sit down and the stranger turns around only to reveal that it’s him!  The very same Clint from that photo, side by side!

The actuality of this happening is so slim, but a girl can dream right?  Anywho, Carmel is a really nice quaint place to visit.  We decided to hit it up for breakfast before returning to the unending road and actually getting to San Francisco.

After walking the streets for a bit, and being completely ravished, we decided to stop at a small casual looking restaurant that boasted its freshly baked breads in the window.  An obvious chose for two Italians from NY I might add.  This little treasure is called La Bicyclette, a place I don’t even recognize from my adventures a year earlier.  We ordered what turned out to be adorable cups of coffee in glass mugs with a whimsical handle that wanted to weave around your fingers.  Cream was in a small cylinder.  There was no sharing here.  The little tray that it sat upon looked like some sort of art exhibit.  I really enjoyed that.  It’s not often I allow myself to experience pretentious coffee.  I know it was pretentious because each coffee came with a mission statement.  And I quote, “The cafe is where people from all walks of life, whether they are artists and writers, or business people and politicians, can come and interact freely…” Oh it goes on.  It’s funny because in the moment I absolutely loved this little piece of paper.  The idea that a cafe is more than just food and drink.  I think it was a combination of the road and blissful vacation that skews your perspective on such things.  Or maybe it was just the magic of Carmel, making it ok to leave such propaganda with each patron’s coffee.  Because if I ever went to a cafe in LA that had something like this, I would spit on the floor, knock my table over and leave in a huff.  Or probably something much less dramatic, but I’d be THINKING about doing those things.  Regardless, I decided I was enjoying this adorable little cafe, with its adorable loaves of baked bread, and its adorable cups of coffee.  It also helped that it was adorned with bowls of red onions and strings of garlic.

The menu was surprisingly small, a relief.  I wanted to just close my eyes and let my finger pick something for me this morning.  I settled on the quiche.  Why?  Because it had spinach, cheese, AND bacon.  That and the other option was a baked eggs dish, which you should all remember I didn’t take well to a few months ago.  If you don’t remember, check out my baked eggs post and the seething despair in those words.  I digress.  The quiche was a gigantic slab with crusted cheese on top.  In the end it was just far too rich for me.  I ended up picking through it for all the bacon (shocker) and leaving scraps that a child would have created to make it look like they ate more than they actually did.  Delicious, but too much for a girl who ate an insane amount of subpar seafood the night before.

The place had a great beer and wine selection, complete with a chalkboard menu of delicious sounding pizzas.  I almost wished we could stay for lunch or dinner because I was intrigued at the quality based solely on the fresh breads that were sitting next to us.  Taunting us.  We had to have them.  And we did.  But we didn’t go overboard, which was kind of amazing.  We bought 4 very small bread sticks to go with the cheese we were about to buy.  You know, very end of the title of this post.  The Cheese.

And now we get to my real motive for the trip to Carmel.  The two things I remember from the trip I took last time were amazing oysters and The Cheese Shop.  I wouldn’t shut up about it.  I bought 3 small wedges of cheese that I nibbled on for as long as I could.  So with this trip on the horizon, I kept planting that seed to my mom.  We could just ‘pass through’ and stop for cheese.  Honestly, she didn’t need much convincing.  After all, same genes, same love of cheese.

So at 11am we sauntered over to the plaza, down the stairs, and into The Cheese Shop.  (Yes, I remembered where it was… slightly sick on my part, I’m aware.)  My favorite thing about this cheese shop is that you walk in and someone is thrusting cheese at you.  They don’t take no for an answer actually.  We were immediately in the hands of Blake, who took very good care of us, unknowing that we would be in there for probably close to an hour.  I came for the unnamed gouda, I announced.  This is the cheese I remember savoring the most, never able to get enough.  A taste and a wedge later we moved to the Netherlands, which had a surprising amount of fantastic cheese.  Blake took us through all kinds of delicious and surprising cheeses.  I honestly could have stayed there all day, shooting the shit and eating cheese, but there is only so much cheese one can eat before 12pm, so we decided to call it quits after deciding on 7 of our favorites to take with us.  Like an idiot, I didn’t write any of them down, so I’m going off of memory and the cheese brochure I left with.  Here goes:

• Unnamed Gouda- packed with flavor crystals!  FLAVOR CRYSTALS!
• Koko, which quickly became my new favorite- a cheese from The Netherlands made with coconut milk.  Those crazy kids are geniuses.
• Un- named Honey Bee- also from The Netherlands.  Very mild in flavor in comparison to the other booty, but still delicious
• Noord Hollander (another from The Netherlands)- a whiskey cheese, which was the most exciting for me.  Though I never did get around to trying it with a glass of scotch.
• Sharp Cheddar- can’t remember the name of this one, but he was an intense mofo.  I have Old Quebec Cheddar starred on my sheet, but who knows what was going on in my cheese- cracked out mind at the time.
• Raspberry Bella Vitano- a cheddar I remember from the last go around.  I had regretted not getting it, something quickly corrected this time.  These cheese was about to be all up in my mouth.
• The last was a soft cheese that we devoured when we got to San Francisco, obviously because it would have gone bad.  I know it wasn’t a brie because Blake made my morning with the pun he let slip out.  “It’s not but it should brie.”  (Puns about cheese- a man after my own heart.)  I am at a loss for its name though.  Fail.

We left in a daze, clutching our cheeses and ready to get back on the road.  All of the other cheeses lasted back to LA.  I wonder now what they would have tasted like later that day, rather than letting them sweat for 3 days before tearing into them.  They sure were sweaty guys by the end.  But that didn’t stop us from eating 3 very epic platters of cheese.  So thank you Cheese Shop, for bringing just a little more joy into my life.  Why it is I feel the need to travel 6 hours north to hit a cheese store is beyond me, but it’s always worth it.

Jaipur

Look at how busy that street is!

Like a weirdo, I designated an entire post earlier this week to Chicken Korma.  I gave in last night, and shockingly didn’t eat until my body wanted to veto all choices I made, so I’ll be enjoying it again tonight for dinner.

I had done extensive research all week in regards to Indian Restaurants in my neighborhood and specifically the Chicken Korma dish (which some places didn’t even have.  Shock!)  I came to a conclusion rather quickly.  I don’t know shit about Indian food.  I know what I like, but I have no idea if it is authentic or which hemisphere’s style of cooking it’s based on.  After reading a ton of reviews I noticed there are a retarded amount of kinds and styles of Indian food.

So basically I’m left with know I like Clay Oven’s Chicken Korma.  For all I know, they can all be vastly different.  I read the description of one place’s Chicken Korma that said it was a creamy yogurt sauce topped with nuts and raisins.  Gross.  What the fuck do raisins think they’re doing on top of my chicken?  But what if that is the correct way to make that dish?  That was the cheapo place so I’m thinking not, but still.  There’s a lot I need to learn about this exotic cuisine.  So please take this all into consideration as I describe my dining experience.

I knew since 9am yesterday morning that I would be indulging in my craving.  I decided to splurge and hit up Jaipur, fully knowing I’d be spending close to $20.  I saw someone write that they really liked their Chicken Korma and that pretty much sealed the deal.

After I got home from the gym I ordered online, something that really excited me.  Not only did they have an option to order online, they encouraged it.  No awkward conversation with someone who was sure to be unable to understand me correctly?  I love the internet!  I saved 10% because of that and because I’d be picking up my food.  I grew up in a household that never EVER got food delivered.  It is second nature to go out and get food, and I’ve only ever gotten down with delivery in groups.

So I showered up, threw on some sweats and headed over.  This place wasn’t too far from so it wasn’t a big deal until I realized where it was down Pico: a street with limited public parking and restaurants that commandeer the already small number of spots for valet services.  So I looped a few times and then went down this terribly paved back alley way in frustration.  I finally found the small stretch of driveway behind the restaurant and parked behind a dumpster.  I could see in through the back of the restaurant as people were cooking, but the screen door clearly states “For Employees Only.”  I got out of my car and stood there staring at the sign for a few moment.  I actually thought for a moment that this didn’t apply to me because I was only picking up food to go.  I thank god that I didn’t act on that.  But I did take a few steps towards the door after looking around and seeing no back entrance.  My plan was to ask if there was a door I was missing.  Instead I got scared and ran away.

I finally found an outlet halfway through the block and didn’t have to walk all the way around.  I was starving by this point and feeling incredibly lazy.  The restaurant was a lot smaller than it looked from the outside, but slightly elegant yet casual.  That whole white table cloths look with a candle on each table.  Typical Indian Food Restaurant.

I was really hoping for a grab and go scenario, because not thinking the situation through as usual, I was feeling a little uncomfortable rolling in in obvious PJ’s while there were patrons dining lovingly.

But of course that didn’t happen.  I was greeted by someone I couldn’t understand at all.  This is always my fear, hence the excitement of ordering online and not having to attempt my order via phone.  So I followed this guy to the back of the restaurant where he mumbled something and made a hand gesture that I amazingly understood to mean my credit card.  Boom.  I was all over it.  He ran my card and then walked away, which immediately bothered me just because I wanted to get out of there.  But then he returned with a wine glass full of a yellow yogurty mixture.  And more or less told me that was for me.  I looked around nervously unsure of what to do with this.  Obviously the logical thing is that it was a drink.  I mean, it came in a glass and I was picking up takeout.  I had signed my name and realized I had to do something with this drink.  I had a mini freakout in my head because I didn’t want to be rude and leave it, but for some reason drinking it seemed like the incorrect decision.

I tried to playfully make small talk regarding this mystery beverage, but instead I’m sure I sounded like a tool.  This was my suave way of getting information.  “So, what do I just down this like a shot?”  I’m sure this didn’t even register because the man immediately asked me if I wanted a “To Go” cup.  Before I knew what was happening he was pouring it into a cup and sending me on my way.  All I could do was sheepishly thank him and get the hell out of there.

I got home and tore open the naan and went for it.  I LOVE naan.  In LA, I’ve noticed that naan comes with two sauces.  A fresh savory green and a sweet berry-ish red.  The green is very familiar to me and I find it very refreshing when eating spicy foods.  The red is news.  I suppose it’s some kind of chutney.  What I really miss (and I remember this from NJ) is a yogurt sauce.  YUM.  I’m not sure if I need to request that specifically because it always just came with naan, or if it’s completely foreign here.

I proceeded to throw some rice in a bowl and pour on my Korma.  In the process of getting bowls, silverware, etc ready for the act of eating I will admit that I danced around my apartment chanting “Korma.”

I found it heavenly.  I can’t really remember what Clay Oven’s tasted like, but this was great.  It wasn’t too heavy (which is something I’m always afraid of when it comes to cream sauces) and had a really nice blend of flavors.  The heat was perfect.  I asked for a medium spice level and it was dead on.  The chicken was tender, yet stringy so it could be separated easily.  I didn’t find any fatty parts/ cartilage, which has the power to totally ruin my appetite.  The only downside to this dish was that I did find some nuts, which didn’t bother me as much as bits of sweetness.  There must have been a couple raisins or something speckled throughout because every once in a while I’d get a very sweet bite.  This makes me think this is the more traditional way of making this dish or perhaps I just never noticed it in the past.  It wasn’t enough to ruin the experience for me and I’d absolutely order this dish from Jaipur again.

I did notice that the rice sucked up a lot of the sauce and became kind of a bland mess if I didn’t eat it fast enough.  I made a note to change my ratios and was good to go.

And that yogurt mystery drink?  Had to be some sort of dessert esque smoothy.  I sucked that mother down and it was a thick mango drink that wasn’t too sweet with a creamy element.  Very good.  I wish I had understood that guy so I knew what it was.  But kudos, Jaipur for throwing that surprise in there.

All in all, I did spend around $20 because I nervously tip people.  I don’t know the rules of takeout and when people watch me sign for my card I feel like a cheap asshole if I don’t put some sort of tip down.  But even so, $20 with tip for Indian that I enjoyed and wasn’t responsible for making me want to die is pretty good.

Don Antonio’s

I'm thinking I should have gotten seafood.

I finally went to Don Antonio’s over on Pico Saturday night.  I had heard from several people that it was fantastic.  Surprisingly, I didn’t think it was anything special.  I discussed with my roommate, that we both have a problem of ordering gargantuan burritos at all the Mexican spots we hit.  I’m starting to think this isn’t the right move.  I bet there’s something spectacular at Don Antonio’s that I should have gotten.

As for the burrito itself, it was the size of a small child.  Definitely bang for your buck, but that’s about it.  I wasn’t blown away by flavor or the guts of it, even though somehow I managed to eat the whole thing.  They covered the beast in enchilada sauce and cheese, which was a nice touch.  I got the chicken super burrito, as always.  The chicken was shredded and cooked perfectly.  It was joined by refried beans, guacamole, and lettuce.  I’m still not sure how I feel about lettuce in a burrito.  I’d much prefer salsa, which I ended up drenching mine in.  My other issue was that my burrito was very compartmentalized.  I would get a few bites of chicken, then chicken with lettuce, and then full on guacamole with nothing else.  It was so large that I was unable to mix it up myself.

I forgot to take pictures, again. I pulled this from an online search. It’s pretty close, except I didn’t have rice and beans with mine.  Smallest picture ever, huh?

I admit that I was in the mood for a full on fantastic burrito.  Perhaps a sit down restaurant isn’t the best fare.  I was reading about all kinds of shacks and stands before we decided to go out for a real meal.  I may have gone into the experience expecting something different.  But I honestly feel that if you’re a mexican restaurant, you should be able to have a burrito the blows people’s minds.  That being said, I did really enjoy the margaritas.

I feel like I need to give Don Antonio’s another chance because I’ve heard such great things.  Any suggestions as to what I should be ordering there??

Thoughts on Hollandaise Sauce with John O’Groats thrown in the mix

Look how small the name is!

When I first moved to Los Angeles, I was living in the Oakwoods in Burbank finishing school.  My close college friend, Matt had already graduated and taken the leap and moved here.  We would get together on the weekends, always getting brunch on Sundays.  He introduced me to a bunch of different spots, until we finally realized that Griddle Cafe on Sunset was our fav. (Matt always got their gigantic Banana Pancakes, but I was a huge fan of the Some Like it Hot Scramble.)

Let’s backtrack a bit.  Throughout these breakfast outings, I had made a decision that I was totally into and obsessed with Eggs Benedict.  Two years prior, I had experienced my first poached egg.  It was a love affair after that.  I remember hungover weekends, hitting up a diner in Boston and often going after Eggs Florentine.  Spinach at that time was also a staple in my life.  Upon getting to LA, I guess the time was right for introducing animals into the mix.

I really wish I had kept a log, because everywhere we went, I went after the Eggs Benedict.  I recall, one terrible situation in which I was given a plate SMOTHERED in Hollandaise sauce and that’s when I called it quits.  I didn’t look back for years.  To be precise, until yesterday.

I have been spending a lot of time on news sites and food blogs.  I found some count of famous chef’s favorite breakfast spots around the country.  One was in West LA, my hood: John O’Groats. I was intrigued by the thought of a badass breakfast joint only minutes away.

Andrew and I went for it yesterday.  The place seemed cute and quaint from the outside, with the actual name so effing tiny that I drove past it three different times.  We put our name in and were expected to wait about fifteen minutes.  I loved the fact that they had a little water jug and coffee pot outside for you to tamper with while you waited.  We were called rather quickly, as we offered to sit at the counter.  I can only imagine what the wait would have been like, had we been a larger group.

We took a seat at the counter and took in the joint.  There was a whole other room filled with tables that seemed unique and cute.  The walls were lined with different specials, all midweek beauts.  I took a look at the menu and had a really hard time figuring out what to do.  I felt like this was a place where you get a specialty breakfast.  As Andrew declared later, having gone with the basics, it was nothing to write home about.  I saw Eggs Benedict and decided it was time to rekindle this relationship.

I liked the way this mother was put together.  The bread was very fluffy and very appealing.  There was fresh slabs of ham and beautifully poached eggs on top.  And then an even coating of Hollandaise sauce.  The home fries were nothing special– an LA custom from what I’ve noticed.  After a few bites I realized that this was a bit tangier than I’d like.  By halfway, I was wiping away all the Hollandaise sauce, which threw off the dish.  Now it just tasted like a lot of ham, some egg, and a touch of toast.

That’s when I had an overall epiphany.  I’m not a fancy breakfast girl.  I would have preferred the Eggs Benedict without the Hollandaise sauce altogether.  I think if you have a badass scramble, or if I’m in the mood for someone specific’s french toast, than that’s when it’ll happen.  O’Groats definitely had some menu items I hadn’t seen before, like Eggs Benedict with Crab Cakes, but throwing down $15 on it wasn’t quite in my price range.  For a hungover Sunday where I just don’t feel like cooking, I don’t need to spend extra money on a riskky breakfast.

There is a rather important side note to this review.  As we both finished up, we noticed the most glorious tuna melt I’ve ever seen float by us.  This was when we had the ultimate buyer’s remorse: we should have gotten lunch.

O’Groats, I’m not sure I’ll see you again for breakfast, but I may pop in for a tuna melt sometime.  I’m still searching for that cheap diner spot where I can get some good eggs or they have that one great menu item that keeps me coming back.

Street- I like the concept

Susan Feniger, of Border Grill and Top Chef Masters fame, opened her newest baby Street in Hollywood, not too long ago.  After traveling the world and tasting street carts from all over, Susan decided to remake these dishes for the Hollywood Posh community.

Several different people emailed me about the restaurant, as it is known that I’m a fan of street food.  I constantly trolled her website and looked at yelp reviews, just waiting for the right occasion to go.  It seemed a bit pricey– a special event for someone who doesn’t have a lot of money to spend.

As I wrote in a previous post, I decided on my ex’s birthday/ the end of my previous job.  A celebration for sure.  As much as I wanted to go here and experience what I was sure would be bliss, I also chose it because I had a lot of fond memories of food trucks with my ex, especially when he was wooing me– a sentiment I’m sure was lost on him.

I made a reservation for a Friday night, and it was packed.  I luckily found a parking spot on the street and as we arrived we waited in wall to wall people for our table to be ready.  I will admit, the waiting area was poorly planned out.  There was hardly a place to stand with bumping into someone or moving out of another’s way, but once we got seated none of that mattered.

We were taken upstairs to an outdoor area, which was beautiful.  We sat next to the wall, with a tree on the other side.  It was dimly lit with a heater right next to us.  They adorably had fleece blankets on the chairs in case it got too chilly.

I decided to treat this place like a tapas joint.  There were so many different things on the menu.  We decided to do a few appetizers and one entree and share it all.  No drinks that night, as this was already expected to be a pricey dinner.  We were both there to savor the food.

To begin, we ordered the Kaya Toast, Mandoo Vegetable Dumplings, and Shrimp stuffed Shitake Mushrooms.  As this dinner was over 3 months ago, I cannot recall each of these dishes as well as I’d like.

I do know that the Kaya Toast was fun, yet simple.  It consisted of two small squares of toast with a creamy coconut custard in between.  There was an egg over easy, with a plump yoke ready to be broken.  On the other side, a dark soy sauce.  Dipping is one of my favorite things when it comes to food, so this dish was perfect for me.  The combination of the sweetness from the toast sandwiches, creaminess of the yoke, and velvety tang of the soy sauce was a beautiful balance.  It almost seemed too simple.  That was my ex’s remark.  That this dish seemed like something we could make.  I recently came across the recipe and as I read, realized there was no way in hell I could identify the ingredients from tasting the dish.  To me, that is a success.

I remember enjoying both the mushrooms and dumplings as well, but their parts were too intricate for me to remember specifically.  They were both served with appropriate dipping sauces that complimented them appropriately.

We moved on to Baby Back Ribs in a spicy Korean miso glaze with scallion ginger cream.  These were unbelievable.  I’m talking, close your eyes as you eat because you want to focus only on the flavors.  The meat was cooked perfectly, falling off the bone.  There was extra miso sauce decoratively poured onto the plate that was not wasted.  The light ginger cream was an excellent contrast to the intense miso covered meat.  I would absolutely order this again.

With that came a couple unmemorable sides.

Though the portions seemed small, they weren’t.  I could barely finish the entree, and left it up to the man to take down.

I think Susan is really onto something here, with a couple of very strong memorable dishes, but with that there are also some weak ones.  It was an impressive meal regardless and I would definitely go back.  Next time, for drinks and appetizers, as that seems like the perfect combination.  I’m dying to try some of their twisted cocktails, as well as some of the new things on her menu.  I like that it seems to change from time to time.

When you go to Street you’re paying for a trendy atmosphere with some really strong dishes.  For what it’s worth, I think Susan definitely created great price points for her unusual meals and it’s worth the money to check it out.

Eduardo’s- Backup

My roommates and I moved to the west side of Los Angeles weeks ago.  Since then we’ve been on a mission to find the best burrito.  We’re in LA, after all– this shouldn’t be a hard find!

After trolling Yelp, we discovered a place on Westwood and Santa Monica that had Mission Style Burritos.

Sidebar.  Mission Style Burritos are a San Francisco based style.  This means the tortilla is steamed and stretched, allowing for more filling and a tight little package upon completion.  Going to school in Boston, led me to the biggest love affair of my life: Anna’s Taqueria.  After much research, my roommates learned Anna’s burritos were Mission Style, and something not easily found in Southern California.

So the idea of Eduardo‘s was very exciting to us.  This is a small establishment in a little strip mall on Westwood.  I would even classify this as an eatery, as there are wooden tables and stools to sit on with a bar separating the small sitting area from the ordering line.

The menu is small and concise.  All the things you expect to see are up there– burritos, tortas, tacos, enchiladas.  BUT- no carnitas!  This is a huge surprise for any Mexican establishment.  I’m a go to chicken girl myself, so I was able to get over this fact.  They redeemed themselves with a salsa bar, though this included nothing too exciting.

That’s actually a great way to describe the burrito.  Nothing too exciting.  I got the “Border Grill” chicken burrito, without sour cream.  There was too much rice– a common problem I find in LA burritos.  But they had black beans and cheese.  Two things I’m a huge fan of.  Each filling was compartmentalized, which makes it hard to get a bite of all the elements.  I got mine “spicy,” which basically meant I got a lingering hint of spice.  These burritos are beasts though, and definitely filling.  It’s a very standard safe burrito, and the turnaround is very quick.  But be warned, as they are a cash only establishment and the guy at the counter isn’t very helpful when it comes to locating an ATM.

So while I’ll keep Eduardo’s as a backup, the second time around I was already feeling a bit bored.  This burrito wasn’t dancing on my tongue, luring me back for more.  It became a mission to just finish this monster and continue the search.

Price point: not too shabby.  Around $8 for a burrito.

Restaurant Rating System

I judge restaurants based on cuisine and type of food.  My goal is to find the best place to find a burrito, lo mein, eggs benedict, etc.  I will rate each place with the following terms:

Front Runner

Backup

Never Again

I’m assuming I’ll get into specifics regarding other elements, but at this point, it’s strictly about the dish.  Because you need to know where you can go to get your favorite of everything!

Roaring Tiger: Amateur Food Critic

I spent a bulk of my time yesterday on various news websites scouring the food pages.  The lists were never ending.  I found new glorious recipes to try, and then by the end, stumbled upon restaurant reviews.

I read the beautifully written critiques on the LA Times website, only dreaming of the day I’d be able to afford to go to such high end restaurants.  Of course, I went to the appropriate websites to see if I could in fact afford any of them.  This is when I realized two things about myself:

1.  I have elements of both my father and mother in me.  The bit of my father, tells me not to spend outrageous amounts of money on something like food when you can make something as equally delicious (and I bet I can) yourself.  The bit of my mother tells me to enjoy life experiences and splurge here and there.  I took both of these ideas and decided every once in a while (and not too hefty a price) was worthwhile.

2.  I need a mate to eat finely with.  Ideally this would be a boyfriend, but even a friend would be fine.  I’d just like to be around someone who won’t fret about money and really enjoy the moment, the love of food.

The last time I splurged on a nice dinner was the night before I broke up with my ex.  I took him to Street, Susan Fenigher’s restaurant in Hollywood, for his birthday.  This was rather selfish on my part because I really just wanted to go to a nice dinner with him.  And I knew the only way it would happen is if I was footing the bill, and he didn’t feel guilty.  (It sort of worked: see all entries related to our breakup.)  Anyway, I really enjoyed Street.  I knew I would, as it’s the sort of place where you get a few appetizers and maybe an entree because the idea is to just share all these new renditions on street food from around the world.  And it didn’t break the bank.  I think I shelled out $70 for the two of us.

Reflecting on this evening, and the past reading of yesterday, there’s something else I’m realizing.  I love to cook, but I think there are some things I would just never dream of putting together.  This is why I’m attracted to fine dining.  The idea of such extreme dishes with flavors I can’t imagine is incredibly appealing.  As a rule, I often find myself shying away from Italian Restaurants.  It’s a waste of money to me– unless it’s truly amazing however, because I grew up in a house where we made all those fantastic dishes.  It’s not special.  Those tiny plates, where a dish is stacked with ingredients in a specific order, drizzled with some sort of reduction!  Mmm!  I want!

So with that, I’m hoping to start throwing my money that way, in time of course.  Let’s face it.  I don’t have a lot of money to throw around… at all.  This pipe dream may have to wait months to get off the ground.  But I’m also the girl who will go to a food truck on the corner and get a $5 burrito and be satisfied.

With that, I’m going to attempt an amateur food review.  Here and there I’ll sneak these reviews into my blog and see how it goes.  I envy all food critics– getting paid to eat and write about it!  I could be so lucky!

So I’m going to try and write beautiful and intriguing reviews of the restaurants I go to.  From any schmancy fine dining I may be so lucky to endulge in, to the burrito joint around the corner.

Who knows, maybe some Julie & Julia shit will go down and these pages will lead me to a dream!  (Or more likely, this phase will peter out rather quickly.)  Regardless, enjoy!