Memorial Day Weekend

Spent most of Memorial Day weekend with Wendy's family in Lake Placid.  Lots of sunning, floating in the lake, BBQ, cheap beer, and cracker stories.  It's as if they welcome every calamity for its storytelling possibilities.  Even passing a kidney stone becomes a twenty-minute, hilarious story.  And that accent!  All we could hear was, "They took our jobs!  Tertukadoo!"  The pace is so relaxed and people really understand the value of just hanging out and talking.

Went to Moonchine on Friday for Happy Hour, where Allegra and I got shafted on their pricing and blew our budget by eight o'clock.  Then to Harvey's for a cheap beer and a free shot of something nasty, then I met up with some people at News Cafe.  We left there for a place called Bardot.  Freaking pretentious!  From the cigar wielding Ruths and Sarahs, to the Replicants, to the self conscious modelslashbartenders, to the pornographic/crappy art (I don't know anything about art but even I could tell it sucked), it was all hilarious.  We took up prime real estate by the bar and refused to yield, even when the place became pretty packed.  I need never go there again, thank you very much. 

In contrast, my night at Transit Lounge the day before was so much better.  The place looks better, the crowd is so much more (relatively) normal, no damn cover, reasonable beer prices...and the Colombian band (Afro Kumbe) that was playing was light years better than the jazz tards (Ketchy Shuby?  WTF kind of name is that for a band?) playing at Bardot's.  They were tight, man.  That's my judgment, and I stand by it.  All in all, I was pretty merciless on my liver this weekend.

El Chaman & La Rostiseria & Bangkok City

I was fairly successful in filling up my dance card this weekend; I hate having free time because I might get bored, and start thinking, or feeling, or cleaning my apartment...never a good idea.  I decided to shamelessly indulge myself with a good lunch on Friday, so I checked out a place my brother recommended, El Chaman.  The name alone is enough to recommend the place.  Well, I got a sinking feeling when I walked into the restaurant because there were cloth napkins on the table and all sorts of glassware and art on the walls...I can't afford ambiance.  Luckily the prices seemed about average, so I had some delicious fish ceviche and some Peruvian beer the waitress recommended.  I loved the waitress because she: 1. expressed a definite opinion when asked, 2. didn't make me feel like a loser because I was eating alone, and 3. sang along to the lounge-y type music playing -  a female, swingy adaptation of Beatles songs.  Everything was fine except for the tip being included...really, for someone dining alone?  I could understand with a big party but, whatever.

I went to the mall with mom on Saturday and we ate at the food court.  Seriously, what's with all those women hawking bits of chicken at every other food stall?  I feel like I'm being attacked by kids selling Chiclets in Mexico for God's sake.  I did go for chicken, but not for that sweet, glazed chicken crap (I really don't like sweet food very much).  I had roast chicken, cucumber and tomato salad, and mashed potatoes at La Rostiseria.  I don't know which restaurant started off with that fine ass rotisserie chicken but I do thank the culinary gods for it.  I have stolen bits of Publix rotisserie chicken, cold, out of people's refrigerators before.  And, it does seem *healthy*.  For what it's worth.

Restaurants need to stop diversifying and need to specialize.  If I had a restaurant, the menu would offer like 4 choices: vegetarian/vegan, meat, fish, chicken.  You either like what I'm serving, or eat somewhere else.  I can't resist ordering sushi if it's on the menu, but if the restaurant is really going to concentrate on doing something else well, then don't serve sushi! 

I had the lunch special at Bangkok City with the bad kids from work (the ones that sit in the back row, you know which ones I'm talking about) and ordered their sushi.  Well, at least it wasn't expensive...but it was so lame!  The fish had this watery consistency and taste, like it's been frozen and defrosted and frozen and...sadly disappointing.  The Hot and Sour Soup was just all wrong.  And it had baby corn.  If I never eat baby corn again, I could possibly live a happy life.  What kind of mutated, ridiculous, foul ingredient is that?  The texture, God.  And the taste.  Insipid.  One of my coworkers had  the Nam Sod and let me try a bite...now, THAT was pretty good.  The lime-y, fish sauce-y, and ginger-y sauce was very good on what is basically a meat salad.  It looks pretty easy to make, too...

Oh, and I'd like to give a shout out to Valentine's baking skills, especially to my impromptu birthday lemon- coconut-fig (I think) cake...she'll make someone a great wife, someday ;)

One Day Wonder Cleanse and Monkey Joe's

I thought it was fate that I had most of the things I needed on hand for the One Day Wonder Cleanse thanks to Annie's.  I've been intrigued by the idea of a cleanse lately, probably because I'm impressed by people who are dedicated enough or maniacal enough to follow some insane, restrictive regiment such as the Master Cleanse.  Ten days of spicy lemonade.  Huh.  Yeah.  Anyway, I definitely think it's true that people eat too much in general, and a day of fasting or cleansing weekly is a good idea.

I am happy to report that I did follow the plan exactly.  Ended up drinking only water from 4pm on, even though I had a children's birthday party to go to with my son.  I somehow heroically resisted birthday cake and pizza.  Ah, willpower.  I did end up dreaming that night that I had cheated (and it was only one day!) with a bit of delicious pizza crust and woke up feeling all ache-y all over, which I guess is my normal reaction to any kind of detox.  I felt like that after the Russian baths, though, it may have been from the force of 500 pounds of water smashing into my shoulders.  I sometimes wish I would wake up with a professional chef in my bed, other times a hair stylist, but this morning I wished I had a massage therapist in my bed.  Guess I didn't drink enough water, that's what *they* always say, drink water.  Flush it out.  Whatever *it* is.  A mom from yesterday's party told me about 21 pounds in 21 days, a detox diet book.  Ach mein Gott that thing is hard core.  You are supposed to give yourself enemas.  Weeeellll, I'll check it out from the library and consider it, but don't expect me to report how an enema goes.

Anyway, the party yesterday was at a place called Monkey Joe's.  It was all the way by Sawgrass, which is quite a trek, but when I got there, I understood the wisdom of the choice of venue.  Hell for adults, heaven for kids.  It's basically an enormous room filled with a bunch of hugemongous bounce houses.  The noise level in there hits you like a blunt object on the back of the head - just a bunch of insanely happy, screaming little kids throwing themselves off rubber surfaces.  Make any analogy you wish.  The party included pizza, cake, goody bags, drinks, and yes, a visit from Mr. Monkey Joe himself!  The birthday boy was far too sophisticated to react to a six foot purple monkey, but I shuddered, thinking, this is the stuff nightmares or phobias are made of.  Luckily I was too hungry to think of much else.

My son said it was the best day of his life, and I believe him.

La Moon

If La Moon is good enough for Man v. Food, it's good enough for me.  Even though both my parents are Colombian, I rarely eat Colombian food.  In fact, all I really associate with the country are roses and cocaine, I don't know what they actually eat there.  Apparently, if it didn't originally have feet and eyes, it's not food.  And if the grease doesn't make your food slippery enough, they will put multiple sauces on your food to ensure you make a mess of yourself.  In other words, it was pretty great.  I can imagine it's pure heaven at 5am after a late night of drinking and what have you.  Valetine, Allegra and I were drunk on exhaustion after a long day at a work thing on Saturday.  In fact, I'm still feeling the after effects of that day today.  A beach BBQ at Key Biscayne on Sunday was not the ideal way to recuperate, I suppose.