A new entry

I don't know if I've mentioned this before, but my sister is one of the coolest people I know. There are so many reasons for this that listing them seems like an insurmountable task, but I bring it up for a specific reason: My sister has a blog. I have a blog. Neither of us have updated our blogs in a long time (with me being by far the worser perpetrator). In fact, the last time I talked with my sister about how I hadn't updated my blog in too long a time, she said "Why? Haven't you eaten any good food lately?" Like I said, my sister is cool. And funny.

Anyway, she just called me to say "Hey! I haven't updated my blog in a while and you haven't updated your blog in a while. Want to hang up, each write a blog entry, and then call each other back to talk about it?" It was an offer I couldn't refuse. And here I am.

This brings up a kind of poignant issue for me, which is my lack of motivation to write. And when I say "lack of motivation," I think that I mean "big tangled bundle of fears, worries, defeatist thoughts, and habitual avoidance." I'm not totally sure. I find it a difficult thing to think about, in a pretty literal sense. I was once asked, point blank, "What are you scared of that makes you not write?" And all I could offer was a tearful "I don't know." Trying to answer that question felt like trying to pin the tail on the donkey and not even being able to find the wall.

But I've been making myself think about it a lot more, lately, and those seem to be my basic roadblocks: fear, worries, defeatist thoughts, and the subsequent, habitual avoidance. In fact, all of them are habitual, and there's some comfort in the familiarity of that. Enough that when my sister called me to say "let's blog!" I felt a small panic: this would mean setting myself up for failure, again, when I feel I've already failed at blogging. What if I write this one post and then never again? What does that mean about me? Nothing good, I am sure. And on and on....

It's so hard to break that negative thought cycle and so easy to stay in safe habits. Easy except for that part of me that wants to write and isn't getting enough oxygen. So thank you, Tasia, for making me take a breath.

HELP!

Friends, for the seven-thousand-millionth time in my life, I am wishing I could be in two places at once. This Saturday (the 22nd) evening, I am going to the second bachelorette party I have ever been to and am psyched! Bachelorette parties, I am coming to understand, involve many of my favorite things: girly-time, drinking, over-the-top entertainment a la drag or burlesque, and penis pops. (Just kidding about that last one. I find the penis-shaped accoutrement to be pretty awful, and I'm not just saying that because my dad reads this blog).

HOWEVER. I then came to find out that a band I would pay ten whole dollars to see is playing this same night - Saturday, the 22nd - for TEN DOLLARS!! At 10pm, at Pianos. I would actually pay more than ten dollars to see this band because this is my friend Dave's band and I have heard rumors about Dave being in a band for quite some time now, and they are finally coming to fruition, just beyond my grasp.

So, dear friends, if you happen to be in NYC, will you go to this show and then tell me all about it? Please?? Dave is very talented and knows much esoteric music, including but not limited to the math rock movement of which Polvo is a part (remember?), so it should be pretty great. Plus Pianos is a good venue, and you can eat somewhere great before/after. Like the Pink Pony.

I mean, that's how I would do it anyway, if I wasn't busy sucking on a penis pop.

Not incidentally, they're called Saturday Astrology. Incidentally, Dave happens to have just married my friend Ixiana, the afore-mentioned pet photographer, AND they just got married. Please tell the happy couple hello for me!

Holy more corn Batman!

Readers! No sooner had I finished my poetical corn waxings of last night than Lance and I went out for some gourmet dinner bites and old-fashioned cocktails at the Clover Club. This is a generally delightful spot in our hood where they take great care with their prohibition-era cocktails (I say generally because of one bad service experience there, which was made up for by the cheerful and competent service of our waitress yesterday eve). We all know how I love a jazz-age cocktail, and the ones at the Clover Club are very good. Their food, I think, is even better. Up until last night, I had tried the crostini, deviled eggs (four ways!), cheese plate, lamb burger, mac&cheese and "Oysters Rock Your Face Off" - their deep-fried (and thus extra decadent) take on Oysters Rockefeller. All of these things have been truly special treats.

Last night I had my heart set on the lamb burger, but just for fun I added something I hadn't seen before: corn fritters. And oh. my. god.

I tried making corn fritters once. They were not very successful. I had done what the recipe said and boiled corn on the cob to subsequently take the corn off the cob by hand, which resulted in too little corn and was a big pain in the ass. I had also fried the fritters in a pan, which made them ooze into pancake-like discs, even though I used a good amount of oil. I don't know what else went wrong (I don't deep-fry my own food often, so that's probably a good part of it) but they were just incredibly disappointing. I remember disgruntledly vowing that if I ever made those fritters again, I would at very least use frozen. Corn freezes exceptionally well.

But at the Clover Club, I could tell they used fresh sweet corn, and the flavor of those tiny pearls of sugary corn popping in your mouth and mixing with the crisp salty fritter batter and the creamy/smoky/salty remoulade - THIS was happiness in a single bite! Plus they clearly have their own deep-fryer, resulting in perfect, evenly-cooked, light little spheres of goodness. I couldn't get over how completely palate-pleasing and mood-enhancing these fritters were, and given that I'd just shared my literal corny-ness with y'all, I felt it essential to follow up with this account.

Now if I could just figure out how to have those fritters and the fried cheese curds from Char no. 4 down the street in one sitting (the only fried cheese curds I have found in the entire eastern seaboard!) I would be in Midwestern heaven.

Steamy Corn in the Cup!

I know it is a crazy steamy day here in NYC and probably elsewhere, and you may not be in the mood to read about a tasty hot treat. If so, please to revisit this post when it's raining. I'm sure, given how this summer has been going, that you won't have to wait long.

It was raining to beat the band two Fridays ago when I had plans to meet my buddy and her buddy for the free Polvo concert at South Street Seaport. (Note: I did not know about Polvo prior to these plans being made. You may not have heard of them either. You should find out.) It was pouring with no signs of stopping, and it was a little cool, too, and by the time I got to the seaport my feet were soaked and I was a good half hour early. So there I was feeling a little pathetic when I took shelter under the highway and noticed this:
This is a terrible picture, but do you see what it says? Do you see? STEAMY CORN IN THE CUP! What IS this, I thought to myself, and do I need to investigate? It took me very little time to come up with the answer: why, of course.

You won't hear waxing poetic about savory snacks very often, not because I don't enjoy savory snacks but because sweet ones usually take mental precedence. But as a general rule of savory thumb, I can't get enough corn. I once proudly declared to Jamie Oliver that I was a corn-fed girl, and because this was at a reading when I was getting an autograph and not over an intimate dinner (as I would have preferred), I did not get a chance to properly explain when he looked properly baffled. Had we been at dinner, I would have said, "You see, Jamie, I'm from the great plains of the Midwest, where fields of corn reach as far as the eye can see. I was raised eating the choicest of sweet, seasonal corns, and running through the fields with my friends on warm summer evenings as the sun turned the corn tassels gold." Then he would have kissed me, obvi.

Anyway, when they say steamy corn in the cup, they mean it. This amazing gent, who's name I failed to get because I am a shoddy reporter......raises that silver, domed lid you see in front of him, and in a swirl of delicious, corny-smelling steam, dishes piping hot, fat and juicy kernels of corn into a cup in front of you. Then you get to choose your toppings. Yes, toppings!

I got the Firetastic. It was phenomenal. I mean DANG it was some tasty steamy corn in the cup! It was all I could do not to get a second one. I especially can't wait to go back and try the one with honey. Here is a picture of the corn that remained when my friends finally got there and I could borrow one of their cameras:
Believe me, it took everything I had to leave even this much left. All for your viewing pleasure, dear readers!

Incidentally, the Polvo concert got moved to Brooklyn Bowl later that night and we went and it was EFFING GREAT. Not the venue, just the band. Srsly, check them out.

Country Donuts

I think I said in an earlier blog that I was off donuts and onto ice cream for the summer - oh how foolish! You would think that on a recent steamy-hot day, as my friends and I made our way to St. George Stadium in Staten Island for some BK Cyclones vs. SI Yankees action, that ice cream would be on the brain, but this was not the case, for as we rounded the corner to reach our designated stadium entrance, I saw something I found very exciting.

"Does that say 'Country Donuts'?" I asked my friends, shielding my eyes and pointing across the street, while trying not to freakishly jump up and down, squealing.

"Looks like it!" They replied. Lance just laughed. Luckily, these friends were on my wavelength, and we headed over to grab some samples to take to the game with us.

"Will they let us into the park with donuts?" I asked.

"Sure, they don't care!" one friend replied.

Wrong. But I think the security guard was amused. So, despite a preference to eat donuts while watching minor-league ball and gazing out over the field to the water and the city in the distance, we gobbled our fried, frosted cakes in the blazing sun outside the stadium. Four donuts, split four ways. All of them DELICIOUS! If you do the math, that adds up to five stars to Country Donuts, with extra props for the chocolate glazed, which won the Best Donut contest of the day, though by, of course, a small margin. The others were plain glazed, vanilla-frosted raised, and chocolate-frosted raised, and they were each fresher and tastier than your average donut.

Seriously, these donuts are worth the trip. I'd put them up there with the Donut Pub, quality-wise, and if you'd heard me extol the virtues of the Donut Pub, you know that's saying a lot. The selection is smaller, but the off-the-beaten-path thrill is pretty good. Here's a map. Let me know what you think.

P.s. I'd never Yelped the Donut Pub before, but anyone who gave it less than five stars is now on my shit list, especially three-star David L., who, if you'll notice, mentions both that he can't remember some of the kinds he tried and that he rarely eats donuts! David L., please spare us all your inexpert opinions.

Summer eats

My blog! My readers, if you're out there! I have neglected you worse and worse this summer! And I have so much to say! For instance, I am currently eating a bowl of what is my favorite breakfast every summer: cereal with blueberries and peaches. I truly do this all summer every summer, as long as the blueberries and peaches are available, and it makes me happy every morning, a happiness that lasts sometimes right up until I get to work (as opposed to when I realize I really have to leave the house and GO to work)! Of course, warm weather and sunlight help, too, quite beyond description. I love summer so much I tend to spend as much of it outside doing as many various activities as possible, especially if they involve fresh and summery cocktails. I cannot count the number of mojitos I have imbibed since June, and last night, Lance took it upon himself to make a white sangria with St. Germain and about eleven different kinds of fruit - best sangria (that didn't really taste like sangria) ever!

But it is this constant activity that has kept me away from my wee, dying compy for the purpose of blogging. A lot of this activity has also involved eating and playing dress-up, but for now I'm I'm going to focus more on eating, mostly so I don't have to deal with uploading photos.

Yesterday two delightful coworkers and I decided to try out DBGB* - Daniel Boulud's new upscale-pretending-to-be-downscale "Kitchen and Bar"/gastropub/cafe or something. I think this restaurant has a bit of an identity crisis. The front room has an airiness that gives it the right casual feel, but the back room where the majority of the seating is is dark and somber, decor-wise, while not doing anything about sound insulation, so it looks like you're sitting in a modern steak-house but sounds like you're in a cafeteria. The menu is short and relatively straightforward, consisting of mostly burgers and sausages, but the waiters still emphasize the wine list and wipe down your leather placemats while rearranging your silverware between courses. Don't get me wrong, I love these hospitable touches in the right situation, but we were there for the burger - everyone was there for the burger - so messiness seemed more appropriate than fussiness, which did nothing to enhance our casual burger lunch, and it drew our attention to the service, highlighting how insufferably snooty and neglectful our waiter was. Before I talk about the food, a final pet peeve: we were offered only sparkling or still water, not tap. In a time and place where it seems somewhat common knowledge that bottled water, even spring water, is questionable in its environmental friendliness, authenticity, and certainly price, and that the tap water is some of the finest available, I do not want to have to ask for tap. Certainly not twice.

The food, though was very, very good. Since it is restaurant "week" in Manhattan and since I can not turn down an excuse to eat three courses, I ordered off the prix fixe menu, choosing butter lettuce with chives, the burger, and a ginger ice-cream sundae. The salad was delightful, the lettuce perfect, maybe a tad overdressed in a mustard and tarragon dressing, which made the chives get a bit lost, but I'm a tarragon fiend, so i didn't mind. The burger was quite an experience. I got mine with Vermont cheddar, and for the rest of the parts, they thankfully do not mess around - good quality lettuce, tomato, and onion on a sesame seed bun. This is my favorite way to have a burger - simple - but in this case it went further to show off the burg itself, which was simply the highest quality burger patty I have come across. The temperature was perfect, the patty even in its thickness, and the meat so tasty, and so lean-seeming, but incredibly juicy and texturally fine. In a way, it was almost strange - a bit like the restaurant itself - to have such a fine thing masquerading as a greasy, plebeian American classic.

Dessert was delectable, my ginger ice cream came with a berry coulis that was bright in both color and flavor and complimented the ginger perfectly. It also came with a handful of neon-green lime-flavored mini-marshmallows and about three tiny, tiny vanilla cookies, but they were mostly just fun things to find in a sundae, and didn't add too much to the overall flavor experience.

So I guess maybe this restaurant exists for people who want to have a pub-like experience without actually setting foot in a place so gross as a pub, but myself, I prefer one or the other. I might have to go back, though...there were some cocktails on the menu I'd very much like to try.

*Dear readers, I wanted to provide you with a site for this as well, but my compy is so sad that the one for Monsieur Boulud practically broke it.

Petless

Hey y'all! I can't believe I haven't posted something new in over a week! You must think I ran out of costumes. Not so. But that may have to wait until the next post, since there's something I've been meaning to write about, and it's really rather sad.

I have no pets.

See? You're already getting all teary-eyed. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cause you any pain. It's not really that bad. Frankly, most of the time I don't notice the lack of pets in my life since I'm too busy dressing up and staring in mirrors for hours on end. But things are always conspiring to remind me that furry creatures can be a great joy in one's life, and that one's boyfriend is not always an acceptable substitute even if his hair is getting rather shaggy.

Item A: my friend Ixiana. She has a pet-photographing business and is ALWAYS having specials and deals for which she sends out adorable little email flyers that just kill me with their cuteness. I mean, look!


This was from the Easter special, obvi. I know it's demented, but that's one of the things I would do with a pet: put funny hats on them and then fall around laughing cause they're so freaking cute with stuff on their heads.

So if that's not torture enough, Item B: remember when I was talking about Herrell's like five thousand years ago? Well, I had a friend who worked there. Of course I hadn't remembered this because she worked summers and I was always back in the Midwest over summers, but I had NOT forgotten a few salient facts about her. 1. She was really cool and pretty. 2. She was wonderful painter with a really gorgeous style. So this particular girl finds me on facebook recently, which couldn't make me happier, and guess what she's doing these days?


That's right! Painting beautiful portraits of peoples' pets! Also she's still cool and pretty.

So tell me, what am I supposed to do with two amazing pet-commemorative options and no pets to commemorate?

Anyone out there I can live vicariously through?