Confessions of a Restaurant Whore

Moving Day

2007-11-06T09:08:00.000-08:00

It's time for a swankier address.

Since Mesh Magazine is no more (let's all pause for a moment of silence), it doesn't make much sense for me to stay hosted under their server, with a url longer than your mom's weekly STD appointments.

So from now on you'll find me at www.restaurantwhore.com.

Things may be down for a few days while we get this in place, but we'll be up and running again in no time.

Let's give a special shout out to my rockstar husband, Jon, who is my moving man for this here little project.

xoxo
Joy

"To eat is a necessity. To eat intelligently is an art."
-- La Rochefoucauld

An Open Letter to a Jackass

2007-11-05T08:17:00.000-08:00

I'm all for comments. I'm all for constructive criticism. But if you anonymously post shit to my blog like "F you, you spoiled brat" (an actual response to my recent El Bulli posts), it ain't going up. Sorry. You can attack my writing all you want, but attacking my character? I'm sorry, have we met? Didn't think so. I realize that putting yourself in the public eye opens you up to judgment, but judge the content, not the author, please. I also realize that I, myself, have passed judgment on other individuals when writing on this blog, but these are individuals I have met and have given me a personal reason to get my panties in a bunch. Oh, and by the way? If you don't like a blog or the person behind it, DON'T READ IT.

Now, normally, I let these things slide. I delete or ignore offensive e-mails and move on with my day. But I have a little more time and a lot more hormones right now as I await Diner #3's arrival so I got a real bee in my severely pregnant bonnet when I received the following e-mail this morning (as I have scruples, believe it or not, I will not post his e-mail address):

geez joy ...get a man and/or get a life.

he he

all that silly blogging must make a modern girl very very hungry and sad at the same time ....

----------------------------------------------------------------

Michael

Northern CA

h e t e r o - v e r y

My response is below. I'm posting it rather than sending it to him directly, as I feel the general public could benefit.

Michael,

Thank you so much for pointing that out! You are absolutely right. And to think, all my readers were complaining about how the frequency of my writing had dropped since I became pregnant and started co-writing a book -- I'm so glad you showed me the light and made me realize that all I do is sit around blogging all day. I have no idea how my book, which releases tomorrow, got written when I spend all my time writing silly posts!

I'll be sure to tell my husband, whom I mention in every post, that we need an additional man for our marriage, and as for my "life", well, at 39.5 weeks pregnant I guess I'll just have to fill up the two empty nights on my calendar this week so I can become one of the cool kids again.

I will be sure to get that life you are talking about. In the meantime, you keep pointing out to people how desperately they need one -- clearly, you are the expert.

xoxo
Joy

"To eat is a necessity. To eat intelligently is an art."
-- La Rochefoucauld

Part 4 -- Impressions and Aftermath (El Bulli -- Roses, Spain)

2007-10-30T18:57:00.000-07:00

Read Part 1, Part 2 or Part 3

This is the final installment of the El Bulli saga, and I'm sure you're all as relieved to see it end as I am. There are some things missing from the previous posts that I felt warranted mentioning before I put this bad boy to bed.

First of all, one thing Jon and I were particularly surprised to discover (and the thing that seems to shock everyone else when we mention it) is that you feel like total shit the day after eating at El Bulli. No one that we knew who had been to the restaurant let us in on this one. Actually, I'm beginning to think our friends don't like us, between this and the taxi thing. Anyway...one could chalk this nastiness up to too much drinking, but since we had our own vehicle to navigate back down the mother fucking winding road of death, we were fairly conservative in our imbibing and cannot blame alcohol. We also had to get up early, to catch a flight to Paris (or so we thought -- we ended up being delayed 3 hours. Fucking EasyJet!). Still, we managed about 6 hours of sleep, which is about what we were tending to get at home those days, so we can't blame sleep deprivation either.

No, none of those things were the cause of the shit-feeling. Our assessment? The body was not designed to ingest that many chemicals in one meal. I remember the drive back to Barcelona, roundabout after fucking roundabout, being filled with burps that tasted like we'd quenched our thirst at a toxic spill. Stomachs distended, our conversation on the road to the airport consisted mostly of us saying "Wow, I feel like crap," "Yeah, me too." Repeat.

Next question: Do I think it's the best restaurant in the world? In a word, no. Top Five? Sure. I certainly have not eaten at all of the best restaurants in the world, but I've been lucky enough to experience a handful. El Bulli loses the number one spot in my book because, well, everything doesn't taste good. I appreciate what they are doing there, and as I said in Part 3, I love that they are pushing the boundries of cuisine and using their diners as guinea pigs. This makes it the most unique restaurant I've ever been to, and there is something to be said for testing out something that has never been done with food before. This makes it the best culinary experience I've ever had, but the best restaurant? No.

The best restaurant that *I've* been to is Alinea. And without El Bulli, there would be no Alinea so there you have it. Why Alinea? Because Grant Achatz is still testing the boundries of cuisine, but it doesn't hit the dining room unless it actually tastes good. Make that great. What I loved about Alinea is that I enjoyed every single bite of my meal. Not so at El Bulli.

Would I go back? Fuck, yeah. The thing about El Bulli is that they like to play, and they like to challenge and be challenged. You will never have the same dish twice if you return (they keep track of everything you've ever eaten there, and never serve it to you again unless you specifically request it). And while there certainly were things that did not rock my world, the things that did were worth the flight, the crazy roads of Spain, the hotels, the mother fucking winding road of death, the cost, the feeling like shit and the delay to Paris.

Perhaps that is why it took me so long to get through writing about it. I didn't want to let it go. Holding our breath, waiting for a reservation, getting the reservation, waiting 10 months for the reservation, planning an entire European adventure around the reservation...the whole thing was a pretty big fucking deal to us.

It was the experience of a lifetime.

xoxo
Joy

"To eat is a necessity. To eat intelligently is an art."
-- La Rochefoucauld

Part 3 -- "Taking One For the Team" (El Bulli -- Roses, Spain)

2007-10-27T12:06:00.000-07:00

Read Part 1, and Part 2

So picking up where we left off, oh several months ago (I suck, I know, I'm sorry)...

Luis shows us to the dining room, which actually feels more like someone's house than a restaurant. The colors are all warm and in general, the whole shebang feels a fuckload more casual than I would have expected. I can see that there is another dining area off to the right, which seems a bit more like a "dining room" but still like someone's home nonetheless. I dig it. P.S. We have no idea who those people are in that picture -- they just happened to be in the dining room that night.

Now El Bulli is about to rack up some major brownie points because as they show us to our seat, they do what we like to call "our favorite." They seat us both side by side on the banquette. Now there are drawbacks to this, because we can't really look at each other as well, but we CAN grab the other person easily when something is particularly tasty or disgusting. And we can whisper about the things and/or people we don't like. And this allows our server to present our dishes very theatrically.

That last sentence aside, the lovely chiquita who was our server was anything but theatrical. In fact, I would almost use the word timid. No matter, she was nice and she was informed and that's about all that I give two shits about.

Since we passed the small bites portion with flying colors, we were feeling pretty darn smug about what was yet to come. It started with a tonic soup with cucumber and roses. This was lovely through and through. The tonic was an ice, and the cucumber and roses were each a gelee. And it was pretty. The flavor was scrumptious and the texture was downright silly. Super duper.

What came next was one of my most very favorite parts of the meal. This was because it a) had several things I very much enjoy and b) it was kind of like a present in that you had to dig through the foam to get to the substance. This dish was honey/flowers/pistachio. The honey was the foam, which (as you can see) was sprinkled with pretty leetle flowers. Underneath it all sat the freshest, smoothest pistachios I've ever had the pleasure of eating. The flavors paired nicely, and all in all, I'm thinking "OK, there has been a little weirdness so far, but really, not so scary." Famous last words.

We gets ourselves some plates of anchovies with "raisins." The "raisins" are various sweet wines all spherified and such. The anchovies were perfect and briny and I could have eaten the raisins all night long (can I get a little Lionel Richie going on?). Jon and I both despise actual (as opposed to virtual) raisins, but I was able to get past the association. Jon had a bit more trouble. Pussy.

I am a dumbass. Let's just establish that right now. I can't really tell you much about the next thing we ate, and you'll see why. It was gorgonzola pie/nuts/lyo. Now you may remember that in Part 2 (if you can remember that long ago) that I had no idea what lyo was. Well, the charming Alex e-mailed me the following:

"hello. i read your hystericall blog on el bulli, wich i loved and iam
waiting for pat 3, and saw that you are asking what is LYO. It is a
technique where you freeze food and then you put it in a lyofilzadora, (i
dont know the name in english), but what it does is that it takes the water
from food without it been liquid and you end up with a styrofoam like
texture.its what NASA does to ice cream sandwiches for the astronauts."

I see. OK. Now from the picture, you can see that the gorgonzola pie is what has received the lyo work up. And there are some pine nuts. And where would we be without foam? Sweet young thing instructs us to lift the foil like bit and use our index finger to slide the "pie" into our mouths. I slide it right into my lap. I try to save it and lick some off my fingers. Sweet young thing is horrified "Oh, ma'am, ma'am, it's OK!" (And, by the way, when did I become a fucking ma'am???? I mean, for fuck's sake, I got carded at Trader Joe's 2 months ago even in a visibly knocked up state, with my husband, and wedding rings. This was because I had the genius idea to try to save time by using my wallet to pay for the alcohol Jon was going to drink. TJ's thinks I'm an underage pregnant alcoholic apparently. But I digress.). I must confess, I don't really like bleu cheese, so it was just as well. Jon liked it. I thought the texture was fun. Lesson here? Listen to your mama and mind your manners by always putting a napkin in your lap. It was my saving grace with this little treat.

Rolling up to the plate now is perhaps the most memorable dish of the evening. It wasn't the best, or the worst, but it was perhaps the most unusual. It's definitely the dish we always mention whenever we are asked about the El Bulli experience. This would be "seeds." And that's exactly what it was. Seeds. Lots of them. In pretty little piles on the plate. Cucumber seeds. Padron pepper seeds. Several kinds of tomato. Passion fruit. Sesame. Pumpkin. It was, hands down, the coolest thing I've ever been served. I liked it way more than Jon. Jon was kind of grossed out by the whole thing. I liked having to guess which seeds I was eating. As you can see, no El Bulli dish would be complete without a bunch of crap on the plate (foam, gelee, spherical balls, etc.).

It's a damn good thing for Jon, then, that the next thing was not only interesting and weird, but very, very tasty. Tomato soup with "virtual Iberian ham." Looks gross, right? Not at all. The jelly bits tasted just like the perfection that is jamon iberico, and the soup, well it tasted like tomatoes. Who doesn't like tomatoes and ham? Yummy, yummy in my tummy.

Oh yeah, we're still drinking. Bubbly. All the way through. Of course, the nice couple next to us, who hailed from LA, shared their exceptional Reynard with us as well. We love them.

Let's dig into some razor clams in vinegar sauce. For some reason, Jon is having more trouble dealing with some of these dishes than I am. Perhaps that's because I already pussied out by telling them in advance what I wouldn't eat. I do kind of get it. Razor clams in vinegar sauce with some peanut goop on the side isn't particularly interesting. I wouldn't kick it out of bed, but it didn't rock my world either.

Sometimes you just have to laugh. And that's what I did when I was presented with a plate of seaweed. Several different kinds fanned out around a chunk of watermelon. Now, I like seaweed, I do. But heading to the beach and grabbing a handful of crap to throw on a plate is not cooking. In fact, we happen to have one of the items on the plate in our fish tank. At home. I still ate it all, and it was fine, but I certainly wasn't enlightened to the wonders of "the sea" (the name of said dish). I will give this particular plate an A+ in the presentation department -- it was real purty to look at (then again, everything at El Bulli was nice to look at).

Story Time: At one point, Jon decided he had to pee so he excused himself and made his way to the loo. Now earlier in the meal we had noticed some boisterous young men (Spanish), clad in jeans, living it up at a table next to us. Rumor had it that it was Ferran's nephew and his friends, but we don't know this for sure. As Jon was relieving himself, he heard two of the young men in an adjacent stall, sniffing away. They returned to their table more animated than ever. Now I'm no prude, folks, but if you're going to be getting your substances on at El Bulli, I'd think something akin to a psychadelic would be a better choice than a stimulant. I'm just saying.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I was awaiting a plate of olives. Not real olives, but little green spheres that look and taste like olives. These were not intended for us. Everyone eating at El Bulli gets a unique meal. Some of it overlaps what other diners are eating, some does not. When Jon saw that our next door table neighbors were receiving the infamous olives, he HAD to have some. Um, OK....but, honey? Neither of us likes olives unless they are mushed up and mixed with other stuff. Chalk it up to our belief that we were tortured in the Mediterranean in a past life (we don't do raisins -- see previous, feta cheese or dates either). In any case, if you want something at El Bulli, you get it. Your wish is their command.

Of course you know how the rest of this goes. We get the olives. 4 of them. Jon just about puked after tasting the first one. I was not thrilled by them either, but since we had fussed about it, I took one, or rather THREE, for the team. I really, really love my husband.

Fortunately for me, this was followed by more seeds and more balls, which I hadn't quite grown bored of yet. We had a zuchhini risotto with curry-peanut capsules. The "risotto" was zuchhini seeds, and the capsules were just what they sounded like. The taste of this was oh-so-tasty, but the texture was what made it really remarkable. The gelatinous balls mixed with the zucchini seeds pleased my palate to no end. It's right about here where I start to feel ridiculously full. Anyone that tells you that you don't get full at El Bulli is a liar. Sure, the portions are small, but when you are dealing with 142 million courses that doesn't really matter now, does it?

Moving on. Crab -- marrakech. I have to be honest. I suck really bad. It took me so long to write this that I remember nothing about this at all. Which means it was probably unremarkable in either a good way or a bad way. Or it means that I'd had my fair share of wine at that point. As I wrote this, I desperately called out to Jon to come and help save me from admitting that I'm a hack who can't remember one of her courses from EL BULLI for fuck's sake, so he came in to help rescue me. I showed him the picture. His response? "Oh we liked it. It was yummy." So there you have it. I remember that the crab was delicate and lovely and that the spices were well balanced but that's about all I remember from this. I think it scored pretty low on the weird scale, which may explain my foggy memory.

The next course was different for the two of us. Mostly because there was no way I was going to be eating no lamb brains. Jon's lamb brains "in their own juice" (brains have juice????), actually looked really cool. And he was a super trooper wolfing them down and, *gasp*, enjoying them. "The sauce was particularly good" is his recollection. Sauce? You mean the brain juice, honey?

I was blessed to receive a plate of potato mounds that had been whipped into an airy, delicate puree, topped with thin slices of Iberian ham and surrounded by liquid parmesan. This was so lip-lickin' that I wanted to go and punch the kitchen staff for serving it so late in the meal when my stomach was already so full that I thought I might need it pumped before dessert.

Praise be to Jesus, then, that we were actually moving on to "cheese" and "dessert." Notice the quotes.

Cheese was "sheep -- the cheese and the wool". Excellent on all fronts. A gooey pecorino was topped with a cotton-like incarnation of the same cheese and paired with some fruity paste. The cheese I remember, the paste I do not. It was a good foible but not nearly as memorable as the cheese itself.

Our first dessert was a piquillo pepper and banana tatin. The banana goo was on top of a pastry rectangle and covered in frozen piquillo pepper stuff. It was actually very, very good. The temperature and texture contrasts were what really stood out here, and I was so grateful that it was not a filling dessert as I was already busting out of my pants.

The same cannot be said for the next dessert. Freeze dried carrots with coconut cream and some other grossness (and I love carrots and coconut, but maybe not together, and maybe not like this). I'm all for adventure, but this simply did not taste good. Weirdness for weirdness sake does not a yummy dinner make. Now I appreciate this -- I like that El Bulli basically uses it's diners as guinea pigs to test the limits of cuisine. Still, it doesn't mean that I'm going to pretend that I liked the results of each of those experiments.

Fortunately, my palate was cleansed with a chunk of peach drenched in a peach syrup/gelee type thing. It was refreshing and we got to eat it with the coolest utensil I've ever seen (tuning fork is what comes to mind here).

We finished up with "morphings," which were little freeze dried bits of peanuts and chocolate covered in gold. No complaints there. Jon enjoyed a perfect espresso alongside these little morsels.

And then we were done. How is that possible? How is it that something we'd waited for for so long could be over so fast? And how was it that I was actually grateful that it was over? Partly because I was full, and partly because I felt relieved to have finally experienced what I'd anticipated for so long.

We thanked everyone in the restaurant -- up, down and sideways -- before paying our check. And while it was not cheap, it's a steal for what some consider to be the "best restaurant in the world."

We made our way back to our car and cursed all the fucking taxis waiting outside. And we made our way back down "that road," wondering if and when we'd get to return.

Now for the million dollar question: Do *I* think it's the best restaurant in the world? Well, I think you can probably figure that out on your own. If you need me to tell you, though, you'll have to wait for Part 4.

You knew I was a bitch when you took me on.

xoxo
Joy

"To eat is a necessity. To eat intelligently is an art."
-- La Rochefoucauld

You Take the Good, You Take the Bad

2007-10-08T14:11:00.001-07:00

I'll wait a second while you finish singing the "Facts of Life" theme song. We good? OK.

As a kid, I fucking hated raw tomatoes. I'm talking serious passionate hate, people. They were mealy, flavorless and had a color so muted that you could barely call it red. Or pink. I could not understand why anyone would eat them. Ever.

Fast forward to now. I have been scarfing down the heirlooms like it's my job. Green zebras, Brandywines, you name it. Jon and I recently bought a package of Fatted Calf bacon, a fuckload of heirlooms and some Acme pain de mie. We used the entire package of bacon and the majority of the tomatoes on two BLTs. That's right, not seven, two. At least I have a (weak) excuse.

More than any other piece of produce, tomatoes are the reason I believe in eating locally and seasonally. There is just no comparison.

The whole season I have been dreading the day I knew would come. The day that the tomaters start to suck again. And, unfortunately, judging from restaurant menus, the Farmer's Market and Whole Foods, that day is here (or at least near). That's the bad.

Now for the good.

Holy fucking shitballs: Costco carries Mexican coke. When did this happen? And why did no one tell me? A fair argument would be that because Jon and I practically live at Costco (you can't beat the return policy, even with the new caveats, and they are 100% blue to boot), one would assume we would know. But that's not how it works.

Jon and I use Costco for very different reasons than the masses. We buy household items and appliances. Books. DVDs. Liquor. Wine. Magazines. Electronics. Paper towels and toilet paper. Drugs. Flowers. Fuzzy socks. Q-tips. You get the idea. What is missing from this list? Food and beverages.

You see, I have no need for 18,000 processed rice crispy treats. Occasionally we will buy a hunk of Parmesan or something but that's about it. And when we hit the beverage section, it's to grab a case of Pellegrino before we make a run for it.

But yesterday we lingered toward the back after grabbing the jumbo sized paper towel bundle and the aforementioned case o' sparklie water. And out of the corner of my eye, I spied the most glorious case of beverages known to man: Mexican coke.

I'm not a soda drinker usually, but I do enjoy the coke. In fact, Mr. Food Musings has agreed with me that coke is a secret magical elixir that cures ills like no other (case in point: it was the one thing that soothed my morning sickness). And since a coke a day falls well within the acceptable caffeine guidelines for knocked up chicks, and since Diner #3 seems to really want me to drink coke (the only true craving I've had), I've been enjoying that sweet cola goodness (in safe 12 oz. per day doses).

Now, I have not been purchasing the coke for home use. Regular coke is just not special enough. Besides, most restaurants we eat at have bottle (or Mexican) coke so there was no need. But when I saw them there bottles could come live at my house with me, I started crying in the aisles of Costco. I loves me the Mexican coke. Why? Well, because it's better. It tastes better and, one could argue, it's better for you. Sure, it's packed with cane sugar, which isn't great, I'll admit, but at least it's not the corn syrup river that makes up the coke that we get here in the US of A.

This new discovery is a dangerous, dangerous thing for my ass size.

xoxo
Joy

"To eat is a necessity. To eat intelligently is an art."
-- La Rochefoucauld

3295 Meals Later

2007-10-03T14:40:00.000-07:00

That's right -- Restaurant Whore is three years old today. As in years past, I will post a little round up of what the year has been like. Some categories are obsolete at this point, but I will do my best.

Highest Number of Visitors in a Single Day: With RSS readers in the mix now, I have no friggin' idea.

Highest Number of Visitors in a Month: see above

Number of Visitors All Year: see above

Total Number of Posts: 273, including this one (55 this year -- which is still more than 1 per week so there)

Total Number of Mesh Articles: None, as Mesh is no more. Editor Brian has gone back to school, and I really need to get off my ass and move this blog to a different domain.

Most Disturbing Search Term: "two one fuck bitch"

Most Unexpected and Welcome Bonus: Same as years past, but new and improved. I met the best friends I have in this life through this blog.

Biggest "You've Got to be Kidding Me" Bonus: Getting an offer to co-write a book. And taking it.

Most Unlikely Reader Demographic: Yet again, people who are easily offended. Honestly, there are enough food blogs out there that keep their panties on so I don't see why you are wasting time with me if you can't handle a fucking swear.

Best Meal(s): French Laundry (4th visit), Cyrus (4th and 5th visits), Delfina (every visit).

Best Food I Ate Outside of the County this Year: Mexican coke in Mexico. I was 9 weeks pregnant when we were there, so I don't remember all that much about what we ate since, well, I didn't really feel like eating.

Pieces of Hate Mail for the Michael Mina Post: 0 (hmmm...interesting)

Pieces of Fan Mail for the Michael Mina Post: 4 (guess no one even cares about MM anymore)

Number of Chefs/Restaurant Owners Who Have Posted On the Blog/E-mailed Me: I didn't keep track this year what with all the traveling and family drama and baby making but I do know that every time I do get a cheftastic comment, it makes my day.

Number of Oysters Eaten: About 3 dozen, mostly before I became a human incubator. I have had cooked oysters, though.

Number of Burritos Eaten: 42

Number of Times My Grandma Has Asked Why I Have to Swear So Much In the Blog: 0 -- she's accepted it and moved on.

Thing That Makes Me Happiest: Knowing that once there are three of us in the house we can order even more food to try. I guess this is dependent on Diner #3 eating solids and not being picky but that's just logistics. Besides, if he's picky, we're trading him in. That said, he's already pretty well trained -- he starts moving the second I enter a restaurant whether I've eaten anything or not. It's like he knows we're home or something.

Thing I'm Most Proud Of: This has not changed since I started the blog and I think (hope) it will always be the same -- Staying true to myself and not compromising my style or ethics to please anyone else. I still don't write anything down, I still make friends with my servers, bussers, chefs and bartenders and I still own my opinions, popular or not. Fuck, yeah!

And, finally, my blog birthday wish for this year: Last years wish partially came true, so let's give it a go. I wish that I'd stop sucking so bad and just finish the fucking El Bulli post once and for all.

Those of you who have been with me, or joined me, over these past three years -- thank you. I am not always the best blogger in the world, but I am, without a doubt, the luckiest one for having readers that stick around even when I'm a no-posting loser.

Love you. Mean it.

xoxo
Joy

"To eat is a necessity. To eat intelligently is an art."
-- La Rochefoucauld

My New Favorite Place to Rome (SPQR -- San Francisco, CA)

2007-09-27T10:10:00.000-07:00

Once my parts of the book (pre-orders go on sale November 1st in case you were wondering -- I know, I'm shameless) were out of my hands, I needed about a week to get my bearings. I also needed that week to stuff as much as I could down my pie hole, because Diner #3 is pretty hungry these days.

Jon and I found ourselves in some classes last week. Basically the gist of the classes was to teach us how not to kill Diner #3 once we bring him home. After 3 hours of class on Tuesday, I thought my stomach might eat itself. It was then that I had the realization that a) when I was at A16 the previous week I learned SPQR was opening on Saturday and b) we were right around the corner from SPQR, which happened to still be open because they are not pussies like the rest of this town (honestly, if I ever lose my mind and open a restaurant, it's going to be open all night).

At this point it was about 9:15 and the restaurant was PACKED. On a TUESDAY. We were optimistic but realistic. Since there are no reservations at SPQR, we knew we wouldn't lose the next free table to people who were better planners than us. What followed can only be described as dining nirvana.

First, we spotted Shelley, and if you've read what I have to say about A16, you know how I loves me some Shelley. I still don't understand how she is so awesome, but she is. I'd be hard pressed to find someone as knowledgeable as she is about wine, and plus, she's the nicest person on the planet. While we were catching up with Shelley and hearing all about her recent forays into parenthood, Chef Nate tapped us on the arm. So then we got to love on him, too. Fun fact: Nate's infant son shares a name with the soon-to-arrive Diner #3. We both have 3 syllable last names that begin with "A" so I think that might have something to do with it. But I digress...

We moved to the bar, where Jon started in on the tasty reds. I am now comfortable enough to try sips of his illicit beverages but the fucking heartburn that follows nips that right in the bud. The ever-thoughtful Shelley promptly delivered me a clementine Izze before I could request one. LOVE HER.

By this point a table was ready, so we snuggled in for the eats. The antipasti section, divided into hot, cold and fried, offers tasty nibbles for $7 each, 3 for $18 or 5 for $28. We went for 3: The mozzarella in carroza with anchovies, the roasted Friarelli peppers and the stracciatella (Roman egg drop soup). Fun fact #2: Italians really like the word stracciatella as it is also the name for chocolate chip gelato.

What showed up at our table, however, were all the aforementioned dishes plus: white beans with a pork soffrito and grilled pecorino with roasted peppers. The interesting thing about that, besides the fact that we were getting spoiled rotten, was that the beans ended up being my favorite antipasti, while Jon was cuckoo for the grilled pecorino. The beans were comforting, tasty, meaty and cooked absolutely perfectly. And really, how can you argue with a slab of melty pecorino?

This is not to say that what we actually ordered was at all shabby. The peppers, covered in chunks of salt and served with lemon wedges disappeared as soon as they hit the table and the soup was simple but perfect. The mozzarella was a hit as well, but we couldn't finish it and still think about having room for our soon-to-arrive pastas.

By the time we finished the antipasti, I believe Jon was approaching his 3rd glass of wine. I was approaching very jealous.

Our server, a recent transplant from Milwaukee, was a sweet as can be. I give her mad brownie points for being so discreet with the plates we couldn't quite finish. She would stack the finished plates on top of the ones that still had unfinished items and then whisk them past the kitchen. We were trying to save room but didn't want to appear ungrateful for our gifties, which sweet server from Milwaukee facilitated very nicely.

We know our limits (sometimes) so we had opted to skip the entrees portion. Instead, we both ordered pasta. The pasta menu is fucking brilliant. For four of the pasta preps, you have the option of spaghetti or penne. Since Jon was going with the carbonara, and I opted for the ever simple aglio e olio, and we both went with spaghetti as our noodle.

I like my spaghetti al dente, which often gets lost in a homemade pasta. Not so at SPQR. The noodles were not pansy-ass in any way -- they were toothsome yet still retained a homemade feel. Well played, SPQR.

The carbonara was creamy and piggy and rich. My aglio e olio, however, was a star. So simple, but so right. I don't know what they do to their garlic to make it not revisit me for the next 24 hours but I love them for it. Jon took one taste and said it reminded him of the spaghetti with clams we had in Venice (one of our top 5 meals ever), except with out the clams.

Now here is why I have the best husband in the whole fucking world: He asked Shelley to ask Nate if they'd ever consider doing it with clams. I, being the smug little bitch that I am, tried to tell him it was the wrong region of Italy, that they'd never do it, blah, blah, blah. I suck mostly.

Nate thought it was brilliant. In fact, he said he's going to put it on the menu as an option for that pasta. So when you go to SPQR and you see some clams, you have my rockstar husband to thank for it.

Despite being very full, we tried to hop back on the pony for some dessert. This meant dessert wine for Jon (I think he had about 5 glasses of wine all told). It meant glaring looks of jealousy for me.

We opted for the Torino di Riso, a little wedge of what is essentially congealed rice pudding, with pistachios and something else that I can't remember because I was rubbing my face in it. We were crazy full at this point, but continued to gorge ourselves because it was so good and also, we have no self control.

We were eagerly looking forward to returning to SPQR, all the while thanking the heavens that we would not have to put any more food in our gullets because there was officially no room at the inn.

Too bad Nate then plopped down a plate on our table with a declaration of "panino" and left us to try to shovel one last item into our craws.

The panino is indeed a sandwich. A sandwich of condensed milk and pears with chocolate shavings and salt on top. Very, very delicious. Also the last thing you want to try to eat when you are already full, because there is no way you can finish it and then you feel guilty and sad because you know you'll want the rest of it tomorrow.

Before we summoned the forklift to get me out of the chair, we needed to pay our bill. Let me begin by saying that this was the most ridiculous bill I've ever seen. Besides the previously mentioned comped items, there were several "omitted" items and additional discounts. It got to the point where Jon and I had to employ advanced math techniques in order to figure out how to tip our lovely server (Where is Mathra when you need him?). Their generosity was nothing short of astounding. As if I didn't already love them too fucking much.

Still, had we paid for every last sip and nibble I'd be just as anxious to return to SPQR as I am after having received the royal treatment. Each little bite we ate was nothing short of excellent, not to mention the fact that their staff fucking rules on any day of the week and the atmosphere is fun, casual and hip-in-a-not-nauseating-way.

Should I go missing, you know where to find me.

xoxo
Joy

"To eat is a necessity. To eat intelligently is an art."
-- La Rochefoucauld

There Was No Posole

2007-09-12T09:44:00.000-07:00

Our friend's wedding was lovely. The drive from Albuquerque to Taos was pretty at times. But I must say, at risk of getting stoned, that New Mexico is boring, yo. And the food mostly sucked. The best meals we had were at the Taos Diner for breakfast and the food at the wedding. Really. And "Authentic New Mexican Cuisine," which is what every menu states it serves, is really just Mexican cuisine, people. The only difference is that they throw some red or green chile on everything (which I'm not complaining about).

In the time since we've been back, I've been a busy little worker bee. And guess what? I WROTE A BOOK. Well, co-wrote, but still. Look for it to publish around Thanksgiving.

And now, Jon and I are off to Big Sur. We have traveled so much in the past several months because we have been attending weddings and family gatherings. These next few days are all about us avoiding other people, especially since soon, there will be another person in our house all the time.

Also, the Kabocha squash cakes at Slanted Door right now might be the best thing I've ever tasted.

El Bulli, Part 3 is still 1/2 done. Hey, it's something.

xoxo
Joy

"To eat is a necessity. To eat intelligently is an art."
-- La Rochefoucauld

Time For Posole

2007-08-30T23:58:00.001-07:00

Jon and I are headed to a wedding in New Mexico tomorrow. All I can say is thank Christ for that. We are desperate to get away and recharge after what I can only describe as a hideously awful week.

I realize I haven't been a very good whore lately. I'm sorry, really. If you knew the insanity that has been in my world recently, you might not hate on me.

On a positive note, the week's haps inspired Jon and I to eat fancy dinner at La Folie last night, which was charming as always, and I stopped being such a pussy and drank a 1/2 glass of Champage -- the first alcohol that has passed my lips in the 30 weeks I've been growing Diner #3. Something about a French sommelier can make me do just about anything. On another positive note, sometimes being in hell inspires you to finally find a permanent way out, which I have done. I think we can all drink to that.

The book deadline is Friday. After that, I'm only writing for you, sweetcheeks.

xoxo
Joy

"To eat is a necessity. To eat intelligently is an art."
-- La Rochefoucauld

Patience Is a Virtue

2007-08-23T09:42:00.000-07:00

OK, El Bulli *is* started, but there are now some things in my life preventing it from getting finished. Jon and I are dealing with some very ill family members, and also have other family in town, and I'm writing a freaking book. Plus Diner #3 is a mere 11 weeks away from showing himself (yes, it's a boy) so we've got our hands full Chez Restaurant Whore.

It's not that I don't love you, it's just that life is a bit overwhelming at the moment.

xoxo
Joy

"To eat is a necessity. To eat intelligently is an art."
-- La Rochefoucauld

The Apocalypse Is Nigh

2007-08-09T19:30:00.000-07:00

I've begun to write El Bulli, Part 3.

You should all be watching for locusts at this point.

xoxo
Joy

"To eat is a necessity. To eat intelligently is an art."
-- La Rochefoucauld

I Forgot How Much I Loved Biscuits

2007-07-24T13:50:00.000-07:00

Last week I was in Nashville visiting my uncle. It had been a long time since I'd been to the south, and while there are things I can do without, I sure do love me some Southern cooking.

I hope to post a little more about what I ate, as it ranged from the simple (several of our DINNERS were less than $25 for two or more people) to the sublime.

I have to say, though, that out of everything I managed to consume in the country music capital the biscuits from the Cracker Barrel restaurant (yes, you read correctly) were what truly captured my heart. They were really, really fucking good.

xoxo
Joy

"To eat is a necessity. To eat intelligently is an art."
-- La Rochefoucauld

My New Favorite Thing

2007-07-13T22:21:00.000-07:00

It's an exciting Friday night in the Restaurant Whore household, let me tell you. Jon and I spent a good part of this evening viewing what I can only call the most AWESOME SITE EVER.

Ever wanted to know what sorts of nasties are lurking in the kitchens of your favorite restaurants? Well here's your chance. Who's blowing snot in the soup? Re-serving bread? Providing a nice resting spot for vermin?

I got contacted by one of the folks from this site yesterday because they wanted my feedback, and I have to say that I looooooooove it. Haven't stopped playing with it since. I particularly love how it predicts what I'm searching for with each letter I type.

Riddle me this, though: why, oh why, is it a greater violation to have a few dirty utensils than it is to have rats and mice in your kitchen? I could give two shits if my chef is downing a beer while s/he cooks, but allowing roaches to throw a little party in the back room? Not cool, bitches, not cool. That's the health department's fault, though, not the fault of Clean Scores so don't hold it against them.

I predict this site will come in especially handy when Jon's mom comes to visit. This is a woman who will not allow anyone to walk on a hotel carpet barefoot (although she did drink a glass of a stranger's wine that he had left behind when we were in the Cinque Terre so my logic may be flawed).

Clean Scores, will you marry me?

xoxo
Joy

"To eat is a necessity. To eat intelligently is an art."
-- La Rochefoucauld

Lauri Calls Me On My Shit

2007-07-12T09:24:00.000-07:00

You know you eat somewhere too much when you end up sitting next to people that you've seen at the restaurant before, and you can tell them exactly where they sat when you saw them last. Problems, people, problems.

In any case, you may remember my droolfest over a certain Mr. Gyllenhal a few weeks back. I reported that he was my first celebrity sighting at Delfina.

I'm a fucking liar.

Last night, Lauri, GM extrodinaire, reminded me that I had also seen the superhot and fabulous Parker Posey. How I forgot that, I don't know. I only know that it means I suck. This is even more ridiculous considering the meal in question was a) free and b) on Delfina's anniversary. Also, that anniversary happens to be Jon's sister's birthday. And considering we are expecting an additional diner in the family approximately ten days before that date, I'm just going to squeeze my legs together real tight and hold out so we can have a hat trick.

So Delfina celebrity sightings is at 2, not one, but it is still a sad ratio considering how much time I spend there.

In other news, I will be baking some yellow cupcakes with chocolate frosting today. This craving shit is no joke.

xoxo
Joy

"To eat is a necessity. To eat intelligently is an art."
-- La Rochefoucauld

Sweat and Bugs

2007-07-03T15:32:00.000-07:00

I'm off on the annual 4th of July trip to the in-laws' cabin in backwoods Minnesota. It promises to be really fucking hot with a shitload of mosquitoes. There will, however, be S'mores so I'll be all good. I may live on those damn things for 5 days considering the culinary wasteland that is backwoods Minnesota (and before you city freaks get all up in my grill, there is a big fucking difference between the fabulousness of Minneapolis/St. Paul and the "town" that we are going to an hour and half north of those cities).

Happy Independence Day to everyone (hmmm...I wonder what they are going to start calling this holiday in another year or two when we've completely lost all of our fucking rights, but I digress).

And go see Ratatouille. It's great.

xoxo
Joy

"To eat is a necessity. To eat intelligently is an art."
--La Rochefoucauld

He's So Pretty, and Some Other Stuff

2007-06-25T11:29:00.000-07:00

Stop the presses, bitches -- I saw Jake Gyllenhal at Delfina last night.

I read all the time about famous people popping into my second home, so you'd think we would have seen one by now. Nope. Never. I don't know how this is possible considering how much fucking time I spend there, but it's true.

Last night, however, I was rewarded for my infinite patience. As Jon and I sat at our table with the best dining companion ever, I glanced to the doorway and noticed JG, in all his hotness, with a nice looking older lady (seemed to be of the relative variety). I was a little startled, actually, because I had not expected him to be so much more delicious in person.

He and his companion seemed to be very nice to the staff and they ordered very well (I asked). I expected no less from the hunk of man love that pulled things out of the burning wreckage at my beloved Manka's. Plus, he's so pretty.

In other news, I went to Calistoga Ranch last week thanks to a well connected girlfriend with a fat ass discount. You can only eat at their restaurant if you are staying there, so I will say that if you can afford to stay there then you should eat at the restaurant. Not only did our darling server, Hilary, offer us a less prissy menu when we couldn't face more fancy after a sublime lunch at Redd, but she also had them deliver our dessert of warm cookies to our room. SO FUCKING AWESOME.

I also got to go to the press opening of the Charles Chocolates factory. Dudes, go. I adore their beautiful, playful chocolates and the factory is the only place you can get the entire collection. The new "cafe" that allows you to watch the candy making process from start to finish is so unique and fun that I could sit there stuffing my pie hole and watching the little CC elves at work all day.

I know, I know, El Bulli. I underestimated how much time writing a book requires. I haven't forgotten you.

We made our annual trek to Swanton yesterday to do berry picking. You are totally missing out if you don't do this. Berries are $2/lb when you pick yourself, and if you are like me and Jon you will relish the control picking your own berries gives you (fully ripe only! no white! no green! pick the little ones, bitch!). So far we've made ollalieberry muffins, and a strawberry pie is next on the docket.

Also: Roxie Food Center is way overrated. I mean, for fuck's sake, is there any place in this God forsaken city to get a *good* east coast style sub?

xoxo
Joy

No More Pencils, No More Books

2007-06-15T12:13:00.000-07:00

Yep, school is out. For good for me, at least for a little while. Teaching has been my "day job" for six years, so it feels a little surreal at this point.

In any case, I have plenty to keep me busy. I can finally pay a little more attention to this here blog. And I'm doing some writing for a book (a book!) so there is never a dull moment here in Restaurant Whore Land.

I've got another exciting venture up my sleeve as well (no, not this one) but I'm hesitant to mention it until things are a little more solid. I'm really hoping it pans out, though, because the people behind the whole thing are really fucking cool.

For now, though, I'm going to finish my pain au chocolat from Petite Patisserie and take a nap.

Life is good.

xoxo
Joy

"To eat is a necessity. To eat intelligently is an art."
-- La Rochefoucauld

Eight Is Enough

2007-06-04T07:34:00.001-07:00

Catherine tagged me with this meme, which seems suspiciously like this other one I did awhile back. Because I like her so much, I'll do this one too. The premise is that I tell you eight random facts about moi. Here they are:

1. I was the only white child in my nursery school class. I lived in inner city Boston, and my first utterance upon moving to the suburbs was "Mom, why is everyone here white?" I have a black and white (no pun intended) photo of my multi-culti class sitting on the dresser in our bedroom for proof.

2. I am completely obsessed with the TV show "So You Think You Can Dance." No, this is not "Dancing With the Stars," which I don't watch because, well, the dancers mostly suck. SYTYCD is like American Idol with dancers, but 5 trillion times better. It is only on in the summer so set your Tivo now. I spend most of the year waiting for it to come back on, and had I not been in Europe when last year's tour came through, you bet your ass I would have been there. I'm afraid I've now revealed myself as a complete fucking dork. In any case, when the show ends each week, Jon looks at me and says "Why is this show so much better than everything else? I can't figure out why, but it is."

3. I've been in 2 bus accidents. The first was in high school when my school's music department was headed to Virginia (from MA) to participate in a music competition. We had 3 buses. The first got so far ahead that they didn't know what had happened until hours later. The 2nd (the one I was on) hit a truck, and the 3rd hit us. No one was seriously hurt (a broken nose, some lost teeth and a lot of whiplash was the worst of it) but we had to turn around and go home. The other bus accident happened when I was on my way to NYC for spring break while in college. Our bus hit a car in the Lincoln tunnel, and they had to send another bus for us. I don't ride buses anymore.

4. My stage name is Joy Lian. Lian is my middle name. As a result, most people who see that as my name think I am Asian before they meet me. Lian is indeed a Chinese word/name, but I am not a Chinese person. My father spoke 8 languages, Chinese being one of them, which is where the name came from. Even though I had no contact with him growing up, I do still have the name (I shed his last name as soon as I could, though).

5. I hate crowds.

6. Our cat, Charlie, loves tortilla chips and popcorn. He will knock popcorn out of our hands and he climbs into the El Farolito bag to get to the tortilla chips. He's also a fan of cereal and ice cream, but that's a little more normal. Side note: Charlie fucking rocks.

7. Purple has been my favorite color since I was 11 years old.

8. I'd always rather be sweating in the summer than freezing in the winter. Although I suppose in SF, that logic doesn't work so well. Still, it is rare that I am bothered by extreme heat, but I despise being cold.

If you are still reading at this point, you win a prize.

xoxo
Joy

"To eat is a necessity. To eat intelligently is an art."
-- La Rochefoucauld

The Rite Stuff (Bi-Rite Creamery -- San Francisco, CA)

2007-05-31T20:47:00.000-07:00

There was a time that Jon and I lived within walking distance of Delfina. Then along came Tartine. And, of course, there was always Bi-Rite market.

We had a love/hate relationship with Bi-Rite. The love part was the part where I could walk there and get all sorts of pretty organic ingredients (again, I do cook at home sometimes). The hate part was the fact that their aisles are 1.5 inches wide and are filled with people, 90% of which usually seemed to be assholes. On top of that, Bi-Rite seemed to charge about 45 times as much for a peach as any other organic grocer in the city. But it was convenient for us and their staff was sweet as pie so we kept going there.

These days I don't get to Bi-Rite as much, even though I'm only 8.5 blocks away. Mostly because I'm now only 2 blocks from Rainbow, which has a wider selection of organic goodies for much lower prices, not to mention a kickin' cheese section. (Rainbow has shortcomings of it's own, mind you. Jon and I keep begging them to open a meat annex, and I could do without the idiots who don't know how to get out of the fucking way in the bulk sections). Still, I bring my canvas Bi-Rite bag to Rainbow to take home my groceries. I like to mix it up.

But I digress.

I'm still in the neighborhood a lot. For a few reasons (listed in the opening paragraph of this post), none of which include groceries. And then Bi-Rite gave me one more reason: Bi-Rite Creamery, which has ice cream that is so good you just want to fucking kill yourself.

The first time I went, I asked for a small cone of the salted caramel. Since, like it's parent establishment, it was overrun with fucktards who are not at the top of their class (seriously, people, the creamery is TINY -- do not bring your double wide stroller up in there while your spouse waits BY THEMSELVES outside; it wasn't no emergency, yo), the nice conemaster almost forgot to make my creamy treat after presenting Jon with his sundae. So what did he do? He gave me a ginormous cone for the price of my itty bitty one. Nice, nice ice cream man.

About that salted caramel. I just about stuck my entire face into the cone. The ratio of salt to caramel was super duper. Salt in caramel is so uber-trendy right now that I should be sick of it if it wasn't so perfect. Honestly, all caramel should just be salted caramel.

Now Jon was all about the sundae. Specifically the coffee sundae made with Ritual Roaster's coffee ice cream with caramel and stuff and more stuff. Seeing the climax that sundae brought him, I knew I needed to get me some sundae action.

My choice was as follows: Mint chip ice cream, hot fudge (where they got this, I don't know but it is the best I've ever had, hands down), whipped (Straus) cream and a topping of my choice. I chose the fleur-de-sel nuggets. You heard right, Sparky. Recchiuti has taken fleur de sel crystals and coated them with chocolate for the Bi-Rite folk. Completely delish. They also have lots of other scrumptious toppings like carmelized almonds and crushed cookies that are made in house (all of Bi-Rite's baked goods are made at the creamery). One topping they had on my first visit but haven't seen since are what they called Valrhona pearls -- rice crispies individually coated with Valrhona chocolate. For the love of God, bring those fuckers back!

If you're not sold yet, you can also get ice cream sammiches made with their ice cream and cookies, cakes, pies and popsicles. Plus you can take your ice cream and hang out in Dolores park on the 3 nice days a year that we get here in SF so what more could you ask for?

As I am all about the ice cream these days, I will likely see you there. I'll be the one with my face in the ice cream.

xoxo
Joy

"To eat is a necessity. To eat intelligently is an art."
-- La Rochefoucauld

It's an Honor Just to Be Nominated

2007-05-25T06:27:00.000-07:00

Well will you look at that? That's just about the most fucking cool thing I have encountered all week. It appears that I have been nominated for "Best Food Blog" in the Blogger's Choice Awards. As several of my fabulous friends have been nominated as well, I'm sure this puts most of you in a conundrum. Still, if you are motivated to show me the love, hop on over there and vote.

For some reason, the best way to find my site amongst the 53 (!) pages of food blogs nominated is by searching for Meshsf.com.

Have a super duper weekend, and get your drink on for me.

xoxo
Joy

"To eat is a necessity. To eat intelligently is an art."
-- La Rochefoucauld

Did Someone Say Vegas? Oh, And How About An Art Show?

2007-05-24T09:28:00.000-07:00

Jon and I will spend the lovely holiday weekend in the city of sun and sin. Since we've both been working like dogs for the past several months, stopping only to attend weddings and such (well, ok, there was Mexico), we will be taking full advantage of the delights of LV.

Except when we are attending another wedding.

I shit you not.

Since my cousin actually *lives* there, he's getting married there. So in between the dining and the rub downs and the pool time and the shows and the craps shooting, we will be placating my totally batshit mother and praying for no family drama. (And here I am not able to drink. Or take any valium.)

In the meantime, let me tell you about a little event that I heard about from Julia, a server at my favorite. She's also the events coordinator at The Red Poppy Art House, a community arts space. They are doing a big showing for the artists next week, and the reason you (and I) should go is there will be food (the chefs are from Chez Panisse, Delfina and Radio Africa Kitchen) and Delfina is donating a fuckload of wine. The important deets are as follows:

HERE WE ARE / WE ARE HERE NOW
an unusual auction experience
June 1st, 2007
6:30pm - 7:45pm Silent auction, food, performance
8:00pm - 9:30pm Live auction
Mina Dresden Gallery
312 Valencia @ 14th street
San Francisco
Tix are $30 and include food, wine, entertainment and more wine.

Further information can be found by clicking on the Red Poppy Link I provided above (it's all on the home page).

So this weekend get the hell out of here, or stay and barbecue or whatever but NEXT weekend when the holiday weekend fun is all gone, hit up the Red Poppy. Got it?

In the meantime, I need to take care of some important business before I jet off. That's right folks, Bi-Rite Creamery is calling my name.

xoxo
Joy

"To eat is a necessity. To eat intelligently is an art."
-- La Rochefoucauld

Something's Cooking

2007-05-19T08:46:00.000-07:00

I think I get the award for suckiest blogger of the year. You've been waiting for El Bulli, Part 3 for a trillion years (although in all fairness I waited for the damn reservation for 10 months). I've been throwing out crappy ass tidbits to mask the fact that I haven't done a proper restaurant review in quite some time. I've claimed to have an excuse. Well my friends, here it is.

While you have been busy hating on me, I have been busy spending some quality time with my head in the toilet (or on really special days, simply vomiting in the shower will do). I have also been sleeping a lot. And avoiding wine and sushi because I have to, and chicken and rice because they repulse me right now.

That's right, kids, I'm knocked up. Without going into too much detail, this was intentional.

Now if you are not up for the heavy stuff, skip the next paragraph.

Quite frankly, I could not have wanted anything more than the current sitchy. Twice before this I began writing this post, and twice before my hopes and my heart were severely crushed. Fortunately for Jon and me, we were simply unlucky rather than unhealthy. Still, it sucked and if it weren't for a select few, I'm not sure how I would have endured those terrible times.

But here we are now, 15+ weeks in (due date is November 9) and there have been some really fucking cool things I've experienced while pregnant:

1. The French Laundry will do non-alcoholic pairings that are so fucking amazing that I might not ever order wine there again. OK, who are we kidding? But still, it was great.

2. My best-midwife-ever says I can eat sushi as long as I know the fish is really fresh. Jon's got the folks at Sebo all armed and ready for me when I finally drag my rapidly growing ass in there. (I actually wrote my Sebo review after finding out about my spawn -- that's how much lag time we've got going on up in here.)

3. Craig said they'd deliver food to me in the hospital (need I say again how much I love them?)

4. Maternity pants have a lot of give, and now that I want to eat again I'm pretty happy about that.

5. Having friends in the restaurant industr y earns you a free breakfast simply because you had some sex.

Now what does this mean for you? Well, it means that now that I'm semi-functional I might actually start writing again. A few years ago, I expressed concern to a friend that we might not be able to dine out as frequently once we had Diner #3. My very dear friend, A, promptly responded with "Who the fuck are you kidding? You guys will still go out all the time." And she's right. Because I can't wait to share the amazing culinary mecca we have here with our new addition.

So that's the scoop. This will not become a baby blog, I promise. I might not be able to post about cocktails (I'll take Jon's word for it), but if you wanted to read about stretch marks then you wouldn't be here. I'm fully aware that the stirrings of my uterus are of consequence to me, Jon and the OB staff at UCSF and that's about it. I'll probably post a PSA once we are 3 instead of 2 but other than that, expect all restaurants all the time.

The first thing I'm registering for is training chopsticks.

xoxo
Joy

"To eat is a necessity. To eat intelligently is an art."
-- La Rochefoucauld

I Keep My Promises

2007-05-06T19:18:00.000-07:00

For those of you keeping score, El Bulli part 3 did not go up this week because Sam and Amanda's total contributions were not doubled (your fault, not theirs). I did manage to open the menus and formulate some thoughts, though, so that is a start.

As for the rest of my sucking, I have explanations and excuses galore. To be honest, I've been working on some pretty fucking exciting things lately. I will come clean about them shortly, but I can't spill the beans just yet. Let me just say that it's going to get pretty darn wacky around here soon.

I also have several places I want to write about (especially Bi-Rite creamery which occupies 98% of my thought space on a daily basis -- holy fucking balls I would kill your grandma for some of that dairy love), but I simply haven't had time. April screwed me with travel, and May is screwing me with my students' upcoming show. But really, you are always on my mind and I will have a significant shift in the amount of time I have to write in the very near future if you even care. Or if anyone even still reads this at this point. I'm also hoping to get in on this whole fridge photo thing before it passes me by...

Love you. Mean it.

xoxo
Joy

"To eat is a necessity. To eat intelligently is an art."
-- La Rochefoucauld

To Life

2007-04-26T07:52:00.000-07:00

Alright, I'm a little late to the game on this one. Tonight is Dining Out for Life, an event whereby some pretty rocktastic restaurants donate a portion of their proceeds from the evening to an AIDS agency in the region. Awesome.

Sam and Amanda, two of my favorite bitches EVER, are ambassadors for the dinner at ACME Chophouse tonight. So go.

I am a sorry piece of shit because I cannot go this evening what with the sister-in-law getting married on Saturday, but I did hop over here to donate some cash to the cause.

Lest you think I'm one of those folks who just throws money at a problem, let me share a little info. AIDS has always been first on my charity docket. (Although right now, Darfur is giving it a run for it's money -- seriously people, did we forget the fucking holocaust? We need to stop this shit!) I started an AIDS action committee back in my suburban Massachusetts high school where most people thought the only people with AIDS were "faggots." We raised $600 at during our lunch periods for one week by selling $2 red ribbons (I thought that was pretty impressive at the time). And a several years ago, I did an AIDS awareness show geared towards 4th and 5th graders.

I'm actually kind of pissed that we are still dealing with this disease almost 30 years later. Let's help to keep it under 40 years, yes?

OK, give me a second while I climb down from my soapbox.

If Sam and Amanda are able to double their $500 fundraising goal to reach $1000, I PROMISE Part 3 of El Bulli will go up by Friday, May 4th (I'm out of town until Monday so I think that's pretty fair considering it will be the bulk of the meal, right?).

Go out to eat! Save some lives! Everybody wins.

xoxo
Joy

"To eat is a necessity. To eat intelligently is an art."
-- La Rochefoucauld

Bite Sized

2007-04-20T15:37:00.000-07:00

Oh dear Christ I have no idea how people travel all the time. I'm only halfway through my crazy travel and work months and I feel like my blood has been replaced by airline pretzels and hotel shampoo. I'm so spent from the whole thing, it's taken me three days to write this lame ass post. Some thoughts from the past few weeks:

If you haven't already, you might want to start using www.restaurantwhore.com to get here. Mesh Magazine, the print publication I wrote for during the past year and a half and the current host of this blog (at www.meshsf.com/blogs/restaurantwhore.html) is stopping print. They were ridiculously good to me, and way too generous with their non-editing of my work. In any case, Jon will be helping to move my content from the one site to the other. Seeing how fast he is with those projects (remember the new look this site was getting, oh, I don't know, a YEAR ago?), don't expect it to be terribly speedy. For now, restaurantwhore.com points to the Mesh site.

Indianapolis is not a city known for it's food. In fact, the best meal I had there was at my best friend's (very beautiful) wedding. I am ashamed to admit that despite the fact that I have not eaten fast food, chain food or any food from any place that has it's own commercial in several years, Jon and I had Domino's delivered to our hotel late one night and sat in bed eating it like ravenous wolves. Shame, shame, shame.

To the very helpful anonymous poster who tried to direct me to good Indianapolis eats: This would have been super fucking great, if the comment wasn't posted once I was already in Indy sans internet access. Once I saw the comment, I was positively apoplectic with laughter over the "I can't believe you don't use Chowhound" statement. Really? You can't believe it? Because with my mouth, I'd last about 4.3 seconds over there in Orwell-ville.

I'm sure Shauna talks about this all the time, but I tend to not read many non-local food blogs (ergo, I suck). In any case, one of my co-workers has the most angelic daughter who happens to suffer from Celiac disease. Celiac disease not only makes it difficult to digest gluten, but prevents you from absorbing nutrients. Fun stuff. In any case, I learned from my co-worker that eating out is hazardous not only because of everything that contains gluten, but because anything else you eat could have *touched* something with gluten and then you are fucked. Crazy shit. I thought it might be a good PSA for the restaurateurs out there to let them know that they should use a new pan when cooking for a gluten-free patron, rather than just throwing the gluten free ingredients into a pan that may have recently touched gluten filled components. Who knew?

Why is it that we have no fucking corn muffins here in California? Growing up east coast style, I never had to wander far for a corn muffin. I'm not talking about little tiny cornbread hockey puck muffins that sometimes pass for bread at "Southern" restaurants. No, sir, these here muffins could be found in any coffee, donut or pastry shop (not to mention the fact that they were offered as a side option at any breakfast place) and were big, fluffy, cornmeal filled and delicious. They were served warm, and your butter would melt as you spread it all over that sexy quickbread. I make them myself sometimes, but once and awile, I'd like someone else to service my need. So, please, will someone tell me where I can find a decent fucking corn muffin?

Yesterday, I got an e-mail from Pixar. Yes, that Pixar. I love them so much it hurts me. Jon has a degree in CG animation, so we are always first in line for their releases. I thought we had reached a pinnacle with "Finding Nemo," considering Jon has also had a lifelong obsession with tropical fish (we have a 55 gallon reef tank), but then I saw the previews for "Ratatouille." A pixar movie about a gourmet rat? In Paris? Fuck, yeah! To top it off, my boy, TK, consulted on the film to ensure culinary accuracy. I can't fucking wait to see it. Pixar has set up a couple of treats for those of us that get retarded about food. First is a series of podcasts. They also are having a contest and giving away a free trip to Paris. Personally, I will be waiting diligently, with gourmet popcorn in hand, at the opening on June 29th. Shameless promotion here, I know, but you also know I never do this usually so it must be fucking rad (P.S. they are not offering me jack shit to write this -- I just love them).

One more trip next weekend for Jon's sister's wedding, and then we are home for a month! As I sit here staring at my El Bulli menus collecting dust, I know how that time will be spent.

xoxo
Joy

"To eat is a necessity. To eat intelligently is an art."
-- La Rochefoucauld