The Girl Who Ate Everything

When is it okay to eat pizza and ice cream? If you don't care about your health, it's totally fine when it's awesome pizza and awesome ice cream (actually, if you really don't care then it's fine to eat unawesome pizza and unawesome ice cream...but that would suck). I was about to say that it's not a combination I eat much, but then I remembered that my last pizza outing to Luzzo's was accompanied by a stop at Il Laboratorio del Gelato. Now it's a theme. Crap.

line

I went to Grimaldi's for a flickr food meet. When I got there, I realized....wait, I don't know anyone; how is this going to work out? I only knew Allen, who couldn't answer my calls because his cell phone died. He called me from a payphone to tell me he'd be late.

DEAR HUMANS: Please have your cell phone. I've missed three fooding opportunities in the past because someone didn't have their cell phone (one was last night). If you have it, charge it. Plug it in. Embed it in your skull. I don't really care. Allen did meet up with us so it was fine, but you have no idea how much it stresses me out when I try to contact someone through their phone and they don't answer because they don't have it or it died. Besides that I'm sad for a missed fooding opportunity, I also have to alter my schedule around the supposed fooding opportunity. When it doesn't happen, I feel like I wanted a chunk of my life. I don't think I've mentioned this pet peeve of mine before, so...eh, remember it now. I'm not saying I'm always punctual, but I think I always have my cell phone when I need it most. Hell, people don't even call me that often.

I was worried because everyone was late due to crapped up subways. I wanted to leave when the 1 PM meeting time came and went, but since I knew Allen was coming, I stayed put. Most of the people eventually turned up though, resulting in MASSIVE FOODING, OH OH OH, HERE IT COMES!

inside

...But first! Grimaldi's is rather small, hence the line outside the door. Our party of 10 was split into four and six, but after a couple next to our 6-table moved, we shoved our detached party of four into our row. Six of us shared two pizzas while the other four people shared one.

garlic and basil

If you order a pizza with basil, you get a smattering of basil. If you order garlic, you will get a bucket of garlic. Hm. I'd prefer more basil, but that's okay. I was burping garlic all after the meal. Did you need to know that? Of course not.

slice, upskirt

Keeping in mind that I haven't eaten that much pizza in general, this is the best crust I've ever tasted. "Smokey", as Allen said. "Un-floppy and a bit crispy", as I said. My determination to finish every last bit of crust resulted in a sore jaw, but that's alright, COS I LOVE MY CARBS. The cheese was great; it had substance and sweetness, not like that tasteless semi-transluscent goop. I ate three slices of this pizza. Yup.

another pizza!

Our other pizza was topped with sundried tomatoes and sausage. Good stuff, of course. I'm not sure what else to say. If you like sundried tomatoes and sausage, THIS IS FOR YOU. If you don't, THIS IS NOT FOR YOU. I don't care, so THIS IS IN THE MIDDLE FOR ME.

half a slice

The other four people couldn't finish their one pie. How is it that six of us finished two while four couldn't finish one? I can do the math, and that math just ain't right, kind of like my grammar. Although I could've eaten the whole slice, I split it with someone else to be that much less gluttonous, which admittedly isn't ...much. Hm. This pizza had more deliciousness and heart-stopping qualities than our two pizzas, as it was topped with extra cheese, basil, pepperoni, sausage, and garlic (and god knows what else). The extra cheese really does make a difference. I may as well just eat a blog of cheese topped with bread and tomato sauce. All the meat made it uber meat-tastic (embracing swine and cattle!).

I ended up eating 4.5 slices of pizza. No one else ate that much, apparently. I beat everyone? That's bad. Although I'm a college student, perhaps at the peak of my metabolic performance for the rest of my life, my metabolism isnt't that good. One thing I've noticed is that my skin is strangely clear (don't worry, I went through a pizza face phase in 8th grade) despite that it shouldn't be. Or am I just healthier than I think I am?

...HAHAHAHA, god, I doubt it. My intestines are literally full of crap. And dead bacteria.

But we must move on, as there is more gluttony to be seen.

Brooklyn Ice Cream Factory

Somewhat evil-y down the street from Grimaldi's is the Brooklyn Ice Cream Factory. You can't just step out of Grimaldi's and not notice the cute ice cream filled house at the end of the street. Can't. Unless you're lactose intolerant, perhaps. Even then, you'd still be drawn to the creamy delights against your digestive system's wishes. None of us was lactose intolerant, so we made our way to the factory of ice cream (perhaps the best kind of factory).

flavors

Even though there are only eight flavors, I still had trouble deciding. "Vanilla? Chocolate? VANILLA AND CHOCOLATE? Butter pecan? CHOC? MY BRAIN IS OVERLOADED." There was also the problem of deciding between one scoop or two. Tough choice, eh? I'm sure you can guess which path I took.

two scoops for extra death

Yes, two scoops. EAT THAT. Wait. Don't eat that; it's mine. I went with vanilla chocolate chip and butter pecan because I can't recall the last time I got either of those ice cream flavors. How was it? SO FREAKIN' GOOD. Softer and creamier than the leading competitor, whoever that may be. I attribute these qualities to good ice cream factory-ing, good ingredients, and loooove. While Il Laboratorio del Gelato wins for my favorite flavors, this might win for my favorite texture. Creamy. Smooth. Fat. Things that end in -icious. I tried Allen's peaches and cream and it was just okay (could've used more peach flavor), but butter pecan is good.

oreo!

Alice, who coordinated the flickr meet, made a crapload of delicious chocolate covered white chocalte drizzled double stuffed Oreos for us. Aww! We each got three...meaning that I ate three. (hangs head in shame) That stuff is full of jittery sugary goodness. Thanks for the dessert, Alice!

sweetriot

Speaking of sugary things, sweetriot was nice enough to send me some of their chocolate covered cacao nibs. They're officially the first food company to ever give me free stuff. Although I've hoped for it, I never thought I'd actually get offered food, especially chocolate, through sharing gluttonous babbling with the world. Sweetriot is on top of the game--they even have a blog. As you can see, their packaging is very cute and well designed. I don't need these little containers, but I'm going to keep them anyway, to store...something. Hell, I'll find a use for em. It's a simple design, but cooler than a standard cardboard or tin box.

sweetriot...riot

The first time I tried sweetriot was at the Chocolate Show last fall. They stood out as having the most enthusiastic chocolate team clad in matching lab coat-ish coats (...yeah, that was the stupidest description ever) while weilding "protest" signs. Cute, eh? My friend bought a few containers and really liked them.

choooc

I like em too. They're crunchy little chocolate bits. Do you not like chocolate or crunch? Hells no! The only problem with this snack is that you can eat the whole thing waaay too quickly if you're not conscious about your consumption. Then again, all tasty things are like that. Dammit.

NYU has a restaurateur's club. Yeah, there is a restaurateur's club (new as of last semester, methinks). If you're an NYU student, you might wanna check out this event going on today. I should go since my friend is the secretary, but I have yet to attend a meeting. Yup, I suck. I'd go if someone else wanted to go.

Enjoy ethnic foods? Want to learn more about the possibilities in exciting your palate? Restaurateur is hosting a sampling of different ethnic foods this Monday and we would like to invite you to this special occasion. Along with the delicatable goodies we have, we will also be having a discussion of ethnic vs. traditional cuisines in the restaurant business. Take a break and have a nice mingling with us. See you all there.

DATE: Monday, April 3rd, 2006
Time: 6:00PM-8:00PM
Place: Kimmel 405

caaake

Last Wednesday I split a 12-slice cake from Financier with Nick in exchange for a guitar pedal. As gluttonous as I am, you might be surprised to learn that I've never split a full-sized cake before. Seriously. With my chef's knife in hand, I sliced that sucker down the middle like a doctor performing open heart surgery...really badly..

innards!

Neither of us could remember the exact name or description of the cake, but these photos should help you if you want to buy it. The bottom half is a chewy, moist, just dense enough brownie, while the top layer is glorious light buttery cream. In between the layers are slivered almonds and other bits of nutty goodness. On top of the cream is a skin of something sweet, creamy, and vanilla flavored, and all around the cake are whole French almond macarons. Even though I haven't tried Financier's other whole cakes, I can't imagine how it could get better than this. You've got your brownie, your cream, your nuts, and your macarons. My god, that's the formula for instant death brought on by tastiness overload.

brownies and cream, uh huh

I ate two slices on that first day. If you're wondering, that's one slice too many unless you have a conjoined twin. After that, I thought, "...No, no more." I offered my roommate a piece. While she said she just wanted a bite, looking at the slice remnant the next day showed me that she had taken more than a bite. Really, if you're gonna eat more than half the slice, just take the whole thing instead of leaving a sad little cake corpse behind.

I ate the leftover from that slice. Dammit. I gave another slice to Patricia and I have onnnne left (if you're compelled to do the math, I also gave a slice from my half to Nick)...Sarah, it's calling your name...

suzy special

Yes, I am still on this weird sandwich kick (seriously, this is my new record for "single food eating whatnot". I went back to Crosby Connection for more cheap, delicious sandwich action and ended up with the Suzy Special: "fresh mozzarella, 2 slice of proscuitto, fresh tomatoes, sweet roasted peppers, buttery slices of avocado, fragrant basil, virgin olive oil, balsamic vinegar". I'm not sure why I got this considering I'm not much of a prosciutto fan; indeed, it ended up being the only part of the sandwich I found disagreeable. I guess I don't mind proscuitto when it's hot, but cold and flaccid, not so much. However, the rest of the sandwich was awesome, especially the soft, chewy, and crusty bread. The more sandwiches I eat, the more I think about how sad a sandwich is without good bread.

brownie brownie brownie

Someone recommended Crosby Connection's brownie to me, so I obviously had to try it. Oh god, it's a good brownie. Moist and dense, but not too rich or overpoweringly chocolatey. It's a hefty portion, but I foolishly ate the whole thing in one meal. I only ate half the sandwich for lunch (and saved the other half for dinner), but my attempt to just eat half of the brownie failed horribly. The rest of the brownie just...you know, jumped on my plate, gouged itself on my fork, etc. These things are beyond my control. I want to eat this brownie again, but it might be too dangerous.

mexican sandwich

Folks, we're still not out of sandwich country. (This is the last sandwich I'll talk about in this entry, but the next one will continue the sandwich action. Yeah, I'm scared too.)
Tristan joined me for lunch on Friday for my second visit to Pio Maya. More humans = more mouths to feed, hence more food I can sample! Yessss. Since the menu is kind of large, I just went for the torta (sandwich), composed of mayo, fried beans, lettuce, tomato, avocado, jalapenos, and chorizo (pork). Although I'm almost completely unfamiliar with Mexican food, I'd say this is like a sandwich with taco fillings (aka...er, Mexican fillings). ...Yes, that's probably a stupid description, but it ain't a burger, nor a tea sandwich, nor a hoagie, so let me be. It's a tad messy to eat, but the sandwich is neatly wrapped in wax paper to lessen the chance of getting crap all over your fingers...and you'll eat it quickly anyway. I especially liked the Jalapenos for kicking some sense into my nasal passages. Once again, the bun was good; soft, warm, and chewy. Why have I never eaten a torta before? I gotta keep my eyes open for more of these babies.

fried yucca

As much as I enjoyed the torta, the fried yucca was the real drool-inducing dish. I ordered this because unless you're at risk of heart attack, you can't go wrong with fried, starchy root vegetables. I've never had fried yucca before, so my description is going to suck. Here I go...

...uhh...nevermind. Tristan said, "It was kind of crunchy on the outside, and soft and fibrous on the inside", which sounds right to me. Sadly, I can't convey how much I enjoyed this dish by trying (and failing) to come up with sensory descriptions.

I eat food

I chewed. I swallowed. I immediately knew I liked it. ISN'T THAT GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU? OH GOD, WHAT ELSE DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!?!?

super taco!, rice and beans

Tristan got this super double-crust taco and a side of rice and beans. I didn't try the taco, but he enjoyed it and noted that the lime was a good sign. I thought the beans were kind of bland (not sure what they're supposed to taste like), but I liked the rice. Then again, I like all rice. I mean, rice from any part of the world (I think some Chinese people only like short grain Chinese rice; nuh uh!) prepared in almost any way, as long as it's not sludgey congee, which just doesn't agree with me.

Can you take one more restaurant? Yeah? Okay. Last one in this entry, I sweeeaaar...

seats...to be filled

After attending THE MOST AWESOME CONCERT EVER, I went to Yakitori Taisho with Patricia and two of her friends from out of town. Never having been to St. Mark's Place late at night, I had no idea how crowded it was. Who are all these people eating at 11 PM? Wuuuh?

interesting menu

Patricia's friends wanted to do some drinking, which is one reason that people go to Yakitori Taisho, but it's not easy for minors to get alcohol on a Friday night. Ah well. Except for one of her friend's sisters who was old enough to drink, we just stuck with the food from their menu where everything was tasty and cheap. This isn't your typical Japanese restaurant serving sushi and fish. As you could probably tell from the name, they specialize in yakitori, or "massive amounts of things grilled on sticks".

OKONOMIYAKI IS MINE!!!

I wasn't in a "massive amounts of things grilled on sticks" mood, so I went for okonomiyaki, one of my favorite dishes that I rarely eat (really, this was my third time) because it's not offered in many places. But here it was! There was no question that I had to get it. As for what the hell okonomiyaki is, I'd say that it's like a thick, mealy, savoury pancake with crapload of stuff in it. I don't think any encyclopedia would jump at the chance to use my description, but that's kinda what it is. This okonomiyaki was my favorite of the three I've eaten so far (the others being from Otafuku and Mitsuwa); it contained all kinds of seafood bits that I'm not particularly fond of, but found tasty anyway (shrimp, squid, other things I don't remember), slathered in lots of Okonomiyaki sauce and topped with a pile of bonito flakes. There's also the excessive mayo, which I wouldn't normall eat, but ye know...it was late, I was covered in confetti, my ears were ringing with the buzzing of a gazillion cicadas, and I hadn't eaten anything since Pio Maya.

Oh, another plus for the okonomiyaki besides that its a delicious bundle of seafoody savoury-ness: the gigantic slab cost around $8. If I remember correctly. And I might not since we were there for a long time eating all this other food. I didn't try any of it so I'll just food-porn you:

steamed onigiri, grilled onigiri, plate of stuff on sticks, fish thing, ramen, salmon

YOU HAVE OFFICIALL REACHED THE END OF THE ENTRY! Unfortunately, you don't get any kind of prize. You're probably hungrier now, actually. Sorry. [pat pat]

Camera Time
Originally uploaded by baobee.

It's not often you get a photos from the other point of view. This really captures the pizza's fear. "Who are these people? Why are they taking photos of me? Are they going to eat me too?"

...Yes. Heehee.

Lisa took this photo with her ginormous camera that looks like a gun. Really. I think she said that it weighs 6 pounds.

Also, I got this in an email from New York Press:

ice creeeeam?

Alphabet Scoop: Changing Lives One Scoop at a Time

Date: Thursday, April 6
Time: 3PM-9PM
The Scoop: receive 50% off your cone or cup purchase with this ad

Alphabet Scoop is a high quality, home-made, not-for-profit ice cream store employing at-risk teen from Alphabet City.

543 East 11th Street (At Avenue B)
212-982-1422

Dude, I'm so there. The teens are at risk? I'm also at risk. For many diet related diseases. Who wants to join me?

DO YOU WANT HAPPINESS?

THUMBS UP!!!

DO YOU WANT...TO LOOK AT YOUR FRIDGE?

John looks sad.

OR TAKE A PHOTO LIKE THIS?

Gooo Jayne!

THEN YOU NEED TO...

PRE-ORDER A POOFY PANCAKE SHIRT!!!

Yup. Okay. I already did one printing for the people who really wanted them. Then other people said, "Oh wait, I wanted one! Boohoo!" So I'm doing another printing. But people...they ain't biting. Maybe they need a friendly reminder. So this entry is it.

Here are people's comments about the shirt. You know, the people who own one. Don't you want one? YES!

"The problem with wearing this shirt is that it causes people to start at one's chest and smile a lot.

It also gives one a craving for pancakes. (And if I had a dirty mind, I'd suggest that it causes young men to think they need to take me home and, ahem, cook me breakfast the next morning.)"

- Liz

"...I woke up at a friend's house this past weekend with the poofy shirt on and had some pancakes."

- Rich

"I got my poofy shirt today already! Today is a good day. Well except my VISA bill was hidden underneath the package. But that is fine."

- Yan

"We got the shirt and my daughter is so happy. She wore it today to school."

- Janis

"Thats right, this shirt says it all. I love it! Oh and probably cause I got it for free too. But besides that you don't see this kinda truth in Sunnyside, everyone is still sporting stupid American Eagle garb printed all over them."

- Heather

"She�s made some pretty fun t-shirts, too, if you�re into that."

- Mike

Rock on.

...Buy my t-shirt. I've used the delivery of the shirt as an excuse to meet up with people to eat. HA HA HA. I'm doomed.

[Thanks to everyone for pre-ordering t-shirts! I guess all I had to do to get that rolling was...tell people it existed. I extended the pre-order until early May because otherwise I'll be stuck with a crapload of shirts at finals time. Which isn't cool. In this case, I'll be mailing the shirts from home in NJ and not NYC, although I'd still come to NYC for fooding and...um, actual things to do, which don't really exist in suburbia.]

Doma

After reading Sarah's review of Doma, I decided I had to go for sandwich bliss in a cozy coffeehouse-ish environment. Apparently, I'm still on that sandwich kick that's been going on for...[looks at watch]...longer than anyone could've predicted. I've almost forgotten what a fork looks like by now. All I know is the sensation of holding a crusty loaf of carby bread filled with delightful fat and protein based things and attempting to shove the whole thing in my mouth so I can taste the carb-protein-fat combination in one gluttonous chomp.

Nathan accompanied me on last night's feast of sandwiches and things that are bad for diabetics. He ate as much as I did, which means he probably ate too much. Of course, I also ate too much, but I think I'm more used to that, "Mmm, my belly feels preggers!" sensation than he is. Hm. So what did we eat? Ehehe...

sandwiches attack!

Doma's sandwiches are made with Balthazar bread and come with a side mesclun salad. I ordered an avocado and mozzerella panino (besides being on a sandwich kick, I'm also addicted to those damn 'cados) while Nathan ordered the vegetable and goat cheese panino (which includes roasted peppers, grilled eggplant, zucchini, basil pesto, and aioli). The sandwiches are large enough without being overwhelming, a good deal for the $8-ish price tag. In accordance to the new Robyn rule of eating out, we shared the sandwiches. Sharing with another person means you can eat half of twice as much. Or something. Did that make any sense? I don't know...I stopped doing math after 12th grade.

You don't need another visual...BUT HERE THEY ARE.

This bread. Is. INSANE. And by that, I mean insanely good. The first comparable food that came to mind was creme brulee. No, this didn't have the flavor of creme brulee (that would've been odd), but the crust reminded me of the thin crispy caramelized topping on creme brulee that cracks when you jab it with a spoon. The outer crust of this bread was like creme brulee topping: thin, crispy, and cracks when jabbed...with teeth. Shards of crust gave way to soft, wheaty innards. Wheaty innards. ...Wheeeaaaty innaaaarrrds...yes, I'm excessively dragging it out for no good reason.

[Sidenote: I created a flickr innards group for the good of the nation and the food porn loving world. Could you believe that no one else made an innards group? Could you?!...oh, you could.]

innards, yes

PARTIALLY-EATING SANDWICH, IN YO FACE! Avocado? Full of fresh, fatty goodness. Mozzerella (from Joe's Dairy)? Full of a different kind of fresh, fatty goodness (of bovine origins). Zucchini? Tastes like zucchini. Together? An awesome sandwich. I'd eat it again. The vegetable and goat cheese panino was also very good. I know that's a poor description, but here's all you need to know: bread is awesome, fillings are adequate without spilling out of the bread and exploding all over your hands, and everything's reasonably priced. Also, you don't have to give a tip since you order and pay at the counter before getting your food. Woo! I'm sure you could give a tip if you wanted to though.

empty...duh

We cleaned up good. The end.

...HAHA, not. Sandwiches do not complete the meal; GASTRO-INTESTINAL PAIN DOES! Oops, I mean, DESSERTS, DESSERTS COMPLETE THE MEAL!

"I feel like having ice cream."

"Me too."

"..."

"......"

brownie and ice cream, grilled bananas and ice cream

Two of the desserts come with ice cream, so we naturally got both. I couldn't remember the exact last time I had the combination of brownie and ice cream, meaning that it had been too long. What does a warm, dense, gooey, nut-filled brownie topped with creamy vanilla ice cream drizzled with caramel sauce taste like? Do you have to ask? Vanilla ice cream slowly melting over a warmed brownie tastes like sin. Conveniently, sin is delicious. Less conveniently, sin is bad for your health. And your chances of getting into heaven. BUT WHO CARES! IT'S ICE CREAM AND BROWNIE! The pairing is inevitably delicious, kind of like how NYU's tuition hike is inevitably going to piss off a gajillion cash-stapped students! Sweet.

Oh, grilled bananas....are freakin' awesome. Scooping the cinnamon dusted, pudding-soft banana flesh out of the skin reminded me of eating whole grilled Japanese eggplant. Except this is awesomer, because it's full of sugar. The bananas by themselves could've been a dessert...but I could say the same for the brownie. Screw that--pile on the ice cream! Not like I'm lactose intolerant.

...empty, again

Yup, we ate it all. Frighteningly, I didn't feel overly full after eating what may have been around 5000000 calories. I certainly wasn't hungry, but I didn't have that, "Oh, I think my stomach just turned into a bag of bricks, and I can't move, and I think my lungs are collapsing from the weight of my stomach" feeling either. How does my digestive system work? [shrugs]

The end.

Grey Dog Coffee

...HAHA, not. We continued our way through the West Village to Grey Dog Coffee (after stopping by Joe and finding out it had closed at 8).

coookiiieee

Since I'm not a fan of liquids, I got the manhole-sized oatmeal cookie. Nathan got a small bucket of green tea accompanied by a cup of cow juice. I think I managed to eat half of the oatmeal cookie before wanting to pass out. The cookie was very good--kind of light, crispy on the outside, chewy inside, chock full of raisins and oatmeal-ness--but it was too damn huge for an after dinner and dessert snack (because you're not supposed to eat a snack after dinner and dessert). You saw all that other food I ate, right? Right. I have limits, believe it or not.

The end. The real end!

---

Actually, I lied. Time for Part 2! Or Part 0.5, since this comes before the stuff you just read.

brunchin' time!

Sarah and I went to Grey Dog Coffee on Sunday for the first time. Steve recommended the place very enthusiastically to me just a few days before that (I WELCOME ALL RECOMMENDATIONS, GIMME), so I naturally had to go. There was a huge line out the door. I knew Sarah was in there somewhere...

"SARAH, WHERE ARE YOU, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, WHEEERE?!" [cue hyperventillation]

I panic easily. She was waiting in line inside (like Doma, you order and pay at the counter before getting your food). I smooshed into the crowd and looked at the menu.

photoshop lets me saturate things!

There was no question that I had to get French toast. It didn't matter whether or not I was in the mood for French toast. ...No no, one is always in the mood for French toast. Anytime is a good time for French toast. If you're happy, it'll make you happier. If you're sad, it'll make you happier. If you're sick, it'll probably make you sicker...but at least it's tasty.

cookies!!!

But before the real food (because French toast is "real" food...at least, it has become culturally acceptable to eat bread fried in egg and covered in syrup as a meal), I saw the cookies. Gigantic cookies. What would you do if you saw these cookies?

innards

Yup. I bought a chocolate peanut butter cookie the size of a hubcap. Moist inside, crispy outside, just enough peanut butter chips to not be overly peanut buttery, just dense enough so that I could eat it comfortably without stomach damage, just chocolatey enough so that I didn't go into a chocolate coma. It was really good. I liked it more than the oatmeal cookie.

French toast time!

Ah ha, time for French toast! My plate came with three slices of golden yellow Challah toast topped with sliced bananas, strawberries, blackberries, and powdered sugar. I also made use of the maple syrup in the back of the room (where you can also get other condiments and free water). This French toast was better than most French toast I've had in NYC...which might not be saying much since I haven't had French toast in NYC very often. But it's good stuff. It wasn't dry, unlike some others I've had, and the fruit could allow me to believe that I was eating something healthy when I knew I wasn't. Sweet!

sandwich!

Oh yeah, we also got a sandwich. We shared the French toast too; don't think I ate it all by myself! Upon one of the waiter's recommendations, we went with the "Smoked Turkey, Sundried Tomato, Brie, and Raspberry Mustard" sandwich on 9-grain bread. Not that the rest was bad, but the raspberry mustard and brie were my favorite parts; I wouldn't mind just eating a sandwich with those ingredients. Mmmmm. The mustard was the first thing I tasted, as it was very strong and nasal passage-clearing, which would've been helpful if my nasal passages needed clearing. Since they didn't, the mustard just made them go "woosh"...you know. Woosh. (Pretend you know what I'm talking about.) The bread's crust was oddly quite tough, but the insides were soft and among the better sandwich breads I've eaten. Overall, I thought it was a good sandwich, although not something I'd be dying to get again.

Oh my god, is this entry over? YES! FINALLY! Now you should go fulfill your cookie/French toast/sandwich cravings.

Fruit. I really need fruit. An orange? An apple? Something that has phytonutrients? Knowing my laziness, I probably won't make that 10-15 minute trek to Chinatown for oranges tomorrow. But I should.

frites of the pommes

Especially after eating potato sticks cooked in a large, frothing vat of hot oil until golden, crispy, and heart clogging-ly delicious.

Pommes Frites

It wasn't planned, but after seeing the mind boggling Drawing Restraint 9 (if you have a vaseline fetish, this movie's fer yewww!) Nathan and I went to Pommes Frites, the legendary french fry hole-in-the-wall that I had been meaning to go to for ages, yet never found the right opportunity for. It's not a meal, and it's not a dessert (actually, if they had some kind of sweet whipped cream topping, it could be a dessert...a gross one). I wouldn't say it's much of a snack either. After passing the overly crowded Japan Town block of St. Mark's, I decided this was the time to disregard everything my mum told me about the death-filled properties of heated oil (once you cook it, the oil particles acquire little daggers and nunchucks and they kill you, ninja-style...oh yeah, I am not a nutritionist) and see what all the fuss was about.

vat of oil

Potato sticks from the ginormous bowl go right into that equally ginormous vat of frothy oil. It churns with anger and the anticipation of crispifying little helpless potato sticks. I wouldn't want to be near that thing. Hell, once I burned myself pan-frying eggplant with just a weeny bit of oil. Because kitchens do not like me.

sauce dispensers...and sauce

There was no question that we'd share the regular size (which is the smallest size, so make sure yo bring someone with you to share the calories with if you ever go here), but with what sauce? Uh. Crap. There are more than 25 choices, which is 24 more than I'm accustomed to. We ended up getting sundried tomato mayo and "War Sauce" (frites sauce, peanut satay sauce & onion). I think I liked the tomato mayo more, but they were both good. I mean, you can't go wrong with mayo, right? But to whoever invented mayo, what the hell were you thinking? "Boy oh boy, I bet this egg and this oil will go swimmingly together!" Ah well, hats off to you.

Nathan eats

For once you don't have to see an action shot of myself stuffing my face. Because I DO NOT ALWAYS STUFF MY FACE. Sometimes I just sit here and breathe air, unobstructed by food. At that second, Nathan's air passage was obstructed by ginormous golden crispy tasty fry. Mmm, breathe in the oil...[rubs belly]

The fries were large, crispy, and burst forth with the, "Oh man, I shouldn't be eating this since it's so unhealthy, but it's taste so good, and I'm probably going to get cancer someday anyway so why deny my fate?" idea, although disappointingly a large percentage of the fries were uber-short and not very conducive to being comfortably dipped in the sauces. The bottom of the cone of fries, at first looking like an explosion of fat potato sticks, left us with small, brown crispy potato nubs whose other purpose was "oil capsule". Hm. Well. The fries were definitely better than what I've had elsewhere with its uber-crispy-outtards-and-soft-innards thing going for it, so if you haven't tried it and you're not afraid of death-by-deep-fat-fryer, go to Pommes Frites.

Indian Bread Co

Due to Piccola's recommendation, I decided to try Indian Bread Co for lunch yesterday. As a sign of my devotion to this blog, I went despite not being hungry and having a funkily upset stomach overall. Which didn't get much better after the meal.

this photo is screaming to be photoshopped

This is NOT what I ate yesterday; this is what I ate when I first went to Indian Bread Co on January 15th, 2005. (You probably didn't notice this, but I have an uber old gallery of crappy photos, a relic of my non-flickr past. And then flickr came into my life and all was good! Rainbows and unicorns appeared! ...No, I wasn't under the influence.) I forgot what the exact name of this was, but it had lamb. What I do remember is thinking that it was alright, but kinda disappointing. It was really thin and didn't have enough of the bread or meat part for one to skew it in the direction of, "Hey, that meat was good," or "Hey, that bread was good". It was just "...Yeah, that was okay."

spicy lamb vindaloo naanini

The spicy lamb vindaloo naanini (like a panini, but Indian, GET IT?!) was a lot better than whatever I got before. The bread was like a cracker in that it was really crispy (you could snap it) and thus was able to support the weight of the meaty innards when other flatbread might flop over, but it still retained bready qualities, such as...having moisture. Being chewy. Not being a giant cracker, which wouldn't make for a very satisfying sandwich.

glistening meeaaat

There was plenty of spicy, chopped lamb meat (with a bit of potatoes and onions) in between the flat, crispy carb planks. I could only eat half of the sandwich since I wasn't very hungry, but I suspect that the spicyness also prevented me from eating too much. When something is labeled with the word "spicy", they mean it. It won't make you cry, but I think something in my burned away at the inner lining of my mouth. Yeah. It wasn't that bad (the inner lining of my mouth still exists!), but there is definitely some mouth-searing action to be suffered if you get the spicy lamb. Obviously, just get one of the non-spicy options, unless you like spicyness, which I do. Besides the mouth searing part.

And then...more suffering. My slightly weird feeling stomach continued to feel weird after eating the sandwich, possibly increasing my body temperature by a few degrees. I don't know what spices they used, but you might have a reaction to em. Your gastro-intestinal system will feel toasty. Keep in mind my stomach wasn't in great condition before then, so you might be find after eating this. I'm just a wuss.

panini press

For Thursday's lunch, I went back to Crosby Connection. Yes, this place requires multiple visits...so I can try every sandwich.. I decided to go for a hot sandwich instead of cold like I have the past two times. See their panini press? I liked the bricks. ;)

panini 56

The panini 56 contained smoked mozzerella, sundried tomatoes, sweet roasted peppers, fresh basil, and other stuff I can't remember. It was so good that despite not being very hungry I ate the whole damn sandwich. One half of a sandwich is already enough for a meal (last week I split one sandwich between lunch and dinner), but I ATE THE WHOLE DAMN THING. Yes, I did suffer the consequences; my stomach felt like a bloated whale...had exploded inside my stomach. That's worst than just feeling like a bloated whale, by the way. Besides that, I was really thirsty, thus drinking lots of water, thus adding liquid to whatever chewed up sandwich goo that was already in my stomach, thus giving my stomach something else to churn while trying to digest the sandwich goo. The result was the release of Italian-flavored vapors whose only method of escape was through excessive burping. (Okay, the burping was more the result of my inability to eat at a slow, reasonable pace. When I eat alone, I practically hoover my food.)

...Why am I telling you this? Well. As tasty as a sandwich may be, control yourself. Don't eat the whole thing unless you're really hungry (perhaps you should fast the day before). Don't add a layer of water to your stomach if it's already filled with sandwich goo. Or you may get Italian burps.

...Damn, that sandwich was good. Fresh basil is one of my favorite things, and those layers of soft, smoked mozzerella? [drool] It's a dangerously tasty combination.

pile o scones

Mm, pile of scones. Is there any better way to present scones? Mountain of scones? Bottomless sea of scones? Avalanche of scones? D) ALL OF THE ABOVE?

That's your food part of this post. I guess that means you can stop reading now if all you wanted to do was get your salivary glands going. [hands over a napkin] There's something else I'd like to talk about that's related to blogging and being online in general, which may interest those of you who have blogs. Or not. Well. I'm using this as an open forum. If this were a real life discussion, I would have a bucket of scones to hand out and maybe some tea for those of you who like tea. And then we would forget what we were talking about and just have a tea party.

...Dude, let's do it. If you live in NYC you'll have noticed how ridiculously nice it is today. I passed a girl in Washington Square Park today eating a chocolate covered vanilla ice cream popsicle and sadly thought, "...I want one," while mentally grabbing towards my fuzzy childhood, which seems to be the most popsicle-appropriate time of life. But what about the rest of us old people? DON'T WE DESERVE THE JOY OF POPSICLES TOO? Yes. When the weather gets even warmer, let's all congregate in the park and gorge on popsicles. You know I'm serious.

I will have a real foodie post later, tomorrow hopefully. Although it's only been three days since my last post, I feel like it's been much longer. ETERNITY! Wow, that's disturbing. If you blog, you may notice that there's a difference between not posting due to lack of time and not posting due to a conscious decision because you don't feel like it. My attempt to stay blogging-celibate didn't really work, as you can see. Over the weekend (actually, two days ago) I decided that I shouldn't use this blog as an excuse to eat a lot (partially because my mum told me I should stop...eating so much crap). "Oh, I haven't been to this sandwich place. I'm not hungry, but I think I'll try it anyway so I CAN BLOG IT. And to increase my sandwich prowess." (Yes, sandwich prowess. How much SP do you possess?) I wasn't very hungry over the weekend, so I didn't want to use this blog as a reason to stuff myself. However, I ended up eating at L&L for lunch because I hadn't reviewed it on this site yet. So. Um. I'm screwed.

Anyway...that paragraph wasn't really necessary, as it's not what I wanted to talk about.

A lot of my life is online. Ye-up. I've been blogging since 2000. This is the first blog post I made; prepare to be underwhelmed:

Hiho!

I have no idea why I made this page. Maybe so I can write something when I get a burst of creativity.

HAHA...yeah whatever. That will happen when the earth explodes.

I rather like the word "explode". Isn't it nice? It sounds weird. Like diarrhea, you know? Wait..not really...okay. Think about it. Not too hard though, wouldn't want you to hurt any of those important things...you know...brain cells? They are important aren't they? Think about that too.

But not too hard.

17 minutes later, I made another post. Wow. Let the obsession begin. Thankfully when blogging was in its infancy, comment forms weren't a common feature, or else people may have left comments such as, "Dude...you're a moron."

However, although that statement may be true, it's doubtful anyone would write it as no one (implying random people) really read my blogs until this one came about, and even then it's only been in the past few months of this blog's 1.5 year lifespan. Before blogging I made fansites for musicians I really like, some of which still exist. I can't say I ever made websites for the sake of meeting new people or building friendships--that ended up being a convenient side effect. When I found out what a nice side effect it was, I didn't see the point of letting it stop. I met my first Internet friend Diana (we both had Wallflowers fansites) in 1999; she's still one of my best friends today. Later that year I met another Internet friend (we both had Beck fansites) who was visiting the East Coast from her home in Hawaii. I don't remember the whole "meeting online friends in real life, people that I know aren't creepy, so don't worry" timeline, but this year will probably win as "highest rate of online friends met in real life" when December comes, primarily because of this blog and because I live in NYC. It's a lot easier to arrange activities with foodies than music lovers because...um, food is everywhere.

What's my point? It may seem like I rely on Internet relationships more than real life ones and that the reliance has a negative effect on my ability to make real life connections. The way I see it, I'll always be inept at making real life connections; I'm a socially awkward person, and I always have been. If I'm lucky, other people will find that appealing. If I live in NJ, people will just think I'm weird [shakes fist at NJ]. Did I make friends before I started using the Internet? Of course; my first use for the Internet was to keep in touch with other real-life friends (this was when I moved from NJ to Taiwan). Did I make friends in real life after using the Internet? Of course, although not very long lasting ones. As I said before, I don't use the Internet to pursue friendships. If I had to trace all my friendships, I may have started a couple of them, but otherwise it's almost always the other person who contacts me. Don't get me wrong--I welcome other people to contact me--but I have a bunch of reasons for sticking to the receiving end, which I won't go into here.

To me, denying the social connections that can be made on the Internet is like closing off a door to a gajillion other people who don't live in your commnunity. GAJILLION. If that were a real number, it'd be one of those big ones with a lot of digits. Being tied to the Internet may seem like I'm closed off to the "real world", but the real word...is fuckin' huge. [points] Out there? Pretty big place, full of lots of people you're unlikely to meet on a regular basis. I'm not saying everyone has to dive into a myspace-esque brothel (please don't), but if you surf carefully, you'll come across plenty of cool people without necessarily looking for them.

As for real life...well. I've always felt out of place, although I didn't realize how out of place I was until I lived in Taiwan. However, I went to an international school, which isn't the same as just living in Taiwan. Methinks the school brought together a mesh of people more diverse than I'd ever find in my small home town in New Jersey, perhaps more comparable to a college campus in NYC, and that's what I needed. Admittedly, I haven't even made many friends in my college, but...I swear there's some kind of point to be made here. I'm just too lazy to flesh it out.

Conveniently, Washington Square News has a feature article about Internet addiction. You think that'd be me, right? Well...no. Not really. I'm not saying my Internet use isn't alarming, I'm just saying that it's not as horrible as I thought it was.

�People who are shy can get on the internet and be anybody they want to be,� Orzack said. �It provides an escape.�

Whoa whoaa...whoa. I can be extremely shy, but I use the Internet to dump my brain, not to be someone else. It's debatable whether my online persona is the same as my real life one (if you've met me, you should let me know), but...well, it's not that far off. Depends on my mood. How comfortable I am around you. Etc.

Damn, this was kind of long and rambling. If you have anything to add, let me know.

Here's another photo, if you're still paying attention:

fried sesame rice ball thinger with red bean paste

I absolute love a good fried sesame rice ball thinger with red bean paste (and I'm not the only one; click on the photo). I could go for some dessert now. Dammit.

rhubarb tart

Behold. The innards.

Like a magical pastry-delivering fairy, Sarah came by last night with leftovers from Bouchon Bakery. Oh, Sarah. I love you for reasons beyong your access to the baked goods that would otherwise be left to rot after a day of sitting in pristine display cases, oogled by hungry shoppers at Columbus Circle. For instance, sometimes we're like twins:

Sarah, myself, and the baguette that would've otherwise met its death in crouton form

"I've been thinking all day about eating a baguette! And here you are! With a baguette!"

"IT'S CRAZY!"

"I KNOW!"

Unfortunately, the baguette's quality suffered from age. A day in the life of a baguette is practically it's entire lifespan. Such epemeral tastiness...[sigh].

I ate way too much that day already, but Sarah insisted that I try the rhubarb tart.

"Well I wasn't going to, but if you insist...then hell yeah. This is your fault."

outtards

Sarah was spot on. No, not just spot on, but 1000324-jillion% on. This tart may have been one of the best things I've eaten all yeeeaaar. I'll admit that my tastes aren't very discerning, but trust me when I say that this is good stuff. After scarfing down every fluffy, golden little piece of the crumble coating (whose exact ingredients I do not know...perhaps "concentrated deliciousness"), I wanted more of it, preferably injected right into my bloodstream for a steady high of "fluffy golden crumbly junk". I feel horrible for being unable to describe the crumbly junk, but trust me when I say it was really amazing crumbly junk. Texture, taste, subsequent high. And yes, I really need to think of a better name for it.

rhubarb tart innards

I know you don't need all the visuals, but when a photogenic opportunity such as this one comes along, I go nuts. Don't even ask me how many photos I took; just be glad that I managed to cut it down to these three. Never having eaten a rhubarb tart-esque dessert before, I don't know how to describe it. It looks like the striated muscle of roast pork, but thankfully doesn't taste like it. Perhaps it's a bit like strawberry...but that image comes to my mind probably just because of the color. The tart itself was cookie-crisp on the outside and...er, not so much on the inside. Dammit, I can't do this "food description" thing. Hence the large photo. Stare at it for a while; I can wait.

[waits]

Hopefully one of you guys will go try it and have a similarly yummy experience. I loved it so much that I wanted to blog it right away last night after I ate it, but instead I was up until almost 3 AM pointlessly reading an essay for my anthropology class. Of course, I absorbed nothing from that reading at that hour.

L&L Hawaiian Barbecue

I live around the corner from L&L Hawaiian Barbecue, but I've only eaten there once. I tend to avoid fast food joints and L&L is kind of fast food-ish. So what makes it acceptable? It's Hawaiian! It's kind of Japanese! IT'S AUTOMATICALLY AWESOME. Don't know what I'm talking about? Visit Ono Kine Grindz, right now. If I ever went to Hawaii, I'd gorge on an endless supply of bento boxes overflowing with slabs of fried meat atop mountains of white rice slathered in some sauce and whatnot and...and...[shakes]...

Wow, it's a good thing I don't live in Hawaii. Moving on.

Loco Moco

I've heard of Loco Moco, a Hawaiian dish that consists of white rice topped with a hamburger patty and fried egg and finally doused in gravy, from a book I read in class last semester, but I can't say I was very interested in trying it right away. Since I had no particular food plan for the day, I decided to stretch my culinary palate. ...Not that rice, ground beef patty, fried chicken embryo and viscous brown sauce is very adventurous, but I'd certainly never make it myself. I ordered a small ($6), which as you can see from the photo is pretty freakin' huge. If your body is screaming for double the egg and beef patty deliciousness, feel free to go for the regular size. Frankly, the idea frightens me.

Loco Moco

Hm...well. I had to admit that I ate the whole thing. Really, everything besides the tomato wedge (I'm not a big fan of tomatoes). Did I enjoy it? Welllll. My final rating would be, "It's alright." If this is something you grew up eating, I can see this being a nice vehicle for nostalgia, and I guess I can imagine loving the crap out of this dish if its your first time eating it (maybe it helps if you're drunk), but for me it was an, "I ate it once, but I don't feel the need to eat it again" kind of experience. I hadn't eaten a standard hamburger patty in so long that I forgot how disappointingly tough (in comparison to a thick, juicy, pink burger) and insubstantially bovine-ilicious they were. As Rob said, "Its not mooing. :(". You're right Rob; there is no presence of moo in this patty. Perhaps with a better patty this would've been better, but the gravy threw me off a bit too. "Tastes like...tan sauce." It wasn't bad. Just. ...Taaaan saaaauce.

L&L has a lot of choices, so if you're omnivorious you'll probably find something you like. The first time I went there I got curry katsu, one of my favorite dishes in the entire world, which means it probably could've really sucked and I would've liked it anyway. However, it didn't suck and it was a generous portion for the cost. I would prefer Win 49 over L&L for take-out homey Japanese food (better deal, better quality), but L&L is around the corner, while Win 49 is around a much father away corner.

Westville

After a food hunt on the rainy/haily/crappy Saturday afternoon, I met up at Westville to eat brunch with Grace.

inside

The restaurant was smaller than I thought it would be. Leave the large groups at home. (Or, ye know, take them somewhere that's at least as large as my dorm room.) While it was full when we got there, we only had to wait about 5 minutes to be seated. I forgot that weekends means brunch, which in turn means a slightly awesomer menu than on the less-worthy weekdays. I didn't take advantage of any of the particularly brunchy options, but they did have French toast. Tempting...so tempting...

scrambled egg sammich!

Sandwich. Egg. MINE. One of the choices on the menu is "egg scramble" with the addition of three ingredients out of a laundry list of possibilities (cheddar, swiss, american or mozzarella cheese, salami, chorizo, sausages, bacon, fresh herbs, tomatoes, onions, roasted garlic, scallions, roasted peppers). Only three? ...Alright, three's enough. I went with swiss, chorizo, and fresh herbs on a roll. Isn't toast kind of wussy? I remember when my British friend made me eat beans on toast, which was fine and dandy except that the beans engulfed the toasted like something out of a horror movie, transforming it into a sad wheat sponge in the process. If it had been "beans on a roll", I think the roll would've held up better. But who am I to tamper with British cultinary tradition?

innards

Awesome. How could this sandwich not be awesome? You can't go wrong chomping on generously cheesy scrambled eggs with pork bits and herbs smooshed between long, hard crusted, soft and chewy bread. The salad was alright. I ate it to feel like I was putting something mildly healthy in my body.

Grace's burger is melting

Grace ordered a hamburger on a Portuguese muffin. While she hadn't initially thought of getting toppings on it, our waiter Aaron (who was memorably silly and perky, gooo Aaron!) coaxed her into piling on a few things. If you order cheese, they will splodge on what seems like an entire melted wedge. I watched as Grace horrifyingly poked around the cheese to find the "burger" part. She definitely enjoyed the burger, but was too full to finish it to the last bite. I managed to wipe my plate clean (because I'm a glutton) and I selflessly helped Grace clean off her fries. Selflessly. Yes. For lack of a better comparison, the fries reminded me of McDonald's fries, which means they tasted really good. Admit it; you like McDonald's fries.

By this part of the meal (probably what should've been the end), we certainly ingested enough calories for the day. But...hello, eating with Robyn must end with dessert! Grace nor I could imagine finishing individual desserts by ourselves so we went for the only choice on the meny with the word "magic" in it.

chocolate magic cake

Did it live up to the name? ...Yes. Yes it did. The cake was just right on all factors: texture, moistness, chocolate-ness, sweetness, amount of frosting, massivity of cake-slab. We agreed that it was pleasantly smooth in a not too light (such as mousse) or heavy (such as deathly ganache) way. The frosting wasn't too sweet, which is something that I'd expect (not that that would keep me from eating it) and...damn, this cake was just too easy to eat. Thank god we split a slice, as I bet I could've eaten an entire one on my own. And then want to die.

bill

For an even $25, this was a nice meal that I'd love to have again (next time with more dessert, harhar!).

And that is the end of the food. There shall be more later.

---

Thanks for all the comments on my previous entry (which have all been replied to). I guess you don't mind when I semi-rant about non-food-related things. ;) I was actually going to write another one today, but the rants need to be buffered with real food-related content.

I guess it's time to do homework now. Damn.

---

Wait, no it's not. Semi-important question: are any of you from France? Paris, specifically? Yes, that seems random, but I'm planning to study abroad in Paris next semester. Last minute decision? Hell yes. Do I know French? Not really. During middle school it was a joke for me to say, "Je suis le fromage", although I don't know why I said that. I can say hello, good-bye, where's the bread, where's the bakery, where's the chocolate shop, I like chocolate, I have a grapefruit (come on, don't you love the word "pamplemousse"?), etc.

...Man, French people would probably hate me.

UPDATE: Holy crap, you guys are fast. I'm closing the comments because I think I've spent my whole afternoon writing this thing and...replying to comments. I'll sum up the rest here. But first, why I'm updating...

I've come to the conclusion that it's too much hassle to go. At least, there's no reasonable way without someone getting angry at me, or afraid for my well being. What I thought was a fairly simple trip has turned into something that, in my opinion, has been blown way out of proportion and shouldn't be worth 50% of my brain power. I haven't accomplished anything worthwhile today after thinking about this trip and how there's less than no chance of me going on it. No vacation should be this stressful, as in no vacation should make people worried that I'm going to be stranded in Norway or raped or god knows what else. Because that's what would happen. Naturally.

Thanks for your input. Maybe next year will be better.

I'm sorry I can't reply to everyone's comments, as you surely spent a large amount of time writing them, but I hope this response is good enough. The idea to bring a friend makes sense, but besides that finding another good friend to come along with me isn't the easiest thing in the world (unless we're all rolling in moolah...er, I'm not self sufficient, unfortunately), the last thing I'd want to do is "force" a friend to come with me. Not that it's really forcing...I mean, it'd be an enjoyable experience. But...ye know. (Just nod.)

If anyone's wondering, Morten offered to talk to my mum, but my mum refused, saying she didn't know how that would help. Swell mum, just avoid him. He also offered to let me stay in his girlfriend's apartment, but that seems a bit ...extreme, or unecessary. Obviously she must be a cool person, but then I become her burden, and that's kind of odd.

I have to admit that risk taking is not in my nature. I don't see going to Norway as taking a risk, but going to Norway against the wishes of everyone I know is a risk. I only take risks when it gets to the point that I really can't handle NOT taking the risk, but in this case I can. Norway will still be there next year.

Thanks again for your comments. Original post follows.

balkava

I ate a piece of baklava the other day due to a random food craving. I'm smooshing it in your face just to get your attention.

Yes, I'm afraid I've got another non-food post to make. A bunch of random crappy things have been going on lately that bother me enough to disrupt the foodie-ness of this blog in order to take advantage of the reasonably sized readership I have. Give me your brainmeats. Seriously, if you don't want to stick around for the rest of this post, I totally understand. Otherwise, your opinion may be appreciated...

Since last year, I had been thinking of going on a trip to Europe with Diana. She's graduating this year (I have another year to go) and she's never been to London (although she's wanted to for ages), so we thought it'd be a fun time to do something "out there" before she has to enter the real world of graphic design. However, plans didn't earily materialize and...frankly, we still don't know what we're doing.

I went to London two summers ago and really liked it, so I wouldn't mind going again. However, the place I've wanted to go for years is Norway, that ginormous country with not a lot of humans. Some of my friends think I have a bit of an obsession wtih Norway. Well...no, that's more with musicians from Norway. ..WAIT WAIT, no no, obsession is the wrong word! It's just that Bergen happens to be a hotbed of awesome musicians. Surely there are people who visit musical birthplaces.

But besides that, many parts of Norway are jaw droppingly beautiful. I've seen the photos; they can't hide those mountains and seas of snow from me. When I told Morten that I wanted to visit, he offered his apartment to me (and any friends that may come with me) along with taking us places (perhaps going on a multi-country road trip), feeding us, etc. While it's not necessary, it's certainly beneficial to know a local.

After not planning much for months, I felt like what I would rather do is just go to Norway. A few weeks to...um, roam around and eat stuff while visiting one of my best Internet friends would make a nice vacation. After more discussion, Morten came up with another idea: how about if we take on a 2-3 week food writing project? Eat around Bergen and other cities, talk about Norwegian food, other kinds of food in Norway, and possibly compile our musings into something printed on dead tree pulp. Morten is a great writer, I can beef up my skillzzz, and it would be interesting to get the concurrent perspectives of a food-loving native and a clueless American food studies major.

Yay, it's a plan! Kinda! Wait. Yeah. Okay, this is where the problems and subsequent ranting come in.

I'm 20. It's not that old. It's not that young. American deems me "not legal", because...America sucks. Morten is 29. And the opposite gender. Problem? If you have a twisted mind, perhaps.

...Okay, if you have a caring mind who wants to cover all the bases, then you could find a problem with a 20 year old female college student travelling to another country for a few weeks to stay with a 29 year old male grad student in his apartment. My mum does. My mum has many problems with it.

I know some people reading this are parents. Obviously, I'm not a parent, nor do I really see myself becoming one in my future, but I do realize where you're coming from. Gotta protect your kids! I understand! Yes! Okay! You may let your daughter go to Norway with friends (my mum would), but to stay with an Internet friend almost a decade older than her sounds sketchy. I get it. [nod]

But I'm angry. Quite angry. Blood-kinda-boiling angry. If you know me semi-well, you know that I don't get angry much. I mean, not at other people; yesterday I was uber-pissed at myself for getting on a 1 train whose doors closed as soon as a 2 train (which is express) pulled in across the platform, thus lengthening my train ride by...probably just a few minutes, but at the time I was really pissed at myself.

Back to my mum. She's against the idea. Basically forbidding it. If I were more disobedient and spoiled, I could just buy the ticket, get a cab, and leave the house (I keep my passport on me). But that would be insane, and in my opinion (which is usually self-loathing), I'm a pretty good kid. When I think about it, I can't think of anything really bad I've done. Seriously. I know my brother has lied to my mum about where he's been, but I've never, ever had to do that. (I don't think he lied because my mum would otherwise not let him do the things he wants to do, but because he doesn't want her to bother him about them.) My life has little defiance. If I go to London, what's stopping me from buying a ticket to Norway and just going there? My mum can't stop me by that point.

What's really bothering me about my mum is that she keeps referring to Morten as a stranger (yes, a stranger that I've known for five years) while stressing that he's single (despite that I keep telling her that he has a girlfriend...WHO LIVES 10 MINUTES FROM HIM). It boggles the mind. Her impression is that he has ulterior motives, an idea that sickens me since there is absolutely nothing of a non-platonic sense going on. Her judgement is offensive to him for assuming that he would betray his girlfriend (seriously mum, what the FUCK) and me for thinking that I wouldn't know how to pick good friends. Also, it gives me the sense that I shouldn't make friends with guys (a "rule" that I unintentionally followed for most of my life anyway) unless I want my mum to go insane.

[sigh] Of course, my mum has never met Morten, nor have I, but you get to know people after a while. I've made really good friends with people after a few weeks of emailing back and forth. Today I got in a not-so-good argument with her and found that in her mind, you can't ever know what people on the Internet are like. Simply emailing people doesn't tell you what they're like. (If I may back myself up some more, I've had some lengthy conversations with Morten where actually...like, spoke and used our vocal chords.) I would say that in fact, you can get to some people better through email than in real life. Take me for instance. You really wouldn't get much from me just from real life encounters, and even through email it can take a while to get to know me.

There are fakes on the Internet, but there are fakes in real life too. Luckily, or perhaps because I actually have good judgement in this field, I haven't met any bad people online. (Don't get me wrong; I know it's possible, but I don't assume that everyone's a criminal.) I don't meet people through random means; there's some common spark that causes people to contact me and for us to exchange correspondence for long enough that we'd feel comfortable meeting in real life. As I said in my other entry, I've met plenty of amazing people through the Internet who were no different in real life than I thought they would be from their Internet personalities (and it's usually more exciting to meet these people in the flesh). There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that Morten is a great guy who is offering a few weeks of his life to hang out with me (and our friends) because we're friends, we're friends, JUST FRIENDS FOR THE LOVE OF GOD.

[A little sidestory: The most awkward meeting I've ever had with anyone was with a guy I DIDN'T meet on the Internet. Yes. A guy who came to my booth at the MoCCA Festival last summer was apparently the only person who used one of my gazillion free business cards to contact me and hang out. I had a feeling that our personalities didn't mesh, especially since I HAD actually met him in real life and had an idea of his characteristics, but I gave him the benefit of the doubt. "Ohh, maybe he's cool." What happened? Most awkward meal ever. In. History. Just. Seriously, get it out of my head. At least I ate a waffle, which was the highlight of the meeting. I don't mean to imply that everyone in real life is weird, but...well...I'm just going to end there.]

My mum asked me if I'd hesistate to go if I had a boyfriend. It took me less than a split second (a split-split second) to say, "Of course not!" How would that make a difference? Didn't I say we were friends about five gajillion times?

"This guy is a stranger, and--"

Apparently, I didn't say it enough times.

Here's a snippet of her email (which she'd surely hate me for sharing, but heey, I don't care) that really bothered me:

You are not like Jennifer Iino [one of my best friends that my mum knows well] who is built strong and aggressive naturally, who will probably be all right in most places in the world alone, you are just not like that. you are too good natured, accommodating and obliging, it is just not the right time yet to travel by yourself for such an adventure. Sure it can be great fun, but it can also be regrettable.

Oh, sure, it can be fun...or it'll suck a lot. Nice. I'd bet a lot of money on it being fun and productive. My mum thinks I'm obsessed with Morten because I keep pushing the issue of this trip and she not letting me go on it. Hell, if anyone's obsessed with Morten, wouldn't that be her? That's all she talks about. I have no qualms about staying with him. What I'm excited about is meeting a long-time Internet friend (because believe it or not, two people as seemingly different as us can become good friends), traveling around a country I've never been to before, eating a cuisine I've never been exposed to (don't tell me that all Norwegian food is bad; I'm sure it's not!) and writing about it with someone else who I know loves food as much as I do (or more) and is a better writer. We shall share the food of Norway with the world! YES?

When I read, "it is just not the right time yet to travel by yourself," I thought, "...When is the right time?" I think for my mum it'll never be the right time. I know I'm not very old. I'm not very young. I know I'm immature, but I haven't really been in situations where I'm pushed to do things that would contribute to my...growth (mental, not physical, ahem ahem). Did I ever go on an "adventure" in high school? No. College? No. Do I have the rest of my life to do this stuff? I guess...but there are some things you'd rather do when you're younger.

I'm not going to Norway to do anything wrong. I wouldn't even say that Norway is the place of adventure (to compare, my friend Jen that my mum referenced studied abroad in London last year and for winter break went to Thailand by herself...also, Jen is a few months younger than I am, although she looks older and, yes, is more mature). It's just a trip. To see a new country and have the good fortune of having a friend who will take me around this new country. The Internet breaks down these barriers of distance, but when you have to get on an airplane and cross country lines, it seems insane.

[sigh] So. Whatever's going on in my head sounds much angrier than what I wrote here, I think. My mum would rather that I not ask others for advice because in her opinion (which I see a point in), other people can say whatever they want and they don't have to take any responsibility for it. The only people who are responsible for my well being are my parents. All my friends? Oh, they don't give a crap. She implied that any friend who tells me that this Norway trip is a good idea is "not my real friend". Behold, fake friends galore! That's swell. I have no friends and no one truly cares for me except for my family. (I know it's good to have a family who cares. But. Ye know. Um. My friends aren't telling me to jump off a bridge.)

None of you has to say anything that pleases me. So. Yeah. If you want to call me a naive moron for thinking it's okay to go to another country to meet "a stranger", then you're free to say that. Not that I'd agree with you. Lurkers, feel free to come out. [If you want to tell me something that you'd rather not leave in public, feel free to email me.]

...Yeah, I'm done now. If you read this whole thing, you're kind of insane. Congratulations! I should also mention that I have a good relationship with my mum because she's a good mother and I love her. But I think in this instance she's driving me insane and truly isn't listening to anything I have to say. Now I understand why so many other people have turbulent relationships with their parents who don't listen to what they say.

[Lastly, if you haven't seen this before, check out CouchSurfing.]

People have asked me how often I eat out with other people (more than I should), or how often I cook (less than I should). This week has been low on eating out...and that's probably a good thing, for the sake of decreasing the layers of fat that have been developing under my skin lately. When I say "eating out", I mean eating out just for the sake of eating and preparing myself by making sure my stomach is semi-empty beforehand, not when I go out during my lunch break, like I just did an hour ago.

egg sammich

So what do I eat when I don't go out for a "good" meal? Um. SAMMICHES! I can cook more than eggs, but my ultimate lazy mean is frying a pseudo-scramed egg and pocketing it in bread. In this case, I mixed in chopped snow peas because they were in my fridge and I had to do something with them. (I bought what I thought was a huge bag for around 80 cents in Chinatown; yeah, this stuff is cheap. Snow peas are one of my favorite vegetables. God knows if I should be eating them raw considering the environment they're sold in, but...they're so tasty, and my digestive system hasn't reacted negatively.) I bought a sourdough baguette from the Union Square Greenmarket on Wednesday, sliced a chunk in half, shoved in the egg patty, and chowed down more quickly than any of you will see since the presence of other humans tends to remind me that I have to chew and come up for air every once in a while.

Claytonia: The Musical

So that was Wednesday's lunch. Yesterday I made not one, but two egg-inside-baguette sandwiches. I don't love these sandwiches to death, nor would I ever feed them to anyone else if I want them to like me, but they're not that bad. For whatever reason, the claytonia sprouts at the Greenmarket enticed me (maybe because their green, fresh, healthfullness didn't resemble anything else in my diet, which is mainly brown, baked, and lacking in heathfullness) so I bought a small bag for $1 and shoved some sprouts in my sandwich. I hope they added some nutrients, as I could probably use those.

After the semi-healthy Greenmarket purchases of a baguette ($2), Jonagold apples (4 for $1.60), sprouts ($1), and a dozen eggs ($2), I went to...

peanut butter cookie lump

City Bakery. Dammit. I was on a mission to buy some cookies for a friend studying abroad in China, but I figured I'd get a little something for myself as well. Their peanut butter cookies are only 50 cents each, so I figured I'd make the small investment to try one. The cookie's texture is like halvah, but slightly lighter, which isn't saying much since halvah is a sesame paste brick. Eating this cookie is like eating kind of fluffy peanut butter; make sure you have water on hand. I don't like peanut butter enough to exclaim, "OMG PEANUT BUTTER MADNESS SO DELICIOUS" (when I really like stuff, I ignore the rules of correct grammer), but this was worth eating.

So that was all I was going to get. Seriously. A little peanut butter bite is all Robyn should eat.

ginger cookie innards

But then my eyes spotted a different cookie that wasn't the chocolate chip, oatmeal, or white chocolate chocolate cookie that I had seen at CB before.

"What kind of cookie is that?"

"It's ginger."

"Ooh, I'll take one. ...Uh, I mean two! Yeah."

...One for my friend and one for me, of course. I wouldn't get TWO for myself. Sheesh.

So this cookie? Oh my god, it's awesome. This is a cookie I would dream about. There isn't actually any solid ginger, but rather ginger flavor (not too subtle or strong) is incorporated all throughout the flat, golden disc. As you can see, underneath the cracked, crispy surface is a lighter, chewy center. [shoves your face into the cookie] SEE THE CHEWINESS? THE DELICIOUSNESS? BUTTER? FAT? SUGAR? YEAH. Okay. I didn't mean to hurt you there, but I just felt the urge to do that. [backs off]

On Wednesday evening I got a call from Carol saying she was in the area (as in below 14th street and not way uptown by Barnard like she usually is) and that we should meet up. Carol is one of my oldest and best friends who I sadly don't see as often as I should, especially considering that we live in the same city. ...Yeah, I'm really lazy. The last time I saw her was when I arranged a get together at City Bakery (yes, we like it a lot...for cookies). I was too full to eat real food, but I wanted to hang out anywhere besides my room because my roommate was home and...well, that ain't fun.

Fresh Salt

Fresh Salt is on the quiet, uber-clean Beekman Street, a stone's throw away from my dorm...if you can throw a stone really freakin' far. So it's either a superhuman stone's throw or a very short stroll along the cobbly South Street Seaport promenade from my dorm. After having it recommended to me by multiple Watermans, I figured it'd be a good place to hang out and eat something that isn't necessarily a meal. It's a bar, but they have a small and varied menu for those of us who favor...um...mastication.

the sky wasn't actually blindingly cyan / granola, yogurt, and fruit

For $5 I got a ginormous bowl of plain yogurt and granola topped with raisins and sliced strawberries. As I said before, I wasn't really hungry, so don't ask me why this popped out at me from the menu. Maybe my body craved fermented dairy products. I carried my hefty granola-icious bowl back to our corner both

yogurt and granola

Mmm...tastes like healthy. Or not like butter-filled chewy cookie death. I liked the combination of thick creamy yogurt (not the thin, liquidy stuff) and the crispy granola, but this bowl was missing one crucial ingredient: SUGAR. At the time I thought it tasted cool and light, unlike most things that I eat (mmm...cookiesss), but after I had polished off most of it (I wasn't thinking about what I was eating as much as what I was talking to Carol about; eating + talking = danger) I thought, "Wait, I want...a bucket of honey." I love plain yogurt, as long as I can dump on spoonfuls of honey, or perhaps just open the jar and let it loose. Maybe they had honey somewhere, but I didn't think of asking. Good yogurt, good granola, but it needs more glucose.

---

Thanks again for all your comments to the last entry. I suppose it's a reflection of the varied reader population, but you guys really know how to give mixed messages. ;) I think I've gotten just about every good, thoughtful piece of advice ranging from "Go," to "Don't go," to "Go with someone else," to "You should go now," to "You should wait a while, to "You should listen to your mum," to "Um, maybe you shouldn't listen to your mum." My new plan is to go to London for a week or less and then go to Oslo, and then...er, I dunno. I suck at planning. The first time I went to London my friend and I literally stepped out of Paddington station, looked both ways down the street and thought, "...Crap, now what do we do?" We walk around until we found a store that sold maps, and then used my map book to guide us...and by "guide" I mean "help us roam around aimlessly". Fun, but not the best idea in the world.

I told my mum that I thought about the trip and that I decided to not go. I also told her that to flesh out my thoughts I blogged about it (she doesn't read my blogs, although I link them at the end of every email) and that after getting opinions from a gazillion different people (and thus, a gazillion different opinions), it seemed like the best decision. Of course, she doesn't like it when I ask other people for opinions, and I realized that in the end, it's only my mum's opinion that really matters. Since. I live off of her.

Although she didn't read my blog post, she assumes that I made her out to look like a villian. She repeated this a few times on the phone and it freaked me out because...I'm pretty sure that I didn't. My intention was to look at the issue as rationally as I could--as a 20 year old, at least. I could've ranted against my parents in a more infatile manner, but that's not what I do. I don't think I made her out to look like a villian. Hopefully you all got the impression that I understand what motherly tendencies are and that she's just concenerned for my safety.

She kept saying that she thinks if I keep meeting people online in real life (after counting, I came to around 20 people, and last night I went to a concert with two awesome friends that I met online), I'm going to get into trouble someday. (She also used the example that if you drive more, then you're more likely to get into an accident. So...yeah, I understand the logic.) She could be right, but the same thing could happen in real life. Don't people mix with "the wrong crowd" and get influenced by not-so-awesome people that they meet in real life, the real life that my mum for some reason thinks is so safe (or...I dunno what she was getting at, perhaps not that real life was safe but that online life is inherently dangerous)? I'm pretty sure it happens. But you know what? It's never happened to me. And of course I've met people in real life; I just don't get mixed up with people I wouldn't want to mix up with. It's kind of easy.

She asked why I can't get to know people in real life. ...I have! I have some friends I've made in school and I hang out with them sometimes, although admittedly probably not as much as people I meet online because...we're not uber-close friends, aside from a few people. If I didn't make friends with people online, then at the very least I would have those people in real life. Aside from when I lived in Taiwan, I haven't been as successful at making friends in real life than online. As I've mentioned before, there are more people online, so it kinda makes sense (well, to me) that it'd be easier to meet people online, even if that's not my intention.

Honey suggested that the only way I'm going to get my mum to realize that the people I meet online aren't dangerous freaks is if I bring them home to meet her. My mum has only met Diana, so she's perfectly fine with her. I see her point, but of course I'm not going to drag all my friends to NJ to meet my mum.

My mum said that I'm making it seem like I won't ever be able to do anything I want. "I won't be alive forever. You won't be in school forever. I'm not preventing you from doing what you want to do; you'll get your chance." She said after I graduate then I'll be able to do what I want. Or perhaps later. I figure by that point, if I have a job and whatnot, it won't be quite as easy to just...pick up and go as it may be during my college years. Also, other people's lives will change too. She implied that my logic was off in that when I get more freedom as an adult, I'll actually have less freedom to do the things I want to do.

...In a sense, yes. It depends what I end up choosing to do. I may have more freedom. Or less. I don't think my mum is one to say since I think her marriage prevented her from establishing her own career. I wouldn't choose the same path as her, but I think she knows that.

The trip to Norway felt right now. It seemed to work out well. Really. But I know it'll be there next year, hence why I don't mind waiting longer. ...Well, I do mind a little, but eh.

Honey and Yetta (the most musically passionate people I have ever met) suggested that I just contact Even and say, "Hey, I'm visiting Norway; can I stay with you?" That's possibly the most horrifying idea I could think of.

I'm leaving comments open, not that there's anything anyone can do that would lead me to actually go on the trip I had planned before. And I don't think anything could happen. Next year is fine. Year after, maybe still fine. Or maybe not. Things change.

---

Just had another conversation.

Is there a difference between a site like eHarmony and my blog? I'd like to think there is. My mum said I'm not very open minded because I knock things like eHarmony (I think she was telling me about someone she knew who used it), but I know I have my own opinions about who I want to meet and who I don't want to meet.

As I said before, I don't make websites to meet people. It just happens. I put my personality on my websites and people notice; oh, how horrible. If I actually knew someone who used eHarmony and had success with it then I'd think that's cool, but I don't. So I guess...what I should say is that I can't make a well informed opinion about eHarmony because I don't have any experience with it. I guess my mum is right in that I shouldn't say bad things about it.

I do not think blogging is anything like eHarmony, but my mum does for some reason. That's the impression I got from our conversation at least; maybe I interpreted it wrong. What I find funny is that my mum expressed to me that you can't get to know people well through purely online means (I disagree), but that eHarmony is okay, despite that it's an...online thing?...I don't know. I might be twisting her words, which I shouldn't do.

I don't blog to meet people. This is apparent from the past gazillion years of blogging that were really just for my friends, as not many other people read em. Some of my best internet friends were made from my music sites, in which I'm just trying to share information that isn't personal.

...I dunno what else I'm trying to say. My mum said I shouldn't assume that she's any less open minded than I am. And I didn't say that, although I might think it. We have different opinions about things. I'm trying to get MORE opinions via this blog and talking to friends so I can get more opinions from people with different experiences.

It's a lovely day. I'll be inside for most of it.

---

Another thought. I know I'm a pushover. My mum knows I'm a pushover. If I heed my mum's words, does that make me a pushover or just a good daughter? My mum stressed to me that we (my brother and I) were brought up to know how to make good judgements, or at least that's what she tried to do. We're not the best kids in the world, but we're not that bad; I don't think I ever implied that my parents failed in some sense and that we made bad judgements. To be honest though (with my fuzzy memory), I couldn't really tell what my mum was explaining to me and it's hard for me to remember everything she said verbatim.

---

Another thing (although I'm sure by now you've nodded off while reading this entry), related to the eHarmony thing, which is an irrational comparison in my opinion...

One of my friends (who is much smarter than I am and thankfully wrote this out so I can quote it verbatim) said something that stuck with me: "In my experience and from what I see, one doesn't go seeking a relationship, exactly; rather, one seeks to feel a certain way. Those feelings emerge from meeting someone with whom you FEEL a connection."

I found no point in explaining to my mum what I didn't like about eHarmony, not that I mean to say the website is wrong for EVERYONE (because if it were, who'd use it?), but that it's not something I'd ever imagine using because it doesn't fit in with the kind of person I am. I think my friend verbalized whatever I was thinking much better than I could (which is why she wrote it...because I couldn't express what I was thinking in a comprehensible manner). However, some people DO actually just seek out a relationship, even if my friends and I aren't in that category; isn't that why sites like eHarmony exist?

I'd explain more but I'm tired of feeling like I'm repeating the same thing over and over again.

ciabatta family

How long does a loaf of bread last for a normal person? More than one day? Yeah, I thought so.

As you know, I am not of the normal variety of humans, thus the ciabatta grande (grande being a rough Italian translation for, "if you eat this whole thing, you're a pig") from Sullivan Street Bakery did not last more than a day. It didn't even last an entire day. Hell, not even half of a day. I've never gotten a grande before (it's safer for me to get a media), but my logic for buying it was that it would last two days. I had to plan ahead because today (Sunday, or perhaps that holiday called "Easter"; my unreligious self celebrates absolutely noooothing) I'm almost certainly not stepping outside. As I procrastinate by writing this blog entry, Word™©^{billgatesownstheworld} is concurrently open to my food history paper of ultimate doom on dim sum. It's full of doom because unlike dim sum, it's absolute crap. For a food history paper, it doesn't have a lot of history in it, which will probably give me a negative grade. My teacher will have to invent a new alphabet of negative value to accomodate the atrocity that I'll have to email to him tomorrow, email because he's in Italy right now, where people probably do not eat grande ciabatta loaves in less than a day.

On a random note, one of my friends got robbed on a train in Italy last week. Very robbed (as opposed to only somewhat robbed). I'd like to visit Italy someday, but I guess I'll keep all my belongings in my pants. Or underwear. And then lock my underwear. Or the train cabin that I'm in.

honey on ciabatta

What did I do with all that bread? I mainly soaked it in extra virgin olive oil sprinkled with black pepper, but I did try a slice with my new jar of Colorado sweet yellow clover beeraw honey. Creamy and sweet, oohh yeah. I didn't go into Dean & Deluca with the intention of buying honey, but it was there, it looked pretty, and a jar would probably last me more than a year, so I wouldn't say it's a huge investment.

I did have a reason to be at D&D, not even related to buying food, even though that's what I ultimately did. I'm currently working on a commodity food chain something-or-other essay (I forgot the official name) for my Food and Nurtition in a Global Society course and I picked beeraw's buckwheat honey. We were allowed to choose just about any food if it fit within certain guidelines. Examples of foods other people are doing are Tropicana orange juice, Kraft cheese singles, and JIF peanut butter. Why did I choose honey? Well...I'm stupid. (And I really like their honey.)

One part of our project is to contact the company and get information about how the product is made, where it comes from, how it's transported, etc. The difference between beeraw and just about any other company is that it's small. Very small. I thought that maybe they had employees to deal with customer service, but the number on the homepage appears to be for the owner's, Zeke Freeman, cell phone. While in a sense it could be easier to get information from a small company than a large one, it's also harder because getting ahold of one person responsible for running a company is harder than getting ahold of a customer service rep for, say, Tropicana.

I understand that, of course, so I can't hold a grudge against the company. I'll just warn you that if you want to email them with questions, you probably won't get an answer. There's an email address on the page for a reason, right? I guess that's in case of an emergency ("THE BEES ARE LOOSE!!!"), which certainly isn't my paper. I did get to talk to Zeke one time and we had a nice conversation, but I was terribly unprepared for it, thus I wanted to schedule another time for me to make follow-up questions. It never happened. Although my essay would be a lot better with confirmed information straight from the source, it won't die without it, and I can make educated guesses about the information I'm not sure about.

Oh...so I went to D&D to ask someone there where they got the honey from. I'm pretty bad with interacting with people, so it took me a while to figure out how the hell to go about asking someone, especially on a crowded Saturday afternoon. After a long time of staring at the honey rack (which is painfully located right by the cookie rack, which is painfully overloaded with delicious cookies from around the world, even MCVITIE'S DIGESTIVES, OOH HAA!!), I realized, "Hey, these people work here. I buy stuff from here. I think I deserve...almost any kind of information I want, and maybe that magical monkey's paw I've had my eye on." An employee helped find me a guy that I could ask my distribution question to, and I found out...well, not much. They get their honey from Roger's International, who in turn gets the honey from "I don't know, so I guess I have to find out."

My essay is gonna suck balls.

Sarabeth's raisin scone

I didn't want to leave empty handed, so I impulsively bought a raisin scone from Sarabeth's ($2.50). It wasn't like any other scone I had--instead of tender and crumbly, it was more bready and squishy--but it was definitely one of the better scones I've had.

Moravian black walnut cookies

Behold, another impulsive buy. You may have noticed that I'm not one to get boxes of cookies very much, instead preferring to get obscenely huge one-serving cookies (if a serving is 500+ calories). For some reason, the tubes of Moravian cookies ($10) tempted me, odd because 1) I couldn't see what they looked like and 2) their claim to fame is "world's thinnest cookie", which in my opinion isn't something you shout to the world to gain attention. "This cookie has the thickness of a piece of tissue paper; ephemeral cookie-ness can be your's, NOW!!!" Hell, gimme the world's thickest cookie; now we're talkin' (death by cookie). However, while I was standing by the rack and killing time, I overhead a guy excitedly point out the cookies and say, "These are the best cookies ever!" Oh crap. If he's excited about the cookies, then I'm excited about the cookies.

small stack

Dear Salem Baking Company: Oh my god, do not make these cookies anymore. THEY ARE SO TASTY. I don't know how to describe them. They're just...well, they're tasty and insanely easy to snack on because, yes, they're really thin and crispy like crackers, which means you can easily eat a whole tube in a day. I'll have you know that I didn't eat the whole tube in a day (perhaps...half the tube), but it will be gone by the stroke of midnight, or more likely before then. [sigh] These cookies smell awesome, and they tasted even awesomer. They possess the happiness inducing, concentrated flavor of heart-clogging sunshine. Must be the fat. And the sugar. And the combination of the two. I can never, ever buy these cookies again. Moravia, what have you done to me?

nutter butter

Speaking of cookies, I tore into Bouchon Bakery's nutter butter cookie sandwich the other day. Unsurprisingly, I was blown away, despite that the cookie was just crispy (with buttery-ness, ooh-hooo!) and not chewy-centered like my favorites. The creamy peanut butter filling was....uguhg...(brain melts). Yeah. The peanut butter cream was enhanced with extra drool-inducing powers. If you like peanuts, you must try this cookie. There were actually peanut chunks in the cookie. And if you don't like peanuts, you should try it anyway.

Focacceria

For lunch on Friday, I went to Focacceria on MacDougal Street due to a sandwich craving (I found the restaurant by browing the sandwiches section on menupages...because I have no life).

open kitchen

For a small place, it feels somewhat spacious due to the large open kitchen and high ceiling. I liked the bright yellows and blues. They felt kinda rustic. Or mediterranean. ...Yeah, I dunno what I'm talking about. It's a comfortable environment, especially on a rainy afternoon.

free bready things

My meal began with a plate of free bready things. NOO, BREAD IS MY DOOM! I ate some of the bruschetta, but the real star was the focaccia, which is obvious since the place is called Focacceria. I'd like to think of a better description besides "pillowy soft", but it was pillowy soft, and I'd totally use a loaf as a pillow if I didn't think the oil would rub off all over my head and...yeah, that's gross, nevermind. My head is oily enough from my hair folicles. And yes, that was too much information.

sammich for one!

I ordered the "Honey Roasted Turkey, Fontina Cheese & Caramelized Onions" sandwich on rosemary focaccia, which came with a small side salad of baby greens perfectly coated in olive oil and vinegar dressing. BREAD!!! I LOVE YOU, BREAD. Not being any kind of expert on focaccia, I thought this bread was pretty awesome. Look at those adorably, fluffy, golden rounds! My only complaint, probably because I'm not the hugest meat fan, is that there was more meat than I would've liked in proportion to the other ingredients. I did like the turkey though, even though I don't usually like cold sliced turkey. I think I would've been happier with just a cheese and onion sandwich, which I'll keep in mind for the future. "NO MEAT, JUST GIMME DA CHEESE. And pungent bulbs."

"Pungent Bulbs" would be a horrible name for a band.

My bill including the tip (kind of a big tip considering that the sandwich wasn't very expensive, but the one waitress in the restasurant was nice) was about $10. Not bad. I don't think I'd go back by myself, but if anyone wants to go out for sandwiches, I'm there.

Friday night I saw a Franz Ferdinand and Death Cab for Cutie concert with the incomparably music obsessed duo (I'm not kidding; they stayed out until 3 AM and although I haven't gotten the final word yet, that probably means they met many musicians) of Honey and Yetta. Since Yetta is Jewish, she couldn't eat regular food and thus brought her own "Jewish food". She shared some almond cookies and marshmallows with me.

...Man, I love Jewish food. Bring on the cookies.

the horror
(wardrobe provided by sharing machine)

I am not nearly as cool as Emotion Eric (check out his donut face), but I've been told that I make very odd facial expressions without knowing it. Once while walking in the West Village one of my friends pointed out some young kids and apparently I screwed up my face in such a way that would've made more sense if "some young kids" was secret code for "a pile of rotting rat carcasses dipped in sewage and stuffed in sheep stomachs". I think she was exaggerating though...

"ROBYN, your face is hiliarious!" [points at my hilarious face]

"But...I didn't do anything!"

"Yeah you did, your face was like"—[imitates my face, does not look so hot]

"WAS NOT, WAS NOOOOT."

"What is it with you and kids?"

"NOTHING, I LOVE DEM KIDZZZ...wait, what's that OH MY GOD, TINY PEOPLE."

Anyway, as I was saying...actually, I wasn't saying anything.

I couldn't get the right look of horror on my face while staring at the half pound chocolate bunny of doom. If you can tell me what emotion I'm trying to convey, your prize will be that you will not have to eat this chocolate bunny. Let me explain.

If you zoom into the photo (and god knows you want a good look at that zit on my face; yes, the reign of inexplicably clear skin is over), you'll see that the bunny is described as "Milk Chocolate Flavored". Flavored is the key word here. Milk chocolate flavored? What the f...time to look at the ingredients.

• sugar
• partially hydrogenated vegetable oil (palm kernel and/or palm)
• whey
• cocoa
• skim milk
• lactose
• soy lecithin (an emulsifier)
• artificial flavors
• and may containt peanuts/nuts

Oh. My god. What is this monstrosity? This bunny-shaped, 1200 calorie partially hydrogenated oil sugar brick? The only thing protecting me from the brick is a micron-thick (well, not a micron, but work with me here) of plastic wrap. We need to wrap this in something a little more substantial, and then shoot it into space so that aliens have more reason to destory the human race.

Why do I have such an abomination in my possession? My roommate went to a friend's house for Easter and came back with too much candy. "This chocolate bunny weighs half a pound—here, you take it!" I obliged because I like chocolate and it was a nice gesture, I think. But this isn't chocolate! This is...(turns package over)...Dutchtown Novelties' way of destroying all that is good in the world of real chocolate bunnies that are not parading around as merely milk chocolate "flavored". Also, I think they want to make me cry.

I know I eat a lot of crap, but I have my limits. I'd eat some kind of heart clogging hydrogenated chocolate bar full of caramel and crispy things and nuts if it were delicious enough, but plain "chocolate"? NOT WORTH IT. I wouldn't even feed that to my enemies.

So, my dear bunny, frolicking in drug-induced purple grass with drug-induced smiling flowers—into the trash you go.

(Note: If you like this chocolate bar, that's fine with me. God knows I'm not one to knock people who eat junk food.)

Check out my designated website of the day/century: Pimp My Snack (via Candy Addict). It's disgustingly excessive, enough to repel any normal human, but my god, it's genius. If you can't look at everything, at least check out the Monster Jammie Dodger (I heart Jammie Dodgers!) and it's beautiful splodge design. The writing is hilarious (ohh, those Brits), and the photos are ...well, scary. The taste of paradise versus the taste of pimpadise, anyone? Even though just looking at that pimped Bounty makes my stomach turn, I'd still want to eat a chunk of it. Because I'm a moron.

A random question for readers!: Anyone here from Sweden? Or Stockholm? Or familiar with it? I might visit there with Rebecca. Might. Because. Why not? Yeah? We don't know Swedish, but we figure that'll be okay.

My roommate asked me if I ate the chocolate bunny. I'm just going to keep saying no until she forgets. Ha ha ha. SHe's rather health conscious, so I'd be surprised if she didn't look at the label and think, "...Um." Then again, I've seen empty boxes of Entenmann's cookies in the trash. (I think overall she must eat healthier than I do. I suck.)

M&Ms

She gave me a fun sized pack of M&Ms, surely tastier than the brick-of-trans-fat bunny. I have a bone to pick (where did that phrase come from?) with anything called "fun sized" though—IT'S A LIE. If anything, it's the opposite of fun and should be renamed, "so small it makes you wanna kill yourself"-sized. All these tiny packets do is leave you unsatisfied and increase rubbish in landfills when you open 20 fun-sized packets of M&Ms. What would be fun-sized is if you got a giant tub and filled it with candy, then romped around in it like in those brightly colored ball rooms for kids. Remember how frickin' fun those were?! My god, we need to bring those back for adults. That, and inflatable bounce castles. If there was a gym whose facilities consisted soley of ball rooms and bounce castles, I'd buy a membership, and then after making a crapload of money from as-of-now-unknown-career, I'd buy the gym.

Dude, you'd so go to my gym.

Oh, the M&Ms! I haven't eaten those in ages; they're quite good. A gajillion Americans can't be that wrong, I guess. Strangely, they only came in green, blue, and yellow. Surely if I had a regular sized packet, the odds would've been in my favor that I would receive more than three kinds of food coloring. Just like the term "fun-sized", the five colors advertised on the package are also a lie. This candy is full of deception, I tell you.

I consumed it in 0.08543 seconds.

bread bread bread!!!

I also ate a lot of this bread.

ADDENDUM: I DO NOT KNOW WHY THE HOLES ARE SQUARE. Square yeast? Um. no.

This ends your pointless update of the day. I think I have, like, homework to do or something, because last time I checked I was still in college. They haven't kicked me out yet.

Here are some various food related events and whatnot that you may be interested in...

Trends & Transitions
Exploring Careers in the Culinary Industry

Sunday, May 7, 2006
10:00 am � 3:00 pm
NYU Kimmel Center

Full itinerary.

Sounds interesting, but not interesting enough for me to pay $25. Haha! And if you're not a student, it's $75. Man, you could buy so much cake for that money. I'd rather have cake.

Feeding Desire: Design and the Tools of the Table, 1500�2005
On view May 5�October 29, 2006
Cooper-Hewitt National Design Museum

A journey through the evolution of Western dining from the Renaissance to the present, Feeding Desire features objects from Cooper-Hewitt�s world-class collections. The exhibition will address the development of utensil forms, innovations in production and materials, etiquette, and flatware as social commentary.

Mmm, utensil form...that's hot.

Tast of Chinatown

April 22, 2006, 1:00 - 6:00 pm
Rain or Shine (there will be some tents)

Back by overwhelming demand, over 50 restaurants, tea houses, bakeries and specialty food shops will offer $1 or $2 tasting plates throughout tasting corridors on Mott, Mulberry, Baxter, Bayard, Pell, Doyers and Mosco Streets in Chinatown, NYC. Mott Street will be closed to traffic from Canal to Worth for your strolling and munching pleasure. The only traffic will be from the other eaters and the occasional dancing lion!

I'm not that interested in trying TOC, probably because my favorite food in Chinatown (bakeries and whatnot) cost less than a dollar on a regular basis. Also, I live right by Chinatown. If you don't, this might be cool to check out. It'll probably be hella crowded.

Free Cone Day at Ben & Jerry's Tuesday, April 25th

As a way to thank our customers for their support and to celebrate 28 years of scooping the chunkiest, funkiest ice cream, frozen yogurt and sorbet, Ben & Jerry's scoop shops are giving it away!

Around the world, scoop shops are opening their doors from noon to 8:00 pm, to serve up a free scoop of your favorite flavor (or better yet, a new one you've been wanting to try, like Turtle Soup�, Peanut Butter Swirl or Lemonade Sorbet).

WOOHOO HAA HOORAHA! I've never gone for free cone day because...er, seems like the last thing I need to do is eat free ice cream when the paying bit is enough to keep me from eating it all the time, but if anyone wants to wait in line forever for a ball of iced creamy substance, I'll join ya. Just let me know.

The Seattle Post-Intelligencer tastes ramen so you don't have to over-sodiumize yourself to death: Revisiting ramen, an Asian staple but an American afterthought (via angy asian man)

Chubby Hubby made a post calling all amateur Singaporean photographers. THERE ARE SO MANY OF YOU! Hop to it.

I'll talk about stuff I ate later. Because. There's a lot of it. [shakes first] Here are some muffin crumbs for your enjoyment:

cruumbbbs

lonely sandwich

So much sandwich. So little stomach space.

Yesterday after wandering around Chelsea galleries in the insanely beautiful sun bursting with scortching-ness (which I'll get to later), I went to Crosby Connection and snarfed down sandwiches with Patricia and Willam while sitting on the brick inlayed ground by the church on 2nd Ave and 10th Street. It was a good "sitting outside, possibly killing some ants in the process" kind of day.

the cheese splodges, the chicken pesto does not

I didn't try William's chicken cordon bleu ("grilled chicken breast, paired with virginia ham, topped with melted swiss cheese, honeymustard, romaine lettuce"), but it looked good and full of melty cheesy meaty goodness. He noted that the flavor wasn't consistent throughout the sandwich, describing it as something like having "plops of flavor", although I'm pretty sure that's not what he said because that sounds more like something I'd say. Damn, I need to carry a voice recorder around with me. I traded half of my sandwich for Patricia's chicken pesto ("grilled chicken w/sweet roasted peppers, red onion, sundried tomatoes, cilantro, basil virgin olive oil, balsamic vinegar"), which I ended up enjoying much more than my sandwich. Why? The chicken was moist and...well, chicken-y (to be honest, I ate it too quickly to remember exactly what it tasted like) and my sandwich was less so.

the power of the Italian tuna TRIAD compells you

I ordered the Italian tuna ("our delicious tuna mix, no mayo, with basil, sweet roasted peppers, sundried tomatoes, virgin olive oil, balsamic vinegar") and while it wasn't bad, I think it really could've used some mayo for the sake of moistness and mouthfeel. I guess not putting in mayo makes this friendly to those who don't like mayo, but...come on, MAYO! Mayo, that oddly delicious emulsion of oil and eggs, makes for a delicious tuna sandwich, whether you like it or not. I remember when I was a weeny little kid growing up in times of desperate food need I'd dump a can of tuna in a bowl and moosh it with mayo, whose only use in our house was for tuna salad. Which means we didn't use it much. Um. Anyway. I'd eat the tuna salad with rice, because I'M CHINESE, EVERYTHING GOES WITH RICE, EVEN RICE GOES WITH RICE.

Back to to the sandwich. The fresh basil was a nice touch—it was very flavorful with basil-y goodness, which I won't describe because hopefully you know what basil tastes like. (Times like this I wonder why anyone reads this blog: ALERT, THE BASIL TASTES LIKE BASIL is not much of a revelation.) I also liked the sundried tomatoes. But overall, I needed more moisture. I don't need no hydrophobic sammich.

(If anyone is curious to know the thought processes of Robyn, it took me forever to figure out that the word I was looking for was "hydrophobic". For some reason I started with "humectant" and moved to "hydrophilic"...and perhaps some other words in between. Indeed, my brain is slower than the rate of my fat loss, which is pretty damn slow.)

If this were a buffet, I'd die

Patricia and I checked out Black Hound Bakery across the street after our sandwich feast. Although I've been to Black Hound a few times, I never bought one of their adorable cakes. The $6.50 price tag seemed just a wee bit steep for me when I know there are places that I can buy chunks of cake for less than $5. However, we tried a free cake sample and it was...really freakin' good. Goddamn samples—they actually work. The sample of the bee cake was like smooth, un-heavy chocolate ganache-ish brownie stuff (just imagine it, if possible) with bits of nuts dispered throughout. Oooh.

I only bought ONE...duh

I ended up getting the ebony and ivory cake after being informed that my original choice, the triple chocolate mousse cake, would melt into a sad puddle of triple chocolate goodness by the time I could lug the cake home. As I had already stared at the chocolate case for too long, I impulsively went for this cake since it had chocolate. I like chocolate. [nod] Unfortunately I was so full yesterday that I didn't get around to eating it. I plan to do something about that tonight.

WHERE AM I?...oh, there's a sign

Back to Chelsea! (Yeah, this entry is going chronologically downhill.) I've never been around that area before (the visit was necessitated by my photography class), at least not that far west, so I had to take a photo of the sign that said 11th Ave. THERE ARE 11 AVENUES. Whoaaa. As for why I haven't walked around there before, the answer is quite clear: lack of food. I guess when the streets are occupied by galleries, there's little room for food. And it's not like there's absolutely no food, it's just nothing like the East or West Village, which basically puke restaurants out like a case of bad food poisoning. I mean that in the best way possible though.

I see food!

Without keeping my eye out for them, I just happened to pass two places that I had at some point in my life been interested in trying (although not interested enough to actually...go): The Half King and Wild Lily Tea Room. If anyone has any opinions about them, let me know.

...Damn, where is this entry going? Um. Uh.

yum

My sandwich peed. Not literally, because as you know, sandwiches don't have bladders (if they do, it's best to put the sandwich down...and then kill it a lot before turning it into a research laboratory), but the egg yolk in my fried egg exploded and left an eye-searingly bright yellow puddle in its wake. I made the sandwich all out of Union Square Greenmarket provisions: sourdough baguette, mache, egg, and mild cheddar. [rubs belly] Despite that I have a tendency to eat crap and don't give much indication that I'm an activist for sustainable agriculture and farm fresh whatnot, I support those things and I LOVE farmer's markets. I just don't cook much; an egg doesn't count, really. I buy as much food as I can from the farmer's market instead of a grocery store. When people buy apples or bread from a supermarket, I think, "...WHAT, farmer's market, chock full of bread and apples, cannot form complete sentence, mrah!" I know going to farmer's market can be a time issue for many people (I used to go first thing in the morning because I couldn't fit it in at any other time) so it's not practical for everyone, but...breeeaad. (And produce.)

baguette time

Yes, I really like bread. It might be my favorite food in the world. My main food source was bread for a few days, which is probably bad for my body, but there are worse things. ...Um, please tell me there are worse things. I'm unintentionally what a bunch of people called straightedge; for some reason, knowing that I fulfill a definition not because I'm trying to, but because I just naturally do kind of bothers me. I didn't explain that well, so if you have any idea what I'm talking about...kudos to you.

I ate other things worth mentioning, but this entry is already too long. Also, it's time for lunch, so I think I shall scurry up to Union Square as fast as I can to take some photos and hopefully get a sandwich.

(On a totally random note, read Running With Scissor's encounter with a homeless man in Chelsea.)

the chow is hip and hop

I've had a lot of time to think about this review. ...And I still don't know how it's going to turn out. Basically, Saturday was an all around weird day that began with an odd brunch at Hip Hop Chow, where my friend Evelyn and I had a less-than-awesome experience. However, the sub-awesomeness seemed to just happen to us and nooo one else, hence whatever I'm going to write probably doesn't reflect the general experience anyone else would have at Hip Hop Chow.

Hohum. So what happened?

tables, and a dude's head

We got there around 11:50. There was one other party inside, but soon after we were seated (I chose the spot closest to the window of course, for NATURAL LIGHTING) other people came in until just about the whole restaurant was filled.

bread of the corn, less creepy than children of the corn

Our complimentary brick of golden cornbread came at around 12:10. I don't remember if it was before or after we received our cornbread, but at least 10 minutes (I'm thinking it was more) after we placed our order did the waiter inform Evelyn that the kitchen did not have the asparagus that was supposed to be part of her "asparagus and mushroom fricasee with poached eggs" dish. She was given the choice of ordering something else or having grilled squash instead of asparagus, so she went with the squash. We were perplexed as to how it could take so long to figure that out that there was no asparagus or for someone to inform us of this little detail (there was only one waiter for the small restaurant), but we weren't that annoyed. We're easy-going. Yeah.

ALERT: THIS IS WHEN YOU STEP INTO A TIME MACHINE TO GO INTO THE FUTURE BY 55 MINUTES

not asparagus, side of mac & cheese

At around 1:05 we got some of the food we ordered. During the 55 minute interim, seemingly everyone else in the restaurant got their food. Seriously. Up until we were served, looking around the room with sad, hungry eyes, we noticed that other people were...eating stuff. Yeah, who would've guessed that people would be eating in a restaurant? Hot damn! We were so thankful when we were finally blessed with food. As for why it took so long, we weren't given any reason why. Maybe fricasee takes a really long time. Reallllly long. If Evelyn had known, she may have gotten something else.

innards and stuff

Evelyn liked her fricasee, which the menu further describes as "served on puff pastry topped with hollandaise sauce". Look at dem yolks go! My side of mac & cheese was pretty good too. Granted, I don't have much to compare it to, but the crunchy bits on top were a nice touch and...really, I don't know how else to describe ziti baked with cheese. Imagine it—I'll give you time. [gives you time] It's good stuff, eh? I wouldn't have minded more cheese, but there was certainly enough of it.

Notice that it's a side of mac & cheese. It's a side to my main dish. ....Yeah, where is my main dish?

ALERT: THIS IS WHEN YOU STEP INTO A TIME MACHINE TO GO INTO THE FUTURE BY 20 MINUTES

banana and rum caramel waffle

It took a while for my lovely banana and rum caramel waffle to actually get within my fork-space. Sometime in the 20 minutes between getting the mac & cheese and the waffle, the waiter informed me that he accidentally gave my waffle to another party (and I guess...they took the wrong waffle?) and instead offered me the abandoned pear and almond waffle (or I could wait longer for my original waffle). I didn't really care, so I accepted it. While preparing to take a photo of the waffle, he came back with a new plan; another customer, the mom of the chef, felt bad and offered her banana and rum caramel waffle to me. ...Okay, I suppose that works out too. Basically, I got to wait some more for my waffle. It probably wasn't a long wait, but by that time (remember, we've been at the restaurant for about one and a half hours by this point) I was kind of out of it.

As you can see, I did get my waffle. Frankly, it's a good waffle. I especially liked the cream, which wasn't that thin, runny melty junk you may get elsewhere. I smooshed my waffle chunks in the thick, sweet, creamy blobs of delicious whipped dairy product origins. There was a good amount of bananas on top—not too much or too little—and the rum caramel wasn't too rummy, which some people may like, but would've made it worse for me.

waffle innards are kind of boring

While I could've gotten extra syrup to go with my waffle, it was already garnished well enough with the caramel, cream, and bananas. Just enough sweetness, bananas, and creamy deliciousnessss.

you are not surprised

The waffle and the mac & cheese (and that cornbread chunk) were just satisfying enough to not leave me hankering for a piece of cake from a nearby bakery nor with the need to be forklifted out of the restaurant. Then again, maybe that was because I was given ample time to digest everything after all the waiting...which could be interpreted as a good thing. But then maybe not, because in no way would we have expected to spend two hours waiting for poached eggs, mac & cheese, and a waffle. As I mentioned before, it seemed as though everyone else was served before us for reasons we couldn't figure out.

bill

The story isn't over yet, oh hooo noo! Evelyn ordered the prix fixe, which in addition to her main dish came with coffee, orange juice, and grits. Or at least that's what the menu said. She got her coffee, but the other two things seemed to have disappeared into an alternative dimension of forgotten orange juice and grits. It's not much of a prix fixe if two items are missing, eh? She asked the waiter if he could discount the meal, which is how we ended up with 10% taken off our bill. Don't ask me what the "Macy's Promo" is; I HAVE NO FREAKIN' CLUE.

So. That concludes the strangest brunch I've ever had. Disregarding that everyone else seemed to get their food in a timely manner, I'd say that was one of the worst experience I've ever had. The food wasn't bad and it's not like the waiter was out to make us suffer, but something was definitely off. Remember, we went in when there was only one party. Other people got their food before us. I ordered a freakin' waffle! Anyone have any ideas what could've been wrong? I've never worked in a restaurant before, so I don't think I can speculate. I've never been a waiter (nor do I think I'd ever be one), but I suppose being the only guy to handle a whole restaurant, even if it is small, can be difficult.

Still. When I think back to it, all that comes to mind is, "WTF?" It could've been worse, but nothing was done to ameliorate the insanely long waiting time, among other things. Of course, my friend shouldn't have to pay full price for a dish that wasn't fully there. I think that other people would have gotten more impatient or angry, but Evelyn and I were more...confused and annoyed. Reviews on menupages and Citysearch are largely positive, so I feel like I had a uniquely bad experience. [sigh]

Oh well, at least the waffle was good. We also loved the cornbread, which was uber-moist, tender, fluffy, and injected with the deliciousness of fat. It's probably for the best that they only gave us one wedge or else we could've filled up on the stuff.

The rest of the day was hazy. Literally, the weather was crap. The crap translated to an ill-fated trip to the photography lab where I developed an awesome roll of film taken over the past two days of food, food, and...oh yes, food. I borrowed a camera from the lab because I just found out my camera, the one I've been using all freakin' semester, had a defective lens, which explained why I couldn't take any close ups of anything (however, I can take shots waay out here).

What's the worst thing that could happen to your film? Or the second worst thing? Welllll, let's see. I got to the end of the development process, took the lid off the canister majiggy, squirted in some photo flo, took out the reel, unrolled my film, and...

VOILA, BLANKNESS. Oh shit. I think I was too disappointed to be disappointed, if that makes any sense. My blank, completely unexposed purple-tinted film would've laughed at me if it had vocal chords. Or emotions. I suppose the film wasn't loaded correctly, which is funny because I'm pretty sure I watched one of the girls who works in the photography lab do it for me (I wasn't familiar with how to load the film since I hadn't used the camera before) and it looked kosher. It's not her fault though. Nor mine, perhaps.

...Whatever. I'm not a photography major. (sigh)

macarons!

Alas, something good did happen that day. I met Jessica at Borders (which I found out is just a 10 minute walk from me) to do a quick food trade. In exchange for some Bouchon Bakery goodies, she gave me a bag of 11 homemade macarons with nutella or lemon filling. A day later, there are only two left...because I alone ate the rest, if you need clarification. These little babies are goooood. And if they were actually the size of babies, I would either be really happy, or die. If you live in Manhattan, I would suggest buying her baked goods.

Today I spent no money on food, instead living (somewhat) off the craploads of Hawaiian snacks Kathy sent me and finishing off the last five frozen dumplings I had. Right now I'm full of rice crackers, dried apple, vegetable dumplings, and macarons. Don't try this at home, kids.

Check out Rob's photos at Taste of Chinatown. I suppose during all that fun I was fruitlessly developing my film. (sniff) Maybe I'll check it out next spring.

innards

Before I forget, I did get to eat that Ebony & Ivory cake I bought at Black Hound on Thursday afternoon. While it initially looked small (in my opinion!), as in I'd have no problem eating the whole thing, it was actually really filling. Too filling. The three layers of chocolate cake separated by white chocolate cream, encapsulated by a layer of bittersweet chocolate cream and covered in toasted chocolate cake crumbs was...well, obviously awesome, but disappointingly by the time I was 3/4ths of the way engulfing the cake my stomach said, "Oh my god, STOP, STOP NOOOOW." My brain said, "Hey, there's only a little bit left!", but as I slowly continued shoving forkfulls of cake into my mouth, my stomach became more opposed to the fork shoving. One bite remained when I decided I couldn't go on. The cake. Had. To go.

I failed, but at least I know my limit now. If I want another Black Hound cake, I have to share it with someone else. You could suggest cutting it in half and saving the other half for later, but that won't work. I'll want more than half of the cake even though I know I can't eat an entire one. Self control is problematic, yes'm.

really huge cake

My school likes to do silly things throughout the year to remind us that our tuition is being put to good use. The main part of the Strawberry Fest that takes over a chunk of West 4th Street each spring is the ginormously long cake. It's ginormous. And long. Besides the cake, there's also free popcorn, ice cream, candy, and...uh, strawberries. But all I wanted was cake.

mm, sprinkles

Was it good cake? Well, it wasn't bad. And how can I complain when something is free? The main point of the cake though is that it's obscenely huge, not that it tastes like awesome. Without speculating what the ingredients were (because I'd rather not know), I'd say the cake was pretty good, but not as good as last years:

cake is mine

As you can see, last year's cake had more strawberry-ness and fluffy frosting action. I wonder why they changed it.

And thus concludes another non-exciting food tale in the non-exciting life of the non-exciting Robyn.

---

If anyone wants an update about my summer plans (uh...right), I may be in Bergen, Norway from June 13th to 17th, if not longer. I found at least one friend to join me, and the extended stay depends on whether another one of my friends can come. While in Norway, I may get to eat sheep's head. Oh yeah, you know you want it. Besides Norway, my not-well-planned-plan is to go to London, which I have obviously not planned at all. Norway is easy because as I explained before, for better or worse I can "rely" on Morten to make my stay as Norwegian and non-tourist-y as possible. While many people would advise me not to rely on him, honestly...that's not a concern of mine. Not that I need to prove to you that Morten is a good friend, but if/when I go, I will of course blog all the sheep head/other stuff eating activities that occur. Look at him while he helps his girlfried climb a rock, or throws her off the rock...I think it's the first one. Anyhoo. I know I can trust these people. And I totally intend on climbing a Norwegian rock despite being vertically challenged.

On a not so related note, I just found out about the movie Hard Candy, which is about a pedophile who meets a teenage girl he chats with on the Internet and....well, I already found out the ending to the movie and it ain't pretty. FEEL GOOD MOVIE OF THE YEAR.

---

ADDENDUM: Rich pointed out this article to me, Belly fat blues. Here's my favorite part:

Lying deep inside the body, wrapping around the liver and other major organs, visceral fat acts like a kind of organ itself � spewing out bad hormones and squashing the production of good ones. It sets up the body for sickness as the years roll by and additional fat accumulates.

Visceral fat sounds mega creepy. It's a separate organ! I'm doomed.

WARNING: I am smooshing three days of eating into one entry, from the not-so-recent to the most recent. This might be long and photo-heavy. Or just photo-heavy, which probably won't bother anyone.

my eyes burn

Do not adjust your monitor; these egg custard tarts are glowing with a green color only found in rejected plastic toys, rejected beacuse the coloring was found to cause cancer in small children and lab rats.

I went to Egg Custard King Cafe with JJ, a fellow food blog reader (obviously taking one for the team by stepping out of the online realm into the real world to get the FULL ROBOPPY EXPERIENCE, HEAD ON, OUCH, PAIN) with much knowledge of Chinese food. She informed me that ECK served Hong Kong diner food. HK diner food? Wuh-zuh? Unfortunately, my limited knowledge of Chinese food has resulted in lack of HK diner food knowledge. I also never got to visit HK, which is something I should've done when I lived in Taiwan. (Instead, I went to Japan four times...not such a bad choice. Bwahaha. Don't ask me what I ate though, as I don't remember.)

But Egg Custard King Cafe isn't known for just serving HK diner food. GUESS WHAT IT'S KNOWN FOR. GUESSS...

too many egg custard tarts

I need to ask tougher questions.

I was informed that the entree I wanted, meat cake and salted fish on rice in a clay pot (not the exact name, but close enough; not like it was called "Slippery Golden Unicorn Treasure on Fragrant Pearly Grain Mountain"), would take half an hour to prepare. What would JJ and I do in the meantime?

egg custard tarts

We started with two warm, fresh egg custard tarts, which were quickly devoured in all their wobbly-soft, creamy, flaky crust-encapsulated goodness. Egg custard tarts are definitely one of China's best contributions to the culinary world. Actually, a gazillion other food-related things from China would have to rate higher in importance to global culinary development than egg custard tarts, but this stuff is pretty damn good and at the very least is one of the best (or maybe THE best) Chinese dessert. If you've never had one, then...holy shit, stop reading this and GET SOME EGG CUSTARD TARTS. If possible.

Portuguese egg custard tarts

Oh ho ho, of course we weren't content with just one type of egg custard tart. JJ spied two lone Portuguese tarts in the bakery case and before I knew it, she said something in non-English (I mean, Cantonese) and these two babies appeared before us. Sweet! As for what a Portugese egg custard tart is, Wikipedia says "it was a traditional Hong Kong-style egg tart, topped with a layer of syrup or granulated sugar, then baked in the oven to caramelize the sugar." My impression was also that the crust was different, but it was hard to compare to the other one since even if had been the same type, the temperature would result in a different texture. Conclusion: it was good, although warm egg custard tarts automatically win over non-warm.

chomp

Some parents worry that their kids are partying, drinking, or dealing crack. My parents probably worry that I eat too much. And here I am, eating too much. I'm not too proud of it, but at least I'm happy...an emotion that will change when I explode and die.

stuff with rice!

JJ got this dish of stuff with rice. That is not the real name, unless this restaurant has a really hard time naming dishes (menu writer went on break). It was supposed to be sweet and sour, but she felt it was too sour, which offset the balance of...stuff...okay, perhaps she'll fill me in on what it was because my memory is crap. I tried a bit and thought it was kind of sour, but I wouldn't have known if it was a good or bad rendition of the dish since I had never eaten it before.

Update (3/29/06): JJ's comment:

Hey, just wanted to clarify what I ate at ECTK - that dish was beef with sour cabbage. But it wasn't what I expected. There was little gravy (a must have in an "on rice" dish) and the sour cabbage wasn't soaked long enough to remove a good bit of the residual bitterness. Overall, it was OK but it wasn't WOW like Robyn's dish. Which I wish I ordered. Spread the joy of the egg tart around! They have the best egg tarts in all of NYC. The ones at Fai Da are just yellow jelly in a Crisco like crust. BLEAH!

meat things!

While looking at the extensive menu, one item popped out at me: "meat cake". Yes. Cake of meat. Oh, but the fun didn't stop there; the dish also included salted fish. And rice. In a pot. I figured meat cake would be like fish cake, but not made of fish, and salted fish...I've actually never had it before. JJ warned me that it could be offensive to uninitiated taste buds, but dammit, I'M SEMI-ADVENTUROUS, assuming that the food in question isn't alive or of insect origins. My pallid cakey meat and salty fish came in this cute little clay pot, topped with what I think is shredded ginger.

CLOSE UPPPP

The meat—it glistens. Just thought you'd like to know.

mixed

JJ suggested that I mix the meat and rice together to lessen the intensity of the fish taste and evenly distribute all the meaty juices. MOST AWESOME IDEA EVER? Yes. This is a completely useless description, but this dish was ...pretty delicious. I'd want to eat it again. Why? I don't know. Apparently I like ground up meat caked together in a funky uniform patty and salty fermented fish when smashed into little pieces and evenly distributed in rice.

crunchy rice bits

One of the best things about rice in a clay pot is the presence of crunchy rice bits created from the wrath of the hot burnin' pot interior. Mm, mm! I wouldn't want to eat a whole bowl of crunchy rice bits, but they provide a nice textural contrast to the non-crunchy rice bits.

all gone

You're not surprised that I ate the whole thing, right? Right. The pot wasn't actually that large (really!), so it wasn't hard to polish off.

Oh, my dish was $4.95. Sweet. Egg Custard King Cafe is only about a 10 to 15 minute walk from my dorm, so I imagine it'd be a good, uber-cheap place for fellow NYU students to go to if they're not afraid to try something new. Even better if they like meat cake and salted fish, HAR HAR. The menu is pretty big, so I would think that anyone can find something they like.

Many thanks to JJ for accompanying me to dinner and strolling around Chinatown! Her knowledge of Chinese food beats mine by about five gajillion percent to the hundredth power.

And that was Monday night. Moving on...

While walking from my last anthropology recitation (woohoo!) to my workplace (...woo?), I craved sammich. What do you do when the sammich craving hits? YOU FIND SAMMICH PURVEYOR. I walked down 6th Avenue, vaguely recalling a deli...somewhere...

Six & Twelve

I never noticed Six & Twelve before seeing it on menupages. And that is why I love menupages; it has greatly increase my sammich-hunting prowess, (along with my girth, which is more of a downside). Six & Twelve also has freshly made dumplings and sushi, in case sandwiches aren't your thing. The dumplings looked pretty tempting; I may have to try them next time.

sammich time

For a out $6 I got a sandwich with mozzarella, tomato, basil, roasted red peppers, and balsamic vinegar dressing on ciabatta bread. PRETTY FREAKIN' AWESOME. I felt like I ate Italy; later I felt like I burped Italy. This sandwich lasted lunch and dinner, as I was stuck in the computer lab until 10:30 PM working on a crappy anthrpology paper. My sandwich lay in the depths of my backpack, probably getting colonized with bacteria in the process. Of course, it was still good when I ate it at 11 PM and hey, I'm still alive! STILLL ALLIIIVEEE. Once again, I have evaded food poisoning.

Think Coffee

In between eating the two sandwich halves, I went to Think Coffee (on Mercer Street between 3rd and 4th streets) to work on a food science and technology group presentation with my partners. I couldn't believe I never noticed this place before, but I figure it's pretty new and that I'm not just blind.

high ceiling

This coffeehouse is one of the largest I've ever seen (with plenty of seating and space, even outlets for laptops) and is thankfully open until midnight for all those times that I'm lingering around campus around midnight...which is almost never, but it's nice to know this hang out option exists. They've got lots of drinks (no, really?), which admittedly I'm not very interested in, being of the non-caffeinated population. So what did I get?

brownieee!

Cream cheese brownie? THUMBS UP. There was absolutely nothing objectionable about this moist, not too dense nor sweet cream cheese-swirled chocolate block. They also had a selection of cakes, biscotti, and cookies. Perhaps I will try those next time? PERHAPS YES.

And that was Tuesday. It was quite solitary.

Sarah is the most foodie-minded person I know that I eat with on a semi-regular basis. She's pretty much up for anything, as long as it doesn't suck. She informed me that she'd be free on Wednesday night for fooding. Ohh, but where shall we go?

Sarah: Wanna go to Blue Ribbon Bakery?

Me: WHO WOULDN'T?!

We've both been there before. Anything that garners repeat visits is good stuff. So good that the wait at 8 PM on a Wednesday night for a party of two is 45 minutes. Goddammit. (We probably should've predicted that, but we're not very familiar with eating out late, or at least I'm not.)

Sarah: Wanna go to Otto?

Me: GELATOOO? (Translation: "Yes.")

Alas, Otto is as hot as Blue Ribbon Bakery and also requires a 45 minute wait for the chance to stuff ourselves with gelato and whatever else it is they sell (like, pizza or something). We should've worn signs that said, "REJECTED".

Wandering around the West Village, bemused that we, as obsessively food minded people, couldn't figure out where to eat in the WEST VILLAGE (it explodes with eateries, if you don't know), we finally went with the reliable favorite: Doma. It's a cozy cafe where 50% of the customers come bearing Apple laptops to make us PC users feel inferior. And the food is awesome.

soup of tomato origins

Guess what I got? Come onnn, guessss.

duck butts?

Nope, not duck butts!

golly gee whiz, I got a sammich!

SAMMICH! DELICIOUS SAMMICH! OH YEAH. I've tried two of the sandwiches so far and I just had a basil and mozzerella sandwich the day before, so on Sarah's recommendation I went with the smoked turkey and gouda panino. Sarah knows her stuff. Follow the wisdom of her tastebuds and you will be happy.

like looking at layers of sedimentary rock...but not at all

From top to bottom we've got uber-tasty Balthazar bread, lettuce, sliced smoked turkey, gouda, herbed mayo, and even more uber-tasty Balthazar bread. This bread...(shakes head)...folks, this bread is amazing. So amazing that I just called you guys "folks", which is kinda weird.

So. What is up with this bread? The outer crust is like a micron-thick crispy carb shell protecting the soft, not jaw-achingly chewy innards. ...Not that it's really protecting it since the bread ends up being chewed by your teeth and broken down by your stomach acids in the long run, but just go with my description. The downside to this crispy crust is that biting into it causes crust shards to fly out of your mouth and onto your about-to-be-crust-shard-covered table, but hey, that could just be my messy eating habits..

Besides the bread, the rest of the sandwich was great. As someone who doesn't usually go for cold, sliced meats, this was some juicy, flavorful cold, sliced meat. Also, the herbed mayo was favored by..my tastebuds. Why? Well, think of how regular non-herbed mayo makes things taste awesome (the tastiness being inversely proportional to the level of healthiness, which you probably know is not so great), and then add a couple more points to that if you like the taste of fresh herbs. Result? LOTS OF TASTY POINTS. Or something.

cake of carrot

We finished our meal with a slice of carrot cake. For whatever reason, I liked that the frosting was in between the two layers instead of on top. Also, the frosting was much better than other carrot cake frostings I've eaten (which tend to ruin the cake part for me); light, not too sweet, and goes down smoooothly. The cake was also un-crappy with its high moisture content and copious shredded carrot bits. Whoever invented carrot cake belongs on my list of awesome people—what were they thinking?

"This crunchy root vegetable would go really well with this cake recipe."

It sure does.

We contemplated getting another dessert, but decided that we had eaten enough. At Doma.

Sarah: Wanna go to Rocco?

Me: [eyes widen] Uhhh OKAY! (Yup, this is pretty much what it's like to communicate with me in real life.)

assorted things with sugar

No, this isn't everything we ate, or else we'd be in a hospital now getting our stomachs pumped. That peanut butter Reeses Pieces tart looked like it was about to explode. Intriguing, probably tasty, but also a bit scary.

my cookie!

However, I did eat this $2 chocolate dipped chocolate chip cookie. I honestly don't know how to describe this cookie besides that it's not like the crispy, chewy, flat chocolate chip cookies I'm used to. This cookie was tender, crumbly, soft, short-bready without the uber-buttery-ness...oh, I guess I did describe it. Oops. Did you get anything out of that? Hm. Well. I liked this cookie, not so much that I'd dream about it, but it was a pleasant second dessert that I not-so-elegantly stuffed into my mouth as the A train pulled into the station. The cookie had a faint taste of something lemony that I couldn't place. It might be common in Italian desserts; let me know if you have any idea what I'm talking about. I'm sadly very ignorant of Italian desserts—the quintessential Italian dessert for me growing up was tartufo. Which probably isn't that quintessential.

You have reached the end. As have I. Thank. God.