The Girl Who Ate Everything

My best friend while driving

1. HAPPY NEW YEAR YOU GUYS! AND GIRLS!

2. This is just a heads up to say that I got back from Charlottesville on Tuesday night and HELL, I'M TIRED.

Of course, I want to write about my adventures—which ended up being less food-filled than I had planned—but I may not have time for a while because I'm working and Tristan came back to NJ with me to hang out. I am slowly updating my flickr page in case you want something to look at and read in Robyn-speak.

Why did the weekend not end up being a gorge-fest? A combination of places not being open as late as we would've hoped and New Year's Eve being a good time for restaurants to close. Oops. Oh well, I wouldn't want to work on New Year's Eve either.

I didn't even go to the Downtown Mall and I was something like a 10 minute walk from it. I KNOW, I SUCK. However, I did get to go to Spudnuts! Oh, The Blognut would be so proud. But I didn't get to go to Chaps. And thus the proudness recedes...

Eating kind of took a backseat to just hanging out and...yes, mostly that. My most awesome meal was at Aqui Es Mexico. Because anything with horchata and pupusas is awesome. Don't you known it. (I also had awesome Ethiopian food and gelato in Washington DC.)

Annnnd that's my little update. Hope to have a real one soon.

[This entry took place on December 28th. Once again, I'm way behind.]

I don't mind driving when it's dark, as long as "dark" implies night. But when I left my house at 6:15 AM to make the 6-7 hour trip down to Charlottesville, dark implied, "It's really friggin' early and you're really tired and jesus, why are all these people out at such an early time, are they insane, and whatever you do, don't fall asleep, or else you'll die, and don't turn on this ramp, the robotic woman trapped into the GPS is telling you that the entrance to Route 17 South is still another 0.2 miles away, and whatever you do, don't die."

Etc.

Last rest stop in NJ

I was relieved when I made it to the end of New Jersey without causing long lasting damage to any living thing. Besides the environment—I mean, that's unavoidable. The only snafu I ran into, if you could call it that, was that the gas station attendant didn't twist the gas cap in tightly enough, meaning that while I was zooming (because I don't drive—I zoom) over the Delaware Memorial Bridge it rattled against the side of the car with an, "I'm going to fly right off, weee!" kind of force. The whole time that I could see the cap bouncing in my side view mirror I pretty much just though, "Fuck fuck fuck," until I was able to pull over at a rest stop and screw it back in.

After my GPS took me on some mildly god-awful (albeit scenic) long-winding roads, I arrived at Tristan's apartment in Charlottesville around 1:15 PM. I hadn't eaten breakfast, but I wasn't hungry for lunch either. I was just glad and pleasantly surprised that I managed to drive for 7 hours—the longest I've ever willingly strapped myself in the driver's seat sans passengers/victims—without doing anything that would require taking advantage of my car or health insurance.

I think it's safe to assume that most people visit Washington D.C. to view the capital of the "free world" and all its monuments and memorials and famous buildings and free museums, things that fall under the category of "Important Cultural Things That People Travel Across Many Lands To See In Person."

So naturally I went to Washington D.C. to eat Ethiopian food and gelato.

Gather round, and pick up a roll of bread while you're at it.

After running a bit late due to Evil GPS Woman taking us on crappy routes and because the streets of Washington D.C. are laid out in a way that is confusing if you're only used to an NYC road-like grid, Tristan and I met up with Erin and Olivia at Etete for lunch upon Erin's recommendation. Knowing the massive fooding knowledge that Erin has stashed away in her brainmeats, I would follow her to any eatery, even if it were over a bridge, although I'd hope that the bridge had a non-fatal drop and preferably we wouldn't really walk over the bridge because that would result in some kind of injury to my person, but you know what I mean. Just trying to make a point.

Between the four of us we shared a vegetarian combo, something with lamb, something with another meat, and cottage cheese in three states of being seasoned. I'll explain this more later. Maybe. (This is what happens when you don't take notes; you sound like an idiot.)

Tristan's window

Step 1: Wake up.

Hello, yummy

Step 2: Get horchata.

Coma.

Step 3: EAT EVERYTHING.

Every morning, millions of people across the country start their day with fat rings of fried dough.

...Well, technically they go to the potty (or "loo," which I think sounds nicer) first and freshen themselves up for the outside world...

But after that, they get donuts! DONUTS, YEAH! I think. As someone who rarely eats breakfast (don't bug me about this; my stomach generally reacts to being stuffed with food first thing in the morning with moans and gurgles) you shouldn't take my words as cold, hard, facts (EVEN IF I AM A BOTTOMLESS PIT OF UNQUESTIONABLE WISDOM!!!), but these "donut" things have proven to be popular. Over the years. Notice, I have taken it.

SPUDNUTS YEAH?!

Olivia and I started our last morning in 2007 with a visit to Spudnuts, Charlottesville's famed donut shop. Or semi-famed. Tristan nor any of his friends had ever been there, it seemed, although Tristan did at least know where it was. When we mentioned it to other people in Charlottesville, most of them had either never been there or hadn't heard of it. I, on the other hand, had been determined to enter the long-established haven of potato flour-enhanced goodies ever since I read about it on The Blognut.

I had a goal. A delicious, mildly unconventional goal.

Update (1/18): The Gluttoness found out that after the lease runs out, Joey plans on opening a real restaurant just a few blocks away. Woot! (Found via Eater. By the way, Eater, thanks for using my photo without crediting/linking to the source and for mentioning Serious Eats without a link. Um, yeah. If anyone else out there runs a group blog, this is the kind of behavior you want to avoid. It's strange coming from Eater because they're not n00bs and they know who we are at Serious Eats. But I don't see the point in bringing up the rules of attribution to them since they don't seem to give a crap.)

Original entry below.

[New readers should probably skip this entry, or at least the first half; it isn't food-filled. If you want to, feel free to jump to the part where I eat a lot. A better title for most of this entry would actually be, "the day when we mostly forgot to eat." And my tone might be more somber than usual due to...lethargy and not being sure of what I want to remember or not. Not that I was traumatized or anything. Um. Yeah. Also, this entry is kind of long. Have fun with it.]

New Year's Eve

In our last Charlottesville adventure, Tristan, Olivia and I had successfully...not eaten dinner. Many things interfered with our nightly gorging: we weren't hungry; the potatoes took too long to delicious-ify; the arrival of other people distracted our stomachs; our minds were on other things.

I'm not much of a party person—a mildly intoxicating cocktail of social phobias has definitely been swirling in my brain since birth. I found it safe to assume that I wasn't a party person even before ever having gone to a party, the one this past New Year's Eve being my first "real" party (that is, the kind of party that one usually experiences in college, which I failed to check off my "to do" list). After the night was over and we were left picking up empty beer cans and debris from every crevice of the apartment, I think I'm still on the side of "not a party person," but there's at least one very important factor that could make an uncomfortable party situation less uncomfortable....

...Actually, there are two. But I'll just mention one: high level of intoxication.

Pistahan

For Tristan's first night back in NYC (January 2nd, three weeks ago, dammit), we went to Pistahan for my first taste of Filipino food. Yes. First taste. I didn't mean to ignore all the food of the Philippines for so long, but I didn't know the best place to get it. Not that I'm saying Pistahan is the best place to get it—I assume Queens or Jersey City would have more Filipino food action going on—but Sarah (who first appeared in this blog way back in February 2006!) was visiting New York City for a few days and left it up to me to pick an awesome and interesting place to eat.

On day two of Tristan's stay (January 3rd), he slept in late while I left home at 8:30 as usual to get to work on time. Tristan had what top sleep deprivation specialists refer to as "mega-sleepies."

But he eventually made his way into the city some time after noon. And he had one thing on his mind: falafel. Not just any falafel, but the best kind: falafel from Taim.

Ginger carrot soup

But first, ginger carrot soup. When the weather is ass/brain/organ-freezing cold, few things are as comforting as hot liquid dripping into your belly, the liquid being purréd carrot with a spike of ginger. I had a few large spoonfuls of Tristan's soup to mellow out my innards.

Amazin!

If you're bold enough to name a place Amazing 66, you better be able to deliver the goods. At Olia's suggestion, we gathered up a group of 10 to test the level of amazement their food would bless us with.

What were the results? Well. We ate pretty much everything, if that's any indication. Before you read my descriptions, you should check out Kathy's entry first. It's much, much better than mine, which probably has something to do with her having ordered everything (she speaks Cantonese, yes!) and that she didn't wait weeks to jot her thoughts down. But if you want food porn, follow me...