The Girl Who Ate Everything

Frank Pepe

It's quite easy to hit New Haven's most famous pizzerias, Sally's and Frank Pepe, in one day—they're only about a block away from each other. All you have to do is waddle out of one and into the next. As we waited in line at Pepe's, I wondered if anyone walking by would recognize us from Sally's and then deem us crazy. Or awesome.

Hello, line. Nice to see you again.

Thankfully, Pepe's line moved more briskly than Sally's. It benefited from having an employee whose main purpose was to keep track of how many people were in each party and seat them. It was organized. My mind, it was blown.

The original plan that Charlie had so ingeniously thought up was to go to Louis' Lunch, the famed birthplace of the hamburger, and order a burger while waiting for a pizza at Bar across the street. Alas, the stomachs quite reasonably did not want to yield to the combination of hamburger and mashed potato-laden pizza. Having already eaten three pizzas that day, we went just for the burger. Yes kids, that's our idea of "moderation."

Charlie and Jason outside Louis' Lunch

The little brick hovel that is Louis' Lunch looks a bit out of place. It's moved four times around New Haven since its establishment in 1895 to avoid being demolished. It's immortal,

This is why you visit my blog: to relive holidays that happened two weeks ago.

Actually, I thought it had been even longer than that. I'm not as far behind as I thought. Sweet!

My next entry will be about NYC fooding. Pinky promise. But first, I need to give props to the awesomeness that was Michelle's (and husband Brian's) Memorial Day festival-splosion of barbecued pork.

Uh...huh...

Oooooh yeaaaah.

So that's how I decided Michelle and Brian were two of the coolest people on Earth. I already knew this from reading Michelle's most excellent cooking blog, Thursday Night Smackdown, where she cooks things I will probably never make myself, my excuse being that her kitchen is 500.23% awesomer than mine. Or most people's. I have photos; you shall see. And then you will judge.

If you want me to go out to Forest Hills, Queens, just entice me with Uyghur food. Or a bucket of money. Or a unicorn. But Uyghur food would probably be the easiest to come by.

ARZU!

Cafe Arzu may not look like much from the outside, squished between a dry cleaner and photo-video equipment store on a desolate-looking block where seemingly every other shop was closed, but step inside and...

PEOPLE.

...It's a hopping place! Or at least far from empty.

I left my apartment to head towards Diner just in time to catch a lovely skin-moistening downpour. My usually hurried gait turned more into a geriatric shuffle as I tried to avoid puddles and unnaturally occurring waterfalls by way of overhead subway tracks. Bits of asphalt loosened by the rain snuck their way in between my toes, but the impromptu shower also washed the dirt that usually coats my exposed feet. However nice it was to have clean-ish feet (as clean as feet washed in Brooklyn rain could be), they experienced an uncomfortable sensation of prickly asphalt bits and slippery squishes with every step.

Oh, I did have an umbrella. It could've been worse.

Diner

And then I found the restaurant about 15 minutes later. Of course, by the time I was walking the last block or two to Diner's front door, the rain had mostly stopped. I just happened to pick that perfect pocket of time for the sky to pee on me.

Alice and I pushed through Diner's thick door—possibly made of lead, or something heavier—with one thing on our minds: hamburgers. Nick's drool-inducing review on A Hamburger Today is what lured me there. ...Besides the close proximity to my apartment.

A few of many goodies in Paris. And that's why I gained so much weight when I lived there.

Patisseries of Paris

Some time ago between the beginning of this year and yesterday (I aim to tell the truth by being extremely vague), I received a book in the mail. For freeee!!! From the nice people at The Little Bookroom! To promote the most awesome book ever: Patisseries of Paris by Jamie Cahill. Did you hear me? MOST AWESOME BOOK EVER! ...Aside from anything written by Jhonen Vasquez.

If you're familiar with at least 5% of my personality, you know that I flip my shit at any mention of Paris. Hearing someone speak French fills my brain with images of the abundant baked goods-glory (and beautiful architecture and gardens and fashionable people and other things that make me like America less) I was surrounded by one and a half years ago. Paris is a lot like what I imagine heaven to be like, with the advantages being that you don't have to be dead to go there. And it's real!

Would I recommend Patisseries of Paris for those who love sweets and aim to eat them in all their glorious, health-depleting forms? Baked, flaked, frozen, molten, and more? Hell yeah! After reading the description for each of the 92 businesses listed in the book, my heart filled with warm happiness...and then my eyes filled with tears of sorrow for the food I may never get to eat again if the dollar continues on its trajectory towards being worth almost as much as a pile of dirt.

So that's my review. The end.

Okay, there's more. A little. Over the course of three posts, I'm going to comment on the places I've been to that Jamie mentions in her book, splodge up some food porn for you because I know you want it, and share links to previous Paris-filled entries. It'll be so much fuuuun! WHY AREN'T YOU EXCITED, JESUS CHRIST!!@# (It's really humid right now. And it's past midnight. The components for clear thinking, this is not.)

Continuing the last entry's theme of "Tasty Things in Paris," here are more tasty things in Paris, accompanied by quotes from Patisseries of Paris.

Mariage Frères

Tea! There it is! And a sandwich.

"If you want to indulge, Mariage Frères, one of Paris' oldest tea salons, with a selection of more than 560 teas from all over the world and excellent pastries, is a good place to do so."

Unfortunately, I'm not a big fan of tea unless it's liberally infused with sugar and milk. By that point it tastes less like tea, more like sugary milk (a cuppa spiced chai is one of my favorite drinks). I destroy tea—I shouldn't be anywhere near it. And considering the prominence of Mariage Frères in the tea world, it would be best if I didn't taint it with my excessive sugar and milk-loving ways.

But I did go, at the insistence of my tea-loving friends. I tried some tea—I don't dislike it, I just wouldn't go out of my way to get it—and then felt guilty because it was probably wasted on my taste buds. It's like when I try wines; I'm interested in tasting them, even if I know I won't like them. Then I can tell people, "At least I tried it; now get off my back." Mariage Frères also has baked goods and other foodstuffs if you want more than tea, but I just stuck to the pricey vegetal-flavored liquids.

I recommend going if you enjoy drinking tea, which appears to be most of the population. If you don't, the potential excitement of staring at a huge-ass tea menu might be lost on you.

[Alternative title: My Roommate Is Awesomer Than Yours]

Tristan: ROBYN, I HAVE A REALLY GOOD PUN! COME OVER HERE!

Me: [shuffles over to Tristan's room] ...Ok. What is it?

Tristan: If you don't have San Pellegrino, then you're SANS Pellegrino!!! [wide open-mouthed smile]

Me: [twisted facial expression of amusement and horror] [laughter] That's terrible.

Tristan: SANS PELLEGRINO!!

Me: I actually have Pellegrino in the fridge.

Tristan: [straight face] Fuck you...mom.