The Girl Who Ate Everything

This entry originally took place on July 27.

"I think I'm up for Financier, followed by Adrienne's, and then Al Di La...and maybe ice cream at Blue Marble if there is stomach room?"

When I read Kathy's suggestion in our email exchange with fellow food lover Ray, I thought, "Pssht, that's way too much to do in once night." (To quote my less eloquent email response: "HOLY CRAP HOW ARE WE GONNA EAT ALL THAT..")

But I was wrong. So very wrong. First rule of eating with Kathy YL Chan: Do not underestimate the power of her black hole of a belly. First rule of eating with Ray: Do not underestimate the power of having a car, which comes in really handy when you wanna hit three neighborhoods in one night. Ray's car combined with our collective digestive powers brought us from the Financial District to Boerum Hill to Park Slope for a most gloriously gluttonous night that may never be repeated because I can't promise that the ol' gag reflex won't kick in next time.

Adrienne's Pizza Bar

Pizza! In there!

After meeting up at Financier and deciding that we didn't really want any pastries (besides that we had three other places to hit that night), we went down the street to Adrienne's Pizza Bar, a place I had been meaning to try since 2005 when I actually lived within walking distance. But then I never did. For some reason I was loathe to traveling south of my dorm, always opting to go north to Chinatown and beyond. The Financial District is not really a happening place for college students. (Not that Chinatown is either. I just love it there.)

This entry originally took place on June 20 and 21. Hell yeah, I'm...so behind.

Gelato!

Trips to Philadelphia always start the same way. Alex meets me at 30th Street station, we exchange a few gestures of delirious happiness to see each other, and then we walk to our favorite late-night eatery: Capogiro. There isn't really an equivalent of Capogiro in New York City, surprisingly—that is, a gelateria with that has some atypical flavors alongside the traditional ones, like Thai Coconut Milk and Honey Chamomile, and touts their use of local ingredients. (The other most similar gelateria I can think of is Dolcezza in Washington, D.C.).

During this visit I tried a cup of salt and tahini. Salt? Salt. Is awesome. Creamy, milky, sweet goodness with a hint of saltiness to enhance the non-salty parts. Can we popularize this flavor? Please? Thanks. Tahini was fine, but not as memorable. The flavor, while...er, tahini-y, was pretty mild. I expected a deeper sesame flavor. I WANT TO BE PUNCHED IN THE FACE WITH FLAVOR; IS THAT OKAY?

Mel glows.

Even better than the gelato was the company. Alex and I ate our gelato in Rittenhouse Square with my old friend from high school, Lisa, and her friend, Mel. I don't know how to express their awesomeness in mere words. You need like...fireworks and explosives. Because life doesn't get much more awesome than when things blow up.

This entry originally took place on June 22. Here's part one!

Number 3 is no longer with us. WEEP.

Upon my friends Lisa and Mel's recommendation, Alex and I ate lunch at Q.T. Vietnamese Sandwich, a small, take-out mostly (I would assume) banh mi shop in Chinatown. He had never eaten a banh mi before, one of the most gloriously delicious and inexpensive members of the sandwich family. We obviously had to change that...and thus change the course of his sandwich-eating ways forever.

Half of the lemongrass tofu.

The lone vegetarian (and thus Alex-friendly) option, lemongrass tofu, was tasty enough even for an omnivore. Thin, firm, lemongrass-flavored tofu slices were topped with cucumber, shredded carrots, and cilantro in a light, slightly roll smeared with mayo.

At Coney Island.

After watching the great yearly American face-stuffing tradition that is Nathan's Hot Dog Eating Contest on July 4th at Coney Island, I met up with Veronica and her sister Kelly for a leisurely stroll down the boardwalk, culminating in some fooding in Brighton Beach. Having failed to do any research, I led us to two places I had already been to. Not that there's anything wrong with that since they're both awesome.

PICKLES!

First stop: Russian-Ukrainian restaurant Cafe Glechik. First dish: assorted pickles. My favorite is the watermelon, whose texture becomes more substantial through the magic of vinegar-and-other-stuff infusion and whose flavor becomes saturated in sweet and sour goodness while still retaining a hint of watermelon-ness. The platter also has pickled cukes and pickles tomatoes.

This entry originally took place on July 9th.

It glows most beautifully. Really.

"Do you want to go to New Jersey for a burger? Have you ever been to White Manna? It's close to my parent's house."

I thought Dan was kidding when he asked me that while hanging out in his Williamsburg apartment. Of course I wanted to go to White Manna; anyone who knows their burgers knows about White Manna. But I'm ashamed to admit that, despite growing up in Northern New Jersey, it took 23 years for me to actually make my way over there—and not even when I was living in New Jersey. As much as I had to get the White Manna experience under my belt, we certainly couldn't just go to small burger joint in New Jersey on a whim on a Thursday night from Brooklyn. It's like...sort of far, last time I checked.

And then I found out that Dan had a car. Ohh. Well, if I'm not driving, then hell yes.

I, along with Dan's roommate and another friend from out of town, hopped into the car as Dan took us to a magical land across the George Washington Bridge. That land? Hackensack, home to White Manna, a relic of the 1940s and, as far as I can tell, the most historically significant burger joint in the Garden State (along with White Mana, the similar burger joint in Jersey City, which is older but I heard not as tasty). The wee art deco diner looks like something out of a movie set, but there it is, plopped in the middle of Jersey suburbia. It's a breath of fresh air. Not literally.

"You're going to reek of meat after we're done," Dan warned us.

As soon as I reached the entrance, the fumes hit me: meat and onions. Beautiful.

At the counter.

If we hadn't arrived there at 10 p.m., it may have been harder for all of us to sit around the U-shaped counter. But it was bustling even at that hour, although probably with locals and not four random Brooklynites.

This post originally took place on July 5. Is it even relevant anymore? PROBABLY NOT. Sorry.

Rosemary soft serve.

Momofuku Milk Bar doesn't have these soft serve flavors anymore. Oops. But let's reopen the Momofuku Flavor Vault anyway.

The last time I had soft serve from Milk Bar, their doughnut flavors disappointed me—they didn't taste very much like doughnuts. The previously offered cereal flavors didn't scream, "EAT ME" either, although for the opposite reason—they did taste like cereal, and not in the most appealing way. (Unless you love Lucky Charms, in which case you probably would've enjoyed the soft serve.)

Thankfully, during this visit with Jason and Amy, the rosemary with olive cake crumble (as recommended by Kathy) was quite good. It tasted like...well, rosemary, which can be an overwhelming flavor, but in this case was just a step below overwhelming. (I did end up with rosemary-scented burps for the rest of the day, though.) The crispy cake bits helped temper the rosemary-ness.

One of my readers just told me that visiting this blog makes her computer freeze. :( I AM A SAD PANDA. My site should not make anyone's computer go insane. If this is happening to you, please let me know. Better yet, if you can think of a solution or how I can figure out what's wrong with my site, please let me know. Thanks!

I will have a mega-post soon. I swear!

But first: One of my good friends is visiting Buenos Aires next month and asked if I could do a little advice searching on her behalf. And by that I mean ask you guys for some help because you're cool. Here's her specific request:

Currently looking for relatively modest priced bed & breakfast places (not hostels) in Buenos Aires. I am going through TripAdvisor, but most of the places that are pretty good and that I've made contact with are already booked. My price range: anything below $70 a night.

If anyone has advice, please leave a comment. Thank you (from me and her)!

This entry originally took place on July 30.

I could sum up my nine hours in Washington D.C. with one photo:

My friends are so cool they levitate. In different ways.

But you probably need more explanation than that.

First, some back story. A month before our trip, Tristan alerted his friends to the Louisa County Ag Fair happening in his charming home town of Louisa, Virginia. You may recall our inaugural trip last year; now it has become a yearly tradition that gives us New Yorkers an excuse to get out of the city and hang out on Tristan's family's farm, surrounded by nature's loving bosom (trees, bugs, sheep, cats, corn fields, fresh air, a night sky devoid of light pollution, etc.) and Tristan's loving family (father David, mother Kris, lil' brother Fletcher) who always welcomes Tristan's friends with open arms despite the chaos we bring to their quaint home. It doesn't take much convincing to get people down there.

Alas, in the end just four of us could join him for the ride: Colin, Veronica, Olivia, and me. Which worked out for the best since 1) we're awesome, and 2) that's the maximum number of people who could fit into Olivia's car. Colin, Veronica, Tristan, and I took the Bolt Bus to Washington D.C., where the D.C.-based Olivia could pick us up and drive us down to Louisa, about two hours out of the city. But we had some time to kill time in D.C. before Olivia was free.

Karen loves Manatee Puppet.

And then the heavens parted and God said, "Even though you don't believe in me, I'm gonna do something nice for you. Heathen." And that he did: by giving me the gift of Karen Chow. Who is this Karen Chow, you ask? She's like, awesome. She's like me but 5000% smarter and cooler. She might be the reincarnation of a really cute bunny with a huge brain...and...neurotransmitters made of...cotton candy. I'd know because she's been one of my best friends for 13 years. In her golden presence, my brain goes all gooey with inhibition, which is probably why I have so much fun around her—it's like being drunk.