barcelona, por favor.

necessity is the mother of invention.

and long plane rides create quite the need for a cocktail!




on our way to Barcelona in Spring 2007 we had a layover in New Jersey, which necessitated the invention of a most-marvelous drink.

the FANTASTIQUE!

we picked up a bottle of champagne in the airport duty free shop, and got Fanta from the vending machines. begged some cups and ice from the food-court, and we were in business.

FANTASTIQUE!

now, i'm not sure if I did it to the drink,
or if the DRINK did it to ME....


but by the time we were on our RETURN TRIP i looked MUCH LESS chic and put-together than i did on the first leg of our journey.


you can take the girl outta the hick town, but you can't take the hick town (slut!) outta the girl....




on the way HOME:

yes, that is my bra you can see there.

at least my nails still looked nice...




the events of the trip that spanned between these two photos are, what Campbell calls, MEMORIES FOR LIFE.


Memories for Life! is an adage you are to exclaim
when things are a little wonky, a little frightful, certainly
hilarious and not-quite-what-you-bargained-for.

Memories for Life!

the crew: Kevin and N. (were dating at the time) and BECKI (who is the shit). Kevin and Becki and nearly inseparable, and although the lezzies at the bar fight over who will get Kevin as a sperm donor, my money is on Becki.


although... she is less interested in filling Audi Wagons with lesbian-spawn and more interested in drinking vodka gatorades with Kevin. too bad lezzies, this is a match made in heaven.



in Barcelona we did a fair amount of BOOZING and FOODING.




we took N to some of his first fancy meals, almost all of which included foie gras in some form.


and in one of my favorite quips of all time, N exclaimed,


"wow, what would my mother say? -- all these years
we've thought i was just a picky-eater, but it turns out
i only like EXPENSIVE food"




more on the amazing gastronomical meal we had to follow--
(thank god we went for lunch, it was so fucking expensive
we'd of had to sell our asses to afford dinner)


one morning i woke up extra early and went on a long
walk down the beach and then back up La Rambla,
and stopped in the famous mercat de boqueria for breakfast.

the market reflected much of the same feel
of Barcelona as a whole-- maze-like, vibrant, artsy, lusious....







i hadn't drank the night before so i was in the mood to wander and take in the colors, smells, sounds before making it to the main attraction-- breakfast.





when i finally sat down to eat my famous breakfast, there was an old man already at the counter--

he was killing breakfast in the most awesome manner.

his morning meal consisted of a small cup of coffee with a shot of johnny walker red poured into it (that's scotch, for all you babies). next to his boozey coffee sat his other drink-- another scotch, neat.

my spanish is awful, but i gave him approving looks and i did understand him when he said, breakfast must be one hot and one cold to be healthy!

i love it when people try to communicate with me

in a language i don't know and they use vocabulary

from my flash cards--

breakfast! yes!

must! yes!

one! hot! cold! yes, yes, yes!

healthy! yes!

the dumb american can get it! woo hoo!

i meditated for several minutes on how to ask, in

spanish, i could take his photo. i hate it when tourists

act like PEOPLE are just part of the SCENERY.

we're not in goddamn disneyland, bitches!

i mustered all my courage (none of which was

liquid-- i didn't follow his lead on the breakfast

choice) and got the photo:

how badass is that guy?

i mean, really. 

he was probably on his way to work, too.

so, in all my travel books, and in ANY spanish course i've taken they talk about about churros y chocolat,  churros y chocolat, churros y chocolat....

the idea of it didn't particularly appeal to me-- i'm a savory-breakfast kind of girl.

but when in rome....

get down with the sweet breakfast!

now, this is even more wild than i expected it would be.

the chocolate, although "hot" is NOT hot chocolate. it's closer to warm pudding. it's so thick the churro stand up in it.

and boy, did it.

god bless the churro y chocolat man:      

and, god bless his wares.

i'm not sure i'll EVER need to eat this again,

but it was fucking amazing.

i'm sure the next time i find myself in barcelona i just might make it back down to that dreamy market....

but next time i might be on the scotch-train.

operation booze & food

operation booze & food

get it, get it, get it!!!

my friend Tall Jen (who, UNFORTUNATELY, lives in Shittsburgh)

likes to call San Francisco "Operation Booze &a Food"

this is no task for sissies .

to take part in Operation B&F you have to be willing to roll with the

punches; you have to drink Coors Lite all day, then switch to

champagne when night falls (or vise versa!). you have to be as

comfortable popping a squat on the sidewalk outside Ike's on

16th (with dirty sauce drippin on your hoodie) as you are

having the waitstaff pour the beef cheek gravy on your poutine

tableside at Salt House .

gimme your turkey leg and white trash macaroni salad,

gimme your deviled eggs topped with caviar (ABSINTHE!)

san francisco is both delightful and infuriating in its

incessant CASUALNESS. you can be at the nicest restaurant

in the city in a t shirt and jeans and feel completely comfortable.

depending on the time of the month, that is either a fantastic

thing, or a cop-out. many a time i have donned a beloved

cocktail dress, only to end up shotgunning beers at

the 500 Club , or drinking tall cans on the swings in Dolores

Park. 

but i have also crawled out of bed-- barely alive-- and after

locating my biggest sunglasses, stumbled to brunch at any

number of fabulous spots: Foreign Cinema, Absinthe, Universal Cafe

and felt entirely comfortable.

well...after three mimosas and an espresso i suppose one

could feel like they fit in anywhere...

xo

aziza, if you please

i read about Aziza in my beloved Gourmet Magazine (RIP) 

but i never thought i'd actually eat there.

it's too far away from the Mission! it's a nearly $20 cab ride!

all the way out on 22nd & Geary, it might as well be in Idaho.

two weeks prior to my Aziza dinner i saw a psychic for the

first time. the circumstances of the Psychic Appointment were

a little sketchy-- a customer at the bar had been on my ass

for weeks, asking me to go out. no, no, no. all my usual No's--

"i don't hang out with customers until i know them," "i'm

a really busy girl, i barely have time to see people i already

KNOW i like, let alone hang out with weirdos from the bar"...

but she enticed me...

she offered me an appointment with an "amazing psychic".

i'm a closet (well, not-so-closeted, i suppose) hippy; i suppose

a better way to say it is "i'm a hippy in wolf's clothing"

i blackberry messengered amy and cousin donny (like IM'ing, but but better.

from now on i will refer to BM'ing in my sister's term: MAINLINING)

i mainlined both amy (also a secret-hippy!) and cousin d (logical. boo.)

and amy gave me an enthusiastic "YES, you HAVE to go see

the Amazing Psychic. and if it turns out bad, this will at least

be a really good story."

so, i quickly told my customer, Yes--

moments later i got the downer message from cousin donny saying

all the usual stuff:

"this is insane"

"you can NOT go out with this girl"

and

"oh great now I'M gonna have to kick this girl out of the bar for you"

so...

the girl picked me up the following thursday for lunch

before the appointment. i figured, What The Hell, i might as well

eat, too. she seemed disappointed that her choice of the

Waterfront on the Embarcadero didn't impress me. uh, DUH.

that place is for tourists.

plus, she ordered badly.

the only turn-off that is more of a boner-killer than ordering

badly is tipping badly. 

i had two glasses of champagne with lunch to make

my nicoise salad seem not-so-disappointing (really, how do

you fuck that up? they managed to), so by the time we

got to the appointment with the psychic i was feeling

fantastic.

(and the sketchy part? the appointment with the psychic

was at the girl's PRIVATE HOME. wtf? if some dude

tricked me into going to his home i'd have walked off.)

i sit down with the psychic, and the girl pours us some

red wine. she (tackily) tells us it is a $100 bottle,

although i looked it up when i got home and it retails

for $40 online. insult to (tacky) injury, she had the red

wine chilled in a wine fridge. um, NO.

despite the fact it was too cold, i'm not gonna lie,

the wine was pretty good.

 

the psychic and i start chatting. i tell her i'm a Taurus,

Taurus rising with a Cancer moon, and she says, OOO, 

girl you like to eat, don't you!

uh, yes.

we really hit it off.

we're really groovin' here; we're making each other laugh,

she's calling me on my shit, we're having an amazing time.

we start talking about delicious cocktails, and i mention

my two favorite places right now-- Range and Beretta.

she say, "no, no, you HAVE TO go with me to MY FAVORITE place--"

--and THAT-- is how i ended up on the 22 bus

in my fancy Diane VonFuerstenberg silk dress , headed

out to Geary and 22nd, which feels further than Idaho.

i do believe it is located somewhere near Botswana.

there was only one other occupied table when i met the

psychic (Martha !) in the gorgeous Moroccan-styled booth.

good thing we made the date early--

6 PM dinner reservations and we ate until 10:30...

that is a 4.5 hour dinner, people!

and when you get a load of their menu, you'll know why.

their cocktail menu reads like a grocery list, as each drink

is named simply after its main flavor:

quince

raspberry

apple

pear

huckleberry

almond

cilantro

basil

my two favorites (we were dedicated in our attack upon the list)

were the

celery

sage, agave, housemade celery salt & gin

and ginger

frangelico, gin

the housemade celery salt was the touch that made the Celery

fucking killer-- it flaked off the rim and dropped into the drink

from the moment it was set in front of me. yummy. the Ginger

features that new ginger cordial (or perhaps it's a liquor?) that

i have been hearing about but haven't actually seen with my

own two eyes... AMAZING.

i also tried the thai chili, with lemon grass, chartreuse, mint

& gin, and although the first sip was DEVINE, it was far too

intense to eat with food.

but maybe i am just to white for it. Martha, the psychic, liked

it.

our starter plates were pleasant but not TO DIE FOR, but
my main dish was fucking ridiculous-- i stuck with the house
specialty and ate the cous cous, while Martha got the lamb
shank.

uhhhh..... lamb shank.


my mouth waters just thinking about it. my dinner was good.
really good. but her lamb FELL OFF THE BONE --

the way a good lamb should...

i haven't gone out alone with the customer again (did i mention
that she brought a gift to the table at the restaurant? this
is no joke.)

she was waaay too over the top.

but i am certainly hanging out with Martha the Psychic
again, and i am CERTAINLY headed back to Aziza.

to get some of the lamb all for myself....