crayfish round 1

this lunch is at an old school restaurant called hildebrand's. um, german name, italian food. sort of. now, if you can remember, south africa used to be, well...different. like, my nanny had to have a permission pass from my grandparents to walk alone in town. and room and board was considered payment for work. don't shoot the messenger. but that is just how it was and no one really thought anything of it.

well, during this "period" everything was very proper and british. tea in the afternoons. lunch tables had sterling silverwear and linens and stemware. waiters knew your name and watched your children grow up and called your sir and madam. you couldn't get something vile like a burger unless you went to a "wimpy's"--there were no mcdonalds because of sanctions.

anywho. since things...changed, the vintage restaurants have mostly disappeared. replaced with much more casual dining. but hildebrand's is still there. the same waiters with bowties. the same menu. the same yes sir attitude. they make you feel like a special queen and boy do i love it.

a crayfish is a lobster without pinchers.

this is what you eat in cape town. it's prepared in a variety of ways. i can't remember the proper name for this way, but it is boiled, then grilled with garlicky bread crumbs spread all over it. these are two small little critters. i personally think smaller is better. more tasty. this applies STRICTLY to seafood. not to meat. i like big, thick, meatier meats. in south africa, the lobster is served with rice or fresh chips (thickly sliced soggy fries), and garlic butter, lemon butter, and peri peri sauce (spicy oil). my. god. is. it. good.

here is my mom. she is eating vienna schniztel. also delicious. we're both having champagne. i don't really know who we think we are...but i'll take a lobster and champagne lunch by the marina any day.


silly wonka

south african nerds


cape town

hi there. been a while. in cape town. in my grandparents house that we renovated and now it's a sick, sick multi million dollar beach house with views of mountains and oceans from every window, north south east and west.

but this is how i feel.

cause my parents fight and call each other names and it makes me lose my appetite and that is why i can't ever get married. again.


hee hee hee haw, haw, haw

this is funny. i wore my french striped shirt to dinner. found a pre packaged chocolate crepe at whole foods on the way home. like a french version of a fruit roll up?? got home, grew a moustache.

and then realized i had a pet french poodle.

isn't life great?

i'm back, bitches

i ate somewhere tonight that made me totally happy. a little french place.

i am not telling you where it is. if you want to know you have to email me for the name.

it's tiny. it's authentic. it's cool.

the wine is served full to the brim in a tiny little glass and i think they keep filling it up when you aren't looking. there are 4 reds, 4 whites, 1 rose, and 1 champagne to choose from. genius. because seriously, who gives a fuck about wine THAT much. and if you do, you aren't my friend--cause i know you are lying.

the bread is so good. it's not that bubbly, soury, hard bread that they serve you EVERYwhere in manhattan. that shit comes from tom kat bakery. the silver vans with a black cat logo that you see all around town. their bread sucks. attention restaurateurs: cool truck and cool logo does not equal yummy bread. this place toasts the baguet-ish so it's warm when it arrives at your plate and just a tiny crispy on the outside. the butter is delish (hello, rachel ray. gross) and salty and room temperature so it spreads and doesn't damage your slice.

i had lentils. i actually watched the guy take my lentils and mix them up with all the spices and vinegar and stuff. it came in a big bowl like the one french onion soup comes in. it was cold and amazing. the best lentils i have ever had. they weren't mushy or too crunchy, if lentils were pasta, then these were al dente. friend had coque au vin. watched him make the whole thing from scratch. i was blown away. other friend had tagliateli carbonara. we all shared french fries that tasted like french french fries. you know, that subtle difference that makes them awesome? vive le diference!!

seriously. this place is incredible. TINY. two tables and 6 seats at the bar. the owner is tres french, wears a scarf and has a pointy moustache. but it's natural. not forced. for info, just ask. clue: in the lower east side.

BEST PART: they only take cash and american express. it's like i died and went to heaven. a cramped, dark, smelly heaven.

UPDATE! ran into my friend mike simmonds there. really weird cause he was alone and, like i said, the place is tiny. he is a cinematographer for the award winning film "MAN PUSH CART." word up, mike.