so this guy who was born in new york, but then moved to toronto, then lived in puerto vallarta for 3.5 years opened up a taco stand in rockaway on 96th street.
the menu looked good. it was supposed to open at noon, but at 12:30 he said to come back in ten minutes to order. so we came back in ten minutes, ordered, and then waited 45 minutes for our tacos.
i normally wouldn't care cause it was a beach day, but i missed out on an hour and a half of perfect suntanning. although, anything is better than a fucking slice of pizza or mexican/chinese food (you know the places i'm talking about: quesadillas or stir fry, same kitchen).
in any case. we had tofu tacos, fish tacos (beer battered talapia), and chorizo tacos. i ordered chips and guacamole and he actually cut up corn tortillas and fried them. i watched him make the guacamole himself. pretty impressive. it was cheap and good and made you forget about the projects behind you.
there can never be enough pictures of hot rob. come pose for a picture rob, no a little closer. closer. damnit rob, touch my shoulder with your rock hard abs! thaaat's nice.
i saw kate hudson at cafe henri. with an assistant who was more like a baby sitter. little ryder was so fucking cute eating his scrambled wggs while his "mother" sat there texting for at least 1/2 an hour straight. fucking cunt. i'm sure she doesnt see her little boy that often and the assistant said more to him than she did. plus she wore her glasses the whole time.
i lost all respect for her that day. if i had a boy as cute as ryder, i wouldn't be able to take my eyes off him.
ahhh, the anti-hamptons.
i love it here! it smells like the ocean, and the guys are super hot and super nice. plus, there"s the place called THIS NAME HAS BEEN REDACTED BECAUSE I DON'T WANT THEM TO GET BUSTED CAUSE THE SITUATION IS TOO AWESOME. i like to call it ..."s (but apparently thats some discount department store?}) anyway. they let you wander out with their frozen pina coladas in styrophome cups.
i lurve rockaway.
since i don't have a house in the hamptons (thank god.) i need to take advantage of any suntanning opportunity i can.
hudson river park. in the grass. kinda nice. but what the fuck is this guy doing?
i assume he is practicing for the parade. i wish i had gotten a picture of the other guy next to me in A LEOPARD THONG BATHING SUIT. or the guy on the bench with a face lift and eyeliner doing pretend sit ups for 20 minutes straight. or voice recording of the skinny thai guy on the phone to his boyfriend. and how come all the guys call each other "girl"?
of course, there were a smattering of straight couples and groups of hot girls. but the flag guy just really took the cake. i was there for 2 hours. he was dancing before i got there and he was dancing when i left.
nicole made this sandwich in montauk the other week. simple, yes. delicious, you bet.
roast turkey and swiss with mustard and mayonnaise.
the deli fucked up and put lettuce on, which i didn't ask for. but you know, they work at a deli so you can't expect perfection.
i'm sorry, but look at this.
it's beautiful. james macevoy could have his erect cock in my face and i'd still rather put these beans in my mouth.
perfect heinz baked beans from a perfect turquoise tin. fuck tiffany's blue box. i want heinz's blue tin.
i'll fart for days without care just knowing that i tasted such canned food goodness.
that said, this place and it's rules is so unbelievable i can't even explain. ok, i'll try. follow me if you can.
candice: table for 3 please
cockney skank: ok got it
...5 minutes later
candice: sorry its 4 now
cockney skank: ok, no problem
...5 minutes later
cockney skank: party of 4?
candice: shoot, he's not here. i guess just 3.
cockney skank: ok, come in
(cockney skank seats us at a 4 top)
candice: oh good, there's a seat in case he comes
cockney skank: oh, then i'll seat you over here, because we can't have any late arrivals.
(cockney skank points to a tiny table with 3 chairs around it. not enough legroom for crickets, let alone 3 grown women)
candice: oh, no. that's too small. we'll sit here at the bigger table
cockney skank: no, we can't have late arrivals so i'll sit the other party of 3 here.
candice: no. if your going to sit 3 here anyway, we'll take it because it's more comfortable.
cockney skank: fine.
(cockney skank proceeds to carry the 4th chair at our table OUTSIDE THE RESTAURANT to the sidewalk and removes the place setting to ensure we understand that absolutely no one can join us.)
grrr. but the coffee is good and so is the tea and i personally love the food. farts and all. skanks and all. then i go next door for some wine gums. thats a candy, and it don't get you drunk.
tea and sympathy
another blind date. he is totally hot, we both dressed up. he wore seersucker, i wore a skirt.
we decided to do a little country clubish lunch at the morgan library. table for two, please.
we had iced tea, naturally. i ordered a smoked chicken salad, and he ordered a lobster salad. and then we waited. and watied. and waited. and fidgeted and waited.
we waited so long that we went into conversations one normally has on date 2! let's just say i wouldn't be surprised by much if i ran into him in bed.
finally, our waiter in a weird beige uniform jacket that was way too big and made him look uncomfortable and homeless, came over and told us there was a paper jam in the kitchen, and our order will be out shortly. luckily i wasn't in the mood to bitch, though torrey and i both gave dirtly looks and snarled under our breath.
when his salad arrived, torrey looked a little sad. just one piece of claw meat? how dare they?! but he found more under each layer of lettuce. nice save, morgan library.
we joked that the reason our food took so long wasn't cause of a paper jam, but because they ran out of boars head deli meat for my salad. (this joke would be funny if you could actually see that the chicken in my chicken salad wasn't chunks of chicken, but rather thinly sliced breat meat, but like deli breast meat. i had to have been deli meat. i just had to).
it was really good though. they gave us free dessert for our troubles. quite ironic since at least ten minutes of our conversation was spent bitching about our stomach fat. thank god my gelato sucked. i didn't eat it. his pinapple tart tasted like barbq.
all in all, though, a very pleasant lunch. next time torrey and i will go to something more rough around the edges so we can really loosen up.
thanks for lunch torrey!
when my friend adan told me that there was a new taco place called "pinche" i just about snarfed my sprite through my nose. how awesome. fucking taco. now if only a chocha churros opened up next door, my life would be complete.
i went on a blind blogger date. could it get any light-me-on-fire-dorkier than that? nope. don't think so. he has a blog called "lost taco". poor joshy lost his taco. he can't have mine. my coochie remains in the gucci name. he just moved here from southern california and i guess no one told him that good mexican food doesn't exist in new york city. he is on a hunt though, more luck to him.
the first thing my eyes zone in on is the modelo especial in a can. now this is interesting.
i order one taco al pastor and one taco carne asada.
corn tortilla? check
greasy wet meat? check
chopped onions? check
chopped cilantro? check
juicy lime wedge? check
plus a tiny bit of guac and salsa. OH. goodness. it was good.
he had the fish taco, i've never been a fan but he swore it was up to par.
the dude who owns the place has another pinche taco in tijuana, or TJ as he affectionately calls it. but here you won't get a knife pulled on you. although, with the economy...
i will go back. for sure. fer sher, dude.
wednesday. it has to be wednesday. i already have a lunch date for tuesday.
(yes, i am attempting to finally meet shorts)
whoever declared corner bistro as a good burger spot is on crack. because when you're on crack you don't have an appetite, so you wouldn't actually eat that ground rat meat shitty ass burger, so you wouldn't know. how gross. it is.
speaking of crack.
crack is a drug. you can be addicted to it. crack addicts need interventions. crack makes you feel good and you choose to not consider the consequences of taking it. you could stay off crack for months and then when you see it again, you forget or choose to forget that it kills you slowly and makes you feel rotten on the inside.
crack for me, of course, is the boy. don't ask. but like a fucking crackhead, i went there. it was more like someone dropped a dime bag in a hand-cut crystal box on my doorstep, with candles all around and flower petals. it was inviting, kind, safe, it didn't seem dangerous at all. i had beaten crack before, so maybe i could handle a taste.
of course, the crack always wins. and leaves your system empty, your stomach hurting and you rocking on the floor like a baby.
i guess that is why recovery is a life long thing. one day at a time. and one should remember that just because 3 months goes by, it doesn't mean you're sober.
today i had lunch with claire. i met her through my ex husband/boyfriend/fuck. (and our relationship went in that order. clearly backwards we were.)
we went to gemma and she told me about her dietary limitations. she's not only vegetarian, but she also eats according to her blood type. something about chemistry blah blah blah. "wow" i was thinking. "what a nut job" (just kidding claire, this is all for effect). but then she stood up at the end of lunch and her body is slamming and now, as i eat my left over PF CHANGS that i brought all the way across state line, i am a little more curious about this chemical bloody eating club of hers....hmmmm.....
i had an eggplant and tomato panini. whatevs. she had, actually, i don't even remember what she had. artichoke somethig?
we gabbed about boys and how to manipulate them. something that clearly she and i aren't good at seeing as we are both single.
i meant on purpose. single on purpose.
on the dessert menu, i saw this. i'm not gonna say outright what i think it was. claire said to think of it abstractly as "crud." right, crud that came out of a little rodents poo hole.
had one scoop of pomegranite sorbet. grody. syrupy. like a fancy but untasty snow cone with no cone so kinda like nothing like that.
claire is funny. we shall dine together again. except next time it will be dark outside and there will be a lot less food and a lot more booze.
it was one of those nights i couldn't get my shit together. or rather, all my friends' shit was all over the place and none of their shit was wanting to eat din din with me. it was hot. everyone was whining.
well, i had napped for two hours and with no cable to pacify me, i needed to get out of my apt.
i walked to a new mexican food place by my house. cabritos? i think?
grrr. who the fuck charges $60 for a pitcher of margaritas? that better come with a free trip to acapulco cause there is no way that montezuma tequila makes one's overhead that high. the best, i mean, this is ridiculous, the best is if you want "fresh juice" in it it's an extra $6. THE FUCKING AUDACITY IS BEYOND ME. fuck this place.
but i was hungry. i had a michilada to calm and cool me down. can't really mess those up.
there was nothing on the menu that was affordable. i mean i'm super rich so i don't have to worry, but i do have a sense of when i'm being taken advantage of. it's all relative.
i settled on chicken tomatillo enchiladas. $14. this is what i got.
NO FUCKING FUCK YOUR MOTHER YOU CUNT ASS CHOCHA FUCK NUT WAY.
on top of that, i had a huge piece of gristle in one bite and had to spit it out. which means 1/4 of my whole meal was disposed of.
no rice. no beans. no fucking nothing. take me to barrio chino immediately.
do not ever ever ever go to cabritos on carmine street beween bleecker and bedford. it is bad and expensive. if i see you there i wll humiliate you in such a way you'll wish the juice from the jalapenos on your plate was squeezed into your eyes because it would feel better than the suffering i cause.
after a long morning of antiquing in 100 degree heat in glorious stamford, CT, we decided to reward ourself with a trip to target. and after 2 hours in target we were starving!
and like a beacon in the night, we see PF CHANG'S. the "mr. chow's" for proletariats.
this place is amazing. it was cold, the tables were clean, we got refills on our drinks without even asking for them. i felt totally at home. we didn't have to ask for them to clear our plates, they just did it. and when the meal was done, she brought me a fancy plastic to go container with a matching paper shopping bag.
long live mr. chang. i wonder what P F stands for...?
ok, so i have had hundred's (ha) of requests for my secret sauce recipe at na trang restaurant. let me think if i should share...
ohhhkaaay. twist my arm.
here are the ingredients you need; sriracha (spicey rooster), fish sauce, sugar, lime.
fill the bottom of a sauce bowl with the spicey rooster/sriracha/ass hole is on fire sauce.
squeeze a good juicy lime wedge in there. if it's a dry lime, stand up, throw it on the floor, and shout at the top of your lungs "what kind of a shit hole place is this? how am i supposed to squeeze lime juice from a dry fruit?!"
put a tiny squirt of fish sauce. if you put too much it gets too salty. plus your chocha will smell bad.
now the most important secret. sugar! it cuts the spice. a good circle or two.
then stir, stir, stir.
make all your friend happy by serving them delicious sauce!
make all your friends even happier when you point them towards the restroom after lunch.
went to les enfantes on ludlow and canal to hang out with some friends. i had a chicken ceaser salad. it was really bad. no taste and the chicken was burnt and dry.
friend had the lamb marguez which was really good, although i only ate the cous cous. the sausages looked like poop from R.O.U.S.'s from the princess bride.
their coffee was good and the guys are totally hot. germany was playing poland in the euro cup. guess who won...
but first, a note on the previous post. uuhhh, no explanation for that one. sorry.
today soraya made me go to cafe colonial on elizabeth and houston. that place SUUUUUCCKKS. the food is decent, interesting menu, but i really get panicky in there cause the tables are arranged in a weird way and you feel like your neighbor is so close that you can feel their breath on the back of your neck. not fun. i try to sit with my back to a wall to prevent that nightmare from happening. that and the waitresses are completely vacant. and slow.
their limeade is really good. soraya got a healthy sandwich and soup combo. i got rice and beans. the rice is really good, it's long grain and smooth. like perfect little tubes. slippery almost. (gross description). i did send the first bowl back because the beans were lukewarm. the second batch were steaming hot, nice save on their part. but it wasn't enough to fill my fat ass up.
so i stopped at steve's on the bowery and got rice, beans, and beef stew. and reese's peanut butter cups.