officially not really vegan anymore.
lasted 10 months longer than I ever meant it to last and I will probably never consume as much meat/fish/chicken/etc. as I used to thanks to that experience. Felt good while I was doing it until it didn’t feel good.
So that’s that. Love you!
Being that my birthday is less than a month away I thought it might be a good time to create a modest wish list. Here she goes:
I love my whip but an upgrade wouldn’t hurt. I like my cars like you like your women–small waists and big hips. Somebody hook up the XKR:
If you missed the Saban Free Clinic’s 13th Annual “Extravaganza For the Senses” Food & Wine Event, here’s the recap:
All I can say right now is, You’re Welcome. Enjoy.
See comments for discussion. And please, for the love of God, join in.
Last night was a very special somebody’s birthday and so, in celebration, I met the usual cast of characters at our favorite gaudy 80s Persian living room resturant, XIV.
Remember on Friends when Monica wanted to date Paul, “the wine guy”?
Well Sarah is dating Ben, the wine guy. Except her wine guy is less ’90s and more awesome.
Case in point:
First bottle of bubbly was on him. Cute surprise considering he wasn’t even at dinner with us.
Top Chef Season 7 began last week, thank goodness. Some early commentary:
Chef Jacqueline Lombard, I thought you might wanna know…
Kate Hudson called and wants her face back.
Like now.
Recently one of my dearest friends, Camille, came in town from New York. Another dear friend, Suzanne, was kind enough to host a dinner party for her at her home.
I realized two things that night:
My high school friends are still just the best people ever. Not just the ones at the table. All of them.
P.S. I like that picture because we’re all in it, including Suzanne’s finger.
And I need to learn how to cook. If anyone saw the sad, vacant space that poses as my refrigerator I would be so ashamed.
Adventures with Andrew continued…
After our failed mission to eat our ways through the Santa Monica Farmers’ Market, we went to Huckleberry to pick up some brunch.
Huckleberry is a cafe and bakery in Santa Monica started by husband and wife team Josh Loeb and Zoe Nathan (who you might recognize as owners of Rustic Canyon Wine Bar and Seasonal Kitchen).
Incidentally, Josh is also the big brother of Gabe, who I accompanied to prom in 11th grade.
Gabe still wrongly accuses me of making out with another guy that night. Good thing he doesn’t read my blog cause um….
here’s prom night:
Really good iced coffee and a latte:
We waited outside for our food and Andrew told me I’m very photogenic. Then he told me that means I present better on camera. Nice.
They now serve beer, wine and mimosas, automatically propelling them into a world of greatness.
They also have a bowl of MY HEAD in the deli case:
We didn’t eat there, even though the place had that perfect Sunday brunch energy–bright and airy with poached egg deliciousness floating around.
When we got out to Andrew’s car, look what was hanging on the mirror of the car parked next to his:
I didn’t even realize it was missing, but I thought it was pretty fucking miraculous I should find it given this story.
We took our food back to his place so we could watch the Lakers fight really hard to lose to the Magic.
Andrew ordered the green eggs and ham:
No, not that one. The one with La Quercia prosciutto, pesto and arugula on an English muffin:
I had the quinoa with spinach, sprouting broccoli and sunny side up eggs, minus the eggs:
Delicious.
They were also super accommodating about removing the eggs and even asked if I wanted other veggies added in to my meal when I told them I was vegan.
Good thing Andrew and I weren’t planning on making out during halftime:
A bold use of garlic, sure, but I can’t say it didn’t make my quinoa taste better than your less garlicky quinoa.
I want to go back and explore the deli case. And I also want to find out who I probably made out with at Gabe’s 11th grade prom. Call the 800 hotline if you have any hot tips.
Sunday was very fruitful. I had plans with Andrew to hit up two westside farmers’ markets to compare their offerings–a showdown of west LA breakfast foods, flowers, juices, and other shit.
Also Andrew heard a rumor there’s a man on the Promenade who will make a bust of you, so naturally we were also planning on doing that.
First we hit up the MarVista Farmers’ Market off of Venice. Good thing we found it despite this misleading sign:
Andrew knew all the vendors cause I’m pretty sure they’re used to him stealing all the cheese sandwiches and housing all the pastries. This gem of a man overheard Andrew praising the muffins and hollered out, “You know ’bout my muffin!”
Andrew? Is this true? Do you know about this man’s muffin?? Do tell.
We started trolling the market for breakfast.
First stop, fresh squeezed OJ.
We bumped into a couple of Andrew’s friends and I bullied them into letting me photograph their veggie and beef/olive empanadas from this place:
We found a vegan vendor who sold things like mac ‘n’ cheese and lasagna but I was more in the mood for a breakfast burrito or something to that effect. Andrew didn’t shy away from sampling the food that was out, much like the food didn’t shy away from not moving itself out of the cup that housed it. Get in the hole, food! Are you too good for your hole?!
Then, while Andrew was stealing samples, I wandered over to these Oaxacans to get some horchata. They had a bunch of other mystical agua frescas that I probably should have tried in the interest of diversity.
Around this time I overheard a mom say to her son, “you need to open up your mouth and put some respect in it.” I don’t know if that’s the new, “I’m gonna wash your mouth out with soap,” but someone needs to tell mommy she sounds like Lil’ Kim.
Next Andrew got some french toast that confusingly looked more like French pancake, but whatevs…
In the interest of fairness in reporting, they only charged him $5 since apparently this was smaller than their normal French toast.
At this point I had some oj, some horchata and a bite of vegan salad in my tummy and I was trying not to act mad about how hungry I was in front of Andrew who is conveniently not vegan and can sample cheese long into the night. Ew.
On to the Santa Monica Farmer’s Market. You know, the one that’s on Saturdays.
whoops.
So….no showdown this time. Instead we headed to Huckleberry to grab some lunch.
I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow since I’m pretty sure this post combined with the cucumber pic below is enough stimulation for one day.
Have I mentioned that Swingers isn’t as gross as I thought it was?
Maybe it’s because I associate it with the 90s, which for me meant telling my parents I was going to see Romeo and Juliet at UCLA but instead forgetting to come home any time remotely close to my curfew, figuring I would explain myself the next day. But not before a burger and a milkshake at Swingers in the middle of the night.
Nights like this but maybe a hint less sweet and a smidge more trouble:
Anyway, maybe it’s that I’m not in high school anymore. Or maybe it’s that I don’t order milkshakes at 3am anymore. Or maybe it’s that they have vegan quinoa/tofu options.
green salad is still the same:
tofu quinoa thing with broccoli, cabbage, mushrooms, and orange:
and I think a veggie patty melt? I have no idea:
Is it the best thing in the world? No. But is it worth going there for more than just the hot waitresses in short skirts and knee highs? Yes. But only when most everything else is closed. There’s kind of no excuse for having lunch there.
