The next thing that really chapped my hide was having a quiet little lunch in the grotto of a cafe and then boutique shopping. I just HATED the earrings and bangle I bought, not to mention the wildly discounted designer dress we found for Megan. It was so cute, it really was upsetting. The hotel was a real dump too. Yeah, the Hilton Union Square? The lobby with it's giant crystal chandeliers, plush, overstuffed burgundy love seats and creamy marble floors made me think we'd picked a hotel in a bad part of town. (to be fair, the Tenderloin - not the delicious meaty variety - is just up the way, but whatever) That evening, the Top of the Mark sky bar was really testing my patience. It was like stumbling into a crack den, with it's insane views of Alcatraz, Fisherman's Wharf and the Golden Gate. We choked down buttery chardonnay as dense fog in the shape of the fluffy white puppy-dragon from Neverending Story swept across the 360-degree vista. Ugh. Then we dragged our disgusted selves to North Beach for an Italian feast, more wine, and then um, well...I guess we went back to the hotel because we had such a big, tedious day touring Napa on Friday. We met the tour at the gross Ferry Building, which should be demolished because of its gourmet food shops and specialty stores like Tasty Salty Pig Parts (Boccalone Salumeria). There were all these petite and tanned, well, what can only be described as vagrants running around with their stray street dogs doing some sort of meth-fueled ritual. And then FINALLY, the safety of the bus and a truly grotesque drive out of San Francisco, over the Golden Gate, through Marin county and all of the other slums between the city and wine country. Domaine Chandon with it's gorgeous grotto for tastings and immaculate winery and grounds was just barely tolerable. Here, Megan and Daynia act like they're interested in the ruddy-faced Mark and his schticky spiel.
V. Sattui is where we choked down insalta del mar, pesto pasta, giant garlic prawns, decadent brie, crusty baguette, salami, pate and other things you might see on Fear Factor. Ugh. Shivers! Then Jordan, the spikey haired wine-tender (?) entertained us and shared that he's often tipped with not cash, but marijuana. Can you even imagine? That's against the LAW! Dispicable. And the wine was, well, I'm speechless here.
Next, Rutherford Grove and Black Stallion really put the shit-cherry on top of a steaming pile of a day. Did I mention the ferry boat ride on the way back? The one with the cash bar and incredible coastline and bridge vistas? Barf.
That night we had a metric truck-load of Chinese take-out delivered to our room, sat on the rooftop patio in the hot tub and drank Coors Light. (sorry, but we were totally WINED out by that point...the last two wineries are just EVER so fuzzy) Finally, sleep was a welcome respite from the intolerable sun, wine, food and company. You know those girls, they are just a bunch of sticks in the mud! Duds! All of 'em!
The next morning, my expectations were significantly lowered from the total disaster that had been the trip so far. Against our better judgment, we went to The Cliff House for thick and savory clam chowder with jumbo oyster crackers, salad of endive and walnuts, mahi-mahi, etc. The only thing that got us through this abomination was the Kendall Jackson and rocky, cliff-side views watching surfers destroy themselves and seals do, you know, whatever it is that seals do. BORING.
Next Shana insisted that we do more of that soul-crushing boutique shopping which included a shoe-filled stop at Ambiance. She did alright. (Holly B., you would love this joint if you haven't been there already)
We needed to numb the pain of this ordeal afterwards at Zeitgeist, which is basically Minneapolis's Triple Rock on crack-cocaine. Megan kept calling it a biker bar, but I think it's more of a punk bar with one working bathroom and a walk-up BBQ window with really, really good burgers.
They have a sprawling outdoor area where games are played, bloodies are drank, establishments are rejected and things are smoked. The rest of this waking nightmare included drinks and hors d oeuvres (delicate and citrusy ciopino...yuck) in the Mission starting at Limon, dinner on the city-scaped rooftop of Medjool where we had some hideous platter of imported cheese, meats, olives and figs.
We then went to some Irish bar where last call involved a bunch of "bros". They actually loudly and with full-body bro-bumps and faux crotch-punches greeted eachother when they all came in...together like they hadn't seen each other yet. One had a faux-hawk mullet type thing that made him look like an iguana. Though, I'd rather have a drink with the reptile than this f*ckface. They proceeded to loudly complain that one of them spilled his 23rd shot of Rumple-douche and were therefore entitled to a replacement on the house. Finally, Megan yelled "Get OVER it! Nobody CARES!" Ok....so that part was a little fun. Then we got about three pounds of Indian take-out from Naan-n-Curry. The host/owner was concerned for some reason and kept saying "No shady buffet!", and we're all "We KNOW it's not shady, that's why we want take-out from here!" and so this went on until we realized he was saying "No share the buffet!" to which we reassured him that of COURSE we were going to share the buffet, and he was going to accommodate with a smile, and then we'd go enjoy our naan and curried colon-blow back at the hotel. So then we did. And then we slept. I was starting to wonder if the trip could possibly get any worse.
The morning brought four very slow-moving thirty-somethings, a room that looked like an episode of Hoarders and the need to SOMEHOW salvage this mess with an edible brunch, preferably NOT in squalor like the previous meals had been. We were trying for Chole's but as we kept walking we thought we'd stop into Fattoush for a breakfast drink first. I'm going to drop the whole bizarro sarcasm here because Fattoush was my favorite, favorite spot in San Fran, luckily chosen by Shana. We first sat in the darling dining room but then Daynia let us know about the oasis-like patio in the back, aptly named the Oasis wine bar. It was totally enclosed but open-air above and was just quaint, quiet, romantic....perfect for four vulgar, exhausted females! Wine, duh.
And the FOOD! We had house-made hummus, tabouli, khyar b'laban (yogurt, cucumber salad, like tzatziki but with olive oil and not as thick), rihan (tomatoes, basil, eggplant), babaghanouge (as spelled on their menu) and m'nazaleh (ratatouille of grilled eggplant, red bell peppers, tomatoes, walnuts, garlic, lemon). Ok, so that was just the appetizer. I had a frittata with mushrooms and chicken apple sausage - so wonderful and now I like frittatas. Shana had an AMAZING AMAZING barhoumi which is like this wonderful grilled wrap with lamb and mushrooms and it's truly indescribably probably one of the best things I've ever had.
Ahhhh. I will go back there FIRST THING next time I'm in Noe Valley, San Fran!
Ahhhh. I will go back there FIRST THING next time I'm in Noe Valley, San Fran!
So then Daynia graciously dragged Shana and me to the airport in the super masculine Dodge Charger we rented, and the trip ended where it began: sucking down Crema at TGI Fridays. If Fattoush hadn't been so incredible, if the trip hadn't been so perfect, the flare and misery of said chain restaurant would have had me sobbing, literally. But I was aglow with the success (or should I say SUCKcess in keeping with my previous and unfunny theme?) of the trip. I came away with a new-found love affair with the city by the bay, the ironic and haunting tale that Otis Redding died in a plane crash the very next day after the first and only time he recorded Dock of the Bay (perhaps this is common knowledge, but the whistling he does at the end was meant as filler....he wasn't done with the song yet), views and sites that I will have with me forever and the comforting knowledge that it's just a few short months before I get to see those girls again.
Ok, this post took far, far too long and is not about cooking at all (and a lot of it won't be, so that's that) but I have completed a handful more recipes from TST and I will sum them up here.
Linguine con Aglio e Balsamico (Linguine with Braised Garlic and Balsamic Vinegar) - One word? "Meh." The balsamic all but completely covered up the garlic I so lovingly and painstakingly braised. Just like Ms. Rossetto-Casper said though, I let it go too far past "barely blonde" and into more of a golden color, which I thought looked just so nice but made the garlic bitter. I was warned and I didn't listen.
Antipasto de Reggio (Fresh Pears with Parmigiano-Reggiano and Balsamic Vinegar) - Take pear (in this case, a red pear, which was SO good once it was finally ripe and I am generally not a fruit lover. It's a gamble, after all), put on plate with chunk of parm-regg, douse with balsamic, eat. It was a great combo but the pear was nowhere near ripe (i have since purchased red/asian pears again and let them ripen on the countertop and they are AMAZING...and as mentioned, I don't love fruit!).
Pesce ai Ferri (Herbed Seafood Grill) P.J. played a big part on this because he took a special trip to Coastal Seafoods for me with the direction "get 8 oz. of firm-fleshed fish" and a list of options. He came back with gorgeous sturgeon, which I don't think either of us had had. So then you make a paste of herbs (basil, parsley, etc) and coat the fish and grill it. It was good. It was nice, firm white fish with herbs. Again "meh". I used the grill pan out of sheer lazyness so I suppose it would have been really special over an actual grill. I am picking my battles with this project, in case you hadn't already noticed. Let's not even mention that I'm using balsamic from Cosco. It says "Artisan" and "Modena" right on it!
Crema di Cioccolata da Eletta (Frozen Chocolate Pistachio Cream with Hot Chocolate Marsala Sauce) served over Pan di Spagna (Ricardo Rimondi’s Spanish Sponge Cake) - Ok, so this is where the giant amount of credit goes to my future mom-in-law, Ann B., who doesn't tout herself as a blue ribbon baker, but she sure as heck knows what she's doing. Here she is with my (read: our) very first from-scratch cake...ever.
I had a feeling all day that the dessert I'd planned on making for my dad for his 67th birthday was a bit over my head, to say the least. So I sent an emergency text to see if Ann B. was available and she WAS. I picked these recipes because they involved espresso and Marsala, two things that my dad really likes as do I. However, they involved whipping, measuring, sifting, re-sifting, stabalizing, candy thermometering (hard-ball? soft-ball? now I know what these things mean), double-boiling, folding, hand-mixing, electric mixing, etc. etc. etc. Had I taken this on myself, I would have:
a. Ruined it. Slammed the Marsala in one gulp, closed my eyes, and walked onto 46th street.
b. Ruined it. Pulled a true "Julie & Julia" and gone completely drama-licious, sliding down the cupboards onto the floor with my hair in my fists, blubbering, swearing and calling myself a fool "you can't even make a frozen pistatio mousse from scratch, loser!")...then Bryan would wander up to me, lick my tears and nuzzle my cheek. I'd chuckle and be comforted. Then I'd slam the Marsala in one gulp, shut my eyes, and walk Bryan onto 46th street.
c. Ruined it. Ruined the kitchen and several of my kitchen items. (boiling sugar syrup that turns into plexi-glass + wood floors = honey, I f*cked up the floor) Called Broders' in a panic and asked them to spare me a bestia nera, which Phil also loves. Then I would have slammed the Marsala in one gulp, vomited because dry cooking Marsala ain't for drinkin', taken a bath and chalked
three of the TST recipes up to monumental disasters.
So, long story longer (and several weeks after drafting this post), I'm extremely grateful for the help from Ann B. and the fact that I think it turned out really well. We had small tastes of the cake (which Ann made the good call of using lemon zest instead of vanilla...either were noted as options, but fresh lemon zest is so, so good in recipes) which was delcious and dense...in a good way. The frozen mousse was rich and Marsala-y and the chocolate sauce turned out wonderfully as well. Baking is my nightmare and my nemesis but I do hope to get better and better at it as I tackle the Tarts section and Breads section of TST.
I know that posts have been sparce and I can only say that work continues to wage war on my time and energy. I am still doing the job of many people, am under an incredible amount of pressure from the top and all sides (gentlemen: relax and run a warm iron over your white-collared dress shirt - "white collared" meaning the rest of said shirt is yellow or blue...a fashion choice that drives some women to rage), and am just hanging in there and trying to do my best. I am still very much committed to this project and am planning my next set of recipes for the upcoming date night (Friday). Date nights are always at home from now until the wedding and I just love it. There is no place I'd rather be than at home cooking with P.J. and Bryan as my very best company. Having a house full of folks is always a wonderful treat too and the upcoming Halloween party should be a success of grand proportions. I am going to try and execute on Kristen's wonderful and topical suggestion for my costume. Will have to get on that ASAP.
I'm also THRILLED to announce that I've been given the green flag to travel to GORGEOUS Indianpolis, Indiana next week! I'll be dazzled and delighted by a four night stay at the luxurious downtown Indianpolis Marriott where I'll be treated to a non-smoking room and one KING bed. At the conference (this is actually pretty cool) I'll participate in many sessions and lectures from which I hope to bring a plan for a whole new mode of communication for our business at OmniSurance or whatever alias I previously gave my company. I hope to come back and say to the big boys "Here's the next phase of technology and reaching out to agents and here's how I'm going to implement it. Now give me a giant raise and a spot in the underground parking garage." Beyond the conference topics and training sessions, I'm extremely pumped to see Second City and They Might Be Giants. Additionally, the author of "Outliers" will be there and I wish I could say that I could power-read his book before hearing him speak, but that's not going to happen. And last but certainly not least, MARLEE MATLIN is, um, speaking. Insert horrendously inappropriate jokes here (Google: Marlee Matlin, Family Guy). I have no interest in her whatsoever, nor do I give a single pink poo about her abusive relationship with Bill Hurt (she should have known what she was getting into?). But, apparently, people think that her book and her lecture are interesting so I'll give it a shot....OR take to the hotel lobby for more blogging.
I love autumn (I've been making a lot of pork tenderloin, sweet potatoes, stuff with figs and balsamic, chili, etc.), I love P.J. (my hard-working hero and best friend to whom I will be married in less than a year), Bryan I love 80% of the time (he really is a good boy) and I love all of YOU! Shana, Megan and Daynia - you are such wonderful ladies and spending time with you is like just hanging out with different aspects of myself....aspects I wish were more pronounced yet I bask in your positive influence and your humor and sisterly love are precious to me. Let's do impromptu girls weekend EVERY year! And a BIG shout-out to my mom's beautiful and hilarious friend Kathleen Herrick. You are just so extremely cool; sometimes, I think my mother wants to run away with you! Thank you for reading, for the wonderful note you sent on Facebook and for being such a laugh-inducing light in my mom's life. She has a pocket of fabulous, interesting, successful and sweet girlfriends and believe me, she knows how lucky she is to have you's gals.
Cheers!
