I was going to say I've had a lack of recent food adventures because I was thinking of the gross cheese sandwich with that Italian mushroom pesto and a small handful of my roommate's five-cheez Italiano blend dairy product (sorry, Aaron, it wasn't much), but then I also remembered the fabulously heartwarming return-to-NYC fried-chicken feast that Tamara prepared to mark my return from exile in the sun country.
Tag: italian
Old news
So it's come to this: Last night I cruised my neighborhood very slowly with my computer on, clicking "Refresh wireless networks" in front of the nicer houses (i.e., _not_ the one gutted in the meth lab fire a couple years ago).
Middle-floor-in-the-skyscraper pick-me-up
Whoo-ee. Just chugged my white-trash frappucino (or ghetto frap, depending
on who you want to denigrate):
Fleeing
Just for the record, I'm in Mexico again. Neatly avoiding all post-election fallout. Dodging trauma by driving fast and not looking at headlines.
Winding down
Tonight's my last night--back in the old favorite Playa del Carmen. Not the greatest beach town, but certainly not the worst, and the array of the Italian tourists' bathing suit styles and depths of tans is quite impressive.
The Radar I Have, As It Pertains to Restaurants*
Last night I realized mine needs to be specially recalibrated for Mexico.
Down Mexico Way
Anyway, this doesn't have anything to do with food, but I witnessed two weddings this week, and they couldn't have been more opposite.
Of beans and bread, and cardoons
So I availed myself of two semi-gourmet treats that my local, non-gourmet produce stand stocks every spring: cardoons and cranberry beans.