El Presidente

Hi!

I'm drunk. Drunky drunk drunk. Yay!

Went out to dinner with some work folks and there was so much wine of a type that I do not remember, but it was very very good. Dinner was super awesome at the Spice Market. Sooo awesome. I recommend the red curry duck and also the mango salad. Yummm. Go with a party of 12 or more so that it's family style, because family style is so much more fun. Especially when production is paying. Try the lychee raspberry bellini or (OOH!) the ginger margarita!

The President (my boss) is...well...awesome. We shared a cab. There was bonding. She reminded me in her silly drunky drunkerson talk that I gotta keep on pushing for the things I want and toward being what I want to be. She reminded me I don't need to care about what other people are doing to get where I want, just about what I'm doing. She reminded me that my life is mine and that I gotta take good care of it because nobody else will take care of it for me. There is no deus ex machina ending for me. There is no magic wand to wave to make it all perfect. (Oh yeah...now I remember...)

It was super cute because it was in her silly little drunky voice, but also because I didn't realize that she noticed I've been sad lately. It's nice that she noticed. It's nice that she cares and that she wants me to be better. I need to move up in the world so we can be friendlier and less bossy/employeeish. I'm nervous to be too friendly with her because of that boss thing. But then again I would do anything for her, which is (along with bird-in-the-hand factor) why I took another job with her that will carry me through the summer, even though I so so so want to move on to a different department.

"Don't worry, dear," she slurred. "We'll get through it."

I want to go to Tree. From the window it looks lovely.

I fell in love today and I had polenta for brunch.

Today after Brunch Club Roommate #2 decided to accompany me to Brooklyn Heights for the Cranberry Street Festival, where the Squirrel Girls were performing. We wound up missing their performance but were able to catch up with them to visit at Park Plaza Restaurant. Afterward, Roommate #2 decided to take me on a tour of Brooklyn Heights, since she used to live there and I'd never been.

Once we started walking around I couldn't believe I had not been to this part of Brooklyn before. As we walked up and down the streets I could feel the water in the air. When we approached the Promenade, I immediately realized that I had finally found a neighborhood I liked as much as I liked the Marigny in New Orleans. Now I'm in love! I want Brooklyn Heights to be my home!

This gives me something to work toward. I've been saying for some time now that I'm saving to buy my own place, but I hadn't really felt sure about where I wanted to live. Now I feel pretty sure...and I know it might be a loooong time before I can afford a teeny tiny little place there, but I want very badly to live in Brooklyn Heights. Of course, who knows - I'll probably change my mind a dozen times in the next few years as I save up that down payment!

We also had a New York Moment and ran into Make Me a Supermodel, which was shooting on the Promenade. We took some pictures of our fun time and submitted them to Filming In Brooklyn, which is one of my favorite blogs. Woohoo!

Recognized

I got tagged on Guest of a Guest, which is very sweet of them. Not for the no-holds-barred soul bearing, not for the heart-wrenching tales of my sordid history, not for the triumphant report of finally reaching super fabulousness after a long and lonely struggle. No no.

I got tagged for writing about cheese!

And you know what? I'm not surprised either! That cheese was phenomenal, and I highly recommend that y'all head over to Casellula sometime soon to try it before its gone. I actually wrote Casellula an email thanking them for the most amazing flavor I've ever tasted and Allen, the very sweet gentleman who served us our wine wrote me the following reply:

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Dear Miss Adventurous:

I'm so pleased you enjoyed your cheese, and its pairing! Our fromager, Tia Keenan, is responsible for discovering the cheese in Germany and for the pairing, and her assistant Jamie served it to you.

The cheese is called Bayrischer Blauschimelkase. It's a blue cow's milk cheese from Bavaria, Germany. Tia recently visited Germany and met many amazing cheese makers. We're excited to offer such little-known and beautifully made cheeses thanks to Tia's diligence in discovery.

We look forward to your next visit, and I'm forwarding your blog link to the staff so we can all enjoy your excitement!

We'll see you soon, I hope!

Best,
Allen Stafford

Casellula
cheese & wine cafe
401 W. 52nd Street, just west of 9th Avenue, Hell's Kitchen
212-247-8137
www.casellula.com

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PS - Old post about Rebecca that accidentally got left in draft form for a while. :)

Rendez-vous in midtown with cheese and chocolate on the side

I agreed to the date halfheartedly, since my mind is all over work and moving and dancing and Peanut's baby shower, which I regret to say I just don't have much of a hand in. I just can't get focused about anything that is not right in front of my face right now. It's stressful, because I am so very happy for Salty and I wish I could be with her during this exciting time in her life. I am trying to rally.

Anyway, I figured if nothing else I would have a nice evening (Date is great to talk to) and then get to bed early to rest up for dealing with apartment stuff the next day. So I agreed. But where should we go? What will we do? What should I wear?

Date said to wear a dress, comfortable, cute shoes, and to bring only my "bad self" to the corner of 52nd and 9th Avenue. Date would take it from there.

I got a little excited! I bought new comfortable, cute shoes for the occasion ($9 at the Laila Rowe) and painted my toenails! I spent time on my hair and tied a pretty scarf around my neck just so!

I never really dated before a few months ago. I didn't go on dates in high school, instead I hung out with groups of friends or just met up at someone's house. One guy I "dated" took me to the ballet to see The Nutcracker at my very insistent request. In college it was much the same; meeting at parties or getting together with guys and girls from my very large and somewhat incestuous group of friends. My little punk rock acolyte boyfriend took me to a concert and then to the Waffle House once. JH and I met through friends and almost immediately were living together. He took me on a few fancy dates in New Orleans (like when we got engaged), but never really of his own volition and always with some protest at not being able to wear a t-shirt and jeans. So yeah. I was excited to be told to wear a dress and meet at an unfamiliar corner in Hell's Kitchen! Yeah!

We met at a tiny restaurant that serves wine and cheese almost exclusively, save for a few salads and such. When I arrived the first thing Date said was, "You look...gorgeous!" I had my doubts about having wine and cheese for dinner but the conversation was excellent, the waitstaff pleasant, and the first glass of wine--a grapefruity Chardonnay--aromatic and brilliant. We selected a plate of five cheeses (Date let me choose) and coincidentally the server recommended a sparkling Shiraz for our second glass--we had talked on a prior meeting about the elusiveness of sparkling Shiraz in American establishments. It was delicious!

The cheese arrived with delicate slices of bread and each type was beautifully garnished with a complimentary flavored item; jam, mustard, white chocolate dipped gooseberries, and picked quail eggs.

The best though, no question, was this amazing German blue cheese served with wafer-thin slices of dark chocolate. It sounded kinda funny but when I put it in my mouth I was pleasantly surprised. I am telling the absolute truth when I say that a moment after this cheese and chocolate combination hit my tongue I felt a rush through my entire body. I actually shuddered unintentionally. My reaction was well received by Date, who told me to eat the rest of the blue cheese because it was more fun to watch me eat it than it was to actually taste it. Anyway I think Date liked the one with the quail eggs better.

We followed up with an earthy, chocolaty red wine (I don't remember what kind) and goat cheese hazelnut truffles. They were great, but did not compare to the exquisite blue and 70% cacao.

After an indulgent meal (and not at all cheap--I accidentally saw the bill) and a lovely dining experience Date insisted on having another drink. I was led to the Russian Vodka Room, which is exactly what it sounds like. Think Cold War. Think guy in a trenchcoat with a conspicuous newspaper and fedora. Date impressed me by ordering in Russian and I impressed right back by lauding my delicious martini in French. We sat in the back room and whispered secretively to each other across from a large party of giggling girls. It was fun playing spies! It was very romantic!

Date walked me to the train at Times Square and kissed me on the busy street, practically begging me not to go. I said thank you and reminded us both about my early plans the next day. With a smile and a wave I flitted off down the stairs.

Roots

I need to color my hair again... Every summer, without fail, my hair turns absolutely blonde in the sun. Not blonde enough to be cute; just blonde enough to be...well...not red anymore.

I color my hair because I feel more like me after it's done. I feel better, like I've solved a problem. Whether that problem is not liking the natural color or the white hairs that have been sprouting up since Katrina hit I just don't know. Either way, I love being a redhead, and most people agree that anything else just wouldn't fit me. And it's nice to have the option of sweeping those white hairs under the rug and pretending they don't exist. I'm only twenty-seven.

Anyway, I spent the evening last night with Aunt J and her sister, Auntie Triangle and Triangle's sixteen year old daughter who is remarkably smart and mellow and pleasant for her age. It was a nice relaxing evening with the ladies. It was just so incredibly good to be around family and feel... Oh my god, safe. Supported. Genuine care for my well being instead of just the object of casual passing interest.

We had a marvelous dinner at Miriam, then strolled the few blocks to Aunt J's spacious brownstone apartment, where we lounged with the dog and two cats and cable TV (oooh, TV!), quietly chatting into the night. Quietly chatting into the night is a favorite pastime of mine, one which I learned from my father's sisters. I used to enjoy a lot of this with my good friend Kelley in New Orleans....we would spend hours, making dinner for each other, drinking wine and just enjoying each other's company. Except for one particularly tranquil evening with Mama Squirrel, I haven't enjoyed too much of that kind of thing since I came to New York so it was really pleasant to be able to just relax with some family and chat the night away.

Talking with my aunts made me feel really good. It made me remember that I am not alone in this! I have this amazing network of strong women in my life who love and support me! It also made me really think hard about being a grown-up and taking responsibility for my own well being instead of just coasting through...which is a really easy pattern to fall into when you work as many hours as I do for so little.

So. Here's something pertinent to my well-being:

JH went to Europe. For four months. I still own that house with him...and he's renting the house out to some of his friends. I'm less than thrilled about the situation, but I've sort of resigned myself to it because I feel powerless about the whole thing: I'm not in Louisiana, I can't afford a lawyer, we don't even have much equity in the place to begin with.

The aunts put it all in perspective and encouraged me to pursue legal action while he's gone. I don't know if it will lead anywhere, but I have to try to get what's mine instead of just letting it go. I've been letting him control the situation just like I let him control me when I lived there, cowing to him just so I can keep things smooth between us, letting him convince me that I'm being a bitch if I stand up for what is rightfully mine. I am such a strong, outspoken, take-charge kind of woman; in retrospect it's amazing how much I let him control my every move.

Not long before Katrina, his friend Joe got arrested. Joe was a scruffy guy who worked odd jobs around the French Quarter; kind of a classic recovering gutterpunk; dropped out of high school, lived in a bad neighborhood with a pregnant girlfriend, just trying to make a living. JH met him while working at a coffee shop (before JH quit his job so I could support him for two years on a shopgirl salary). Joe got arrested because he happened to be very near to a tourist mugging not long after it occurred. He happened to fit a very generic description of a skinny white guy with long, dark hair, a goatee and a red hoodie (this describes half the white guys in New Orleans--the other half wear black hoodies). I always liked Joe and I absolutely believe that he didn't mug anyone; he's just one of those people....trouble seems to find him wherever he goes.

Anyway, after 90 days or so of jail, Joe's girlfriend had the baby and Joe got out on parole. I forget why, but for some reason the parole board needed $500 from him, and he had to pay them so he could stay out and work and be a good baby daddy. JH, who didn't work at this time, had no money to lend him. So JH turned to me and asked me to lend Joe the money.

I knew it was a bad idea. I knew it. I said no.

JH protested. He said Joe was our friend, and that we should help our friend out because we had the money and he didn't....and of course, it would be a loan. Joe would pay me back. I said no again. I only made about $400 a week. I paid all our rent, bought all our groceries. I was the breadwinner. JH did not work and got shitty grades; he had no right to tell me what to do with my money. And besides, JH would never get my money back for me...he's terrible about things like that.

Then JH told me I was being stingy, that I was always so selfish. It wasn't fair of me to be so selfish when our friend actually needed something that could change his life. JH assured me Joe would pay me back. He said we could write out a contract. We could have a third party witness to the contract. He said there was no good reason for me not to lend the money. He said I was being a bitch.

I caved. I lent the money. I never saw a red cent.