I was looking through my pictures today and realized I take a lot of pictures of food and booze. I like food and booze.. a lot. I want to reminisce...
Right now my favored vodka is Belvedere. I bounce back and forth between Belvedere and Grey Goose. I really like Vox, but can't keep it at home because the bottle is too big and I tump it over ("tump" is not a typo). I don't like to drink at home, because it makes me feel like Martha in Who's Afraid of Virgina Woolf. Then I have to prance around imitating Elizabeth Taylor imitating Bette Davis, squawking "What a dump." It all gets too confusing. (btw: my favorite quote from that movie is when Nick says: "I'm tired, I've been drinking since nine o'clock, my wife is vomiting, there's been a lot of screaming going on around here!")
My husband has a fantasy that I'll meet him at the door with two gallons of martinis, like Samantha did on "Bewitched". Is it really prudent to be drinking like that when you can cause armageddon with the twitch of your nose? But I digress...
There's no Sonic in our city. The closest Sonic is over a hundred miles away. The result of that is I have romanticized Sonic. Every time I see a national commercial, I whimper. There are certain times of the month when I think it's perfectly reasonable commute. When we do go, we share tots, and I get a Chili Frito Burrito (mainly because I like to say "Frito Burrito"), and a Cherry Limeade. I view Sonic like a booty call. The food is satisfying, but I know it's not good for me, and I feel cheap and greasy afterwards.
And as long as we're talking about being a greasy whore, I might as well confess to this:
Chicken fried steak. I make it every once in a moo-moon. It's one of the few things I make at home, that I think is much better than I can find in any restaurant. I add cayenne and a pinch of cinnamon and a prayer. Afterwards we cramp and curse. It's a full evening.
Back to liquor. When we lived in New Orleans, you could drive through and get a gallon of frozen liquor. I'm almost certain that God intended liquor to be served in this manner. Let me see... yes, right here - "Thou shalt receive all manner of delicious beverage in one gallon goblet whilst idling." Cointreau 4:20
I love oysters. Any kind of oysters. We live in an area with a variety we can choose from. I like them briny. I also miss Gulf oysters as big as your tongue. Squeeze of lemon and too much horseradish is the way I go.
For added ambiance get oysters with people that don't eat seafood. Their gagging is a close match for the sound of crashing waves. Just adds a little something.
I was just looking for a photo of coffee, but this one that includes the shot of the doughnut has the added benefit of luring bbd in to rant about the evils of coconut. I love coffee. Stupidly so. I prefer my own brew. Oh it's thick. It's evil. People fight over the end piece.
I have a strange attraction to oddly colored buttercream frosting. I'm the one that wants to cut into the flowers first on the sheetcake. That being said, my current dessert obsession is tres leches:
We recently discovered a place that makes perfect tres leches. It's a roll of the dice if they'll have some left when you go. This adds to my compulsion. We have to get it when they have it, because next time they might not have it.. and then what... THEN WHAT?!
You might find it interesting (no you won't) that I'm a vegetarian. I am so for health reasons, so I can cheat without feeling some kind of bovine guilt uddering down on me. For all you vegetarians out there, please feel free to eat chicken, they're just complicated cauliflower.
I'm also trying to lose weight. I'm sure this has something to do with my food picture taking. I'm eating you with my eyes. That sounded a little inappropriate.
I haven't even touched on my variety of martini pictures, my pictures of the two cakes I accidently bought for Daniel's birthday last year, the mass quanities in my photo blog of donuts... and the cookies... MY GOD THE COOKIES. But I'm going to stop here, because I'm sure you're full.
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The host was under the table because the Cointreau was dripping down between the crack for the table extension, and he felt it would be a shame to let it go to waste.
I felt you might appreciate the effort to preserve a holy water, hopefully my faith was not misplaced...
Now twitch me up some martinis :)
Yes, I'd be snuffling under the table too.
You've made me crave it. It's such a summertime food.
Vodka: yes. But it should be spelled 'volkda" silent l. And while we are at it, "hello" to friends should be spelled "hellow".
cake.
Thelonius Monk martini. Ask me, and I will tell.
Oysters. Yes. Raw, especially. Lightly, delicately, gingerly, tenderly pan fried - oh yes. Gag while I eat them and you can be my BFF. Horseradish in my nose = nosegasm.
I'm from the rural midwest, so we do biscuits and sausage gravy vs. chicken fried steak. Same dog, different fleas.
Haggismold you just totally rock.
I mix mine with OJ so that I don't feel so guilty when I am drinking before 5 p.m. or after 11 p.m.
And Sonic....I think there is one around here, but I prefer my Sonic during SCA road trips in North Carolina. I like that they have blue drinks.
(why didn't you show the pic of the oyster sauce and horseradish all over your face?)
:: heeeeeve ::
Lhord I hate cocoanut
warning: don't click on that, it's just for T&D. Not really seashore-y btw
But now I want oysters!
When we lived in Dallas, we never ate at Sonic. We would get on cherry limeade kicks during their happy hour. It's just once we moved, we had this horrible yearning for foot long coneys (Daniel is no longer allowed to eat foot long coneys in an enclosed space with me -- you don't want to know the details).
The tres leches is at Senor Moose Cafe. They also have real mole. And hand hacked guac. And the most wonderful little salsas.
Here's their website url: http://senormoose.com/
If you want to see more badly lit pictures, click on the above pic of tres leches. That will bring you to my flickr photostream. I took several pictures of our dinner there that day. The margaritas will make you go thud there.
(Another good authentic Mexcian food place is Freida's in Bothell. It's in the pointy end of Bothell, so really, it's in Lynwood. We have yet to find a good Tex-Mex place.)
I live in a town where the eating of tofu is mandated by law. Not only is it not PC to visit the local KFC (hmmm...someone's going there, it's been there for years), you become a social outcast if you admit to the occasional Big Mac.
Someone explain to me why the local Taco Bell is the busiest one in the nation.
Hint: College town and Bongs.
Pretty much, Skeptic. Except we don't drink "bourgon".
Actually, I found that my facebook profile is about an 80% ratio of me talking about either the last thing I've eaten or the next thing I'm going to eat.
And it's "coconut" bbd. No chocolate can be found in that furry brown bowling ball.
There is a Sonic between here and Flagstaff and we typically stop there along the way. The Coneys call me (what do they call me? slut, whore, the usual) and I eat them up yum, and then burp them all day but it's worth it. Gots to have the Coneys.
If I ever get to Seattle, we're drinking, young woman. But I want to dye my hair some outlandish color first so I can be totally pissed and talk to everyone about it.