Hello? Is anyone there? I’m sorry that I can’t tweet and post and drum the requirements for scienter in my head all at once. Really. That isn’t some pithy e-card apology, it’s the truth, I miss you guys and I miss my weird eating habits. So, if anyone is there, understand that I almost couldn’t resist posting this before Thanksgiving because it’s so damned weird, so damned pretentious, and so damned delicious that it was a very difficult endeavor. Actually, I was up to my ears in analyzing corporate personhood, so, there’s that. Sorry. A million sorries. Enough sorries that your brain bleeds and starts to see the word sorry in a weird way and doesn’t associate it for what it is anymore. Neurology, amirite? Continue reading “Harmless Harvest 100% Raw Coconut Water Cinnamon & Clove”
The universe conspired against this post from the start. First, by introducing a drink at a time of year, what with climate change and all, that I’m tempted to call ‘Summer II: The Reckoning,’ Dunkin’ has failed before the eponymous holiday tree has hit the ground running. But, as both a red velvet aficionado and a staunch opponent of solid food, I soldiered on to my local Dunkin’ Donuts to try their new red velvet latte.
Continue reading “Dunkin’ Donuts Red Velvet Latte”
I went to sleep with two bottles of Riesling and now there’s Riesling on my breath and when I got out of bed this morning, my mouth was dry and by mistake, I banged my head on the headboard and tripped over my Birkenstocks and I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad hangover. At breakfast, the Bedfellow ate a Cortland apple and my Facebook friends posted photos of delicious brunch, but all I had was a cup of black coffee before I started to feel queasy. I think I’ll move to Paris and stop drinking. At the gym, I could only do twenty minutes on the elliptical and heave the kettle ball once before my stomach started hurting and the pretty people looked at me in the pretty gym clothes. I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad hangover. I don’t even know why they call them kettle balls.
Sometimes things don’t go as they’re planned. Moves. Relationships. Briefcases. Expos. What’s that? The first two were rom-com tropes, and the third and fourth are virtually unrelatable? It’s so much bigger than that. Please, allow me to extrapolate. The Bedfellow and I went to the Mohegan Sun BrewFest the other night. We went as members of the media (the casino supplied passes and food tokens), and halfway through the casino, strutting across the floor like kings, my new briefcase started to malfunction. The clasp has been failing, lately- it’s been breaking at inopportune moments, spilling my papers on the floor.
Last week, the internet sent me broken champagne flutes, a clutch, lipstick and hell. Hell in the form of a premium carbonated malt liquor by the name of Delicia. Delicia is new ladyjuice for the ladies, especially the ones who crave something a little more dangerous than champagne with more instructions than the Anarchist’s Cookbook.
Delicia comes in four flavors: red velvet, whipped (yes, just ‘whipped’, which you’ll be both if you purchase this and after you drink it), peaches and cream, and strawberries and cream. Of course, it was essential that we try red velvet as my goal of becoming 14% red velvet cake can only be achieved by ingesting it in liquid form. Delicia came with activities for my ladyfriends and I. Little did they know that Stila lipgloss only makes me look more like a low-budget Chaz Bono impersonator pre-Chazzing. The more you know!
Armed with an iTunes gift card and a studded clutch, which I like to imagine was hand-selected for me due to my sassy personality, the Bedfellow and I went about trying this. It took us a while. We were scared, unprepared to party, and not quite ready to experience the sultry bubbles of cream cheese frosting and copious red food dye. But some things, like awful teen blockbusters and traffic accidents, come together organically, so at 12:35PM this afternoon, in a dark warehouse of a studio apartment, we found ourselves duly prepared to rock out with our mock out.
Delicia is liquid Spring Breakers. It’s the kind of thing everyone will be talking about and be curious to try, but its disappointment is a special breed of cur, the likes of which will leave red streaks of dye on your fingers and the taste of Tootsie Roll and KoolAid hooch in your mouth. It’s so sugary it makes Coke look like a sensible diet solution- both the soda and the drug. It has a bitter, beerlike aftertaste and aggressive bubbliness, like Kristin Chenoweth. And for all that fuss- alcohol? Alca-who? The alcohol content on this is so far gone it’s on the walls outside Walmart under the ‘missing children’ section. A fifth grader couldn’t find the alcohol in this. In a sense, it is perfectly marketed- toward the women in the bar nobody wants to speak to. The ones from New Jersey or Boston with bubblegum in their cheeks like pink-hued chaw and an inch of caked-on eyeshadow. They’re drinking this.
And for all their pomp and circumstance about knocking someone’s mascaraed eye out of their socket with the cork popping, Delicia’s silky, sparkly outer liner reveals a hard, stubby screwcap. Disappointment abound, and another ladyexploring ladynight ruined by diabetes.
We’ll always have the party playlist, Delicia.
I’m working on embedding this in the post- damn you, Playlist! In the meantime, enjoy this text list.
1. David Bowie- Cat People
2. Gwen Stefani- Southside
3. Beats Antique- Oriental Uno
4. RJD2- Gypsy Caravan
5. The Doors- Alabama Song
6. Federico Aubele- Contigo
7. Serge Gainsbourg- Qui est in, qui est out
8. Beck- Sexx Laws
9. La Bouche- Be My Lover
10. Scissor Sisters- Laura
11. Moby- Run On
12. Billy Squier- Lonely is the Night
13. Kanye West- Runaways
I’ve been watching a lot of 30 Rock lately and, since this morning, when I witnessed Episode 318, ‘Jackie Jormp-Jomp,” I’ve come to the sobering and ultimately deadening conclusion that this summer has basically been one, long dizzy day in the life of a middle-aged divorcee. If I take one more charming, aimless drive in the middle of the afternoon to the countryside or spend one more hour at the hot tub in the health club or at some coffee shop, I’m going to need to add another therapist to my Fall 2013 lineup.
I think I’m ready for law school to start.
The most exciting thing I’ve done so far has been my nightly habit of a cocktail, coffee, and languid cruise around Petfinder, where I’ve submitted not one, but four applications for four separate Welsh Corgis who are desperately in need of a home, but, according to their rabid caretakers, not so desperate as to be placed in the carefully decorated one-bedroom apartment of a very well-dressed law student slash Casanova. Even though I asked multiple times, it does not give me any bonus points that I resemble a Welsh Corgi.
Adopting a dog is more difficult than getting reservations at Jose Andres’ minibar in the summer, when I expected it would be as easy as walking into a Burger King, or at the very least, Gabrielle Hamilton’s Prune. So, I’ve stuck to what I’m good at, which is making craft cocktails and coming up with cute names for other pudgy, short-statured creatures. In other news, you can all start calling me ‘Mutton,’ but my fallback is ‘Bark.’ Ladies and gentlemen, Rhubarb, from Art in the Age.
It’s fresh, very herbaceous and verdant in flavor, and was sent to me after I missed their summer launch party, which included fresh doughnuts. Zut! But I’ve made up for that by drinking it with everything, including homemade fresh mozzarella with orange olive oil and fleur de sel…
And sundried tomato orzo with Scarpetta pesto, the aforementioned mozz, mascarpone cheese, and proscuitto. It’s a wonderfully versatile mixer, and in the past few weeks, I’ve enjoyed experimenting with various sweet fruits and syrups: club soda, lingonberry syrup, Q grapefruit, lemon, and orange soda, fresh lime juice, and even Chai tea has gone marvelously with it.
The Foodette (aka, Picture Unrelated)
(Aka, No Internet)
Ingredients: 2,5 ounces of Rhubarb liquor, 1/2 cup of Q lemon soda, 1/2 cup of club soda, squeeze of lemon
Instructions: Shake Rhubarb over ice, strain, mix soda and lemon in. Drink immediately. Forget to take photos and have another cocktail.
Now come peanuts, and popcorn, and plenty of treats from day two of the Summer Fancy Food Show 2013! There were scorpions.
We started out the day on the second floor, bright and early, with this staring us in the face.
Fifty Shades of Kale? Not for me, although kale does strike me as a rather punish-y vegetable.
The lower floor was definitely more energetic and buzzing, though that could have also been due to sofi excitement and the groove of the show once everyone had their affairs in order. We started the day with pizza…
And more killer packaging. What?! I’m a sucker for handwritten labels and pretty jars.
It was definitely more slanted toward items I gravitate toward- shredded pork tacos from Frontera were a welcome respite amidst the sea of chocolate and ice cream.
Not that I’m complaining about ice cream, of course. After months of Facebook friendery with the good folks at High Road, we finally met in person and I was promptly given approximately twelve hundred bites of their perfect ice cream. The creme caramel with roasted rhubarb, apples, and mint was my favorite.
Sukhi’s chana masala wrap wasn’t new to us, but the smile was too cute to resist.
Dave’s Insanity introduced us to our new favorite friends, Fluffy and Mittens the scorpions!
We also ogled the $1,000 pasta sauce, with heirloom tomatoes, white truffles, and gold leaf, which could only taste good over butchered human flesh for such a price.
It was definitely a more upbeat day, and we brought home some incredible treats to share on the site.
This bee bar was one of the prettiest samples, from the Savannah Bee Company. It has caramelized honeycomb inside of it, but it’s almost too cute to eat. The ladies are illin’ for my bee bar, also. It is gorgeous.
And nothing made the Bedfellow happier than her bacon Bloody Mary, courtesy of McClure’s Pickles.
Despite being at the show from 9 to 5, staying to the bitter end when all the lights shut off, we ached our way over to Sir37, an event space close to the show for Food Fête. We were so full and tired from the day that we couldn’t sample as much as we’d have liked, but the party was a lot of fun and the product selection rocked.
Why, you ask?
Because HOLY MOTHER OF GOD, NEW FLAVORS OF FRUIT 2 O. Please understand that if the human body is 70% water, I’m 80% Fruit 2 O. Fruit 2 O now comes in watermelon and lemon cucumber, and I now come in ‘obsession’ flavor. It tastes like sweat and lust.
Day 2: The Reckoning
I dream that I have cheated on the juice fast and wake up in tears.
The setup: I’m doing three days of juice cleansing from three cold-pressed juice plans to prepare for the Fancy Food Show— Spoiler alert, I die at the end.
The budget: $50
The schedule: I’m awake from approximately 12 in the afternoon to 2AM as I’m off from work for the week. During the day, I work out, eat, write, vigorously— exercise in the privacy of my own home, ball so hard motherfuckers wanna fine me, and take long baths. I have fifteen juices for the three days and am going to drink one every two hours, starting at 12, and going from there, at 2PM, 4PM, 6PM, and 8PM, ending my eating at 8PM for the night. I will do a diary entry every two hours. No coffee, alcohol, or refined sugars.
12PM: Starting the day right with a bottle of freshly squeezed orange juice from Evolution Fresh, who graciously helped me with my first day of juices. It’s classic, it’s delicious, and it makes my heart sing. Oh, wait, I can’t drink coffee. That’s not juice. Suddenly, I’m less pleased, and also, my head hurts.
Later, I am told I woke up the Bedfellow in the middle of the night with requests for custom-designed, enormous burgers with four to five layers of meat. Also, all my dreams have meatballs in them.
2PM: I fell into a deep, lethargic sleep at 12:05 after downing the first orange juice. I have awakened now, dreams of packages, exclusive women’s summer camps, dead brown bears, and warped hardwood floors replete in my mind. It is as if my internal clock knows when to alert me to my next juice.
My mid-afternoon juice is Super Green. I’m not sure if it’s a green juice, but it does have pieces of chlorella, spirulina, and the power of 28 raspberries in it. It is sweet, with a thin texture, and it makes me want to get up and work out. I work out for twenty minutes and then hit the pool. Each accidental sip of chlorinated water makes me feel fuller.
4PM: Something tells me I shouldn’t drive. But the Mango + Fiber tastes so, so good. It reminds me of a Fresh Samantha. Who acquired Fresh Samantha, anyway? It might have been Odwalla. And they sell Odwalla at some Starbucks locations. And Fresh Evolution is sold at Starbucks. Maybe the juices are similar. They taste like childhood. I took another nap today.
6PM: I’m sweating like the grossest baby alive. The orange juice grew on me. I drank it in the shower and cried a little. It made me happy to realize that it was 7PM when I wrote this, which meant it was a little less than an hour until my next feed.
8PM: I watched the Bedfellow eat a cheeseburger and keened quietly on the bed. And then I finished my sweet greens and lemon drink. I didn’t like it the first time I tried it outside of the cleanse, but once it dawned on me that it was my only form of sustenance, I liked it again. I’m developing the Stockholm Syndrome equivalent to juice cleansing. One day down.
I love you, sweet greens and lemon.
CALORIC TOTAL: 1,060
My drink preferences change about as often as my hair style, which is to say, never. Yes, as long as the sun shines down on my queercut, so shall I gladly guzzle down a gin and tonic or an Arnold Palmer. The rest can go screw. Or dump themselves down a drain, whichever diss is more injurious to inanimate beverages. Agua Enerviva, a new energy drink designed by two of the higher-ups at Vitamin Water, sent me their line of beverages and I gladly picked this one out of the bunch.
First, a disclaimer. These are technically not Vitamin Waters, but they do have the same bottle shape and design, very similar flavors, and similar nutritional content. That being said, what AE has that Vee-dubs does not is the addition of guarana, for energy and the ability to sound very, very extreme when you mention it in passing to your coworkers.
“Hey, Jess, can you cover my 1PM appointment?”
“Noperino, fellow coworker, I’m too busy siz-ipping on my guarana beverage.”
– cordially brought to you by the department of Things that Have Never Been Said
The other four flavors of Vitamin Water didn’t compel me like this one, as I love both maté and lemonade. Unfortunately, this wasn’t as well-conceived as I wanted it to be. Maté, as a flavor, is typically strong and earthy, not unlike a good coffee or green tea, with a grassy aftertaste. With lemonade, I figured it would have a sweeter flavor, again, not unlike a gourmet riff off the Arnold Palmer.
This has the right idea, but it’s terribly bland with a monolithic sweetness. The tea flavors are condensed to a mild wheatiness at the end of each sip, the predominant flavor is that of Crystal Light with extra sugar, peevishly acidic and persistent as the commentary of one Mr. Roger Ebert, may he rest in peace. Agua Enerviva has potential, but for now it’s simply playing the role of Affectionate Parody and is missing the mark.