Asheville, too little, too late. I could have spared myself the agony of returning to Hartford and the inevitable persistence of adult responsibilities, numerous rejections from law firms, and my parents, and just stayed there forever, working as a potter or a community organizer or something with a vague title and a paycheck. But here I am, and here is Asheville. 
Continue reading “Road Trip III: Asheville to Hartford”
Month: August 2014
Caramel Apple Oreos
I’m home. Oh, god, I’m home. And instead of summery lemon and fruit Oreos or whimsical Rice Krispie cookies, we’re slammed with some back to school shenanigans of caramel apple. Apples are for teachers. Caramel is for jerks. The two combined include schedules, grades, and more curves than a poorly angled photo on Tinder. However, Caramel Apple Oreos might be pretty tasty. The internet has been all abuzz about these and at my local treacherous Target today, I found them, right next to the school supplies.
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Road Trip II: Atlanta to Asheville
Atlanta is a clever city- a combination of hilly Seattle and the funkier parts of Brooklyn. I stayed right in the center of downtown and meant to try some Southern delicacies, but was so impressed with the cocktails that I decided to do a little bar-hopping instead.
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Road Trip I: Rogers to Atlanta
Yesterday’s drive was more painful than today’s. I ended up in Alabama, leaving Arkansas at 4:35AM without looking back. I stopped at a gas station just past the Tennessee border and was rewarded with a peach after pumping. I asked for the prettiest one and the cashier said, “Ain’t no peach in there prettier than you, miss.” I was wearing a patched denim vest, a beater, and rolled up khakis. Compliments are better than hugs.
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10 in 30: Top Eats in Arkansas, Month 3
I’m reluctantly counting down the days- how did this month, much less this summer, go by so damned quickly? I leave Friday at 8AM, and the next time you hear me run my mouth, it’ll be from Birmingham, Alabama. Holy cow. Without further ado, my last top ten from Arkansas. You run deep in me.
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Dreaming Cow Blueberry Cardamom Yogurt
Please, please, please don’t make me leave Arkansas. It’s a secret prayer to the complete and beautifully blanketing anonymity of the internet, where you are a stranger to all but your closest family and friends, a few bosses, and 7 billion random people. I’m sorry that people think it’s a flyover state. I’m sorry that I even know that phrase because I went to a Jason Aldeen concert of my own volition and I liked it, and I’m sorry that I still have a billion restaurants to try and not nearly enough time left in the world. By next Friday I’ll be in Memphis or somewhere in the Northern part of Alabama and fuck those places, because they’re not Arkansas, employment, or a place where I can stay more than a night.
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The Seven Best Desserts in Las Vegas
True story, I love dessert. I don’t like sweet things, but I love dessert. And I went batshit in Las Vegas, going on an epic dessert tour before my actual dinners, culminating in a humiliating bout of tears into my Chilean seabass and gin and tearing up all the sugar on and off the Strip. Still, totally worth it. Note that some of these were comped, thanks to the magic and goodwill of Twitter, and some of these were paid for. Each is designated below.
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Three Michelin Stars, Table for One: Joël Robuchon, Las Vegas, NV
When you laugh, the world laughs with you. When you dine alone at a three Michelin star restaurant, the world is cold. It started when I stepped in the limo, the sky unusually dark for a hot Vegas night. Sitting in the back, the car was familiar, tastefully gilded in a sea of black. Leg room and Fiji water for the taking. Silent. In traffic, I looked out onto the people, close enough to touch, and I knew they couldn’t see me watching. 
The dignity of lingering in the atrium, watching the lights go on and off in the villas at the private mansion entrance is offset by a gentle hand at your elbow as you are seated in the lounge. They expected a party of two and are modifying a table, a plush velvet banquette in purple and gold, very Deco Paris. You can ask women to do many things with you in Vegas, but none of them will accompany you to dinner. On the plus side, now you have more elbow room. It is my last evening in Las Vegas, and I am dining at Joël Robuchon. Continue reading “Three Michelin Stars, Table for One: Joël Robuchon, Las Vegas, NV”
Lunchables Breakfast Pancake Bacon Dippers and Cinnamon Roll Dippers
I am a child trapped in the body of a child with the brain of a Sartrian scholar, the breasts of an aging woman, and constant headaches. Thus, it makes perfect sense that at 11AM, I should be vapidly picking at Lunchables Breakfast selections after my morning coffee and commute. I picked up two varieties, Pancake Bacon Dippers and Cinnamon Roll Dippers, and instead of trading them for five Fruit Roll-Ups and a bag of crushed Doritos, I decided to consume a small part of them and then spend the rest of the day regretting it. This is surely an indicator of adulthood.
According to Lunchables lore, aka, the wikipedia page that appears to be updated by one person, the carrier of the legend, Superwarrior5000. Bless you, good sir. Apparently Lunchables had an ill-fated breakfast back in the 90’s, so let’s prepare this article for its future fifteen minutes of Buzzfeed fame, ’45 things from the 90’s that you didn’t really miss but vaguely remember and will reblog for the sake of nostalgia and peer pressure.’ Hop-a! Continue reading “Lunchables Breakfast Pancake Bacon Dippers and Cinnamon Roll Dippers”