Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category

If I Ever Married a Burger…

Thursday, June 9th, 2011

I have good news and bad news, friends. The good news is that Janet and R2 have safely found their way back stateside! The bad news is that eating their way across Japan for two weeks means they have two weeks worth of stuff to catch up on. Wizzomp womp! Never fear, I’m here to tide you over until Janet can regale us with whimsical tales of her motherland.

I also have a confession! I told Janet I was going to post this while she was actually in Japan, but instead I’ve been working on a secret for MTFB, a secret that not even Janet herself knows! Anyway, I’m glad I got that off my chest.

Let’s get to the topic at hand: The burger I would marry, if ever it was legal. Feast your eyes above on the Behemoth, courtesy of the Grill ’em All Truck, winner of The Great Food Truck Race: a 7oz. burger fixed with cheddar, bacon, beer battered onions (!), pickles , Grandma’s Mosh Pit BBQ sauce, and…. wait for it… grilled cheese buns. Just in case you didn’t catch that last part, this burger uses grilled cheese sandwiches in place of buns. In. Place. Of. BUNS. Lemme hit you with a close up.

Nommy McNom NOM, loyal readers! I was the first to admit that this was one of those things that I could die from (I told my coworker she could have my stapler in the event of my death), that perhaps I should even consult my doctor prior to tackling this monster… but first and foremost I am here for the sake of hard-hitting journalism, so I threw caution to the wind and bit in.

What GLORY! JOY! EUPHORIA! I was instantly in a state of bliss, wildly giddy and ready to shout from the rooftops that I would make this burger my wife. It’s like, you know when you have the PERFECT grilled cheese sandwich? Delightfully crispy on the outside, with ooey, gooey cheese on the inside? Now think of two of those. Almost like your dreams have come true and you’ve met twins that you love equally. But WAIT! Put a burger between them (the grilled cheeses, not the twins), dressed up in its finest bacon and bbq sauce. BAM! It’s a mind-blowingly perfect combination of all the tastiest bad things in life. I thought the Krispy Kreme chicken sandwich was good, but holy moly!

Honestly, I was ready to declare my quest for the perfect burger had finally ended. I had searched high and low for years and at last, found it on a food truck. And then I realized I could never marry this burger, if only because I had already eaten most of it. I made the most of the situation by eating the rest of it, despite the fact that I felt like maybe I actually was going to die. It might’ve been worth it!

Anyway, if you’re feeling daring enough to try this finely crafted tower of deliciousness, hunt down the Grill ’em All truck via their twitter or if you’re in West LA, keep an eye on the Westside Food Truck Central lot in Culver City, as that’s where I first met the Behemoth.

Grill ’em All Truck
At a parking spot near you

Top 10 Posts of TWENTY DIME!

Friday, December 31st, 2010

AHA! Thought you’d sneak by and end the year without hearing from me again? Sorry friend(enemy?), but you’re out of luck. Janet is busy doing important work pertaining to the real world so I’ve been asked to step up and close out the year by rounding up the top 10 posts of 2010. I’m drunk with the sheer power of it! Or you know, just drunk. Anyway, I present to you, our faithful readers, Twenty Dime’s top 10 posts!

1. Bootie: Without a doubt the best post EVAR that fulfills the “More Than” part of MTFB, with probably the best aminal pic skills to date. R2 commented, “It’s a quintessentially creative synthesis of two of my favorite things – MTFB and the Boot – and a reflection of my two favorite ladies.” Well said!

2. Fucking ENCOUNTER restaurant: Because when else were we gonna get the chance to eat there?! Verdict: Go for the free short-term parking… stay if you want to miss your flight.

3. Susiecakes vs. Kara’s: Because we understand that choosing the right cupcakery is serious business, and the last thing we want is for our readers to be paralyzed with indecision. Also, because I am unabashedly proud of my/our first foray into macro food pics.

4. Portland Report(land): A giant crab. A City of Books. Voodoo Doughnut. Baby octopi. And The Beginning of the End. I guess Oregon isn’t just about bowling and Chocobeer.

5. Iguanas Burritozilla: Because it’s a story of the future… and the past! More importantly, it’s proof that I actually contribute to MTFB. And because I ate nearly 3lbs of burrito in one sitting. I hurt just thinking about it.

6. Espana Part II: Toledo: Between the two of them, R2 and Janet nominated almost all the parts of the Spain series for top 10 status. I didn’t go to Spain, so what’s a guy to do but pick the one with castles? Because castles are effing cool, amiright?! Seriously though, you should read all of the Spain posts here. Muy Bueno.

7. Segway Tour of San Francisco: Because you haven’t experienced San Francisco until you’ve seen it from atop a Segway named Special Sauce.

8. Raku: Because you know it’s good when Janet spends an entire paragraph describing just the tofu. And because it’s apparently the first time “Janet = warm & fuzzy & feeling like a real blogger.” Taste the happy!

9. Lemon Blender Pie: Because what good is a food blog if we don’t occasionally throw in a recipe now and then? This one is SUPER easy!

10. Alembic: Because it’s the top post that should have made the top 10 posts of 2009 but was written in 2010. And because not everything goes right in foodie land, no matter how much you love the pink quail eggs.

There you have it! Please remember that today is the last day you can refer to the current year as “Twenty Dime”, so try to drop it into every sentence you use. I’ve found that whispering it creepily at the end has been astoundingly effective. Rumor has it that we’re going to make a push to call next year Twenty Chop (because the 11 looks like a pair of chopsticks), so keep an eye out for that, too. And now Janet and I (and the rest of the MTFB team of contributors) wish you a safe and happy New Year!

Guest Post 1(d): Homemade Pop Tarts

Monday, June 21st, 2010

Roasty Toasty

This is post 1(d) for Daniel being gone this time, get it?!  Hahaha so clever?!?!?!  Ok fine.

I have recently become obsessed with another food blog (blasphemous, I know).  In my defense, it focuses only on recipes (rather than restaurants) that the blog owner likes then makes and perfects before putting them up with beeeeeoooootiful pictures.  A few weeks ago, a post popped up on my Google Reader that caught my attention right away: homemade POP TARTS!! OMG!!!1!

I luuuurve pop tarts.  Fave flavors=frosted strawb and brown sugar cinnamon, of course.  I think they are far superior to Toaster Strudel, that evil, floppy-even-when-toasted twin that tastes strongly of oil and burns your mouth with its lava-hot, overly runny filling.  Anyway.  Pop tarts.  I think they’re awesome even when not toasted, but some people think they are a bit too hard and chalky when cold.   Thus, the excitement when I came across this recipe that claimed to be the perfect compromise between a pastry and a pop tart.

These pop tarts came into fruition about two weeks ago.  I made them on a Sunday morning and I was looking forward to them so much.  But let me tell you, they were a pain in the butt to make!  It took me almost two hours to get them in the oven.  Probably because I decided to make mini pop tarts with four different fillings: raspberry jam, brown sugar cinnamon, white chocolate macadamia, and parmesan black pepper. First up: preparing the fillings.

Om nom nom.  Jam tendrils.

I made minuscule amounts of each since the recipe only makes around 16 2″ x 3″ pop tarts.  For the jam filling, you just cook the jam down with some cornstarch and then strain the seeds (skip this step if you have seedless jam) and let it cool.  The other fillings are pretty self-explanatory–mix brown sugar, cinnamon, and some flour; cheese and pepper; and chop up white chocolate and macadamia nuts.  I set aside my pretty bowls of fillings and started on the dough.

This dough has SO. MUCH. BUTTER.  Well, only one stick.  But it seemed ridiculous when I pulled them out of the oven and the butter in the dough had oozed out all over the pan.  You can even see it in my crappy iPhone pictures, see?  More on that later.

Ok, maybe it’s not that obvious.  Look closely for glisteny bits.

So, the dough.  You make the dough and then roll it out into two rectangles of 9″ x 12,” which you then cut into your desired amount of pop tart rectangles.  I had some issues rolling my pizza cutter in a straight line, so some p-tarts were a bit wonky and small, but whatevs.  Then you brush one set of tarts with egg wash, spoon filling in, cover with the other side, and use a fork to crimp the edges and poke holes in the top for steam escape-age.

So raw.  So real.

I had some issues with the dough being suuuuper sticky, but not sticking together when I tried crimping it?  Weird and annoying.  But I put sugar on the jam tarts and pepper on the parmesan ones and they looked soooo cute when I was ready to put them in the oven!  BUT WAIT.  Must refrigerate for 30 minutes (arbitrary, much?  why is this necessary?).  So, after waiting 30 more minutes, in which time I stuffed my face with lunch, I popped them in the oven and waited for happiness to emerge.

Let me give you a warning: do not make these after you’ve had a fatty meal.  I had just eaten leftover chicken madeira from Cheesecake Factory (if you’ve never had it, it’s chicken with some sort of eggy coating covered in mozzarella and madeira sauce) and by the time the pop tarts came out of the oven, the sheer amount of butter in them made me gag a little.  I tried a bite of each kind, and was HUGELY underwhelmed.  The recipe just didn’t quite work out.  The pastry was wayyy too overwhelming and I hadn’t put enough filling in some of the tarts.  The best was the jam filling, but it still wasn’t great.  Maybe I just was too full to appreciate them?  In any case, they keep for a week in an airtight container, so I waited a few days and tried again.  Better, but still not nearly up to par with the original pop tart.  CRY.  These babies are still in the tupperware on my counter, untouched beyond my exploratory nibbles.  Disappointing, overall, especially because every recipe I’ve tried from that other food blog has been fantastical.  These were so un-fantastical that I didn’t even want anyone to taste them.


Fast forward to tonight, when I was watching The Best Thing I Ever Ate: Sweet Tooth on Food Network and one of the things was a pop tart from Michael’s Genuine in Miami Beach.  They looked sooo good so I might try to make these puppies again.  However, I would use my favorite pie crust recipe (that’s a bomb-ass apple pie, btw) and try to make a fresh fruity-jammy filling of some sort.  And fill the crap out them.  And roll the dough out super thin so it’s not overwhelming.  And not make mini tarts so I can get enough filling in there.  I guess I have to make them again!  Or I could make the super-secret-super-delish recipe for Sour Cherry Pie that I got from my cousin’s gf that she hasn’t shared in 15 YEARS but she shared it with ME.  Damn, I’m special.

Homemade Pop Tarts
Recipe can be found

Life is Like a Box of Chocolates…

Friday, June 11th, 2010

..but hopefully not this one. Unlike Janet, I am a huge Sweets fiend. Growing up, my aunt who lived in Las Vegas also owned a bakery and we would get all manner of free baked goods whenever we were there (like once a month AT LEAST). Endless maple donuts, chocolate eclairs, brownies, cookies… EVERYTHING. My aunt even taught me how to decorate cakes, and when they retired the bakery, I inherited a bunch of piping bags and tips… I digress. The point is I love me some sweets and am willing to try some crazy shit like putting chipotle hot sauce on a mini dark chocolate hershey bar. TASTY! Except I only like experimenting with flavor combos when I consent to the experimentation (NO MEANS NO!). I once ate one of those gourmet chocolate bars with crystallized ginger and hated it, but I knew what I was getting into.

Enter this unassuming tray of chocolates pictured above. They were sitting out on the table at my parents’ house and no one else was home when I happened upon them. My mom often gets random treats and such from coworkers and families of the babies she takes care of as a nurse, and she just leaves them out for us to deal with. The last set she had brought home was a box of gourmet Belgian white chocolates. DELISH! I should’ve been warned by the number of chocolates left, but I was too excited and popped an entire chocolate in my mouth.

I chewed it once and then started to feel tears gathering in my eyes. OH THE BURNING! Sadly the tears were not a product of finally tasting the most delectable piece of chocolate. NOPE. What I’d just eaten was a wasabi infused white chocolate my mom had brought back from her recent trip to Korea. And I’d eaten it all in one bite. I gasped from the intense burning/flavor filling my mouth and glared at the chocolates.

I don’t even know if I can describe it, because all I could think was DO NOT WANTTTTTTTTTT!!!

do not want

But if you want to know what it’s like for yourself, the easy solution is to bring a piece of white chocolate with you the next time you go out for sushi. Take a butter knife and use it to slather a generous glob of wasabi on your precious piece of white chocolate and eat it all at once. Remember to write down your thoughts and post them in the comments, because I sure as hell don’t care to try it again.

Anyway, this entire post was just an excuse for me to let you know that Tinx will be dropping in sometime next week to guest post while I’m out on vacation: LA – San Juan, Puerto Rico – Willemstad, Curacao – Oranjestad, Aruba – Roseau, Dominica – Charlotte Amalie, St. Thomas – San Juan – LA and then a few days before ending the whirlwind in Vegas. MTFB seems to have a penchant for Spanish speaking countries. I’ll be back in July, so don’t think you’ve finally gotten rid of me.

Guest Post #2: Matchbox DC

Tuesday, May 25th, 2010

This is it! The last guest post! The big finale before Janet returns! Mayhaps I should’ve guest posted before Tinx since her post has already received rave reviews. I shoulda known she would bring the heat with her fire hair (especially considering her food obsession). Of course this isn’t a competition, but I want to impress Janet with my skillz or else she may never let me post again. Fortunately, I have a secret weapon at my disposal and I am prepared to whip it out at a moment’s notice. Excited yet?

What is this weapon, you ask? Bacon. But not just any bacon. Bacon draped over a cocktail. Skeptical? Let me explain…

TyTy, Will, and I were recently in DC for a Big Gay Vacay. After a night on the Town, I awoke to a text from Ratch: “A bunch of my friends from high school are doing brunch at a jazz place in eastern market you guys should come!” I check the time. 9 AM!? Why the hell am I awake??? Hungover, yet determined to have one final delicious brunch before catching our flight home, we leaped (rolled) out of bed and sprinted (dawdled) over to Matchbox.


Brunch at Matchbox is served every Saturday and Sunday starting at 10 AM and ending at 3 PM which is great news if you’re in DC – because chances are if it’s the weekend, you are hungover. Matchbox also serves up live jazz music during these hours which made me feel really fancy despite the fact that I was wearing the same shirt as the night before.

My first impression was a good one when I opened the menu to a full page of Bloody Marys. It was love at first sight! Nothing could possibly get me down now. Then I discovered something amaaaazing. What was this!? A Bloody Mary garnished with bacon!? Screw celery sticks! This was the gold standard!

I was overcome with excitement. Will and Ty looked at me with judging eyes so I explained that the best hangover cure is a drink! My powers of persuasion overtook Ty and he ordered a Mimosa, thus validating my decision to be a total alky.

Behold the Nectar of the Gods

It was as delicious as you might imagine. The perfect Bloody Mary mix with a hint of bacon – garnished with more bacon. It was well balanced, not over-spiced at all. I hate taking a sip of a Bloody Mary and getting nothing but salt and pepper at the bottom. I wasn’t quite sure how to go about it so I just improvised. I would nom on some bacon and then chase it with some BM. Suffice it to say, this was a damn good way to kickoff brunch. Ty also approved of the Mimosa.

Next came food. I continued to explore the menu when chorizo caught my eye. Nothing says brunch like pig entrails, right!? Right. My vegetarian sister would be so proud. I ordered the cast iron chorizo and manchego egg tortilla made with chorizo and eggs stuffed in homemade ciabatta and brushed with garlic butter.

One word: Delicious. The ciabatta and chorizo combo worked surprisingly well together. The bread tasted fresh and homemade which made this even more scrumptious. The whole thing was a joy to eat. For some reason the brunch potatoes were covered in grease as if they had been scraped up from the bottom of a heap. I still ate them, and they were still delicious.

Will decided to go fruity and ordered the fresh fruit salad made from honey-orange greek yogurt, granola, and honey whipped cream.

Berrylicious Fruit Salad

This basically sounded like a fancy yogurt parfait to me, but when I stole a bite I was pretty impressed. The berries were ripe and I could tell that the whipped cream was freshly whipped. I wouldn’t personally order this for brunch, but if this is your style it was a pretty good value at just 6 bucks.

Perhaps in an effort to prove his manliness after the parfait, Will also ordered a bacon burger. Full after his fruity salad, he took the burger to go. Unfortunately, the burger later became a casualty of airport security when we were late for our flight and frantically dumped all banned items (along with TyTy’s $200 in fancy toiletries – a gay nightmare). A picture is all that remains:

RIP Bacon Burger

After all that sacrifice, we still missed the flight. Pretty devastating.

Overall, the Matchbox experience was a great one! When you’re there, don’t forget to grab a Matchbox matchbox on the way out! So clever…

Matchbox Capitol Hill
521 8th St, SE,
Washington, DC 20003

Guest Posts Post

Wednesday, May 12th, 2010

me:  what’s a good photo for the guest posts post
Daniel:  I am sewing
Sewingsewingsewing is my life
I think you should draw stick figures

Sewing IS his life, akshully.  He made a goddamn hoodie from scratch just using his brain.  I’m sure he’ll blog about it … hopefully sometime before the next baby is born.

I’m not willing to chance it, though, and I’m off to a crazy trip: LA-London-Madrid-Toledo-Barcelona-Mallorca-London-LA.  I shan’t be back till June, so I’m using gratefully inviting Tinx (the one on the left with the stilettos) and DJ Deer to guest blog while I’m gone.  I also got Daniel to commit to at least one post per week while I’m gone, so that makes four.

I will mees you!  I promise to bring back stories and tales of many Spanish noms.

Supperclub San Francisco

Sunday, February 21st, 2010

It’s pink cuz the whole place was bathed in pink light for V-day <3.

Me, a blogger: “How would you describe this place?”  R2, a professional writer: “Dinner theatre where dinner is the theatre?  An establishment that wears its lack of inhibition on its sleeve – if it were wearing sleeves…or any clothes at all for that matter?”

Good, good.  For Valentime’s day R2 surprised me with quite the extravaganza at Supperclub SF.  Despite reservations, we waited forever just simply to get in, but that didn’t matter.  Because  in the hallways as we waited there were (a) bathtubs and silk nests containing boy-girl and boy-boy combos of scantily-clad hot people making out nonstop – with TONGUE OMG!  (b) amuse bouches – too dark to see, but I think it was a potato chip with some sort of aioli with a dollop of caviar on top.  Plus, (c) the reason for the holdup was because each guest was treated to two minutes or so of banter by the greeters – a smokin’ hot glamourpuss named Asia and Miss B – a drag queen with the tightest ass and sexiest stems I’ve ever seen (better than mine WTF).  They teased R2 for being too buttoned up, squealing “show us your chest hair!” and unbuttoning his shirt. Except R2 doesn’t really have chest hair so there was disappointed awkwardness all around.

We were assigned to “Couch 22” and ushered into a bar area which had some of the most Janetastic cocktails (all with elderflower or cucumber or prosecco, my faves).  I was fretting because it was unclear to me how or when we would be shown to our actual table/couch, so if you go – don’t worry.  Everyone gets seated all at once, since its more like a dinner show than a restaurant.

I should have known this, because my sister’s boyf joined the Supperclub SF group on Facebook, and being the stalker that I am, had noticed this and checked it out a couple months ago.  I think I forgot about it because I had dismissed it as a place that was too cool for me to ever go to.

The concept is – well, just read the second two sentences in this post and you’ll get an idea.  Also their website.  Also, the description of their food, which is only one part of it:

Be your own guinea-pig. Taste what you’ve never tasted before. Food at supperclub tickles your heart and caresses your soul. Then deliberately humiliates dogmas like ‘le cordon blue’ [sic] to shock your taste buds with new flavors. Be your own guinea-pig; delete your culinary expectations and open up to the unexpected: new seasonings, new combinations, new tastes, and a new…you.  Dinner in bed.  And no need to worry about the crumbs.

The dinner in bed part – there are a few tables in the center of the two-story open space, but the entire perimeter of both levels is one big couch.  As we settled into our cushion nest I realized that THIS was why R2 said, “Now I know you’re not going to like this, but you should really wear underwear tonight.”

We were sandwiched in between two awkward couples.  Awkward couple to our left consisted of what was clearly a very new-ish couple who were all stiff and polite to one another.  Probably they were both a little pissed that the timing worked out that V-day had come up too early in their courtship.  Both of our tables had awful obstructed views of the stage, so she scampered over to where she could see the first act (a guy poking his upper body through a giant sheet and undulating to a techno version of Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds).  When she got back, I asked her how it was and she told me she was “over it” after the first thirty seconds…not a good sign re: her enjoyment of the entire night.

Awkward couple to the right: the slowest-eating couple ever.  I believe we were waiting for our mains before they were even done with their SALADS.  I’m all for enjoying your food (recently I’ve been trying to chew each mouthful 20 times – try it) but this was a little weird.  I very much liked it, therefore, when the guy was in the bathroom and the girl took that opportunity to fucking scarf down her food lol.

The food.  Despite the florid description above, I would say it was very good but not earth-shattering.  Asparagus with a mirin-esque sesame-ish dressing. Soup - lobster bisque or, for crustacean-allergic me, carrot with a dynamite cheddar crouton that was shaped like a gigantic biscotti, but one millimeter thick.  Main - lamb chops with sugar snap peas, haricot vert, and au jus.  And, of course, for V-day, something chocolatey so flourless chocolate cake.  We ate it lounging on the pillows and holding the plates in our laps and using our fingers, washing it down with the bottle of champagne perched at every table and making out between every bite.  It was quite decadent.  The “royal court of Marie Antoinette” vibe was furthered by the center table, which was full of very glamourous old people with white white hair and frilly big dresses who were having the time of their lives.

The acts. After the LSD piece came a chick who sang something opera-ey.  I imagined her being an opera major at San Francisco State and telling her family back in Nebraska that she had made it as a professional opera singer and was performing every night.  Then, a hot hapa guy who did the requisite spoken word Valentime’s piece, with the cliched “cunt” thrown in here and there (“Pornographic poetry / is a spaceship of lust / that carries my metaphysical cock into your. hot. juicy. cunt.”).  Then a poor man’s Cirque act, with silk sheets hanging from the ceiling and twirling and such.

Then, finally, the fabulous Miss B (who started his act by saying “now, bitches, my name is not Miss V or Miss G – it’s Miss B.  Everyone say it with me now – HELLO MISS BEEEEEE” and then despite this, later, R2:”My favorite act was Miss V.”  Me: “Sigh.”).  He danced and grinded and humped his hot bod to Video Phone and ended by pouring an entire bottle of champagne all over himself.  So.  Not a romantic night per se, but truly awesome nonetheless.

Supperclub San Francisco
657 Harrison Street
San Francisco, CA 94107-1312

Blue Barn Gourmet: World’s Best BLT?!

Saturday, December 5th, 2009

I’m blogggin on a jetplane.  Now until Jan 15th there’s free wifi on Virgin America, yo.

Which officially gave me absolutely zero excuse to not post anything.  I was like, “Shit, mayne, is been a while,” and I thought that whatever post I come back with has to be pee-in-your-pants good, but then I realized that probably all people want is a pretty picture and a chuckle and that’ll do, pig, rather than anything lifechanging.  So this post will be whatever I finish in the short flight between San Diego and San Francisco (67 mins not counting getting up to and down from 10,000 feet).

I thought about just sneaking in this post like I hadn’t been neglecting MTFB to the point where it’s grown hair like the Warlock’s Heart.  Kind of like how sometimes, when I’m visiting someone’s apartment complex and I am too lazy or am unable to ascertain which exact apartment I should call up to to be buzzed in, I just ring the first apartment and, when they answer, say, “It’s me! I’m here!”  And when they say, politely, “Wait, who is this?” I just shout “MEEEE!” and more often than not they buzz you in.

OK.  Yelp says that Blue Barn Gourmet, which is just the charmingest, preciousest little joint on Chestnut street, has the world’s best BLT.  When I read that I said aloud, in a voice full of wonder, “THE WORLD’S BEST BEE ELL TEEEE?” like Buddy the Elf.  I didn’t buy it.  For one thing, it’s a fucking seasonal sando (they call them “sandos” so that redeems them a bit, but STILL).  If it’s so signaturey then it should be on their menu as their Greatest Hit Special!   Now that I look at their website, I realize they actually do give it a special name: The Barn BLT.  I still reserve the right to be growchy.  Because, make up your mind.  If it’s so signaturey as to be your eponymous sando, then stop it with this seasonal business.

Inside: Niman bacon, mixed greens, heirloom tomatoes, goat cheese, and pesto on country levain.  Ah.  Makes sense.  This would be the world’s best BLT to someone who fancies themselves a foodie food critic but is actually a rube publishing their first review on Yelp with trembling fingers.  I mean, Niman Ranch meat X… “greens” instead of lettuce… “heirloom” making its requisite appearance… hello again goat cheese – you seem to be everywhere even though I see no G or C in BLT… finally, an unfamiliar type of bread that probably just means sourdough?  Foodie-by-numbers, Foodie Mad Libs.

Not that it wasn’t delicious. My favorite touch was that the whole shebang was pressed, with butter, and the bacon was juicy but not stringy.  However.  I really love that classic diner BLT – on shitty Wonder Bread, slathering of full fat mayo, sad iceberg and crunchy tomato (in all other arenas, a tomato should certainly never make a sound when you bite into it), and bacon that has been nuked to shattery goodness in the fridge.  That’s MY world’s best BLT.

Blue Barn Gourmet
2105 Chestnut (at Steiner)
SF CA 94123

Pole Dancing Aerobics

Thursday, September 17th, 2009

I took my first ever pole dancing aerobics class tonight. It was so much freaking fun despite my extreme awkwardness and pure inferiority that I felt next to our instructor, Jazmin. Even without any makeup and her butch-ey hairdo (think Kate Gosselin, but more angular – for the hair, not the bod) she was dazzling, and when she stripped off her (already miniscule) shorts to reveal the tiniest of panties and started us off with a labia-baring “straddle stretch” I was totally sold.

We wasted much of the class doing silly stretches. Although I did love the “apology” stretches – the movements that one does after a particularly grueling stretch to say, “I’m sorry, body. I didn’t mean it. Here, this will make you feel better.” There were only two poles, so we split up into two groups (4 people in mine; 5 people in the other).

In my group was a suuuuuper FOB-ey Asian lady. Middle-aged with glasses and a velvet scrunchie, wearing horrid track pants (the kind with the lone reflective stripe down each side) pulled up to just below her boobs with a nasty ol’ moss-green tank top on top. AZN to the max! She barely spoke English but was clearly THRILLED to be there. While Jazmin was explaining the first move (a simple pullup) on one of the poles and we were all crowded around her, listening and watching, this lady was totally going at it on the other pole, spinning jerkily and rubbing her crotch on the ground around the base of the pole. I was…speechless. Every single movement we did, she would take twice as long on her turn and would add in all sorts of irrelevant movements, and would begin every one of her attacks on the pole by cupping the pole with both of her hands and running them up and down the pole, just as if she were giving a massive peen a vigorous HJ. Awesome. Once I got over being shocked and perplexed I started to look forward to her turn on the pole, since you never knew what crazy fucking move she was going to bust out (my favorite – a double-knee spin, but with her knees wide open so her nether-regions and her hands were the only things touching the pole) and her pole dismounts were always stunning, prompting Jazmin at one point to say, “Whoa! Very…sexy!”

Anyway, the moves – the simple pull-up? Impossible. Only the one most ripped girl (who looked gross – too muscley and in a tiny pink bra top) could do it. The second was a curl up – just holding yourself on the pole and bringing your knees up to your chest. Also impossible. I’ve been a fitness instructor for six years now and am no slouch when it comes to arm and overall body strength. It was just…different muscles, used in a totally, utterly new way. I was floored. Literally. Because for some reason at the very moment when I didn’t want my palms to be sweaty, they were gushing liquid, causing me to slide very unceremoniously down to the floor and bonk my kneecaps on the ground. Owch. Between each execution we would wipe the pole with an alcohol-soaked towel – super ridiculously inapropro for the aforementioned reasons, but to no avail for me – palms still too slippery. The third move we did was putting our backs against the pole, hands gripping above our head, and just a simple knee-lift. I couldn’t even get one toe off of the ground. No one could, so Jazmin abandoned that and we moved onto the fun stuff – TURNS!

Sweaty palms apparently help in turns, because the whole point is to get your knees up while you’re turning and then slowly spin to the ground, knees straddling the pole on the ground as you finish your turn by gazing at your audience seductively. A lot of girls dropped straight down to the ground, crushing all the bones in their legs (again, owch), and a lot of girls just got stuck on the pole without turning, which is very cute, I guess, if you’re a koala. Still, everyone had tons of fun during this part. Jazmin showed off a little for us at the end by doing crazy inversions and taking off her shirt so that we could feel her astonishingly rock-hard eight-pack. We all clapped and salivated and giggled and went “Oooooo!”

Finally, we ended with figure-eights, which consisted of all of us in a line, hands on the mirror and legs spread, moving our asses in a sideways figure-eight (so, more like an infinity symbol). Jazmin kept yelling at us to go slower and deeper, and came around to each of us to check our “form.” When our form was not satisfactory, she would go in front of us on the mirror, have us stand behind her with our hands on her hips, and feel as she slithered around in her indeed super seductive and sexy figure-eight. As we were doing this, the gym custodian lady came up to clean the equipment at the back of the studio and just stood there, mouth agape and trashbag dragging on the ground, watching us. I tried not to get embarrassed and bask in the humor of the situation.

Next week, we have been instructed to bring 2-3 inch heels, so Jazmin can teach us how to walk like sex kittens. Lord. I cannot WAIT to see what Asian lady has up her sleeve…

Top 10 Posts of 2008~*

Wednesday, December 31st, 2008


Happy New Year’s Eve!

I was thinking back to a NYE a couple years ago, when my ex-ex took me to Beaver, Colorado. That trip was notable for two reasons. (1) Him screaming, every five minutes or so, “THIS IS MY GIRLFRIEND’S FIRST NEW YEARS EVE IN AMERICAAAA!” and thereby making me feel maximally Fresh-Off-Boatey, when all he meant was that I was excited to party because I had spent most of my New Years Eves in Tokyo, watching TV while eating mikans with my grandpa. (2) We bought all of our liquor at Beaver Liquor.

Anyway, 2008 was an eventful year. ConsumerMachine and I parted ways; I joined with Simon/Daniel to birth MTFB, my Obama Mama T-Shirt was not worn in vain (woot!), and I had my first foie gras wrapped in cotton candy. (Oh, did I not post about that yet? Well, you better come back in 2009 to read all about it.)

Here are ten of my favorite posts, in chronological order except backwards within month {clarity fail].


Post: Poo Peeps
It took away my homemade marshmallow virginity. You haven’t had your virginity taken away by a marshmallow? It’s very soft and gentle; guaranteed to be better than when you lost (or will lose) your actual virginity.



Post: National Aquarium in Baltimore
I got over my frog phobia and my Cheeto bereavement.


Post: Hot Pot & $10 Massages
$10 massages are clearly, clearly noteworthy, especially when delivered lovingly by a middle-aged super Chinese dude named…Andy. Oh, and FEET TEA!


Post: The Night I Almost Died
A fucking SALAD did me in.



Post: Lucid
My first foray into “absinthe” which had the flavor of epic fail.



Post: E Tutto Qua
It was just one of those nights where the occasion, company, food, and service came together to create happi.



Post: Sugar Butter [giggle]
It wins Most Controversial post of 2008. I don’t think I ever told you about it. The bride, who didn’t even know my name, somehow found the post and bitched Dr. Z out. I think my treatment of her wedding was very kind, so I’m not sure where she gets off freaking out about an identity-protected post about a random wedding guest, but whatevs. Just realized that maybe writing this is not going to help Dr. Z-bride relations, but god help her if she is STILL checking my blog six months later…






Post: Shimi’s Wedding Cake
This post wins Most Labor Intensive post of the year, both in actual execution of the food item in question and the post itself. Also, it’s my crowning achievement of 2008.



Post: Taste of Santa Monica 2008
It was the most food I had in one sitting in all of 2008, and included wings from Hooters as well as foie gras. All in all, a fabulous day.



Post: Lot Lizards and Urine Pots
Wins Most Surreal Experience award of 2008, and of course makes it into the Top 10 for including the fun topic of pissing on hookers.

Thanks for reading!  Now go out to somewhere within walking distance and get drunk!