into the real world

We rushed off to Yale right after LDOC to celebrate a second end of senior year... because why the hell not?  I can now check 'visiting Nancy' off my list and with no time to spare.  The most beautiful campus I strolled through (of the semester) while Mono Nance triumphantly faced her last classes and papers and such.  Oh how the other Gothic-wonderland half lives.  And such beautiful scarf weather, breakfast at Atticus (where I caved and purchased more//unnecessary notebooks - but they were only $5!!), and cherry blossoms everywhere.  Given that you don't cross certain streets... ahh New Haven...

My thoughts were with Ann when we had dinner at Soul de Cuba Cafe, home of the most wonderful hunk of chicken I've ever put in my mouth.  Fricase de pollo, nom yum yum.  Literally figuratively melted in my mouth... such tangy, savory, herby blasts of flavor.  Bite of chicken, bite of rice, bite of beans, bite of rice, bite of chicken, repeat until plate licked clean, and 'cleanse' palate with the sweet, roasty, mushy (but in a good way) plantains.  Actually, jk, I took a little in a big box to go to be drunkenly devoured at a later time (note: even delicious while cold).  Salivating now.

And so it began.  I kind of went on a selfie rampage that weekend... which is quite impressive given that I don't subscribe to Snapchat, and I try not to look at my face more than I have to.  The next day Mono Nance (who also triumphantly made it through all of Spring Fling, concert mob in rain included) informed me of my many selfies while Ann ordered late night food.. what an embarrassing recollection.

The aforementioned late night food from what I assume to be the Ay! Arepa truck, but I'm really not the best person to confirm this.  I remember eating the shrimp.  I remember picking at the arepas.  I remember spilling the rice.  I remember it being satisfying.  But I also remember wishing I had more of the aforementioned chicken.

We had kind of an awkwardly unsuccessful brunch at the diner famous for their square donuts.  Too bad Orangeside was out of those because they had just hosted a wedding party.  I spent 50% of the time wondering where they managed to host 60-100 (I don't remember the outrageous number they mentioned) people, 30% of the time trying not to zone out from hangover starvation, 5% of the time amused that we all ordered the smoked salmon omelet special, and 15% of the time passive aggressively shaking my cup of ice because I'm always thirsty as fuck in the mornings.

I don't mean to brag, but my French is pretty on point.

Amelia: I wanna go to that super cute place, May-son Math-is.

Nancy: Maison Mathis?

Amelia: ...lulz.

Yeah... the extent of my Frensh knowledge consists of je m'appelle and voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir.  All I need to learn now is "Where are the restrooms?" and "May I order this?"

Every cell in my body threw a little party at the beautiful display of carbs.  Breads of all shapes and types and garnishes and fixings.  Savory and sweet.  Cake and yeast.  Please, hand over all of the glutinous products you have to offer.  Because I couldn't force myself to decide between savory and sweet, I ordered a wedge of focaccia bread (and then regretted not ordering the whole damn thing) and a cute loaf of chocolate brioche.  What is this low/no carb diet plan you speak of?  Gluten free?  I'm so sorry.

I want more.

My last meal of the New Haven trip wasn't in New Haven at all.  I had raced through the Philly airport the minute I got off my flight in search of these famous crab fries with cheese sauce Ranj had suggested.  Chickie's and Pete's were way too generous, so dangerous.  I ate fries at my gate.  I ate fries on the plane.  I ate fries when I got back to Alicia's apartment.  I emanated the aroma of oily potatoes.  I won most attractive person of the evening.

Sushi spurge exploration to be another post.