Sunday, June 1, 2014

quaint

Laura and Amelia are a semi-functional shit show when traveling together.
This is what happens when you put two 'free spirits' together.


 Of course, our first stop in Charleston after checking into Laura's first motel was drinks.  Well, that's a lie.  Our technical first stop was the Cookout right next door (how could we not?).
After a quick stroll along Waterfront Front Park (where Lala learned nature's rules of sunsets) and a failed attempt at getting a table for some raw oysters at Pearlz, we stumbled upon Cypress and stayed for the winding staircase, bar overlooking the kitchen, and impressive wall of wine.
Cheers to making it alive.  Cheers to finally carrying out one of our plans.  Cheers to the Five-spice on ice and Lavender martini.
 We shared roasted oysters (which were kind of the greatest thing I ate that weekend), cucumber tuna rolls, crispy pork belly, and a giant portobello veggie burger (underwhelming).
 In honor of Miss Laura's birthday.  
I hope Europe is treating you like royalty on your special day, babe, even though no one really cares about Year 22.  Enjoy it regardless, you must.

After yet another meal (breakfast) at Cookout and some casual shopping at the cutest boutiques on King Street, we found Caviar & Bananas, which is akin to Parker & Otis and Foster's Market.  Sandwiches, salads, health, supplemented with jars of artisan sauces and candy and the cocktail mix I splurged on.  I went with the smoked salmon sandwich... because smoked salmon (no regrets).  And Laura got the duck confit panini, which she became obsessed with.... because duck (which would've been my logic too if I wasn't still pining after Peking duck).  Your welcome for passively forcing you to stay here.

"No we're authentic French," said the waiter when Lala asked for jams and mustards and such.  Awk.  We struggled much with the ordering at Bin 152, since the menu was essentially foreign (hope you fared/are faring well in France, m'dear).  In the end the waiter basically ordered for us.
Piave Vecchio (hard, cow, Italy) and Delice de Bourgogne (soft, cow, France) with a baguette and red wine (don't ask me what wine it was...) for Amelia.  I resolved to become an expert in cheese that day... no progress yet.  But that's what Wisconsin is for.

 Stopped in for the best cocktail I've had at The Gin Joint.  As tempting as the bar tender's choice was (because a favorite question of indecisive people is 'Well, what do you recommend?'), I was more intrigued by the lime/coconut/hibiscus/basil/eggwhite/CO2 concoction aka Casanova.  But actually the best cocktail I've had because 'yum' and 'not to sweet' and 'can barely taste the alcohol.'
Pad Thai popcorn + beef jerky = bar food dinner.
 Me: I feel like sometimes when I'm talking to you, I don't really try to make sense because you aren't listening to me anyways.
Lala: So I showed my dad a photo of him...
Me: ... my point.
Lala: Wait.. what?

We trekked on down to Savannah where I became overwhelmed by the spice shop and oil/vinegar shop and honey shop and beer world.
We ditched our original plan for tapas (which I'm still a little regretful about) for Chive.  I rejected my craving for oysters for the lobster and edamame risotto, which was good but definitely needed to be bigger.  Sometimes I still dream about the banana beignets Laura read about from somewhere on Yelp.
 The evening was made slightly miserable by cold/rain/wind, but we braved it long enough to take pictures of the water... and then got lost looking for my car... but found Paula Deen's store where I seriously considered buying an apron.

Time to get back into the real world, girl.
[You're flying me out to NYC, right?]
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