Twenty three is a gross number. I feel like I say this about a lot of numbers, but I really feel that twenty three is uneventful. It's so close to twenty five, which is when I'll stop keeping track. And which makes thirty so real. Two nights ago we had a real conversation about the breakdown of early and late 20's. The conclusion is that this is my last year as what I always thought of as a "young adult." That's kind of frightening. [I may also be experiencing a minor existential crisis after watching Never Let Me Go.] By the way, this age conversation was had over a Bourbon Barrel Stout from Central Waters, and it easily entered into my top five fave stouts/porters.
I dragged my family to The Black House because "special occasion" and otherwise, my dad would've chosen Red Lobster... again. My favorite coffee place back home has been revamped into a fancy $$$ restaurant. I can't say I'm the hugest fan of this move because it means not having a place to study with wifi and outlets and AC when it's too hot outside, but dinner was great with the atmosphere of a log cabin in the mountains, and there's even a flaming waterfall thing in the courtyard now. And let's be real - when will I really be studying in the hot Durham summers again?
Gift from the chef was a delicious little shooter of tomato bisque, which I unfortunately finished before the bread basket came. Dad got overexcited ordering appetizers: octopus, bone marrow, and hot and sour soup with pork belly and mushrooms. It was all so delicate and delicious, the octopus being the most so. One little leg amounted to $16, but it was unlike any octopus dish I've had. I want to say it was roasted or flash fried or something, lightly crunchy on the outside and chewy but not rubbery on the inside. Too good. My first go at bone marrow also wasn't so bad. It was certainly buttery as they all say but it didn't have a super strong or weird flavor, and paired with the mustard and parsley salad, it might as well have just been there to glue the herbs to the bread. I probably won't be paying for meatless bones any time soon.
Despite being 80% full after the appetizers, I treated myself with the scallops, which always incite a harrowing debate between my tongue and wallet. But fuck it, you know? I so painstakingly was pushed out of a womb exactly twenty three years ago - that was not an easy feat in itself... and then to have to be alive for just as long. Emotionally taxing. Rough stuff. So if I want four overpriced pieces of salty shellfish, then I'm going to get it (and Dad's paying). Emphasis on the salty. Would've been better with some blander carbs or fresh greens as opposed to equally salty caramelized vegetables, but the scallops were cooked so perfectly I couldn't be too upset. Meanwhile, Top Chef and Audrey's Ed keep reminding me that the memory of yummy scallops satisfies no craving for them.
Speaking of Ed, kid made a very good first impression when he handed me a Jamie Oliver cookbook at 10pm as I was banging around the kitchen trying to shake the entire day of traveling off of me (I hate burning daylight in airports). And then I made half a recipe of peanut butter and jelly brownies with the last of my chocolate chips, raspberries that were on sale (in winter, whaaatt?), a cute and tiny jar of boysenberry jam from Smuckers, and Audrey's crunchy peanut butter. And then I proceeded to eat brownies for breakfast two days in a row (and dinner for one night). Maybe that's why my immune system is showing signs of breaking down today.
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| nommy brownies with some missing chunks |
Trivia I learned today (EDIT: yesterday): today (EDIT: yesterday) was the day my namesake became the first person to fly solo in 1935.
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