Saturday, August 6, 2016

the giraffe shirt

Begin: here, at Thelonious Monkfish (which I kept calling The Lioness Monkfish in my head... until literally just now when I looked it up) where we tried not to stare directly at the situation to my right that involved a shopping cart of donation clothes falling off the curb and leaving a long scratch down the side of the car that was questionably an Uber.

Where the salt and pepper calamari was the best part despite what Nancy's facial expression might suggest, and I could've done without the mango yogurt sauce stuff underneath the scallop.
And we made sure to cover as many fishes as possible in our sushi choices - tuna, eel, octopus, shrimp... yet once it arrived, I'm not entirely sure I could discern what I was eating because I absolutely was not paying attention.
Not that it wasn't good - the conversation was just better, obvi. True friendship happens when you don't need to pretend to bury yourself in the food to pretend to ignore the silence. Did I just give away my secret?

End: at the best table of the Beehive on a balcony overlooking the brunch jazz. And they said it'd be tough getting a table. Just kidding, I mean it could be, so I wouldn't take the chance if you have the foresight to plan.
Well anyways, Nance and I shared the za'tar chicken with lemony couscous, roasted veggies, and tzatziki sauce. The baked and then fried chicken was the best part. The lemony couscous was a close second.
And while I rarely meet an egg I don't like (unless its yolk is hard), the sweetness of the North African style tomato sauce detracted from the eggs shakshuka. I just wasn't expecting such sweetness for brunch. But I'm so into this yin yang thing with the polenta - adding it to my long long to-food list.
Unintentionally starting and ending the quick weekend in my giraffe shirt with Nance and our favorite sibling/fam/travel stories.

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