Sunday, February 4, 2018

superbowl sunday

I don't care for football, but I will watch the Superbowl. On two conditions - there's lots of guilty pleasure foods and I'm surrounded by some of my favorite people.
Like this giant silly kid (above) and his fiance, who now reside outside Philly.
Usually it's not hard to pick a side to just have someone to root for for the several hours I'm stuffing my face with wings and potatoes in various forms, but this year is feeling pretty uninteresting. I might just root for the halftime show.

Anyways, I impulse visited them some time last year, and Philly ain't so bad.
Of course they took me to the famous battle-of-the-cheesesteaks corner to grab a cheesesteak. Wit' whizz. Honestly... not a big enough fan of cheesesteaks to discern good or bad. Also my aversion to lines increases exponentially with age. But it was a nice day, and Donk and Gare-bear like Geno's more, and I was in cheesesteak land, so it had to be done.

We unintentionally did a dinner progressive on 13th street because Barbuzzo had just long enough of a wait for us to get chips and guac and queso and cocktails at Lolita.
guacamole and salsa with mixed corn, plantain, and malanga chips
queso fundido de chorizo
I could've been satisfied with just that.
But we still had dinner reservations.
The sky was getting dark by the time we shifted one restaurant (and two tables) down.
The main meal was Italian pasta. Pairs perfectly with our Mexican 'zerts.
Sopressini with roasted butternut squash, house-made pancetta, sage, squash sugo, sheeps' milk ricotta, and toasted walnuts. Now, I don't normally order mostly vegetarian or pasta or mostly vegetarian pasta dishes at restaurants but squash and ricotta really caught my attention. I think my appreciation for warm, fresh ricotta blossomed the day we made it in Dairy class, and we all got to pick a few curds directly from the vat. Mmmm. It wasn't even salted. I didn't know simple cheese could be so good.
Donk and Garebear split a pizza, and it came with these teeny tiny mason jars of weed oregano and chili oil. Sooooo cute.
We were so full that we forgot the entire reason for choosing Barbuzzo. The mission of the night. The BUDINO! Missed opportunities... now the question is - do I return to Philly for the budino?

The next morning, Maxine pulled a classic Max move and went on a first date at the bar of Pub and Kitchen because we were there for brunch because it was on a Best Burger in Philly list.
I never end up going sweet at brunch but something about the Dutch baby with pear and brie. An element of savory on a sweet dish? I so rarely see that at brunch places. Unless it's a side of bacon with your French toast, I guess.
Thank god for Bianca willing to go halfsies with me. So I didn't have to give up the Double Windsor, which Garrett lovingly described as a fancy Big Mac. In the best way though. Sometimes you just want a fucking Big Mac. And sometimes it should be fancy. With a mountain of fries on the side.

Accompanied by a show [later in the day].
Half an hour or so of gawking, and we still had no answers about what was happening.

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