hunting in the south

I feel like I haven't been hungry for days.

A month at home in NC wrecked my entire system, and I came back gut distended and greasy. Usually just eating at home does this to me because there are nibbles and eats all around. I never stop consuming, and it is never counterbalanced by any physical activity. Every meal is often a spread of meat. I think it's even more exaggerated since I don't go home that often. My dad will just buy cuts of steak and legs of pork and frozen ducks and he even brought home an octopus this time. By the end of the month, I couldn't even look at the hot pot meat, opting instead to fill my stomach with napa cabbage and glass noodles. An otherwise monotonous month was punctuated by Athena's visit, and so I had to pretend like the Triangle Area was a cool place to be.

nostalgia

 After all the times I've talked about and been to and obsessed over and craved Buns... here's a picture finally.  Sans fries - those were in my brother's basket, and I did eat more than half of them.  Just as good as I remember it, but probably not the best meal to have before a dentist appointment.  Oh well.

Best veggie burger.  Sometimes I look at it just to torture myself, imagining digging into it without actually being able to.  The next time I'll return to my Southern bubble will be in about a year, and Madison has yet to offer me a suitable replacement.  Audrey, this is your job now (to lead me to a fantastic veggie burger, in case that wasn't clear).

I know it's TV and not really real, but is it a problem that I think Dr. Lecter's meals in Hannibal look really really good?  I mean, I have to put down my fork when he's handling the raw organs, but he definitely knows how to plate the final dish.  I feel like this show could be very damaging for an appreciator of food porn.  Also after revisiting the last season of Dexter, I'm wondering which impulse comes first, the cannibalism or the serial killing?

Here we go, getting back into the groove of class and homework.  No more watching too much TV without responsibility when I get home.  Can't get out of school too soon.

easy days

blueberry chocolate chip oatmeal cookies

The university has no mandated holidays for graduate students.  It's the hardest thing to explain.  "Student" isn't quite the correct word anymore.  Which I guess also balances out the "awesomeness" of not having to pay tuition anymore.  (Except, damn those student fees I didn't know about.  This is my only motivation to use the gym.)

Despite feeling my mind and body disintegrate from boredom and under use, I am going to miss those lazy days.  Easy, simple days.  When I could slowly wake up by the light of the sun at 9 am and eat breakfast for three hours before going back to bed for a nap.

quinoa burger from Spotted Dog (also watermelon beer is pretty great)

Liking all my fellow grads so far, but I'm missing Nance Pants and Nikki who were around 80% of the time to keep my brain awake and functional...

rewards on National Doughnut day

...to eat food and drink blueberry beers all day long.

if you wanna be skinny, eat this

Chapel Hill means frequent trips to Caribou and grocery stores and TOPO.  Chapel Hill means suburbia, so driving in circles and taking walks through residential homes.

grossest looking product I've ever seen

Madison doesn't necessarily not mean any of that.  But since I live downtown and haven't explored much besides that and campus, Madison means lively younguns.  Madison means walking everywhere lets me pretend I'm a "city girl."

satisfying that occasional hot dog craving at Sup Dogs (where they also have the kinds of tater tots potato dreams are made of)

No more easy days with the same familiar faces.  But that's the risk of growing up and moving on, I guess.  We were advised to stop thinking like undergrads - that's the quickest way to make the transition into the confusing unknown that is grad school.  Everyone knows I'm dreading the concept of more school, but part of me can't believe I'll only have two years to do all the things I think I can/want to do.  Are we sure it's possible?
Here's to hoping I'll make it.

mid afternoon gelato martini at Sugarland - looks like everyone had the same idea

so fancy

You already know

Sometimes you just need a $13 drink with a jalapeno.

Kipos

I don't know what used to be there, but there's a new and cute Greek place on Franklin.
All of the potential... but I was a bit underwhelmed.  Only because the rice stuffed in the squid was a tad undercooked and the scallops under the nests were a tad overcooked.
But the ambiance was so perfect that I wanted to trust the entrees were better or at least revisit.  It's like how you want to like a movie because your fave/idol/future lover is the star.
I loved the big, rustic, wooden tables.  And the bright, dangling lights (forget this dining in dim mood lighting bullshit).  I liked how homey it was, like I could dress it up for a date or dress it down for a family dinner or go somewhere in between for friends catching up over drinks.

Maybe I should have gone for dessert (from their super adorable display case) for dinner instead.

Somebody was hungry on the other side of the table.

We were that table of three girls taking pictures of their food... whatever, judge.

Stage four: Dependence

Stage three: Risky use

I often forget that there is a whole other street behind Franklin that features little house-like eateries.  Need to remember this the next time Franklin (my dependence) falls a little bit short.

 La Residence was offering a tasting menu event at the time Dad purchased this Groupon.  And it was very nearly the best meal I had this past year.  Looking at, thinking about, scarfing down French food always makes me want to go to culinary school.

 "Hey, Amelia, what'd you do today?"

"Oh, I went to the public library [which is quite lovely by the way] and gawked at cook books I wish I owned."

French food always makes me want to work my way through a cook book.

 This surf'n turf was quite possibly the best thing I put in my mouth this past year.  Forget steak and lobster - I'm all about the pork belly and scallops.  (And while we're at it... forget mashed potatoes which have never been my preferred side due to horrendous memories of potato flakes - I'll take carrot puree).  The entire thing was playing around in pork fat, and it was fabulous with the heavy saltiness of the pork and the subtle sweetness of the scallop and the acidity from the slaw and wrapping it all up in the carrot mash.

Look at that char.  Look at it.

Excuse me while I put on a bib.

Highlight of dessert was those three cake croutons.  Must always toast pound cake before consumption.

Speaking of the popcorn in the corn soup (a little bit of inception?), I could really go for some microwave popcorn now.

Stage three: Risky use

Stage two: Regular Use

Daddy wanted to try Ethiopian... because there was a Groupon for it.

I was very okay with this because there's been an Ethiopian food-shaped hole in my life since leaving this behind.  It couldn't compare (that's putting aside the tension between Dad and waitress due to mis-communication.. I wish I could tell you this was not a regular occurrence), but I was still pleasantly satisfied.

I could eat that injera like a bag of potato chips (also, baked Lay's are actually not as good as I once thought... but I digress).  The injera "salad" was my favorite part.  I couldn't really tell you what else we ordered (because I was faithfully playing Candy Crush while waiting for Dad to decide - yes, I do have a problem), but if you get the Groupon, you could get a good sampling of everything.

To go along with our theme of risk, rejection is not a nice feeling.  Duh, you might say.
After feeling my heart nearly explode while logging into my account to read the sad lonely message in my inbox, I realized even being 'prepared' for rejection is not enough preparation for rejection.  I don't know whether to think it fortunate or regrettable that I've never faced this kind of rejection (of the I-really-really-wanted-this-and-even-though-I-convinced-myself-that-I-wouldn't-get-it-part-of-me-could-still-picture-that-beautiful-congratulatory-email kind) in my now 22 years of life.  Not a testament to my ability at all.  It's because I always play it safe, finding that one excuse that would make me under-qualified and letting it go for something that might be more manageable.  Lesson learned too late, and living in a perpetual day dream isn't actually living.

Stage two: Regular use

Stage one: Experimentation

 It's like the WaDuke of UNC.  Maybe minus the golf course ... unless, of course, there is a golf course hidden somewhere.  Places around Franklin are sometimes bigger (longer, deeper...) than I expect.
Dad bought not one, but two, Groupons to this place.  During a time (end of summer) when I was want of exercise and helplessly packing on the pounds.  [Thought I could correct both issues, but such is the life of a live-at-home-graduate, huh?]

Some sort of peach jam reduction thing with a piece of some type of cheese and a dusting of pistachio was our amuse bouche.  Essentially cheese and fruit - that's all I gotta know, that's all I need.

Fried oyster appetizer (and the foie gras hidden in the background).  Had to stop at two because sharing is (unfortunately) caring.  Made/makes me want a po-boy.  And now I want to go to New Orleans.

North Carolina Day Boat Catch.  I'm pretty sure all the man had to say was roasted cauliflower and pesto.  I don't even remember what kind of fish it was.  Usually at these sorts of fancy restaurants, I'm more inclined to ogle the appetizers.  The main courses usually seem so dense before I even see the dish, and then I lose my appetite, and then I go back to looking at the appetizers, and when I push away the feeling, I can go back to looking at the supporting roles of the mains (in this case, roasted cauliflower and pesto) to decide what I want.
Do I seem like a complicated person?

So overstuffed, we couldn't even think about the dessert menu (both times), but I was okay with it.  Amelia is slowly weaning herself off her sweet tooth.
Aka, I might have gone home to snack on cinnamon raisin bread or something.

This is actually from the dining table of Samantha's home.  I include it for two reasons.
1. When I scrolled through my pictures, I thought this was part of Carolina Crossroads... and I was a bit confused.
2. Everyone needs a friend who hosts fabulous tea parties despite it being a rainy day.  Fact.

home in the Kitchen

Why do I want to study this?  Why do I want to go there?  Why do I think I deserve this?

Why do I do anything anymore?

I have theories and semi-logical explanations; I just don't know how to put them into words.  How do I explain to someone that this is what I want?

And what I want most is to get out of here.  Doesn't this sound familiar?  Amelia's griping for change yet again.  Because my life is a cycle and things come and go; people come and go; emotions reach their peak.  And I can't handle this anymore... again.

I like the idea of closing myself off but that won't fix things - that's assuming I even know how to do that.  There's something beautiful about silence once you've realized the sound of anyone's voice might just drive you into the ground with their hollowed out emptiness.  It's the beginning of focused focus, chewing on a piece of dried mango whilst thinking about why do I want to study this? why do I want to go there? why do I think I deserve this?  I'd like to think I'm capable, despite what you or she or her sister or he or he or she or my father thinks.  I'd like to think this way, so I'm waiting for someone to show me I'm not wrong for thinking this way.  But sometimes we've already unraveled, and we don't realize we've really been trying to reassemble our pieces... until someone reaffirms all the reasons why we started unraveling in the first place... yet again. This is what I had been waiting for. Too passive to stand up for yourself; too scared to be a presence; too defeated to bother with explanations no one will listen to.

Kitchen is a little French place hidden by Foster's.  Ventured in for dinner with the fam after my dad got some sort of grant or award at work.  Maybe one of these days, that'll be me, too.

Rich and creamy and guilt ridden chicken pate - it's the equivalent of the way I eat rice with a bunch of little Asian fermented/salted/cured/pickled side dishes.

Smoked trout - salty salty salty, but I'm finding I prefer less and less cooked fish and dreaming more and more of plates of raw salmon and tuna.

Duck confit - there's never an argument against duck.

Mussels - after piling up the empty shells, use as makeshift spoons to drink up the soupy sauce.

Soft shell crab and asparagus - like rare delicacies in my  life whenever I see either ingredient on a menu.  Like avocado, it makes or breaks the decision.

So why do I want this?  Because if I can't be a good friend, and if I don't have a decent personality, even if I am not the prettiest Duke student on paper, maybe I can still be your best graduate student. Maybe you represent everyone and everything I've failed, and if I can't fix things there, I can at least make you proud.  Because I know our relationship will not be turned toxic by something I do, and mistakes can be corrected as easily as redo-ing an experiment the next morning after a good night's sleep, undisturbed by thoughts of worthlessness. And we will only talk numbers and ideas and grand plans. I need you to pluck me out of  here, give me an opportunity to start again (blank canvas, clean slate, all of the cliche metaphors) this time without letting myself be vulnerable to another person just to unwittingly force him/her to strike me down. There is no place for that in science, no room for that at a lab bench.  That is why I want this.

Applications galore.

middle of life

This is daddy's midlife crisis.  He's...

a Groupon addict.

But I think I can live with that.

Shula's 347 Grill at the Sheraton

I'm currently madly obsessed with calamari... potentially.

The start of a series...

tallulas

I'm absolutely the last person to offer dating/romantic advice, but if you are looking for a restaurant for a date in the Thrill specifically, I'd probably say Tallulas (or Weathervane - hmm I never mentioned in the post where we went, that's awk... or it would be if I had interested readers).  [Or Buns, ohmygod Buns.]  

Dimly lit with the kind of mood that calls for a belly dancer in the corner.  There are also corner booths that are decorated with sheer curtains and pillows that I plan to model one of my bedrooms after.

Mezze platter for me because I'm obsessed with a multitude of sauces.

a weekend in desserts, mainly

Can you say that desserts ameliorate your mood?  These past few halcyon days were spent bouncing from Alicia's apartment (to which I have a key-ish, ha ha) to food to Caribou to food and back.
The ambiance of the coffee shop called for a pom vanilla iced tea latte with apple cinnamon muffin, which I tried to make last during Alicia's two-hour tutor session by picking the top off before scaling the edges with a fork to the apparent amusement of the dude sitting diagonal from me.  As we packed up to go, said dude inquired about the closing time and flavor of muffin I was meticulously devouring.
"Actually, I'm not going to finish it; do you want it?"
"Yes!"
No need to offer three times, I guess.

Later, I primed my sweet-tooth-to-come with a piquant Lindemans Framboise Raspberry Lambic beer that had both a bottle cap and a cork... why?  It was essentially juice.  This was while we attempted to make 4th of July themed jello shots.  Blue jello - it's just so artificial and frightening and sugary... and it tastes exactly like blue (you know).  They didn't set, unfortunately, but this is no surprise given the precipitate manner in which we tried to make them.

The next morning (read: afternoon), what got me through the door was a variegated Bojangles bo-berry biscuit (there are blue and red berries now!  It was so aesthetically pleasing, I can't even... ); the delicious payoff was a two-piece dinner box with cajun rice, biscuit, and sweet tea.  I decided half way through my bo-berry biscuit that it is the perfect snack because it satisfies my often ambivalent feelings when deciding between sweet or savory snacks (Goldfish... or fruit thins?  Triscuits...or dried apricots?  It's a daily struggle that causes me a good deal of vexation).

Our way of celebrating Independence Day on the day of independence was to sear some steaks and unsuccessfully search for fireworks.  Ended up watching the insouciant children chase each other around whilst enjoying a cup of banana cream pie ice cream from Parlour.

Started my Friday by venturing out to Hummingbird Bakery (despite nearly baking to death in my car) where I ordered a soporific meal of a breakfast burrito and breakfast bread.  Breakfast burritos take me back to my childhood in New Mexico [Mexico?!?  No... New Mexico].  Something abut the way nostalgia and dishes will amalgamate in my mind that then makes my cravings ineluctable - there's no going back, and I must have it.  I may vacillate when it comes to quotidian decisions, but I know what I want when I want it.  So once I saw the modest breakfast burrito near the bottom of the breakfast menu, my mind became replete with images of scrambled eggs, oozy cheese, sausages, peppers, chilies, and salsa all snuggled up and tucked within a warm tortilla.  The decision for raspberry crumb cake came once I laid eyes on the display box at the entrance.  In reality, it didn't look any more ostentatious than other bakery display cases; something just kind of took over, and I felt like I deserved to have more dessert.  And a nap.

Snaps for me for chugging a lime Red Bull and sitting in B&N for three hours with a Princeton Review book of vocabulary instead of crawling back onto Alicia's couch.
Another trip to Caribou.

If anyone wants to remonstrate to a second dinner, please stand up.  No?  No one?  To Cholanad we go.  I really just wanted another dessert to round out the Five Guys meal from an hour earlier.

Maybe I can consider myself a hedonist...of desserts?  Maybe this surfeit of food is what is causing these phlegmatic nights of passing out on the couch at 12am whilst watching classic Disney movies?
Opted for a mango lassi... which allowed me to guitlessly order the paneer and peas dosa (with an array of dipping sauces, yay), the leftovers of which I ate after ennui had set in at midnight.

I still had enough leftovers for Saturday brunch on the couch while watching Hercules.  Two of Ginny's brownies, a long nap, and a shower later, we were off to the mall where I managed to stave off torpor and hunger long enough to get a chai tea latte (at Caribou, surprise) and snickerdoodle/vanilla bean frozen yogurt from Yopo next door to feed my apparent predilection for sweets (and cinnamon).
The night time was just an excuse to eat our red and blue (no white/clear layer, sorry) jello shots and drink watermelon pear cocktails, and people finally acceded to go swimming under the stars with me where I almost learned how to dive, debated about the sound of a frog (which was definitely a girl coughing in the verdant woods), and got kicked out by the affable Chapel Hill police officers.

My exigent need for business casual clothes took me to Tanger after a long awaited (nineteen minutes) brunch at Chipotle.  A piece of sagacious advice: don't try to eat leftovers while driving on the highway...

I'm contrite thinking about my prodigal behavior this past weekend.  Such deleterious eating habits that I need to change before they become incorrigible.

Can you tell I'm cram/force-studying vocabulary?

Can you also tell my camera died, and I lost its charger?  Well, now you know.

notes: casually driving with my windshield wipers on full speed and my sunglasses on... weather here is awesome
peach syrup + Lipton = fantastic idea

Bin54

I think it's safe to say that steak is the epitome of a great meal: decadent, simple, earthy, unapologetic.

I don't even need anything fancy (salt and pepper, medium rare, done, giveittome give it to me), but I'll take it if you're offering:

tuna tartare with yuzu, creamy soy, and wasabi crackers

caramelized sea scallops with truffle potato puree, forest mushrooms, and natural jus

wood roasted Brussels sprouts

strawberry shortcake with chantilly cream

chocolate fondant with creme anglaise

.... supporting roles to my petite filet mignon with shallot sauce.

(even got a glass of unpronounceable Italian red - feeling fancy)

Mmmm, "what's it taste like?"

As Ann so accurately put it, "I decided that becoming a vegetarian was a missed steak."
Which is why I'm not a vegetarian anymore.

minority report

So much rain, but at least I'm not losing half my body weight in sweat walking to and from work.

Straight chillin in this ghost town, counting down the days until extended human interaction can happen, I've never been so desperate for casual conversation.  Seven PM feels like eleven PM, and productivity is still at an all time low contrary to what I thought no outside activity would do for me.

I bet I stand out, as I have yet to meet another Asian person besides my roommate.  Haven't felt this way since maybe elementary school.  Not that I mind or care or whatever - it's the fact that I'll be out of real Asian food options as long as I'm here.  And I can't make it at the temporary home because that would mean spending moneys to stock up the spice cabinet.  Sadface.

So just as I returned from Aussieland (which may as well have been yesterday), I found a new Singaporean restaurant in Southern Village: Merlion.

Naturally, I had to go.  Obviously, I didn't expect Merlion to be on par with the wonderfully cheap street food markets, but it'll do until I make my way back to the Pacific (wishful thinking?).

Started with the Stuffed You Tiao at the waitress's suggestion [pictured first].  I would've enjoyed it more if it wasn't drowning in dressing, but the concept of stuffing you tiao (totally new to me) made me happy.  You had to dig for the cut up pieces underneath the veggies.  But the fams loved it, and we ordered another plate.

Skinny little cousin Kathy worked her way through the Chicken Satay whilst Alfred picked at the Hainanese Chicken Rice because apparently he didn't realize that ordering boiled meant they'd served the chicken boiled (read: tasteless).  [How do you eat chicken without the crispy roasted skin?  It can't be done.  It just can't.  My uncle laughed at the sight.  No worries, they do have the roasted option; they were just out that day.]  Best part = sauces.  Always the sauces.

I got the Nasi Lemak, only because I never got around to trying it in Singapore.  Flavorful enough and the eggplant was cooked pretty well.  Wish it looked more like this but I shouldn't complain.  Also makes great drunk food in case you were wondering.

If you're into soup options... Laksa with tofu (or chicken or shrimp).  The one sip I had of this soup was delicious.  This may or may not have been of my favorites.  It may or may not be because I'm growing more fond of coconut.

Our freezer isn't freezing - currently, on a strict diet of chicken.  Food never lasts as long as I plan.
Most worked up I've been this past week was during a game of Monopoly... problem?
I always forget vinegar when filling my spice cabinet, boo.
I miss Durham... what?

lessons on eating

 New Korean "fusion" restaurant neighboring Ye Olde Waffle House on Franklin (aka the end I rarely venture to), and it's called Korchipi [Korean Chicken and Pizza] - but we'll ignore that last part since it takes away from the air of authenticity.

An entire tray of food for about $9... don't mind if I do.  A plus was the homemade (you can do that? what? props) soy sauce.  And it does taste different; it's sweeter... meatier almost?

as southern as sweet potatoes and pork

The ambiance is classy.  dress up, bitches!

"Hi, yes, I'd like to change my reservation to 12 people."
"Okay, for large parties, we only print one check, is that okay?"
"Yeah."
"And is your party okay with a flight of stairs?"
"A flight of stairs?"
"Yeah."
"...Yeah...that's fine."

And of course Miss Laura and I were the only ones who ordered off the Restaurant Week menu.  This is why we're friends.

Bourbon-spiked sweet potato bisque
pulled pork shoulder, pickled peppers

Don't be fooled.  This bowl of soup was actually ten times smaller than it appears in this picture.
"That's like one bite."
"Are you sure you can finish that there?"

But it was one deliciously gimmemoreeee bite.

Cholanad

 Luncheon with Megan at Cholanad.  They even have a video of their restaurant and whatnot so I needn't go into describing the modernity of it all.  But she can attest to how embarrassingly amused I was that the knife "stood up."  Iono, I thought it was a pretty genius design...

 Meal consisted the paneer tikka masala with a piece of naan that was as big as my head.  I was very very happy.  Especially since I always judge the naan based on the number of bubbles.  The crispy, flaky goodness of the naan made up for the small portion of paneer tikka (but in the end it turned out to be the perfect sized meal, one that I needed to walk off on Franklin Street).

 I really just didn't know how to "artfully" photograph my dessert... but anyways, I got a [official name unknown].  Basically a fried ball of dough soaked in syrup with a side of vanilla ice cream... and graham crackers.  Wasn't my favorite dessert ever just because I usually like my fried things to be crispy... otherwise why am I consuming it right?  And despite my newly developed college sweet tooth, the syrup was too sugary, though it had good flavor.

Next time, I want the table length dosa that serves 4 (or 2 if I'm there).