I’m a real blogger!

Well, friends. The day has arrived. They say you’re not truly a blogger until you receive an oddly personal attack post from a total stranger. I guess I’m all grown up now, because “Kristin Adams” has taken me to school.

Since Kristin’s carefully constructed comments were recently attached to an old post, I thought I’d just serve them up to you here. I know she’d be thankful that I’ve increased her readership.

“In case you weren’t aware, readers don’t give a shit about how privileged you feel in your personal life, or any of your self-entitled drivel. Consider yourself boring. If you want to write a self-adoration blog, call it something else so you don’t waste people’s time with this dreck. That way, serious foodies can read actual reviews, and your acolytes/disciples/minions/subjects can taste your day-to-day jackoffs. I’m sure you’re so important they clamor to lick it up. You’re sure that people are fascinated with you just because you are you, whoever you are, and can’t wait to know the minutiae of your life and how taken with yourself you are. I’m sure you’re spellbinding. But tell us all in a forum not disguised as a blog about food. You’re transparent. And if you’re taken with yourself and your life, tell your friends. Maybe they care. I don’t know if you know this, but you’re not interesting. Pathetically, you probably think people applaud your every utterance. Jackass.”

Kristin, love, I’ve got a few handy pointers to make your food/web reading experience more pleasurable. First, if you’re on a site you don’t like, try clicking elsewhere. I swear, it works like a charm, every time.

Second, I implore you, never EVER read anything by Ruth Reichl. Her endearingly personal style includes all kinds of self-absorbed references to her husband, her kid, and her friends. (Who knows how she made it at the New York Times, or why a magazine like Gourmet would hire her as an editor?) Seriously, Kristin. You’ll find her work deeply offensive. May I suggest something written by robots instead? Our shiny metal friends are far more objective. They never get the funny notion that food, love, and life are all tied up in one big, tangled, beautiful knot

And third, if you’re going to go to such lengths to lambast me (on a Saturday night, no less), just come out and admit it: You’ve got a crush on me. It’s okay. I won’t tell your boyfriend.

p.s. Acolytes? Really? Kudos on the 50 cent word. I actually had to look that one up.

Reco for Phoenix?

Gotta make a quick business trip to Phoenix/Scottsdale this week. Does anyone out there have a restaurant recommendation for me? I’m hoping to avoid the horror of an Olive Garden next to a strip mall.

Ring it in

Happy New Year, y’all.

My celebration? Making reservations at Cyrus for my partner and my ten-year anniversary. (It’s in January, but we couldn’t get a Saturday night rezzie until February. Worth the wait, though, eh?) We’ll be staying overnight at the Hotel Healdsburg for maximum indulgence.

It’s gonna be a good year, people.

Baring It All

A’ight Sam, et al.

In the spirit of those immortal classics, “Bring it On” and “You Got Served”, I present to you…the contents of my refrigerator. Uncensored and Uncut.

I’ve never felt to naked and ashamed. Except for that one time in college, but that was after I sobered up.

The urge to curate and art direct was almost overwhelming. But I resisted. The photo is a bit dark, but I’m going to pretend it makes me seem moody and mysterious.

First off, you’ll notice I’m bi. There’s milk AND soy milk. San Pellegrino AND Coke. Dog food AND cat food. (Though the dog prefers the cat food, and the cat prefers the dog’s.)

Other curiosities of note:

A Costco-sized vat of sun-dried tomatoes
Not one, but two bottles of Sriracha (aka “Hot Cock”)
Tecate and Oranjeboom, though I’m not a huge beer drinker
Tofurky slices
Six or seven kinds of Mexican hot sauce
Handy, pre-washed bags of veggies, including spinach and broccoli
A Gap bag (I shit you not) full of assorted condiment packets
One half-used tube of Amore double concentrated tomato paste
One half-used tube of Le Cabanan harissa
Some truffle spread
Non-fat organic yogurt from TJ’s
Hummus (also TJ’s)
A bottle of Handley Late Harvest Riesling (2003)
An emergency bottle o’ bubbly (Roederer Estate Anderson Valley Extra Dry)
A big ol’ bottle of lemon juice from concentrate
And a half loaf of Alvarado St. Bakery California Style Complete Protein Bread

You know, I never claimed to be a chef. Now you see why I’m always going out to eat.

Dallas!

(Cue the intro music. I can almost see J.R. and Sue Ellen…)

Big hair! Big cars! Big steaks!

Yep, I’m headed to big, big, big state o’ Texas next week for work. The question is, where to eat?  Think posh, not necessarily vegetarian. Any Dallas dining suggestions?

Don’t Take My Word for It

Get a second (or third, or fourth) opinion from other Bay Area bloggers on the new Blog Soop SF site. Such a genius resource!

Portland suggestions?

We’re Taking Off to the Great White North this weekend to visit my parents. The question is, where should we eat? Any suggestions?

Now, I’m a Portland girl from way back in the day. We’re talking BSE. (Before Starbucks Era.) I used to sling espresso at the very first Coffee People expansion store, which was across the street from the company’s original subterranean stronghold. I remember the day when a suspicious-looking guy came into our shop, asking oddly specific questions. He was supposedly from some Seattle coffee joint I’d never heard of, and his visit clearly threw the older and wiser Coffee People employees into a tizzy. At the time, I didn’t get what all the fuss was about. Then Starbucks opened its first Portland storefront on the same street.

When was that? 1988 or so?

Live and learn.

It’s been nearly a decade since I lived in the City of Roses. I’ve got no clue on the food front. School me.

I promise this will be stuck in your head all day.

Sing with me now. (And give it your best Fixx impression.)

NOPA tonight
(NOPA tonight)
Wo oh (Wo oh)
Wo oh oh oh oh oh oh oh