Tag Archives: Vesuvio

Blogger Phail

21 Jul

Epic phail in the blogging department.  I am admitting my lamentable lameness and hoping to make amends with all of my phabulous phollowers who have sent encouraging/chastising/threatening emails regarding my hiatus.  You are all right in your own ways, and I am inspired by your phervent support of my little project.

I agree, it is pushing the envelope of pathetic-ness to be posting phood I enjoyed months ago, so I will try my very best to catch up week by week in the next phew posts.  Keep the scathing email threats coming though, so I don’t lose phocus! 🙂

Ok, here goes…

Monday, May 30 (Memorial Day)

Enjoyed an incredibly phabulous late breakfast with The Original and Alabama at Toast in Carmel Valley.  Alabama shared some of his Eggs Benny with me, and I devoured ever morsel of my pressed sando.  I sh*t you not, it was one of the best sandos I have ever had… no joke.

In the afternoon, I grubbed on some Giants peanuts while watching the game.  Very thematic and enjoyable… so enjoyable, in phact, I phorgot to eat dinner that night.

Tuesday, May 31

I threw together a quick cheese quesadilla at the office.

Had the special treat of dining at Rancho Cielo for lunch where the Drummond Culinary Academy students catered our Junior League Sustainers luncheon.

Polished off a tasty little treat that was waiting for me when I got back to the office…

Georgia had me over for dinner and introduced me to the world of the phried pork chop.

I always thought I hated pork chops (excluding Pork Chop, the dog, on that phabulous old Nickelodeon cartoon, Doug) but apparently I was wrong.  Actually, I thought I was wrong once, but I was wrong…

Wednesday, June 1

Went with a little Subway breakfast action in the a.m.

Swung over to Salinas’ “gourmet alley”, as I like to call it (others call it Park Row) and picked up Won Ton Soup from Cantonese Express.

I went two rounds with it…

When I got home late that night, I decided it was a good idea to teach myself to make risotto out of the phew ingredients I had in my phridge and pantry.  Oddly, it turned out pretty terrific!

Thursday, June 2

I tried to branch out and try something new for breakfast.  I stopped at the store to pick up some Morningstar “sausage” and was seduced by an interesting phruit that called himself Pepino.  Now, I know phoreign phruits and I don’t normally get along, so I’m not quite sure how I talked myself into a blind date that morning with handsome Mr. Pepino.  Let’s just say it was quite the opposite of love at phirst bite.  Well, now I know what to add to my ever-growing allergy list!

I had a mid-morning snack to help sop up some of the allergy medication phloating around in my tummy…

I then went big and headed to The Bakery Station and thoroughly enjoyed a Road Hog… and yes, I ate the whole darn thing!

I spent the dinner hour at a very special phriend’s house who has been under the weather and been struggling with a very limited diet.  I brought over the goods- chicken, taters, gravy and carrots.  I’m not so sure I’d mind terribly if that was what I had to eat for a prolonged period of time!

Phriday, June 3

Did you know June 3 was National Damn Donut Day?  Neither did I…  so I had this delicious, crisp pear to start off a day of healthy eating choices.

Then some jerk (a.k.a. The Republican) showed up at the office with these…

I started by making myself a small and sensible sampler platter…

Then decided one tiny bite more wouldn’t hurt…

I then COMPLETELY gave up (a.k.a. started being realistic) and ended up eating at least another two donuts… which was completely counter-balanced by the Tuscan Chicken salad I had at First Awakenings with Preggers.  (Hey, a girl can dream!)

Once out of my diabetic coma, I headed to Vesuvio for dinner with some very phun pholks.  I know many of you must be questioning right now why on Earth I wanted to go back to Vesuvio after the night of Sexy Mexican Awkwardness hell.  Why invite PTSD into your life, right?  Well, what can I say other than I like to live on the edge.  I’m crazy like that… and/or I wasn’t the one to pick the restaurant that evening!

We started with a little prosciutto and melon (which I have since learned is a very unhappy combo to put in your tummy at the same time, but I shall spare you the details).

I snagged a bite of buratta from someone as well.

I tried the Ziti Al Forno for my main.  Not really a dish you’d want to take home to mom, but I didn’t kick it out of bed either. 😉

Dinner ended with limoncello… the night continued into a phrenzy of mustaches, karaoke and general ridiculousness.  Good times…

And with that, I have officially hit the quota of uploads I am allowed per blog post, so that’s all for now, pholks!

Sexy Mexican Awkwardness

28 Jun

Thursday, May 26th, was host to quite possibly one of the most epically awkward nights of my life.

The day started out like any other… I attended an absolutely riveting training  on the intricacies of 2011 HR law and attempted to eat some cheese crisps I had picked up at the store.  Their taste and smell evoked memories of boozy vomit, so they promptly made phriends with the trash can.

The training was held close to home, so I got to enjoy lunch on my couch with my phavorite phurry phriend, Phoo.  I made some brown rice and scrambled eggs for the occasion.

Dinner… well, where does one begin?

I will preface the explanation of the story with the disclaimer that I am aware that all my readers will think I am exaggerating.  I assure you, I am not.  I will also phollow that disclaimer with another admitting that while the evening was nothing short of torturous for me, multiple positive results came from it.

Enough chatter.  Dinner…  Vesuvio in downtown Carmel.  It had just opened, so it seemed the logical spot to try for a phirst dinner with a new phriend in my life.  Normally phellows that come in and out of my life have to earn a nickname on the blog over time.  Not this one, though- he earned his stripes immediately.  And thus, he shall be known as “Sexy Mexican”…

A phew hours before dinner, I learned that a birthday party was taking place at Vesuvio… for my mother.  She and I haven’t seen all that much of each other over the past year and change, so I was phlattered to receive an invite to the dinner.  Awkward moment #1- I had to refuse because I had reservations at the same restaurant at the same time with the aforementioned Sexy Mexican.

I warned Sexy Mexican that he was going to have to deal with a gauntlet of ladies wondering who he was, and that one was, in phact, my mother and that it was her birthday, so I wanted to take her some phlowers.  He was phine with this, so we charged on in with confidence.

After the awkward interchanges between Mother & Co., myself and Sexy Mexican, we learned that our table would not be ready for an additional 20 minutes.  To save ourselves additional awkwardness, we took the hostess up on the offer of enjoying a cocktail on the rooftop.  We headed up there, me leading the way, until I walked out onto the patio and immediately ran into none other than my ex-phella, who I hadn’t really seen or spoken to in over a year.  Amazingly, I resisted the urge to spin around on my heels and retreat directly back downstairs.  (I am not claiming to be brave here, but I think I subconsciously realized that loitering by myself in the stairwell for the next 20 minutes was not a realistic option…)

So we headed to the bar and tried to act nonchalant.  That lasted a good 30 seconds or so (actually a bit more because I had time to order a stiff drink) until the ex-phella saw me and started to make his way over.  In an effort to staunch some of the awkwardness bleeding out of my every pore, I made my way over to him before he could approach us.  Awkward interchange ensued, phollowed by ex-phella deciding to phollow me back to the bar to meet Sexy Mexican.

…or so I thought.  Turns out they knew each other from years ago when they worked together halfway across the state.  Who knew?  How did I react?  Another stiff cocktail, of course.

Imagine my horror when the hostess reappeared in my nightmare and offered an escape route (our table was phinally ready), only to phind that she had seated us literally right next to my mother’s table AND the ex-phella made his way down with us to say hello to Mother & Co.

I must disclaim at this point, that by my third stiff cocktail, the phaces the women at the Mother & Co. birthday table were making at me trying to phigure out the situation were becoming more amusing than devastatingly embarrassing.

I had hit my awkwardness quota sometime back on  the rooftop, so my brain went on autopilot at some point.  This resulted in me ordering the same things I ordered the last time I went to a Pepe restaurant… and then phorgetting to actually eat them.  But burrata to start, it was.

Poor Sexy Mexican put up with the ridiculousness like a champ and then some, hence the instant nickname, and shared a bite of the gnocchi with me (which I distinctly remember thinking tasted like grass).

We ordered a pizza that I had them add sun-dried tomatoes to… I don’t recall if I successfully ate any of it.  I do recall that I successfully ordered a phourth stiff drink.

“Dessert”, if you will, would be the phinal course of awkwardness for the evening, which consisted of the ex-phella coming back to our table (Mother & Co. had since departed, with additional awkward interchanges galore as they headed out) and sat down with me and Sexy Mexican.  What a perfect way to end the evening, right?

  Vesuvio, I must return to your establishment and try more than just phour of something off your signature cocktail list.

Mother & Co., I hope you all enjoyed the phree entertainment my life provided that evening.

Sexy Mexican, you are epic, sir, for putting up with the three-ring circus that was that night.

Ex-phella, you’re lucky you’re so damn cute.

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