GAH. Working Monday read news go GAH.

GAH.

And I'm kinda dressed like a kitty because my really real costume isn't exactly work appropriate. A kitty who reads the news and explodes a little on the inside.

Anyway.

Mocha Diavolo: A wicked combination of bittersweet chocolate, carameled cream, and a whisper of orange. Includes a ristretto ( Read more... )

The Goo-Goo Muck: Daring, fragrant, and just a little bit beastly. Rich whole milk steamed with our house-made carameled cream, orange essence, and a touch of honey. Served with a double ristretto shot and, if you're weary and willing, a dollop of freshly whipped cream and a sultry drizzle of molten panache, er, ganache ( Read more... )

Okay, you guys. If you were to come up with a special espresso-laced beverage and call it the "Goo Goo Muck," what would you put in it?

Yeah, I'm a dork, but so are you! Boo!

I'm guessing that it won't surprise anybody that I've started eating meat again. I went to the Red Line yesterday and ordered something called "The Texan" which involved roast beef -- really good, rare house-roasted beef -- caramelized red onions, horseradish, and a side of chipotle-tainted au jus. Actually, this entire week has been peppered ( Read more... )

Hey, guess what? Turns out I'm allergic to almonds, too ( Read more... )

I know I said that I'd write about romanticky crap or something, but, you know, I'd really rather talk about food and/or work ( Read more... )

There's an essay in M.F.K. Fisher's The Gastronomical Me called "Define This Word." It's about Ms. Fisher's encounter with a really, um, passionate and rather aggressive waitress at a tiny hotel in provincial France.

"You cannot, you cannot, Madame, serve old pastry!" She seemed ready to beat her breast as she leaned across the table. "Look ( Read more... )

Livejournal was, for all intents and purposes, born in Seattle. It makes sense, then, that a significant chunk of my crazily dynamic social circle might spend some time blogging in this particular corner of the internet ( Read more... )

I think I've developed some kind of reading-specific ADD. I can't read one book at a time, I just can't. It started, I'm sure, back in Ye Olde Undergraduate Days. This is a small problem because I refuse to give up my borrowed copy of Brillat-Savarin's Physiology of Taste -- the MFK Fisher translation, natch -- to whomever's put it on their hold ( Read more... )

I'd never though I'd live to . . . oh, never mind. The hotel sound system's stuck on the crappy Muzak station again.

There exists an instrumental version -- with an extra-extra synthesized string section -- of "Je t’aime moi non plus."

Oh, mon amour.