Burrata vs Sex

I've been busy, getting married and shit. And do you know what marriage is the perfect excuse for? Eating burrata. For breakfast. You spend your wedding night at the Georgia Hotel and the next morning you wake up in marital bliss, roll out of bed, and slum your way down to Hawksworth for brunch.

This one was the fancy shit, with prosciutto, balsamic reduction, fresh figs, walnuts, and olive oil marshmallows. I'd say it's better than sex but I'd be lying.

Burrata Bitches!

See previous entry.

Sometimes a really awesome friend will take you out for dinner at Nook and you will each have to get your own burrata because neither of you are willing to share. Then you make the mistake of trying to add up the 1000+ calories in this dish. Sidenote: you will not find "Creamy Cheese Soaked in Cream" listed as an option in one of those calorie counting apps. 

Ps. If you die before eating one of these your life is not worth living. 

Chicken Crack and Ikea

I am lazy. I generally don't like to leave downtown. I work, box, and eat all within the 20-ish square blocks of land that awkwardly juts out towards the Burrard Inlet. To leave downtown I need a decent reason. The driving range. Tattoos. Horseback rides. Etcetera. What is close is comfortable and what is comfortable is routine.

Thus today's hunt for a new bed was a great opportunity to alleviate the depths of ikea hell with something tasty from the heart of Richmond. Surprisingly, fried chicken! Not just any fried chicken. but the best god-damned fried chicken in the GVRD.

L A Chicken

I am pretty sure the chicken is battered in crispy cocaine flakes. So delicious it is almost worth the trip.

Zucchini Flowers

When my fiancé told my Memérè that zucchini flowers are served in fancy restaurants she nearly fell off her chair, laughing in disbelief. Gesturing to her giant zucchini patch she said in her gentle French Canadian lilt, "Well, I've got a gold mine then eh?".

That first batch of delicate flowers was hand picked and carefully packed into our carry-on for the trip back to Vancouver. Now it's an occasional treat that still reminds me of home.

We found some young blossoms at the West End Farmers Market and learned that the secret is to wrap them in paper to protect them and keep them fresh. We stuffed them with lemon and herb goat cheese (fancy piping bag = ziploc bag with a corner cut off). The batter is simple: flour, salt, and a carbonated liquid (we used what we had on hand, cider). Fried in oil and paired with a summery salad of asparagus, sautéed kale, avocado and shallots on butter lettuce.

Buckstop

It doesn't have to make sense. Sometimes you put a couple of shorty forty's of caramel vodka in your rootbeer and you go watch This is the End. Then you go for barbecue at your local shitty joint. It's not awesome, but at least they're not d-bags like down the street at a vomit-boring, pseudo-UK Donnelly gig. This city needs less of that and more of awesome. Turn down the suck knob Vancouver.

How To Do Date Night

Step 1. Shave your legs. This can be assisted by pre-drinking in the shower to save time.
Step 2. Put on shoes that say, "I'm wearing fancy panties".
Step 3. Eat an amazing meal, like the kind available at Andrea Carlson's Burdock & Co. on Main Street.
Step 4. Have a couple shots of tequila when you get home. The good kind.
Step 5. Makeout times.

Pizza Truck

I'd say that 2011 was the year that pizza took off in Vancouver. Neapolitan style exploded like Oprah's ass at a buffet. Now there are at least ten places you can grab an uncut pizza that is desperate to be "authentic". You can break it down to ingredients and oven and the degree of dough chewiness, but who fuckin cares? It's pizza. It's delicious. Eat it. Located in Victory Square Park.

Minority Troubles

Growing up in a town with one black kid I would never have thought I would spend the majority of my career as a minority. Nursing is rampant with Asian and Middle Eastern cultures and between the Filipinos and the Iranians you will never go hungry.

In about two hours at 0400 it is Nowruz, Persian New Year. And what better way to get through night shift by celebrating with take-out? We hit up the newly opened Cazba at Davie and Thurlow (in the old Characters location) and stuffed our faces with some tender meats. Then me at the only other white girl got even whiter by listening to 90's Alternative all night long.

I'm gonna change the name of this blog to 'Bitches Eating Burrata' because really that's all there is to see here. I haven't blogged in over a year because of numerous reasons, one of them being that I hate the word "blogging", and another is that I shouldn't/can't really make fun of people. And really, if I'm not laughing at someone else's expense, what's the point of writing?? I am not an expert, I am not a food critic, and I am definitely not going to bring a SLR to an establishment when I'm enjoying a meal. So in conclusion, I don't know what the fuck this is going to be, probably inappropriate, probably incoherent, but generally anecdotal. Suck on that flash photography. 

Friday date night at Nook meant I inhaled more than my share of Burrata. 

Pizza with potatoes and tallegio. Pork Ragu fresh pasta.