Strawberry Money Update

Just so you know, the Strawberry Money came in quite handy. And it was used for strawberry-related consumables, which seemed quite a good idea... don't you think?

Italian strawberry sodas with my sweet friend Cartooncharacter.

And a slice of chocolate cake with strawberries to go with the sodas.
A shared piece of cake is somehow sweeter.

***

The strawberry money also treated me and the gorgeous la belle fille to a sandwich at lunchtime, but there were no strawberries involved and I did not get a photo. And now the Strawberry Money is spent, until the next unexpected time.

I hope some Strawberry Money comes your way soon! I'm off to get some sunshine (and probably a bratwurst at Rosamunde's) but of course I'll have more to share later.

xoxo

There Goes the Diet

Well, just for a day.

Now you know where I will be on Sunday, April 13 from 10am-6pm.

Yes, I will be taking my camera.
Yes, I will be trying everything I can get my hands on, especially if it is made out of dark chocolate.
Yes, I will be fasting for all of next week.

I do this for you. You know that, right?

Run Away, Tangobaby

I wish I had a great followup story to my Tango Angel/crazy milonga last night, but I don't. I did try, though.

Tonight I went to the Milonga That Shall Remain Nameless. It's one I used to go to religiously back when it was crowded and the best game in town. And then it just wasn't my place anymore, so I started going elsewhere. (And lots of other people stopped going there, too, apparently. Which has nothing to do with me.)

I had seen on the calendar that Miriam Larici was supposed to perform tonight. For those of you who have seen Miriam, or like me, have had the opportunity to take classes with her, you know she is a gorgeous, amazingly talented, and super-wonderful lady. Just to see her for a ten-minute performance was enough to get me back to the Milonga That Shall Remain Nameless. I was also kinda hoping that maybe things had changed and I would enjoy going there again. No such luck.

Not only was Miriam not coming (sounds like a scheduling snafu because I seemed to be the only person expecting to see her) but the place--for me--well, I'll be PC and say it is just not where I'll be needing to frequent anymore. I now have exactly zero curiosity about the place.

To illustrate my point, I have selected a video clip that will give you an idea of my feelings on the evening's festivities (or lack thereof), where the rabbit would be the milonga and I would be King Arthur:



So now I am home, in my pjs, eating my dinner (some Junior Mints) and singing this song. Nothing better than some candy and a little Mick to revive your spirits:



Better luck next time, tangobaby. (But my eyeshadow looked hot. Oh well.)

***

PS. If you want to know what I was hoping to get a smidgen of tonight, click here for some awesome Miriam Larici performances. Watch the 3rd and 4th songs especially where she dances with Hugo Patyn. I was there in the crowd (no, I am not going to tell you where), and let's just say that was so exciting to see her dance like that. She has so much energy and grace--the woman is amazing. And Hugo is not too shabby himself.

PSS. I am kind of amused with myself that I was able to bring together Monty Python AND The Stones to illustrate a tango post.

Forget the Brownie

Remember that brownie I told you about?

Old news. I've moved on.

It's all about Kara's Cupcakes, baby. In the Marina, on Scott. Bake sale cupcakes were never this good, ever.

From left to right: Sweet Vanilla (yummiest), Chocolate Velvet (popular flavor but not the yummiest IMHO) and Sweet Chocolate (second yummiest).

I know I haven't been to Miette at the Ferry Building, which is shocking since I go to the Ferry Building all the time. So expect a cupcake report from there in the future.

I do this for you, people. In case you ever come to San Francisco, it's really important that I keep up with all of the food options for you.

Thanks to The Boy for treating and making sure I didn't have to eat all three of these by myself. On a sunny day, you can sit outside Kara's with your cupcake(s) and your little pint of milk and feel like a 5-year old who can drive a car. It's fun!

PS. For some reason, a lot of the food porn I look at secretly is really focused on cupcakes. Like this one. And this one. I'm such a victim of the media. heh heh heh.

The Brownie I Had for Breakfast

Cold pizza for breakfast is so passé.

I am eating something for breakfast that is not for the faint of heart.

It is a decadent remnant of the ice cream lollapallooza that Ms. Wellspring and I endulged in the other night on my sofa.

It is called The Adult Brownie. It is about four times as large as a regular brownie. I had half of it warmed up in the microwave, which I then topped with two kinds on Ben 'n' Jerry's. My initial thought for the brownie is that it would be a substrate for the real attraction: the ice cream. But my head almost fell off when I took the first bite. This might be the brownie of my dreams. It was so intense that I couldn't finish even that half.

So I am trying the brownie again this morning. The label on the brownie wrapper says: The Adult Brownie. For mature tastebuds only.

The disclaimer reads: This sinfully delicious dense chocolate brownie is made from scratch in our bakery using a secret recipe that will have you begging for more.

For once, truth in advertising.

Tango Snacks

It's that time of year again.

Damn Girl Scouts.

Just like the tulips that emerge from the frozen soil, just like the bears that awaken from their long winter's naps, just like the spring robins that start to build their nests, it is that time of year.

Girl Scout Cookie Time.

No, I like the Girl Scouts. The two little ones that were freezing their tiny bottoms off in the cold outside of the train station were very sweet and very organized. I know they will be very successful pillars of their communities someday.

(I was never a Girl Scout. I was an Indian Princess, which was a short-lived, not very PC-sounding group that a bunch of wives invented to get their husbands and daughters out of the house from time to time so that they could have some private moments for themselves, or to play mah-jong. Hey, it was the Seventies. I don't make this stuff up. The only thing I remember about the Indian Princesses was learning to rub a paper grocery bag against itself long enough so that it felt like suede--don't ask me what we did with the suede/paper afterwards because I don't remember--and when my dad flew my kite into a tree at an Indian Princess picnic. Unlike the Girl Scouts, I don't recall doing anything that would earn me a badge or help me become a better person, unless wearing a paper headband with a feather stuck in it counts as something.)

Anyway, the reason that I say Damn is only because now I have to buy Thin Mints cookies again. (Don't even tell me that Caramel Delights are better than Thin Mints.) They should name them Crack Thins and be more honest about what one of the main ingredients might be.

I have always felt somewhat guilty about my cookie intake at this time of year because Thin Mints are to be treasured (even if you freeze them, they can't last forever) as a seasonal delight, like chanterelles or truffles.

I am (finally!) going to a milonga tonight so I have decided to make Thin Mints my Official Tango Snack. Normally my tango shoe tote bag (yes, I have a tote bag of shoes because I can't just pick one pair) has several types of chocolate bars, in addition to a shoe brush, bandaids, mints, and gum.

So, if you see me tonight and you know the secret of the tote bag (wink, wink, nudge, nudge), I may very well give you a Thin Mint and share in the bounty of the season.

Or maybe not. It depends.

***

I should add that Thin Mints do have some medicinal value and can help reduce vomiting, because I used them in such a capacity during an unfortunate incident that involved discovering a boiled slug in an artichoke. Never mind.