Cinnamon Raisin Bagel with Strawberry Cream Cheese c/o Rybread

After dinner we returned to my house and hung out for a bit. E. had a very important micro finance panel to be a part of the next day so she retired a bit before L. and myself. The next morning we awoke at a relatively decent hour and managed to squeeze in a breakfast meal with E. before sending her off to the great beyond. While I usually am all about Rybread's sausage, egg and cheese bagels, I was feeling like switching it up a bit that particular morning. My chosen switch was still centered around a bagel, but on the opposite end of the sweet/salt spectrum. The cream cheese, strawberry, was plentiful and very, very sweet. The bagel nice and chewy on the outside but soft on the inside. I didn't quite finish the whole thing, but enjoyed that which I did consume.
It was also a beautiful day. You'll see more proof of that momentarily.

Modo Mio Magic

When I was in New York in March, E. mentioned that she would be coming to Philly in April and asked whether she might stay with me. She and I both thought that getting L. to come too would be fantastic, and I quickly began plotting where we might eat while they were in town. I decided that in terms of budget and bang for the buck, Modo Mio was most definitely the way to go ... I also just wanted to go there. So, on an incredibly rainy night L. and E. pulled into town and I met them at the restaurant. As always, I found the lighting of the place a challenge and I actually think this was one of my least successful rounds of photos. Also, as always, I sort of forget the details of the dishes, and the restaurant's menu isn't entirely reflective of what we ordered. So we'll see how it goes. For my first course I chose a chicken liver 'caramello,' in other words, chicken liver paté or mousse. There were cherries and raddichio and something else good. It was good. It's strange how chicken livers in their natural state are not all that appealing to me, and yet I like it when they're all ground/pureed up. Go figure.
Since I so enjoyed the pasta I had last time, I gravitated to its close cousin on this occasion as well...and found it deeee-lightful.
Oh man, it's pretty much impossible for me to tell you much about my main course. It was tender, delicious duck. With pancetta or something like it, and gorgonzola sauce. But those pink tipped things? Totally couldn't tell you. And there was another element that also slips my mind. But here's something else I can tell you: E. ordered the butter fish, which was a special of the night. And, well, it was maybe THE BEST THING EVER. Seriously. For real. It was not just good, it was super good. It was melting in your mouth fantastic. It was just...there are no words.
For dessert I ordered the pannacotta, which came with a blueberry compote? I need to start writing things down.
I think L. and E. were a little skeptical about my crazy need to be there exactly on time, but once the food started coming I think any annoyance was nicely mellowed by the food. Also? We drank a bottle of prosecco and a bottle of malbec.

Pizza Change Up

So we've switched up the pizza toppings during the wine/laundry nights as of late. Last time we went with black olives, mushrooms and ricotta cheese but thought that green olives would have been more satisfying. We weren't wrong. The green olives on this latest pizza brought a little more salt to the mix, which was lacking without our usual pepperoni. Another fine evening with C., R. and Brutus.

Asparagus, Smoked Salmon and Soft Boiled Egg Salad

At some point lately, I made myself quite a tasty salad. Some arugula and whatnot greens, chopped tomato, sliced avocado, slightly steamed asparagus, smoked salmon and a soft boiled egg. All topped off with a lemon truffle champagne vinaigrette of my own making. It was delicious. It's the sort of thing I should eat all the time in order to feel healthy and slender while also full and satisfied. Alas.

Dinner c/o Kansai

On a Sunday, L. and I met up at Kansai for dinner. I wanted to give the place a further perusal and delve a bit deeper into their sushi fare. We opted to sit at the bar and a friendly young sushi chef greeted us and took our orders. Once we realized they didn't serve booze, L. went off to buy us beers. Miso soup.
Another sushi guy came out as well, and I think he saw me taking photographs of the soup, so he gave us these complimentary treats. Cucumber, avocado and watercress wrapped in thinly sliced and seared-ish tuna (I think) topped with a little roe and situated in a bit of ponzu sauce. A nice bite I wouldn't have otherwise known to try.

I went with their spicy maki combination: salmon, tuna and yellow tail. Could have been spicier, and could have done better at a little differentiation between the three fish. That said? I ate it all.
I also ordered a piece of white tuna and a piece of ikura. I enjoyed them both.
So yeah. This is a solid spot. I hope they make it so's I can come by from time to time and give them a whirl.

Breaching the Museum's Forcefield

So. I've lived in pretty close proximity to the art museum for the entirety of my residency in Philadelphia, and yet, up until last week, I managed to avoid actually entering the building. It's hard to explain the strange fear/resistance complex I developed about the whole thing. I like art. I do. And I like walking to nearby places and seeing things. But somehow that just didn't translate to any burning desire to actually do so in the case of the Philadelphia Museum of Art. This position softened slightly when my father gave me a membership for Christmas. Softened in that I began thinking that I should really go inside. And yet, still, I did not. This is in part some sort of fear of entering places that are big and have lines, neither of which I understand. Basically I want to look like I know what I'm doing at all times, and the museum struck me as a potentially troubling spot for that reality. What? Anyways. Enough was enough. I asked my new friend G. if he might not like to join me on my inaugural look at the place, and he said yes. So we went. On that day Rocky was wearing a sweater.
We went in the front entrance and the line was very long and I was confused. G. suggested we go to the super secret back entrance (not super secret if you're not a dumb dumb like myself), which we did with great success. So the museum is really not that scary guys. Everyone should just get a grip...like this painted figure did to the back of some other person's figure in this religious painting. What? I tired of the walls and walls of Jesus paintings, but imagined spending quality time in the Japanese Garden/Hindu Temple exhibits. I expected more Duchamp.
There were some more contemporary exhibits, one of which I really liked but because it was on loan I had to erase my photographs in front of a guard and I've forgotten the artist's name. Saws with phrases on them? Anyone? The armor stuff was cool, though Chicago's museum had a bigger and more demanding spacial display. You know what I mean.
Also? Spring seems to be here for real. I need to stop procrastinating and take a million photographs of my neighborhood's revival of prettiness after the greys and mud of the winter.
We made our own art along with a broken disk from a book written by Candace Bushnell. Famous for life.

Oysters and Seafood Sausage c/o Sansom Oyster House

On a Saturday I was without plan or company, but it was a lovely day and I knew a walk and a treat of some kind were in order. I decided to throw fiscal caution to the wind (mainly because I recently received my tax refund) and go to Sansom Street Oyster House in the middle of the day, when I knew full well that the Buck a Shuck option would be barred. I ordered their rosemary lemonade, which was fantastic. Really just strangely tart and savory with just enough sweetness mixed in. I recommend.
I ordered a dozen oysters, half of the Kusshi variety and half of the Little Shemogue. As I tend to, I favored the west coast Kusshi to the east coast Shemogue.

I also tried the restaurant's seafood sausage. Didn't dig it. Wouldn't recommend.
Completely gluttonous and luxurious. I do not regret it.

Cheese, Martini and Dessert c/o McCrossen's

A few days after the Wake and Bake/Whiskey night, I returned to McCrossens and met up with L. She and I are not dating, just so it's clear. Ha. That's what I like to call an inside joke. Except it is also factually accurate and not even thaaaaat funny. The night before the restaurant had had a cheese and wine event, so I asked T. if there were any leftovers on the cheese side of the equation, as I like trying new cheeses. He said that there was, in fact, some cheese left over. I will try to track down its name (update: I could not track down its name). It was a buffalo cheese, kind of brie-y. I would have liked slightly heartier cuts of it, or one chunk to cut as I saw fit, but still, good. The chorizo was good too, though they are a little more liberal with their oil than I might be on my own. Still. Overall message: eat there.
L. had the spaghetti carbonara, which was delicious. So rich and creamy, with a good bacon-y kind of flavor from the meat that technically wasn't bacon. I started with a beer and then went on to a dirty martini.
L. finished her meal off with these sweet puffs of sugary wonder. They, like the fries before them, glowed. I don't know what T. puts into this stuf, but man does it make them shine. Heh.

Fries and Wake and Bake c/o McCrossens, Silliness and Whiskey c/o Belgian Cafe

L. and I decided to do a good and proper happy hour last week. Was it just last week? Probably. So immediately after work we headed to McCrossens. I enjoyed a pint of Terrapin's Wake and Bake, which truly is a delightful and delectable beer.
Due to a fair amount of Facebook tomfoolery, T. suggested that anyone who came into the establishment with L. would get free french fries (I feel this was mainly directed at me) ... so I went with every intention of getting free fries. There was some confusion on that point. And some cajoling. And some light text harassment. But. In the end, free fries were had. And these weren't every day french fries ... they GLOWED. I also had a side of asparagus. I enjoyed the asparagus, but my photograph was not good.
After two beer we headed on over to the Belgian where we enjoyed Bells Double Cream Stout and, at the end of our evening, shots of whiskey. You might think we were up until the wee hours but, in fact, I was home before 10. If only I had just gone to bed at that point. Ha ha. Ugh.
The obligatory photo shoot turned out really well on the whole. Goofy and creepy as well.

Room for Improvement

After our burgers and beverages, A.S. and I walked northerly before parting ways and going on with our respective evenings. One element of my post-burger night was meeting up with my new friend G. to take a few photographs and video of him dancing. The results were, shall we say, not as impressive as I think possible. This is not a commentary on G.'s moves as much as my own limitations when it comes to photography. While I can take the hell out of a photograph of a plate of food -- given that the lighting is decent -- moving images have long been a challenge for me. I never quite know what shutter speed and aperture to use for the desired image to not be blurry, but to perhaps show motion. I often like to add flash and then a lower shutter speed to get a bit of blur/movement, but it's trial and error. This is an area of improvement for me, I think. I'm tired of going to music shows and taking a bunch of shitty photos (see this and this). I'm tired of seeing people dance and seeing the moments that would be great images ... but being unable to get myself together and have the settings and lighting work to my advantage. I also realized that, as a photographer, I've stopped moving. I root myself in one location or perspective and find it difficult to change once I'm there. This may be a reflection of my larger character, actually. So, in the case of the photos for G. I plopped myself and my tripod in one corner of the studio and didn't move. This was silly. I should have tried a few different angles. I used to be better, also, at forming a better photo/subject relationship, which allowed me and the person in front of the lens to work as a team. I feel like G. didn't really know what he wanted, and I didn't really know what he wanted or what I wanted, so the resulting images, while not completely without merit, were a little 'eh.' For example, I like the basic movement going on in this photograph, but the framing is bad, you can't see all of his face, and he's a little orange/red. And wouldn't it have been nice if the yoga mat shelf wasn't there? Yeah.
I was telling L. that it might be time for me to just suck it up and take a course. Yes, I majored in photography, but I feel like I learned more about how to think about an idea and convey it visually (which I never really do anymore) than the fundamentals. This is, in part, because I hate the fundamentals. There's a secret part of me that doesn't want to have to understand the machinations of the lens; I just want it to do what I want. I want the crib notes of a class, where you are given a short answer on 'what you do if your only light source is a candle and the walls are red and you want to take a photograph of spaghetti' or 'how to get true skin tones in a concert lighting atmosphere' or 'how to best capture a dancer's movement in medium light.' Medium light is not even a thing. So, an area in which I can improve.

Things That Happen

So yesterday the man who played Omar Little on the Wire (real name unimportant...though it should matter b/c he's a fine actor...but nevermind about that) turned up in the same office as my dear friend L. She let me know of this turn of events and I encouraged her to say any number of things to him and to get a photograph. Upon more reflection I decided that what really needed to happen was that he hold a sign up that said 'hi Caroline.' Because it's all about me. Then I thought that there was an even better sign he could potentially hold ... and so I made it and emailed it to L. I'll let you decide whether this image, which L. emailed to me late last night, is the real thing or just a phantom event that never took place. Either way, we can conclude that L. is awesome and that Omar loves me. A good way to start a day:)

Beets, Burger and Booze c/o Village Whiskey

In bygone months, A.S. and I spoke at length about the necessity that was her getting to try a Village Whiskey burger. But, as things often do, the reality of this necessity remained unmet. What? We did, however, rekindle the idea when I saw her at her b-day celebration. And, not losing that momentum, we planned for a date soon thereafter. I left work a little early and began my walk, picking A.S. up at the end of her work day. After that we walked to Village Whiskey, where there were still plenty of places to sit since it was so soon after 5. So that, my friends, is the trick to Village Whiskey. I don't know, nor care, about any 'hipper scene' (or is it a tourist scene? I really can't tell) that may or may not go on in the place at trendier hours of the day. I know that I don't like waiting for longer than half an hour if I absolutely must wait for anything, so, you know, my point is to just go early on a weekday. Ha. Or 3 on a Sunday would work too. Anyways I recently got my tax refund and you'll be noting I've gone a little super crazy with my not-at-home food intake. Soon enough you'll see that I am capable of making food for myself. For instance, the amazing salad I made myself, and never to be documented (except actually tasty) red pepper and cheddar mini quesadilla, and smoked salmon and delice bourgonne too ... with capers as well, and a spritz of lime. But, right now, it's all-out not-in food. The point is I decided to switch things up and order the pickled beets instead of the tomatoes. A.S. went with the pickled green beans and shallots. She also ordered the deviled eggs and was kind enough to let me try one. I really couldn't say they wowed me with their awesomeness to the same degree that the tomatoes or their burger have managed. But they were good, and the light through the blinds really made me happy.
I began my meal with a 'De Rigeur,' which, funnily enough, has been my 'de rigeur' drink when dining at the establishment. It's a good drink.
I ordered the standard burger with cheddar cheese and fried long hots; medium rare.
Midway through my burger I ordered the Ginger Rogers. It was really a nice thing, this drink. Fizzy. Sweet. Tart. I liked it very much and tried to savor every sip.
I was just reading Oyster Evangelist's thoughts on Village Whiskey and I so felt like she and I - and so many others - had shared the same experience and felt similarly in wonderment of the burger. Or I was projecting. Anyways, the point is this was a burger of excellent caliber and only reconfirmed - with its pink but still warm center, oozy cheese and (perhaps slightly too enthusiastic) pile of long hots - my assertion that this is the best burger I've ever had. I took some of the peppers off, but the remaining combination was just - ugh. It's hard to explain how the Village Whiskey burger can make you feel, though for some it might just make you feel unimpressed (or sick for those vegetarians out there) ... if you're some kind of wack burger hater. I mean, I can't imagine someone could be unmoved by the excellence of this burger on a completely right day with the best expectation and realization of a taste combination. That really didn't make a lot of sense. I'm just saying that if you know your tastes and choose wisely, and that the guy making your burger isn't sleepy or mad at anybody, this thing is going to blow your mind.

Sushi Bento Box c/o Kansai

Last Saturday I was feeling like having lunch out. C. and I had recently discussed the new Japanese restaurant that opened in the neighborhood, so I asked her if she might like to check it out with me. She could not, but I went anyway. They have a lunch menu that includes soup/salad plus the choice of one or two rolls, or bento boxes. I went with the sushi bento box, which included miso soup, salad, one round of California rolls, four pieces of fish and the choice of shumai or gyoza. I went with the shumai. I don't know how authentic the ginger dressing most Japanese restaurants use on their salads may be, but I don't really care; I like that dressing.
They didn't have a nigiri list on the lunch menu, so I asked whether I could also have an order of ikura. The answer was yes, and I was pleased. Look at those little poppy orange happies!
The box itself was decent. The fish didn't blow me away with its awesomenes but it didn't make me question its providence either, if that makes any sense. I think I received three or four shumai, which weren't all that impressive really. The rice was steaming hot and nice and sticky.
It was a relatively sunny, but blustery day and I was glad for the frequent refills on hot tea. It's kind of an awkward location for a restaurant -- ground level on not the busiest of streets -- and I hope they make it so I have an alternative the Umai Umai's extreme priciness and Sakura's 'good in a pinch but not so fantastic' delivery.

Birthday Celebration Dinner c/o Cantina Los Caballitos

Since winter hit I haven't seen much of A.S. Her work, sadly enough, also has a busy season. And since most of her clients are homeless, winter becomes quite busy. Anyways. She recently turned 27 (youth!) and I met up with her and some other friends at Cantina Los Caballitos. Soon after sitting down we ordered pitchers of margaritas and chips came out with green and red salsas. I spoke to B., a girl who went to the same high school as I did, but with whom I wasn't overly familiar. It was nice to meet her, or re-meet her. There were others, but the space was loud and I didn't manage to circulate. I liked the margaritas just fine.
I'm not sure if these look appealing or not. They are nachos, and in actuality they were quite good. Though - like many nachos before them - their bottom layer of chips did not benefit greatly from the presumed trickle down effect of strategic topping placement. If you know what I mean? The whole balance of chips that get equal opportunity topping smothering. If that makes sense. I think I'm going to move on from the nachos.
Cantina Los Caballitos is the sister restaurant of Dos Segundos, which I consider a good thing; every time I have been to the restaurant I've had a good time, even if sometimes I haven't liked my exact menu choice. I ordered the goat tacos, still remembering how much I enjoyed Dos Segundos' version when Childhood friend visited in ... oh man, it's going on three years ago? Almost. I added guacamole and pico de gallo to my tacos, I kind of feel like charging for those things is sad. But they were really good and I didn't want to go without. Somehow my angle and the flash led to an unfortunate (and avoidable-for-someone-better-than-me) shadow issue in most of the taco images. It's my looming mouth and stubby hands bearing down upon the tacos. They were ready. They knew it was their time.
I can't wait for the season to change, and the farmer's markets and the fresh green beans and radishes. And strawberries! Oh man. Tomatoes. Tomatoes with real dirty realness. I really need to grow tomatoes this summer. I have a deck. It gets sun. I can fight off squirrels with my superior intellect. I have an MFA, you know.
So happy birthday to A.S.!

Branching Out

On a Thursday I dragged a bag full of dirty clothes over to C. and R.'s for our semi-weekly trifecta of pizza, wine and laundry. Or, as my people would say, PWL. What? I don't think I really have people. Anyways. We went with a slightly different combination of toppings than usual: ricotta, olives and mushrooms. It worked. Though we noted that perhaps green olives would have given the whole thing a little more punch. I liked the big dollops of ricotta, I'd spread one a little around on a slice to it wasn't just one large blob in one large bite. I believe we went with an all so classy big ass bottle of Frontera Malbec, which we completed with a little help from R.

Bieber at Law and Fried Chicken c/o Meme

So at some point last week, L. won a free lunch at Meme for being the 300th follower of their twitter feed. I was 283 or something. Not bitter. Meme only does one thing for lunch, and maybe only on Thursdays: fried chicken with corn bread and a Miller High Life. Even though I would have to pay for my meal ($11), I accompanied L. on a long lunch. We took the bus. Did you know that Justin Bieber is now a lawyer in Philadelphia? He may be the next generation's James Franco.
The restaurant's space is really open. Big windows, wood flooring, a bright color on the walls.
And the chicken was good. One drumstick, one thigh. The cornbread was sweet and sticky. And their hot sauce/mayo kind of side sauce had a nice mix of spice without being too hot. I liked the seasoning of the batter of the chicken, though I actually would have been happy with a little more crispy outsides in addition to the moist deliciousness of the insides. L. and I discussed this, and we agreed that the thickness of the calamari coating I had at McCrossen's would have been better for the chicken, and that the chicken's coating could have been better for the calamari. I'm sure the chefs at either establishment could give a rat's ass what I think, but that's what I think.
But oh a delightful treat for a work day.