serinde: (bowtie)
There is much to say about this little swath of desert that has had its fantastic, luxurious habitat pastede on yay. Others have said most of it, so here's a laundry-list of impressions.

The Bellagio is not quite how it looks in the Oceans Eleven remake. )

We spent much of our days wandering through the other hotels (of which I have taken an infinite number of pictures). There's the obvious differences in theme, of course, but equally fascinating are the different vibes / markets aimed at...which may or may not seem incongruous with said theme. Excalibur looks like a kid's castle play set, but it's clearly aiming for the trashier, frat-tastic demographic. Treasure Island is trying to downplay the pirates thing and replace it with bQQbies. Monte Carlo looks as if it was built to be high-end, but based on the stores inside they're trying for the middlin' market. And then there's the newest places like Aria and Cosmopolitan, which are eschewing themes at all other than "sleek and modernistic".

I was surprised at how many older, skeevier-looking places are still interspersed with the mondo huge resorts. I'd just assumed they'd all been bulldozed in, but not so. Some have been borged by them--e.g., O'Shea's, at which outside bar I left my camera, is actually owned by the Flamingo next door; but you wouldn't know unless you happened to go on a merry backstage quest with a security guy to the Place of Lost And Found which leads you into the guts of the Flamingo--but I think some are still independent.

People watching. )

This is not a cocktail society. Nearly everything is a stupidtini with flavored vodka. Save your effort and just get cheap frozen daiquiris. Though I made a connection with a bartender, who used to live on 79th and Amsterdam, and I said "here, do me a solid. Make this French 75 you have here on your menu, but give it to me in a champagne flute not a wine glass, and DON'T PUT ICE IN IT." We got on famously. I do not blame him for his employer's weird-ass ideas of what a drink looks like as long as he'll fix it my way on request.

Coffee is weak like most of the US. But there are Starbucks in many of the hotels (though not ours), so you can get something that doesn't taste like brown crayon. Exception: the French bistro in Paris Las Vegas had nice strong coffee.

The Grand Canyon is everything it says on the box. You get a hell of a view flying in by helicopter, I can tell you. I would like to go visit on foot at some point, though. And Lake Mead looks incredibly inviting when it is 115 fucking degrees.

So even when it's well over 100, you jump in the pool, and you're cold when you get out because the wind is usually so strong. Then there's a period of an hour or so where you're staying cool through evaporation (unless you're in direct sunlight, in which case you fry in about 15 minutes). Then it's suddenly too hot to breathe and you jump back in the pool and start all over again. But what really drives you back inside? You get so dried out from the 11% humidity that you feel like your skin is cracking...even when it's still wet from the pool. Terribly odd feeling, this.

We have not visited Fremont St. and the old downtown. Could have today, but opted for a lazy day instead. That's okay.

I have not gambled yet. The games seem to fall into two categories: "for suckers" and "for big-time suckers". Tonight I may try Bond's method on the roulette wheel (back two of 1-12, 13-24, 25-36; they pay 2:1) or I may not. Do you know, the baccarat they play here, you do not get to choose whether to draw another card or not? What bullshit is this?

It's been a really fascinating and fun vacation, but I think I'm ready to come home and get back to my modest city mouse ways.
serinde: (food)
Ninety Day Sour, a Long Island rosé, pickled vegetables that were awesome (I say this, I who do not like pickled foods), duck rillette, grilled sardines, duck confit, pork belly sandwich, duck/veal/shortrib meatloaf sandwich, duck breast. Donuts and ice cream to follow, which donuts were powerfully reminiscent of the rare occasions when Mom would fry up doughnuts of a weekend morning. Cabernet Franc with the second course. Milk punch with dessert.

If you're in B'burg, go to Rye.
serinde: (Syringa vulgaris)
In defiance of the current mental desire to duck and cover, I met [livejournal.com profile] elibalin at MoMA yesterday, an institution I had never previously set foot in. The chief objective was an exhibit on the punk movement and its pollination across music, art, design, and writing (and an excellent exhibit it is, too), but the sleeper hit of the visit was the Ron Arad exhibit. I had never heard of this man, but his shit be awesome. I only reserve judgment because you cannot actually sit on any of his chairs or other furniture on display, so I can't say whether they are useful as well as nifty, and I am insufficiently post-modern to accept a chair that cannot be comfortably sat upon. That exhibit is on until mid-October, and you should go see it.

Also on 'til mid-October was the exhibit on design which is Good but Un-Pretty, which had some interesting things in it (we both highly approve of the...London?...security firm making star-shaped razor wire and huge security chains of heart links with a teddy-bear-faced padlock). We saw some good photography, too, and took a quick dip at the trot through the Ensor exhibit but by that time my foot was killing me, in spite of wearing correct shoes, so we repaired to Aquavit for a restorative, and thence home.

I am favorably impressed by the in-house cafe. It isn't any cheaper than you're used to paying at a museum, but the food quality is actually commensurate. And the museum shop kicks the Met's ass up one side of the field and down the other.
serinde: ("What fresh hell?")
[livejournal.com profile] syringavulgaris: First, there was the EA booth babe stupidity which I now realize is hyping Dante's Inferno.
[livejournal.com profile] syringavulgaris: Because the sin and the lust and the what not.
[livejournal.com profile] syringavulgaris: Then I actually looked at the description of the game.
[livejournal.com profile] syringavulgaris: I have no mouth and I must scream.
[livejournal.com profile] elibalin: I read L'Inferno. I do not recall any point at which anyone went nuts with a giant axe.
[livejournal.com profile] syringavulgaris: As you say.
[livejournal.com profile] syringavulgaris: AND THEY ARE OPTING IT FOR A FILM.
[livejournal.com profile] syringavulgaris: That noise you heard? That was a whole raft of lit majors exploding.
[livejournal.com profile] elibalin: I bet I know who's slated to direct!
[livejournal.com profile] syringavulgaris: noooooooooooooo
[livejournal.com profile] elibalin: Jaaaaaaaaaaaa!
[livejournal.com profile] syringavulgaris: Oh, and that's not an axe, it's a scythe.
[livejournal.com profile] syringavulgaris: He killed the Grim Reaper and took his stuff.
[livejournal.com profile] syringavulgaris: Even typing these words, I feel my IQ drop.
[livejournal.com profile] elibalin: I am looking at this image and wondering which obscure Florentine politico the guy on the right is supposed to be.
[livejournal.com profile] elibalin: "After ripping off the head of a living ship while crossing one of the main rivers of hell, causing the boat to crash, you make your way up the sheer face of a pair of trembling mountainous columns and sprint across a crumbling bridge that's collapsing behind you. At quite literally the last moment, you make a final desperate leap to safety, attach yourself to a wall, and then drop to the ground to enjoy a moment's rest. With whatever breath remains in your lungs, you continue on your quest, circling down into another hellish dungeon where, after kicking the door down and readying your weapon, you prepare to meet your foe. From a fiery furnace a few feet away, it emerges: a small, monstrous infant with long curved blades where its hands used to be. Worse yet, it's not alone; soon the lone menacing demon-child is joined by another, and another, and still more. You grip your weapon and prepare for the worst. And this is just the first layer of hell. "
[livejournal.com profile] elibalin: Yep, that's what I think of when I think of unbaptized infants and virtuous pagans.
serinde: (food)
I didn't pack a lunch today, and was intending to just eat a Curry Inna Packet or something, but [livejournal.com profile] spride persuaded me out to get Indian takeaway from a place I'd noticed close to my apartment, which I'd wanted to try therefore; so I ditched yoga (it was going to half be end-of-semester tea-and-cookies anyways) and walked out. I admit the beautiful day had something to do with it, too.

However, we did not make it as far as the takeaway, instead being sucked into the gravity well of the Nanoosh Mediterranean Hummus Bar, which I had also taken note of. It is as good as it sounded. I got Hummus Chicken, which is hummus with some grilled spiced chicken and onions and a dollop of tahini in the middle, and also two beautiful, fluffy, warm, delicious pitas with which to manage your glorp. I had more than sufficient to take back half for tomorrow's lunch. I can also say that the mint iced tea was refreshing and nice; "lightly sweetened" as described. All of this was not cheap, but it was awfully good. And it's less than a five minute walk from my front door. <3

I really want to go back for the rice pudding with cardamom.
serinde: (food)
[livejournal.com profile] elibalin invited me to join him at MoMA this morning, but I was feeling Driven about doing home stuff (about which more later, probably), so instead just met up for a late brunch. Our venue was EJ's Luncheonette, which I've passed a bunch of times but never have actually been to. We had a bit of a wait (less than ten minutes), even at 2:30. I got whole-grain wheat germ and flaxseed pancakes, which sounds horrible, I know, but they were quite good (and the strawberries fresh and sweet); but they were completely blown out of the water by Eli's lobster cakes Benedict, which were absolutely fantastic. A+++ would nom nom nom again and again until DEAD.

The mimosas were small and not potent, but at $2.50 you don't have to care; the coffee was a little weak, but drinkable.
serinde: (Champions)
(Yes, I only just got to see it. I've been busy.) [livejournal.com profile] elibalin, [livejournal.com profile] nedlnthred, and I went last night. We had the perfect mix: Beth had never read the comic, I had but not recently, and Eli had fairly recently. We all give it the Thumbs-Up of Approval. No, of course it's not as nuanced, how could it be? but I think it transmitted the central theme well. The casting choices ranged from "does the job" to "fucking brilliant": that Rorschach was picture-perfect, let me tell you. I was also getting a large amount of nerdgirl happy over Blue Beetle Night Owl. Yes, yes, yes.

I saw a DVD of "Tales of the Black Freighter" in my FNCS; I wonder if that means they'll cut it together with the film for ultimate release?

Also, let me take a moment to indulge in the happy of being home in half an hour after leaving the theater.
serinde: (food)
Last night, [livejournal.com profile] elibalin and I braved the howling sleet to check out Co. Pizzeria (don't bother clicking today, there's no there on the web site yet) (but here's their menu), which just opened last week and has been getting a fair amount of buzz in the usual places. There was already at 6:15 a line (which was okay, since I was late, thank you E train), but we got seated around 6:40.

The pizzas are really damn good. Eli got their "boscaiola" (mushroom, sausage, onion, chilis), which was delicious, and I got the "flambé" (caramelized onions and lardons) which was the best thing EVER. Service was prompt and cheerful, in spite of the crowding and noise--most of the seating, which there isn't a lot of, is at a couple of long communal tables. The pizzas (4 irregularly-sized slices) are large enough for one if you're awfully hungry, or have a hollow leg like Eli does; I could have been content with half of mine, but went all gorge-y and ate the 3rd slice. The fourth came home with me and I shall savor it tonight.

At the time we left, there was an even bigger mob waiting to be seated. Obviously the buzz is working. But for once it's justified.

Edit for useful information: It's on Ninth Ave and 24th St (generally useless area, but moderately convenient to Chez Panixxe), and it was reasonably priced considering we were full of the gluttony AND had wine.
serinde: (music)
(This was last week Thursday, I'm just running behind.)

[livejournal.com profile] sedai and Non-Livejournal-Member Mr. sedai, in a spirit of purest kindness and friendship that I cannot possibly requite, gave me their spare ticket to this show. I'd seen Buffett once before, sort of, when I drove Mr. sedai (who was not that, then) to a show out at Jones Beach, since he was not car-enabled; that being an open amphitheatre, I was perfectly happy to sit out on top of my car and listen to the tunage while lolling in the warm summer air (as I was accustomed to doing in my broke high-school and college years), but about 1/3 of the way through someone who had a spare ticket just gave it to me, so I got in anyways. There's something weirdly trendlike, here.

Anyways: a fantastic show, and a fantastic time. The man's not any younger, but it quite simply doesn't matter. He loves what he does, and we love what he does, and that's all any of us need. It was also of particular moment for me: you positively cannot listen to Jimmy Buffett and not feel mellow and good and hopeful.

OMG HE PLAYED "SOUTHERN CROSS" OMG OMG OMG. And "One Particular Harbour", which is one of my big favorites, but I did not think it was big enough to get concert play. And one of the encores was "Glory Days", which I found really nifty; I don't tend to think of him having a crossover with Springsteen, y'know?

Also, I smuggled in a hip flask of dark rum past the Myrmidons of Madison Square Garden, because I am that damn good.
serinde: (burn!)
[livejournal.com profile] syringavulgaris: My spies have told me the SHOCKING TWIST!!~ of the new M. Night Shamalamadingdong. Would you care to partake?
[livejournal.com profile] elibalin: OWLBEARS!
[livejournal.com profile] syringavulgaris: Close:
O NOES TEH SPOILERZ )
serinde: (fangirl)
[Meant to post this a week ago but, well, events.]

On Saturday the 19th, [livejournal.com profile] elibalin and I daytripped to the New York Comic-Con. This is our story. Sort of.

11:30am: On line, which is very long. They might consider giving out the registration forms at the end of the line, not the head of it. A really great Ghostbusters costume just went by. So did a dorky Punisher (hint: white satin gloves do not say homicidal crimefighter, kids) and a quite over-substantial Emma Frost (OH GOD MY EYES).

11:45am: CBLDF booth. Poster-sized pages of Eisner's "Story of the Protocols of Zion". I learned many things, including that the Protocols of Zion are an actual thing, not a joke; that it was a rip-off of a French satirist's work done by a Russian faction trying to mess with the Czar; and--here's a big one--that when it was exposed as a hoax, Henry Ford recanted his previous anti-Semitic position. Lots of people talk about Ford being an anti-Semite, but I'd never heard anyone mention that he spoke out to say "er, I was wrong, sorry about that."

It is a sin and a shame that, despite being a comix fan since high school, I'd never heard of Eisner until [livejournal.com profile] dariodevil hung a picture of The Spirit over his desk.

11:55am: Comics are now officially an all-gender fandom. The line for the women's bathroom goes on for miles.

12 noon: This place is full of No. Anime "Johnny Ramone Army"? What? Also, neon Japanese swords. OTOH, I heartily approve of the piles of beanbag chairs at the end of several aisles serving as mini-lounges.

12:05pm: LIEEEEEEEEEEEFELD!!! Armageddon Now looks like his usual shite.

12:45pm: Filthy hucksters section. D is right. Everyone's world stops at 1975, goddammit.

2pm: Have gone through most of the filthy hucksters, and found a lot of things I was looking for in a 50c. bin. We're wandering aimlessly through Artists' Alley, which also includes writers, don't ask me. Would like to meet Geoff Johns but the line is around the block. A lot of the artists look very lonely, poor things. We have holed up to camp in a corner for The Pause That Refreshes, in lieu of paying $4 for a Coke.

4:20pm: Back after lunch with [livejournal.com profile] nedlnthred in Bryant Park. We are in line for The Goddamn Spirit, which event is, unsurprisingly, late. I will undoubtedly regret not stopping to pee, but I guess I can always use this to make a Statement if need be.

4:30pm: Still not king.

4:50pm: Finally inside. Still not started. We have a momentary fear that they aren't running late and this will actually be showing some wretched anime crap.

4:55pm: Some kid who's in Speed Racer has come out. He is singing. [livejournal.com profile] elibalin: "Opening acts always suck."

Hey! New Batman trailer! Huge pop.

The actual panel members come out. Producer, ... and another producer?... and the Goddamn Frank, dressed in a black suit, fedora, and red tie--so I guess those posters are accurate, not just being dramatically B&W, and it won't be a blue suit. Blerg.

"Surprise guest" turns out to be Eva Mendes, who will be Sand Saref. Well, anything but Jessica Alba, say I.

The camera keeps staying on Eva, instead of whomever's talking. heh.

It seems clear to me that Miller does indeed have the utmost respect for Eisner's work, that he's perfectly genuine in this; and when he's talking about "modernizing", it's not necessarily wrong; but in HOW he's doing it, I think he is vastly, tragically missing the point. "Modernizing" does not mean "make it like a low-rent Sin City". Rather, it's what Darwyn Cooke did in actual comics format. I think this film is going to hurt a lot.

The teaser is not really anything more than what we see in the three-part poster. I grant that the very first shot of it is Eisneriffic, but everything after that smells way too much like Sin City.

5:45pm: Checking out. I missed JRjr at his booth and at Marvel; missed Johns; don't have anything to say to Morrison; too tired to stand in line for Van Sciver or Albequerque. Some good hall costumes--Hellboy, Mr. Freeze, a Batman, several Poison Ivys, Rorshach. And a non-costumed girl, regular street clothes, but with her head partially shaved to show that particular Spider tattoo. Also many terrible ones, from the painted-on Nightwing on down. But I have a sackful of immediately-post-Crisis Blue Beetles and Booster Golds, and Impulse: Reckless Youth, and JSA: Darkness Falls. And that's okay.
serinde: (music)
During our morning discussion of There Must Be A Music Scene Around Here Somewhere, Steve started playing me some mp3s of a band he's discovered called Sound of Urchin, who are locals, it seems. Me likey. They range between sounding sort of modern-alternative and good heavy crushing rock--weirdly schizophrenic. I do not mind this in the least.

They're playing in Philadelphia with the Butthole Surfers (!!!) at the end of June, and we are going to see if we can skip out that Friday to catch the show. I don't know if I'm grown-up enough to see Gibby Haynes in all his mad glory, but I want to find out.
serinde: (music)
Acting on a tip, we hopped a bus out to points slightly west, namely the Annandale Hotel. For $10 we saw four bands, of which--mirabile dictu--none sucked. The acts in question were:

Hunter Dienna: a chick singer and dude guitarist. They were not bad, perhaps a bit consciously Nick Cave-esque, but had some actual ability along that line. Particularly liked his guitar work. Steve's Review: "She just needed some eyeliner to be a Siouxie Sioux goth princess." (He wishes me to point out that this was not intended to be the severe indictment it could come off as.)

Loene Carmen: The band was pretty talented instrument-wise, but the eponymous singer's voice was not really up to being showcased. One song, Nashville [something or other], was more suited to her ability and was correspondingly pleasing. Steve's Review: "Good songwriting, but the singer's voice was too thin to carry most of it."

Bridezilla: Definitely the high point of the evening. Consists of singer, guitarist, drummer, and very spazzy but talented violinist and sax player. They were, alas, purveying no merchandise, but we intend to look them up. Steve's Review: "Great dramatic songwriting, energizing stage presence. Highly recommended."

The Scare: A Strokes or Jet-like band with a singer who was either actually fucked up or so busy with his Punk Star Persona that he was acting like it. It's too bad; I think there's some talent there; but they can't really make it gel. Steve's Review: "Too many notes."

The venue has more stuffs every night this week. We may well return. They seem to be having their Bad Movie Night tomorrow, too. "Death Curse of Tartu", forsooth.

I should also mention that, before the place opened, we wandered into a music store--an ALL VINYL MUSIC STORE--a few doors down and ended up in a long chat with the store owner. He was apparently in a band called Salacious Crumb, which I said I'd heard that name, only now realizing it's because it is one of the aliens in Star Wars; der. Anyways he had much woe and grief to say about the death of Sydney's music scene, and culture in general. Also he regretfully informed me that the reason I can't find any Beasts of Bourbon albums in this, their homeland, is because they are generally regarded with a cringe hereabouts; the comparison he drew was with Ted Nugent as representative of America. Ouch. Ouch, I say.
serinde: (brew-up)
First, Steve and I finally adventured into the Heart of Darkness that is XBox Live. Our goal was to get some Rock Band action going with Dr. Nick, who was stuck home with the baby. So here we are, one brain from MIT, one brain from Columbia, and a medical doctor, and it took us 40 minutes to figure the Goddamn thing out (and we still haven't sorted how to make the headsets work right). I suggested, partway through, that we fetch an average 12-year-old child to explain it to us. OH GOD WE ARE OUR PARENTS

Eventually we got it working, and it was Good.

Afterwards, watched most of the 1st season of "30 Rock". It was roaringly funny, and I'm looking forward to more. Alec Baldwin really turns in a perfect performance, there.

Rock Band!

Feb. 18th, 2008 09:52 pm
serinde: (music)
Our long national nightmare is over: at last we have an XBox Elite. With the right sort of motherboard, even. (Yes, and a Wii, all at the same time. Life is like that sometimes.)

We buckled down to some serious song unlocking this evening, and then relaxed for a bit of fnu. I knocked the vocals out of the park on "Don't Fear the Reaper"--well, big fucking duh. Steve, however, muffed the guitar solo and nearly got booed off stage. Buck Dharma he is not. (I did slightly less well on "Suffragette City" because I kept getting distracted by the "oh, is *that* what the words are there? Huh." And by the time we got to "Go With The Flow" I'd had enough wine that my voice was doing wacky things.)

Am much looking forward to trying "Dani California".

The guys from Boston have much to answer for. "Foreplay/Long Time" is one of the maybe ten songs that's unlocked from the get-go, and it's listed under "Impossible Songs", and they do not lie; nevertheless it keeps showing up in the random set lists you have to succeed at to unlock more stuff. DOOM DOOM DOOM

Playing drums is really. fucking. hard. Bass and guitar are about the same as in Guitar Hero (go figure), so with me on bass and Steve on guitar we are a tolerably smooth unlocking machine.
serinde: (on the short bus)
So, working as we do a mere mile apart these days, Dave and I finally got 'round to having lunch today. He not unreasonably suggested splitting the distance difference, so I employed Teh Googles and cross-referenced with Yelp, and thus we ended up at this place called Gino's at 61st and Lex. (Rumor has it that it was Sinatra's favorite eatery.)

It was very clear on the instant of entry that we were not the usual demographic. They took one look at our pale Celtic (or in my case, Celto-Slavic) faces, and seated us right next to the kitchen.

But the food was quite good, and decently priced for the area. Will Go Again, possibly dragging along [livejournal.com profile] dariodevil for protective camouflage.
serinde: (Default)
Or, "all our couch potato time during long weekend". ([livejournal.com profile] jdev has already commented some on these matters; q.v.)

Plan 9 From Outer Space, also the sound of my Ed Wood cherry being popped. They did not lie. It is bad. But screamingly funny in its badness.

Elvira, Mistress of the Dark. I'd never seen it, since I was a little too young (and uninterested in horror or boobies) during Elvira's heyday of popularity, but what a gloriously fun romp of campiness!

Vampyros Lesbos: Jesus Christ, was this ever bad. Not even bad in a good way. Not even good in a lesbian vampire way. There were points of hilarity, such as the random, inexplicable cuts to small insects doing their own things (our best guess for the scorpion is that its tail represents the erection of the hopeful male viewers desperately waiting for Hot Vampire Chick On Vampire Chick Action; we have no idea about the moth. Or the psionic kite), but mostly just utterly tedious. Begs for MST3K to compress it to maybe an hour.

Tango and Cash. The only thing that saves this movie from being a lower-middle-to-crappy generic 80s action buddy film that would never darken my TV's doorstep is the fact that Stallone and Russell are absolute gold together. Every moment of interaction between them is worth it. I am not just saying this because I <3 The Kurt, either.

Boondock Saints, rented on [livejournal.com profile] dariodevil's persuasion. Holy wow, was it ever good. (Steve and Dario are still downstairs raving about the direction and cinematography, twenty+ minutes after we finished it.)

We shut off both Transylvania 6-5000 and Anchorman partway in, due to boredom. Pity, on the former. We had hopes of Adorable Young Jeff Goldblum, but he could not save it from its direness. (I already knew I didn't have any use for the latter.)

Bonus Crap TV:
* I'm very disappointed in the Beeb. Their "Robin Hood" series stinks in every possible respect. Swear to God, Maid Marian is wearing a sweater set at one point. ...I will probably have to go back and re-watch ITV's "Robin of Sherwood" to see if my older, wiser, more jaded self will love it as much as my barely-pubescent, first-stirrings-of-womanhood self did, or whether it was no better than this tripe. --Can't be this bad. No. No way could it be.

* Robot Chicken is, as always, awesome.

* I really wish Scrubs hadn't gone all sitcom in later seasons. It's still enjoyable, but not The Best Damn Thing On TV as it was the first couple.

* Love Batman:TAS as I did when I occasionally caught it when first broadcast. Hate hate HATE intrusive interstitial advertising. Die in a fire, Disney Channel, though G4 can go first.
serinde: (today I am eight)
Sunday was perhaps not the best day to go; there wasn't a lot going on other than the dealers' room and Land of Signings. Now, the shopping was tolerably good--I got several things I lacked at bargain prices--but it would have been nice to see panels or talks or some such. Also, the place was very ill-organized, and the maps they put in the "program" were next to useless. I realize the organizers were probably exceedingly hard up for space, but a place where you could just sit down and gather your thoughts for a second would have been worth its weight in gold.

In spite of this moderate amount of meh, nevertheless I am full of OMG SQUEE that is beyond the SQUEE I can ordinarily SQUEE. As we were getting ready to leave, I noted that the press around Darwyn Cooke's table had finally let up, so I swam my way over. I didn't have anything for him to sign (or anyone else, not having my thinking cap on this morning) but I really wanted to tell him how much I was enjoying his work on The Spirit, and to thank him for doing it. So I did, in my usual tongue-tied and stuttering fashion as comes upon me whenever I meet A Famous Person. He smiled and thanked me, and said that was very sweet of me; and as I embarrassedly ducked my head and thanked him again, he said "Oh what the heck" and GAVE ME A COPY OF THE BEAUTIFUL HARDCOVER of the first several issues. I melted into Happy Tears and incoherent thanks, and floated out of the building.
serinde: (food)
(Confession--it was actually Nobu Next Door. Same kitchen & chef, though.) Forthwith, the omakase (tasting menu):

1st Course: Toro tartare with caviar in wasabi sauce, with a yamamomo garnish.

2nd Course: West Coast oysters seared in sesame oil, with citrus soy sauce, over a cucumber salad.

3rd Course: Baby yellowtail [this had a Japanese name I am not remembering] sashimi on a bed of organic cilantro, with soy-onion vinaigrette.

4th Course: Lobster tempura with ponzu sauce over mesclun.

5th Course: Sea bass marinated and then seared, over...something which I was too tipsy to properly write down...with foie gras on top, in sweet miso sauce. [This is a Nobu signature dish, we were told. I see why.]

6th Course: Sushi! One piece each of salmon, toro, baby yellowtail, mackerel, and a Japanese red snapper that also had a different name which escaped me. And a cup of miso soup with clams in it.

Dessert: Green tea ice cream and the most darkity dark dark chocolate souffle that ever darked.

I chose the wine, a Sancerre. Went well with all courses.

Everything was as astoundingly good as you might expect from a place with a reputation like Nobu's. Each course that arrived, I thought couldn't possibly be matched--and then was. The only exception was dessert: it was outstanding, and I appreciated it, but it wasn't quite to my taste as I am not a fan of super-dark chocolate. (It made [livejournal.com profile] audiovile excessively happy, though.)

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