Mari "pork face" H.'s Profile

DAMN YOU, 'Jersey Shore'! It's all your fault. It's YOUR fault I spent money when I was broke, and it's YOUR fault I ate carbs when I was on a diet.

We were watching 'Jersey Shore', the cream of MTV's crop, and it was the episode where there's drama because the Sitch doesn't want to clean up after cooking for surf n turf night. Besides losing many brain cells and making a mental note to burn my dress that I saw a girl wearing on the show, a lightbulb went off in my head... heeeey wait a sec, I want some lobster and crabs too!

We schemed on how we could get some; we thought about buying crabs and cooking them ourselves, until we realized it would be cheaper to just eat in Chinatown. Aaah New York, the only city where it's cheaper to eat out than cook.

Seated right away at a table lined with a white Hefty trash bag-esque tablecloth, we ordered the Cantonese lobster (1 for $14, 2 for $25), salt baked squid, and Peking pork chops. Mmmm now THAT'S what I call a surf n turf.

Even though we came for the lobster, which was delicious at first but got monotonous by the end, the Peking pork chops were the best. My pork face was so satisfied by the honey colored, sweetly glazed and crispy chops. There goes the diet. But if I had to do it again, I would - c'mon, we all know my diet is a big hoax that'll never last.

The waiters are typical Chinatown waiters, they aren't going to baby you or even speak to you in English. But they're quick and they'll remember your order even if they don't write it down or make eye contact with you. It's very cut throat getting a meal in Chinatown, like survival of the fittest. They should change the saying to, 'If you can make it in New York's Chinatown you can make it anywhere.'

At least something good came out of 'Jersey Shore' - a big ole pork and lobster filled belly. GTL baby.. GTL.

Honestly, where else can you find street parking, friendly service, cheap prices, a grade of 'A' from health and sanitary inspections, and amazing Cuban food but in southern Cali? Nowhere except Cuba probably. And I'm not exactly allowed to go there. Maybe Miami?

Versailles is my faaaaavorite. If I can walk and drive, I'm going to try to get my butt over to Versailles every time I'm home.

It was my first time at this location though. For $10 each we got a lunch special complete with rice and beans, fried plantains and a drink. My lechon asado was not at all dry, juicy enough to hydrate my dehydrated self, and so comforting it was like Cali was opening its arms to me for a hug that said, 'Welcome home, Mari. We missed you.' Mmm... maybe that's a little hallucinatory but the waiter was so friendly I wanted to call him 'uncle.'

My one teensy weensy gripe is that the lechon was waaay tangier than the other location's. I was experiencing some serious heartburn. I would've rathered my pork was left more untouched so I could've tasted it better but that's personal preference.

Eventually a group of cops came in on their lunch break and I suddenly realized my parking meter was soon to be out of money so we left. Not without feeling extremely drunk off roast pork and rice. We sat in the car for a couple minutes to sober up. Kids, don't DUPI - drink under the pork influence.

Call me loco, but the Pollo rocked my world recently.

I grew up eating their chicken. Yummy yummy chicken. To the East Coasters - that's rotisserie Mexican chicken a la fast food chain. It doesn't sound tempting at all, but the Pollo could beat out a ton of chicken joints in the city charging triple the cost.

On this trip, I took the bf who came home with me for the holidays, and told him he'd love this place since his choice of meat is always chicken. A chicken lover and a pork fiend?! Star crossed lovers, I say. We went through the drive thru and I saw something new on the menu - tamales! Oooh I love a properly cooked tamale and loathe a dry 'un.

We then parked the car. Drive thru only to park the car?! Too lazy to go inside, I guess. The bf liiiked the chicken. Didn't love it, liked it. That's what I get for hyping up a fast food chicken joint. I think he'll learn to love the golden, salty brown skin and juicy dark meat after some time back east. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. At least he appreciated how cheap it was - less than $10 for both of us.

But what the Pollo did to me was tamale'd me. The chicken tamales are GOOD. AMAZING! I loved them and ate the bf's. 'Oh you don't want these. They don't taste good. Better you stick to the chicken.' I made a vow to myself to come back before my flight to NYC for more tamales.

It's absolutely possible that the tamales, in reality, sucked - they could've been dropped on the floor, pre-frozen, or not even tamales at all. And I still would've thought it was delicious because NYC has made me forget what authentic Mexican food tastes like... But it's also possible that these tamales are on FIYAH!!! Oh Pollo.. you so crazyyyy.

You wanna record super megastore with character?! You goddit.

I can spend hours in Amoeba, browsing the CD collection, and especially the used CDs. Remember back in the day, when the only place you could buy used CDs was Sam Goody? And even then the selection was bare bones and the prices weren't thrilling. Most of Amoeba's used CDs range from $5 to $10; I actually BUY CD's instead of uhm, downloading them illegally.. or something.

The two reasons I repeatedly come back to Amoeba are the prices and the selection. They have THE best jazz selection and amazing rare finds like a small section dedicated to New Orleans jazz and blues, and world music divided into geographical regions. Upsatairs are the DVDs but why bother when there's so much music to be discovered?!

The place can be daunting when you first walk in - the massive size and variety of goods can be overwhelming for those looking for something specific, but things are placed strategically into their separate aisles. Also intimidating are the employees - very indie, 'I take my music so seriously, you haven't even heard of what I listen to.' I once bought a Miles Davis album along with some pop Christmas album I wanted just to even out my credibility with the judging cashier. Call me insecure! But you know they make assumptions based on what you buy, just like cashiers at book stores. (I once bought Tolstoy along with 'Confessions of a Shopaholic' for the same reason, shhhhhh take that one to the grave.)

Amoeba is so cooool. Cooler than me and LA laaaaid back.

Out, damned spot! Out, I say!
:::translation:::
Get out, Spot! Dayaaaam, Spot. Mmmm, Spot.

I was so intrigued by the allure of a dessert bar on St. Marks that hadn't been ransacked by college kids yet that I had to try it twice.. in uh, two days.

It's not cheap - they have an $18 3-course dessert tasting menu which is more than Chikalicious' $14 but I'm too cheap to spend even that much on dessert. But what it has that C bar around the corner doesn't is an a la carte menu where you can order ice cream by the scoop and specialty plated desserts for around $7 each. It's still not cheap but.. cheapER.

The space is tiny but clean and sleek. There's so much wood accenting, I'm surprised I didn't see Tiger's mistresses begging for a hook up. Oooo.

The ice cream topping list is long and exotic, everything sounding foreign to me. The waitress was patient with my annoying questions.

'What're chocolate pearls?'
'Basically little balls of chocolate crunch.'
'Oh okay, cool. Uhm.. the green tea soil??'
'Crumbled up green tea cookies.'

After quizzing her, I got the feeling the toppings had fancy names for basic things. But my scoop of Vietnamese coffee ice cream was so delicious and tasted exactly like the real thing which I love.

The second night I wasn't any less ashamed to ask for recommendations from another sweetie pie waitress. She suggested the $7 'Jackfruit Cake' with basil seed, rum toffee, and coconut and I got a Vietnamese coffee cupcake to go. The jackfruit cake wasn't what I expected - it reminded me of English sticky toffee pudding, with an Asian twist. My favorite was the cupcake though; I don't have a preference for cupcakes much, but this one was so light it hollered at me big time. The frosting's coffee flavored, the cake a subtle chocolate, and a delicate caramel filling waiting inside.

They also use a lot of sparkle on their desserts. Most dishes shimmer like a Twilight vampire in the sun, not at all manly.

Spot has semi-replaced Dessert Truck's place in my heart. When one dessert joint dies, another is born. It's the circle of dessert life.

Homey.

If I could describe El Deportivo in one word, it'd be homey. But not the the type of homey other people imagine - which includes a fireplace and hot tomato soup. But my kind of homey where it feels like I'm eating at auntie's house for the holidays and she's cooking up her signature beef stew. Cooking auntie.

We walked in and loitered around the front with stupid smiles on our faces waiting for someone to seat us. There's two distinct dining rooms, the front room seeming to be for the regulars and Latin diners, and the second room being more decorated and non-Latin customer friendly, complete with tv's and a bar. Obviously, they sat us in the second room.

I ordered the $9.75 roast pork combo special and noticed that everything on the menu is incredibly affordable, the sandwiches being around $6, the house specialties $12ish, and all the daily specials $9.75 which include rice and a cup of beans. The roast pork was a bit dry. I guess cooking auntie wasn't on her game. But the beef stew that my friend ordered was thick and hearty, with the most tender beef that reminded me of a Filipino stew that I love.

Despite my overexuberance, I couldn't get the waitress to crack a smile no matter how hard I tried to be bubbly. She's mean auntie. I had to drag out recommendations from her and what's good in the drink department (2-for-1 margaritas)! She really didn't feel like selling the product.

I'm not sure if there was something in the water, or if it was so warm (borderline hot) but my friends and I were laughing ridiculously at the smallest things to the point where we were crying, and no one even had alcohol with their meal! I think it was the spirit of El Deportivo that made us relax. It reminded me of the big Christmas parties my parents used to throw when I was growing up; our house was tiny and and lackluster but when there was music playing and everyone was laughing it was the best.

When I had my mouth stuffed with rice and pork I said outloud, 'Gawd I miss eating like this at home'. My friends were like, 'But you're not even Puerto Rican.' I replied, 'I know. But rice, meat. It's all the same.' Sometimes when I'm in Manhattan, all I want is personal space and cheap food in an environment that isn't at all self conscious. Salud, El Deportivo!

I'm not a big donut gal, even though me and donuts have similar body types.

Instead of going to the Whole Foods next door, I snuck into Stan's very guiltily on a Tuesday morning for some fried dough. There wasn't a person in sight, and the gal working behind the counter was in front of the counter, at a table reading a newspaper actually. Hmm, okay.

I got a peanut butter and banana donut and plain glazed to go, since the ambiance at Stan's isn't condusive to.. anything. (Small, narrow space, fluorescent lighting.) They aren't the cheapest donuts either - it came out to a little less than $3; I know that's dirt cheap by NYC standards, but I have to remind myself of how the rest of the country functions.

I got in my car and had to tear into the glazed. If any donut can win me over it'd be a perfectly simple glazed donut - and it was amazing! Super doughy and moist, waaay better than Dunkin' Donuts, whose donuts aren't good anyway.

Later on that day, I tried the peanut butter banana one ('eeew, two donuts in one day..' oh, screw off). It was just okay; huge but too much for me. The custard was too banana-y and I didn't get much of the peanut butter except for a peanut taste in the glaze. Meh, couldn't finish it.

Stan's is alright, for glazed donuts only. I don't even want to know how many calories are in a donut. A donut looks like a '0' so I guess that stands for 0 calories.

Bondi, Bondi, Bondi... you really saved my ass Friday night.

I have a reputation for being the destination decider that either bombs or kills it. When I kill it I get a, 'How did you even know about this place?!' But when I bomb, like last Halloween when I dragged my roommate to Brooklyn for a pumpkin festival over a sewer, I got a 'What the hell were you thinking?!' Bondi was a semi-hit.

It started with an hour long journey from midtown due to traffic and minimal parking (it pays to take public transportation, kids). When we finally get to Bondi the cute Aussie boy tells us, 'Sorry guys, it's a private party tonight.' NOOO!!! He actually sounded pained to have to turn us away. I apologized to my friends for my failure.

Sure we'd find something else, we doubled back past Bondi and same Aussie guy goes, 'Hey, c'mon. I got you guys a table. No worries; I heard your story.' Get the flip out. My loud whining actually paid off?! Oh, Aussie cutie - you are my hero.

We get in and my starving friends look to me for the next move. Shoot. We haven't had dinner and I didn't check to see if the kitchen was open. Not only was it dramarific to get in, but the kitchen's closed. My friends see the desperation in my eyes and agree to stay.

We each got the $20 2 hour all you can drink and stuck with the pre-made cocktails - one with tequila, one with rum, and one with vodka. We all mixed and matched and after our 2nd drink we didn't give a damn about anything.

But then the 3rd and 4th drink come and friend doesn't feel so good, so our group splits. Two people down, two to go. Friend and I continue drinking and mingling with strangers. The bartenders' accents melted me to puddles; I was getting impatient that it was taking long to get a drink until bartender said, 'Sorry, just a sec' and I swooned. Tequila iiiin, stress ouuut. Bondi needs redecorating but it's tough times, so I get it.

We took a taxi home and I managed to make it to the street corner before puking. Ugh, how freaking sloppy of me. Now I know I can never be anorexic because not eating and lots of drinking means spewing my guts. My body wasn't made to skip meals so Bondi you taught me a great lesson AND you had my back when I needed it.

I realized that hostesses always seat me either in the back corner or right in front of the door. Which means they either think I'm beastly and I drive prospective customers away or that I'm hot shiz. (Or hot enough that I won't complain about the draft.) I can't remember the last time I've sat in the MIDDLE of a restaurant. So odd. This time it was the front... owow!

To gloss over the unimportant stuff quickly: 2pm, 15 minute wait. Packed. Fast service. Good hot tea. Loud chatter but no drunken wrecklessness. (No all you can drink brunch here!) Whitewashed panelling, cherry wood, cotton wool blend sweater and pashmina on a cool Sunday afternoon cosy.

The not so quick: The $13.75 'Eggs'n Apples Benedict on French Toast' with bacon is my new kryptonite. A decadent layer of thick and fluffy egg bread french toast basted in maple syrup sits underneath thin apple medallions, then charred bacon, and balancing on that a poached egg with a yolk that's about to burst, finally topped with creamy hollandaise sauce. All of that times 2. My favorite version of eggs benedict in all the land.

And that was the bf's order. I stole most of it and got the $11.50 Canyonland poached eggs with avocado and wild mushrooms which was solid, but throw me a freakin bone here - definitely too small to fill anyone up! Which explains why we ordered the $7.50 hot fudge sundae with hazlenuts. It's never too early for ice cream!

The interior of Elephant & Castle was so warm, the bf was comatose the whole time and I kept thinking it was because he was cranky for my dragging him away from Sunday football... but thank goodness I was wrong. I see a long, faithful relationship between me and E&C.

Let's start by stating the obvious and getting it out of the way: Serendipity is 3000% a hokey tourist pigpen nightmare and no, you couldn't pay me to walk into their kitchen.

Whew. That feels much better.

What Serendipity does offer is a wet dream for a certain demographic - females who like things that sparkle. Guys on the other hand could give a rat's patooty so save them the 4 hour wait and tiny chairs and let them go to ESPN Zone in Times Square while the estrogen charged get their frozen hot chocolate they "MUST" have.

Serendipity is one of many stops on Mari's Grand Christmas Tour and I'm not about to quit on it now. I've tried the frozen hot chocolates and all the sundaes; it's wrong to charge $15 for some silly scoops of ice cream, but they are delicious. On this most recent visit, we got the "Can't Say No" sundae which has humble pie in it. I don't know what humble pie is but ours included lots of peanut butter. It is sweetness in complete excess but if you're not going to live on the edge (of diabetes) then give up now. Don't get anything else but dessert at Serendipity. Skip the overpriced savories.

Now, I heard a rumor that Serendipity closed for a period of time not so long ago due to health inspections. And I heard in this rumor that it was NOT pretty, as in roaches and rats and flies, oh my. And it happened twice. And it wasn't a rumor, it was real. Ugh.. yah. But look, Serendipity, you're open now and I really hope it's because you cleaned up your act and didn't pay someone off, so I'm just putting it out there, kay? No more elephant in the room. ...Friends? Friends.