• Gluttony,  Restaurants,  Taste,  Uncategorized

    Farewell, old friend. I go with Champagne now.

    There comes a time in every woman’s life when she realizes that everything that’s good ain’t good for her. For me, that time came not so long ago. On a cold Thursday night, I met my girlfriend at our local watering hole as I often do. I ordered and consumed my two vodka neat cocktails. That’s it. I had only two cocktails. I woke up Friday morning so sick that I almost thought of missing my 9 a.m. conference call. I didn’t miss my call (because I’m a straight G and G’s don’t participate in that weak shit) and suffered through the day convinced that this was some sort of aberration.…

  • Gluttony

    Dining en Blanc

    I participated in my first flash mob.  No, I was neither singing nor dancing.  I mobbed in the manner I mob best – by eating.  Le Dîner  en Blanc converged on the grounds of the Art Institute for its first dinner in Chicago last Friday. As the name suggests, white was the theme.  All white everything from the tables, chairs and tablecloths to the picnic baskets, suits and frocks.  So since I love a theme almost as much as I love a surprise, I donned my first pair of white shoes since lace ruffle ankle socks and Easter speeches. The way it works is that members are only told a…

  • Gluttony

    closing ceremony / pimm’s cup

    I love a celebration, so I tend to create excuses to celebrate.  Blame my mother for making me an only child for so long.  I had a shitload of imaginary friends, parties and conversations, but that’s another story.  The excuse du jour is the Olympics closing ceremony. I’m not celebrating the culmination of weeks of international excellence in sport or the victory, agony and defeat.  I am celebrating the end because I am sick of it all.  After gymnastics, I’m pretty much done.  Ryan Lochte just isn’t my cup of Earl Grey.   So I had an evening planned that centered around toasting the end of the Olympic takeover of all…

  • Gluttony

    Drinking holidays make me happy. Le 14 de juillet. Bastille, baby.

    I think I’ve perfected many different cuisines, but I’ve stayed away from French because I always thought all that butter, cheese, etc. leaves too much room for error.  Can you say scorched to freakin’ death? But for Bastille Day, I thought I would man up and at least try something not so difficile.  When I consulted the net, the croque monsieur was repeatedly described as an easy French dish.  And face it, who doesn’t love a ham-n-cheese in any language? The difference between good ole ham-n-cheese made in the US of A  and the French variety is the addition of béchamel sauce.  I was apprehensive but soldiered on like G…