Dos amigos

I have somehow managed to become friends with the man from the Tacqueria. He always greets me with a, “Hello, amiga. How are you?” He even says hello and taps me on my shoulder even when I’m not at the Tacqueria but at the Subway next door trying to decide if I want my sandwich on a wheat or Italian.

Today at the Tacqueria (which I think is really just called Tacqueria) was no different. I went up to the counter to order my burrito with carne asada and Mandarin soda, and there it was, “Hello, amiga! Are you on lunch?” “Yeah, I’m taking a little break. How are you?” That’s the extent of our conversation. Nothing more. Friendly enough, I suppose.

But, he hooks me up with the foil and paper bag when I’m done with all I can eat and want to wrap up the leftovers. He even remembers what I order and brings it to me without me having to wait for my number to be called out. Awesome, my little amigo.

Out to the ballgame

Wednesday evenings at the Oakland Coliseum aren’t bad. I would even go so far as to say they’re lovely. Two dollar tickets, one dollar hotdogs, seven dollar beers. Spending time with Susie, priceless.

Susie and I (yes, the Suz duo returns) had been planning to go to an As game for a while and finally managed our way there tonight. I don’t like baseball. I think the actual watching of the sport is boring. I like going to games though to jump when the wave comes around, to wave my arms in the air to try to get my face onto that jumbo-tron, to boo and clap when everyone else around me is booing and clapping, and especially to eat, or, rather, to keep my eyes peeled on those guys in the bright neon green shirts lugging around pizza, ice cream, cotton candy, popcorn, and other baseball game treats.

We got there and wandered our way through one of the lower decks with all the big windows that face the field, smelling garlic fries all along our route. There was no way we could resist that infectious aroma. It was like Sirens were singing their garlic song, calling us toward a night of stinky breath. We picked some up on our way to our seats, stopping off first at the hotdog stand to get hotdogs, beer, and a cup of ice, which the stand lady refused to give me, saying that I had to buy a cup and the cup was the same price if I wanted a drink and not just ice so I refused to pay. She, then, gave me a cone of ice and when I very politely asked if I could have more than two cubes she told me, no, because she was running low. Odd. I shook it off.

We pumped ketchup and mustard and I spooned on relish onto our little dogs in foil and found seats that weren’t ours but sat in them anyway. Okay, so I had hotdogs for dinner last night. I usually don’t eat hotdogs. I can’t even remember the last time I had one, but I rationalized it, believing that it was all a part of the baseball experience. And, the hotdogs weren’t bad. The bun was soft and the hotdog was warm. My hotdogs were a bit salty but I think that’s how hotdogs are supposed to be, and a sip of beer made that all go away.

After the hotdogs, I kept eyeing the men in neon green, jotting their journey across the deck and calculating how long it would take them to reach me. What else did they have and where was the ice cream man? We waited for the ice cream man and he wasn’t coming. Susie then got us scoops of chocolate ice cream in mini plastic As caps, which were adorable and the ice cream was decent. It wasn’t enough though. I wanted the man with the ice cream cookie sandwiches to come back. He never did. We waited, we waved, we watched, but he never came. He was such a tease.

Feeding frenzy

The past several days had been a whirlwind of frenetic feasting. Here’s the rundown:

Wednesday, June 22nd
- Breakfast at Rick and Ann’s in Berkeley (probably my favorite breakfast spot) after picking up Jeanne from the airport. I had their special egg scramble, which consisted of white cheddar, peppers, and bacon, with a side of homefries and coffee.
- My leftover raspberry and lemon muffin from breakfast on the drive home along University (I was starved).
- Dinner with Susie and Jeanne at the Cheese Board. The day’s pizza had mozzarella, feta, parsley, tomato, and lemon (the lemon was a surprising but nice touch). I had an Orangina too.

Thursday, June 23rd
- Smart Start cereal with a banana.
- Jeanne and I met Jon for lunch and we went to Little Nan King. The owner (a very nice Asian man) asked me in Mandarin if I spoke Mandarin, and I responded in Mandarin by saying, “No, I speak Cantonese.” I apparently didn’t realize I was speaking Mandarin to him when I answered. (Did I impress Jon with my language skills though?) Anyhow, we had some salad thing with watercress, yam, and shrimp; a dumpling soup with beef and fish; and a plate of fried chicken pieces with fried yam.
- Jeanne and I then had gelato at the little shop near Jon’s work. Mine was an interesting but good blend of pistachio and chocolate, I think.
- Jeanne and I had a two-person barbeque on my patio. We grilled up steaks and asparagus, and had mashed potatoes on the side. For dessert, we grilled pineapple and topped it with ice cream. So good. (Really, everyone needs to visit me and grill together on my patio while this patio’s still mine. Although Scott asked me to stop by today and said that he’d have “shrimp on the barbi.” Is he just pulling my leg or will my new home be full of glorious barbeques?)

Friday, June 24th
- Homemade fruit smoothies with pineapple, strawberries, a banana, yogurt, and orange juice.
- A Nutella and banana crepe at the crepe place in the Japantown center.
- Lunch at On the Bridge (or whatever that place is called in the Japantown center that serves curries and is located on the bridge). Jeanne and I shared cold soba noodles and unagi donburi.
- Sausage and mushroom pizza from Zachary’s for dinner with Jeanne and her UCLA friends. We scarfed that down with some Stella on the emergency stairwell at the Emeryville outdoor mall thinking that no one could see us but realized on our drive home that everyone could see us. We did, however, enjoy a lovely sunset view of the bay.

Saturday, June 25th
- Breakfast at the Ferry Building Farmer’s Market. Jeanne and I had little tartlets (one cherry and one peach) with coffee from the Frog Hollow folks.
- Lots of sampling: peaches, plums, nectarines, fancy cheese, various spreads, cherries, bread, olive oils.
- More breakfast at Olivia’s godparents’ home. Her godmother made Vietnamese noodle rolls and egg rolls.
- Bread chunks in the car. The baguette was so warm and crusty, while the challah was soft and eggy.
- Leftover pizza and leftover steak made into sandwiches, but not together.
- A red bean drink that my mom’s cousin made. Surprisingly not bad.
- Dinner with the family at Joy Luck restaurant in Oakland’s Chinatown. There was only one non-Asian person there, which I took to be a good sign. We had tofu, fish, and mustard green soup; lobster; fried pork chops; a stirfry with fish and snow peas; stirfried watercress; noodles; shredded chicken flavored with sesame, ginger, and soy sauce; and more red beans for dessert. The food was almost like Mom’s.
- More dessert at my place. Two little chocolate cakes bought earlier in the day from Citizen Cake cut up into four pieces and shared. It was so good; we all licked our plates.

Sunday, June 26th
- Egg, asparagus, and cheddar cheese scramble. A piece of baguette filled with more leftover steak and Camembert. A slice of challah drizzled with honey. A very squishy and juicy peach.
- Sticky rice and some slices of pork patty that were shaped into a ball and wrapped in plastic wrap that my mom brought me for lunch.
- Vietnamese noodles with egg rolls, more pork product, mint, and lettuce tossed with a lemony sauce.

Monday, June 27th
- Smart Start cereal.
- Fish tacos from some little place on Market between Noe and Castro. I’ve never been disappointed by their fish tacos. Their chips are good too, so is the cactus salsa.
- Leftover Vietnamese noodles.
- Leftover mashed potatoes with chicken apple sausage.

Tuesday, June 28th
- Bread and a plum in my car on my drive to work.
- A ham and turkey sandwich from Subway.

After several days with family, I’m getting back into my usual habits, both eating and otherwise. It was fun while it lasted.

It's coming

A frenzy of food bloggin' is a-coming. I assure you. So many random and good food moments to relate. Just wait. Just wait.

Slimy turkey and leathery tomato galore

Dinner tonight consisted of a low-carb version sandwich. It wasn’t because I was watching my carbohydrate intake. Nothing like that. I just was too lazy to hunt for the bread. Simple.

Driving around, meeting people, and seeing places hasn’t left me much time to cook recently. It hasn’t even given me much time to eat the food that’s been taking up space in the refrigerator. So, tonight’s attempt at dinner was influenced more by the need to eat what I bought days (probably weeks) ago than anything else.

There was the head of lettuce that was starting to turn color. There was the avocado that was way smushier than a good avocado should be. There was the lone tomato left over from my last barbeque. There was the unopened package of cheddar (I just realized right now that I still have a cheese platter from the barbeque too—does anyone want some cheese?). And, there was the sliced turkey that was verging on slimy. Sure, not all that appetizing, but still perfectly safe to eat.

I sliced the avocado and scraped away the dark parts. The tomato, although rather soft and with a leathery-looking skin, still tasted like tomato. Once the dark parts of the lettuce leaves were ripped off, they were as good as new. And, as for the turkey, I just tried not to think that I bought it freshly sliced just for me probably two weeks ago and was now far from fresh.

The turkey, cheese, and avocado all got wrapped up in leaves of lettuce, like little lettuce tacos. It wasn’t bad. (The avocado being overly ripe was actually really good and provided a nice creaminess to the bland lettuce.) It wasn’t that great either. It served its purpose: it satiated my hunger while making a dent in emptying out my refrigerator. And, that can’t be that bad.

Sugary fizz

I'm drinking warm Coke out of a mug. Not so great. I feel like my teeth are going to fall off, but I'm so tired at work, there's no coffee shop nearby, there's nothing here (not even ice), except for warm Coke.

Greasy juices

Last night was the second night in a couple of weeks that Ryan and I were eating Mexican food late at night in the Mission after bopping around and going deaf. The show this time was at Bottom of the Hill, where I was thoroughly impressed with the dancing antics of the guys on the stage (I never knew an Asian guy to move that way), and food this time was at Cancun.

I had a super quesadilla with carne asada, knowing that they’ve always been good to me. Grilled goodness arrived in a basket. I picked up the hefty quesadilla filled with meat, sour cream, cheese and avocado, and it started dripping. I’d never had that happen before. Drip, drip, drip. Grease and juices just started to puddle up on the wax paper and was inching closer to the other half of the quesadilla that was waiting for me to eat it. I placed a napkin on the greasy juices to prevent it from soggying the other half.

Cancun really does have good quesadillas. I think it has to do with the meat, which is so tasty and all the avocado. They don’t skimp on the avocado. And, with a little dollop of the super spicy salsa verde, you’re in quesadilla heaven. The only tough part was trying not to get the food up my nose while laughing at inappropriate dinner conversation.

Happy sandwiches

My journey for a good sandwich led me to Burlingame yesterday. Eleanor, Colin, and I had planned to have lunch together before Eleanor was to leave on a plane for New York, and I was up for a drive down the peninsula.

We ate at Piazza Italiano, a place owned by two older Italian ladies, one of whom greeted Colin warmly and then later pulled a grandmotherly guilt trip on him by asking him why she sees so little of him nowadays. It was a small café in downtown Burlingame where everyone looked happy eating sandwiches.

I wanted to be one of those happy sandwich munchers, especially after the recent sandwich disappointment, and was ecstatic to see so many pressed paninis on the menu. I ordered the prosciutto coppa with mushrooms and provolone on foccaccia. Eleanor ordered turkey with tomatoes and spinach on a hard roll. And Colin ordered a caprese open-faced sandwich thing. And we all split a large salad with mozzarella, corn, tomatoes, and greens. (Colin and Eleanor are great dining buddies, I might add. Food gets shared and rotated and no one is afraid of coodies.)

My sandwich arrived on a sheet of wax paper in a basket. It was toasty and warm. The bread was light and buttery but not the least bit greasy (even for foccaccia). The crunch of the bread gave way to a soft, creamy middle of prosciutto, provolone, and sautéed mushrooms. It was such an insanely awesome mélange of textures and flavors, almost heavenly. Colin's and Eleanor's sandwiches were great too.

Dessert was yummy too. I had eyed a fancy-looking berry thing on some other diner's table earlier in the meal and wanted it without even knowing what it was. It was a refreshing raspberry and blueberry frozen gelatin layer that topped a berry ice cream-ish middle and wrapped in a striped cake. I think it needed to be defrosted a little bit, since when I bit into it, it was a bit hard. The last bite was the best though, as it had time to warm up slightly. Colin ordered a chocolate tartufulo that was drizzled with espresso and topped with whip cream. And Eleanor had an almond horseshoe with ends dipped in chocolate. All very delicious.

I need to find a way to befriend those ladies and make them my mentors. Maybe they'll take me under their sandwich wings.

Sad sandwiches

The only thing I ever really enjoyed about shopping mall food courts was watching the Hot Dog On a Stick workers throttle and pump that giant, wondrous lemonade machine in their silly hats. And maybe all that silliness was worth it since the lemonade was always the best. But Saturday’s journey into a similar food court in Emeryville lacked anything worthwhile, even the silly Hot Dog hats.

The so-called “Food Market” in that strip of shops with the movie theater on Christie Street is a labyrinthine exploration of foods from around the world. You can get Korean barbeque, Japanese noodles, crepes (both sweet and savory), fish and chips, pizza, burritos, gyros and falafels, Indian curries over rice. I’m sure if you wanted a pig’s foot boiled in cabbage juice you could get it there. It’s random, overwhelming, and a little bit more than scary, which is why of the handful of times that I’ve found myself in that neck of the woods I’ve never eaten there, no matter how hungry I was.

But Jon was with me this time and we had a movie to make, so it seemed reasonable that we should eat there. After an informative journey assessing all our food options, we settled on cheesesteak sandwiches. The guy behind the counter was a boisterous Asian man who wanted to pump my ketchup and who said that his favorite was the cheesesteak with mushrooms, so we both ordered that with fries.

I wasn’t expecting much from my sandwich, but the enthusiasm that Asian Counter Man had made me really want to love my sandwich. I felt that if I didn’t love my sandwich he would be somehow disappointed and I didn’t want to let him down. But it was a bad sandwich. It’s hard for me to not like a sandwich—I don’t know if there’s a more perfect food than a sandwich—and I didn’t like this one.

The bread was a white bread roll that sucked up the meat juices but that fell apart along the edges so that the sandwich was a difficult endeavor to eat. The meat wasn’t meaty. I wasn’t sure what it was but it didn’t seem like any type of beef I’d eaten before. The mushrooms, surprisingly, were recognizable in taste and texture as mushrooms. However, it took me four bites to realize that the creaminess of the sandwich was the cheese. I don’t think that’s a good thing that it took me so long to figure out that what was in my mouth was cheese from something called a cheesesteak. I was only able to eat half of that sandwich.

As for the movie, Jon and I never made it. We had driven to Emeryville to eat bad cheesesteaks that left Jon with a weird sort of tension in his head and me with a strange feeling on my tongue. It was a sad night.

Eureka!

I had prematurely judged San Rafael and its eating possibilities, and was wrong for doing so. Today's lunch adventure took me back on the freeway, but in the other direction. This time, going north, to Eureka!

A little Googling led me to 4th Street in downtown San Rafael. It was a strip of stores, banks, restaurants, and coffee shops. After walking around for several blocks, scouring for a fun place to eat, and picking up paper menus along the way, I wandered into Sushi to Dai For. Sure, it was a risk to go for Japanese food at a place I had no clue about, but it looked clean and there were people inside.

I ordered their bento box lunch special, which came with salmon teriyaki, croquettes, cucumber salad, California rolls, and miso soup. The warm miso was a nice change from the blustery onset of a storm outside but a tad bit too salty. It also, strangely and powerfully, warped my chopsticks so that they crooked like an old lady's spine. The cucumber salad was made of thinly sliced cucumber and dressed with a clear slightly sweet and slightly salty liquid--very refreshing. The salmon was good but a on the dry side, a tad bit overcooked. The croquettes, which I honestly didn't have any idea what they were when I ordered, were deep-fried starchy things. Tasty, but I wasn't really expecting deep-fried. But, they weren't greasy. The California rolls were good, made of a creamy crab mixture. And, randomly, there was a broccoli spear, relegated to its own bento box compartment, and covered in some indistinguishable sauce. I had no idea what it was and couldn't taste it out either.

Ah, so many new places to dine now. A whole world of blogging opportunity. And, if anyone is ever in San Rafael (I don't know why anyone would ever be in San Rafael), hit me up--we'll do lunch.

Great China

Connie, Quressa, and I had dinner last night at The Great China restaurant on Kittredge in Berkeley. It's like the only Chinese food place I'll eat at in Berkeley. Growing up with a Chinese mom who was (and still is) an awesome cook and cooked on a makeshift outdoor propane-propelled-gas-ring-of-fire that my dad rigged up for her out of mutual zaniness, I'm picky about where I'll eat Chinese food. I know good Chinese food and, with it, I know bad.

[Short diversion on Connie: She saved me from a pool of vomit once, years back, when I was much younger and couldn't handle my drink. I owe her, big time.]

We wiggled our way through the tight space and ordered the Mongolian beef, spicy eggplant with garlic sauce, and kung po three combo. The waitress commented that we ordered all spicy food. Yes, yes, we did.

The Mongolian beef was riddled with little dried red chilis and chili flakes. It came on a bed of crispy noodles over a leaf of lettuce. The beef was tender and just melted on the tongue. I don't know what they do to make beef so soft and tender but whatever it is, it's awesome. The kung po three combo was a stir-fry of chicken, beef, shrimp, waterchestnuts, peanuts, and zuchinni all tossed in some brown sauce. The shrimp were tender and just perfectly cooked. The waterchestnuts added a fresh crispy crunch and was a great texture compliment to the cool smushiness of the zuchinni. The eggplant was a different sort of spicy from the other dishes. Whereas the heat came primarily from the red chilis in the Mongolian beef and three combo, the spiciness came from the eggplant itself, which was then intensified with the chilis. The eggplant was bit oily and I couldn't really figure out where the garlic flavor went in the garlic sauce, but it wasn't bad.

During dinner, Connie asked if I ever cooked Chinese food. I thought about it for a moment and wondered, "Isn't everything I make Chinese food?"

Lying lettuce

I just got back from lunch. I've already tried the Subway and Tacqueria, so the only place to eat in this sad city called San Rafael was Wendy's. I went into it thinking that it wouldn't be that bad. I could order a salad, maybe a chicken sandwich. And, honestly, it wasn't that bad.

I ordered their Mediterranean Chicken Salad, hesitated, and ordered fries as well. The salad looked decent in its black plastic bowl with clear plastic top. There were little grape tomatoes, red onion, feta cheese, pieces of chicken that looked grilled, and some red lettuce all very carefully arranged. It came with a packet of red wine vinaigrette too. But, as I should have learned, looks are deceiving. I popped the top off, drizzled half the packet of dressing on, and gave it a toss. Lo and behold, beneath all that assumed healthy goodness, was iceberg lettuce! I had ordered a big bowl of iceberg lettuce that had been disguised, hidden, posing as something more. I felt jipped.

But I was hungry and I ate it, trying not to drop lettuce pieces onto my book. (By the way, has anyone read The Fortress of Solitude? I'm twenty pages to the end and want someone with whom to talk about it.) The chicken was surprisingly tasty without being overly salty and very tender, not dry at all. The tomatoes were sweet, their pulp and juice bursting into my mouth as I bit through their skins. And, as for the iceberg, it was crunchy, as good iceberg should be, but that was all it was--crunchy. I suppose it was a good blank canvas for the dressing, which, tasted nothing of red wine.

I wonder what made that salad Mediterranean though. The feta?

Ice cream temptation

I'm still trying to finish off all the leftover food from my barbeque more than a week ago, which is a dangerous task. I'm not eating week-old potato salad, nothing that'll put me in the hospital like that. It's more like an opened bag of chips, a couple of bottles of Red Stripe, and a freezer full of ice cream.

So, last night after a run, a series of crunches, stretches, and weights, I had a Drumstick ice cream cone-bar-thing with fudge in the middle, which probably undid all the good that I did. It was just what I wanted though: cold, sweet, a little bit of crunch among all the smooth goodness of melting ice cream on my tongue. There was no way I could resist, really.

Food princess

I was called a "Food Princess" the other day. It was funny but so not true. Sure, I like a good meal and, yeah, I'll pay more than I can rightfully afford for it, but I'm no food princess. Food princesses wouldn't eat from taco trucks nor would they eat fudge-cicles for lunch.

But my purchase today of a $6 Green and Black's Maya Gold organic dark chocolate with orange and spices 3.5 ounce chocolate bar did seem a bit food-princessy. But, would a food princess use a fortuitously placed coupon? Doubtful.

Pizza wonderland

I got back from lunch with Eleanor not too long ago. We had pizza at Gioia's, a little hole-in-the-wall place on Hopkins in Berkeley. The first time I ate there was with Yosh several months ago. She said she was going to take me to the best pizza in the world. And I was like, "Are we going to the Cheese Board?" But, to my disappointment, we weren't. She was taking me on an adventure to a place and a part of Berkeley that I never knew existed, and I'm glad she did.

The pizza at Gioia's is awesome. Thin crust with a few fresh toppings all tossed in the oven for a little warming when you order so that the crust is just a little bit crunchy when it arrives on its wax paper over a paper plate. I had a slice of sausage and red onion with a Coke (I never drink soda except when I'm eating there for some odd reason). Eleanor had a slice of asparagus. And we shared a ceasar salad and a slice of mushroom.

My slice of sausage was wonderful. The sausage tasted as if it was freshly made, meaty and spicey, and the onion was sweet and not too overpowering. The cheese, which I don't know what kind it was but didn't taste like your usual run-of-the-mill mozzarella, was so creamy and good. The mushroom slice, which is one of my favorites, was delicious, as usual. The mushrooms (I think crimini) tasted like mushrooms, earthy and dense, not all weirdly rubbery like at other places. And, the parsley gave it a nice bit of color while adding a little touch of freshness. I could eat that all day long.

The salad was yummy too. It didn't come with the usual romaine but some other type of lettuce that looked like a cross between butter lettuce and romaine (I think Eleanor said it was jewel lettuce or something like that). The dressing didn't look like the usual ceasar dressing either. It was a bit more yellow and a bit more tangy. The grated cheese actually tasted like cheese too, not some odd salty powder. (As I'm writing this blog entry, I realized that I write a lot about my food tasting like what it should taste like--a quality of good food that sometimes gets lost.) I started eating our shared salad with my fingers even before asking if it was okay. Totally rude of me, but I didn't want to lose any bit of that cheese or dressing on my little lettuce love boats.

Battle burrito

I've been in this debate with more than one person in the past several months: Whose burritos are superior? El Farolito's or Cancun's? I've been a strong supporter of Cancun and whenever people ask me where to get a burrito, I tell them that's the place to go.

But, it got me thinking--if more than one reliable person was saying that El Farolito's really is better, could it be true? I had to find out, so I couldn't turn down a trip there after reliving my high school years at the Fillmore last night with Ryan and Mo. Time for a midnight burrito run.

I ordered a super burrito with carne asada and everything on it, along with a Negra Modelo. It was a good burrito but not the best, and, to me, inferior to Cancun's. Sure, its heft had something going for it (that burrito was the size of my head and, as many of you may already know, I've got a big head--and in more than one sense--and it weighed like five pounds). And, yes, half of it was filled with meat, as Ryan had informed us beforehand. And, yes, there was avocado. And, yes, the tortilla was grilled. All very similar to Cancun's burrito. But there was something off. The rice was a bit bland. The burrito a bit too dry, even with a healthy dallop of sour cream. The burrito a bit too loosely formed. And, it all seemed so promising in the beginning.

How was I to doubt your brilliance, Cancun?

Drive 'n' dine

It's lame that I have to get in my car to find a decent place to eat in San Rafael. It's even more lame that I have get onto the freeway and drive to what was described to me as "downtown" in a place called Larkspur. But that's what I did today--I got in my good ol' Buddy and drove, drove to food.

I wound up at the Bon Air marketplace (apparently Larkspur was founded by the French?). It looked like a very suburban quasi-strip mall deal, filled with blonde women and whiney children. I was beginning to doubt whether or not it was worth the drive.

There were the usual suspects--Jamba Juice, Peet's Coffee, Subway--and others that looked promising. I ventured to a diner place, whose name I can't recall since I can't remember if there was even a name to it other than simply "Diner." It looked like a safe bet. Plus, there were people sitting outside, seemingly enjoying themselves, so it couldn't be too bad. Since I had burgers straight for the past several days, I opted not to get a burger and ordered a turkey club with a side salad instead.

It was delivered to me on an oval plastic plate that looked as if it was breakable. The salad looked a bit dry and I worried that because I didn't tell them what sort of dressing I wanted that they decided that I wanted none. I was wrong. The salad was lightly dressed with some sort of something. I don't know what it was, but it was sweet and slightly tangy.

The sandwich was fine. The bread was a bit too toasty so by the time I was done, the top of my mouth was a bit raw. There was a bit more mayonaise on it than I usually prefer, but it took the edge off of the harsh bread. I forgot that club sandwiches come with bacon so I was surprised to find the salty crunch in between the bread. The turkey was moist and the tomatoes nicely sliced. Not a bad sandwich overall, but not a spectacularly good one--just barely able to warrant the drive.

Leftover

It's been leftover living for a while now. Today's meals consisted of endamame salad for breakfast out of a tupperware container while driving, leftover stuffed pasta things with mozarella and pepperoni from Saturday's dinner (I worried if it was still safe to eat but I ate it anyway), and half a cheeseburger from last night's dinner (I think my fourth burger in just as many days).

I decided that it was time to empty out the refridgerator of leftovers, so it's time to start anew again. Yea! New food.