I'm Easy Like a Sunday Morning

Sunday morning, after some kickass Beehive lovin' and a Spin class led by a drill sargeant, I headed into Manhattan to meet up with Kristen for brunch.

I am reading Anthony Bourdain's Kitchen Confidential for the 1OOth time, and in it, he spends some time discussing why one should never eat brunch--the reasons ranging from leftover old food, to the fact that the real chef would never work on a Sunday, and therefore, you've got some rube of a chef cooking your meals. To that I say pish posh, because I honestly love brunch.

It's not so much the food--although there are some places where you can get an incredible spread, such as Artisanal, but seriously, anyone can slop some eggs onto a plate and charge money for them...I think it's just the excuse to get together with friends, and drink in the middle of the day without a second glance from anyone.

I told Kristen to pick the place since I rarely head into Manhattan anymore on weekends, so she texted me the address to Sette, a restaurant in Chelsea that I've walked past a million times but never thought of going into.

Thankfully Kristen had the foresight to make reservations earlier, but just to get the guy's attention was proving to be next to impossible. When he finally decided to realize that we were there, he gave us two choices of tables..one next to the door, the other in the back room. Naturally, we chose the back room, I mean what could be so bad about that?

A restaurant's gotta have major balls when they offer you a seat in the "back room", which ends up being an unfinished space that was clearly freshly painted, with brown paper still taped to the floor. The only other people in the back room was a party of 1O or so, and weirdly, the only other table in the room was our table for two.

Yea. Wasn't really in the mood for that fresh painted feeling, so we scurried back into the main dining room to request another table, to which our ever so impatient host banged on a two-top that had just been vacated...we weren't sure if he was giving us the signal to sit, or asking the busboy to clean it up, or both...he had a very clever way of never looking us in the eye when we spoke to him, as well as pretending there was something much more urgent always going on, and running away.

Indeed, we were being summoned to sit, and that we did.

Now, any place that offers unlimited mimosas/bellinis/bloody marys with brunch is a-ok in my book. It was a lovely sight indeed, watching the waiters circulate with carafes of bellinis just ready for the taking, and take we did...

3 bellinis later, I wasn't sure if I was hallucinating or did a girl wearing NO BOTTOMS just sit herself down in front of us?

Seriously, what is up with this latest fad? First, there's this numbskull, but now I have to go to brunch and literally before my eyes some chick is parading around in a sweater (it was a sweater, not a sweater dress, but a bonafide, just to the hips sweater} and SEE THROUGH pantyhose. Not leggings. Not even tights. pantyhose that, every time she got up and down from her chair, I got to witness her ample butt cheeks bobbing up and down. And not in a good way.

We weren't sure how her friend and boyfriend allowed her to leave the house like that, but eh, whatevs, it gave ME something to laugh at, and that's all that matters!

After quite the yummy meal-frittata for me, eggs benedict crabcake for Kristen--the check appeared as if it had fallen out of the sky. Mind you, we had never asked for it, and the crowd had died down...so it's not like anyone was waiting for our table.
We were sufficiently inebriated, but dammit, the menu said UNLIMITED drinks...so fuck them, we wanted more. Garcon, bring over that carafe and give us a little topper!

A girl can only have so many Bellinis before feeling like she's going to start pissing peach nectar, in addition, a girl tends to crave certain things after an afternoon of boozin' {and, in my case, pms} so we peeled ourselves away from the unlimited alcoholic goodness, and walked two long blocks in the freezing cold, to find ourselves yet again at the fabulous Billys.
This time, they brought out a fresh banana cake and we couldn't resist...it was like the damned thing was calling out to us....eat me, bitches!



What can I say. Beehive, Brunch, Bellinis, Butts, and Banana Cake. Hot damn, that's a good Sunday!

In a Nutshell

For the last few days, I have had a really yucky stomach. So much so that I couldn't even enjoy the delicious food and booze being served at Lesty's annual New Years Day brunch. I spent much of yesterday in the bathroom, unable to puke or poop, feeling really frustrated and just generally having bad stomach ache depression.

Today I ate a lot of this



It turns out that not only is this shit delish, it also doesn't upset my tum tum.





I've also been drinking a lot of this



It's very pink, it doesn't taste good, and did you know that it turns you poos black?

I can't say I'm very surprised that I'm having gastro distress. I've had the last week off from work and spent a lot of it EATING {surprise}.

Christmas Eve, I took it upon myself to cook, which I love to do but don't do often enough. I whipped up some honey-crusted salmon, roasted brussel sprouts, biscuits, and this delicious butternut squash thingie



topped off with ice cream sundaes {dude, I was too tired to actually MAKE real dessert, which is usually my favorite thing}.

Christmas day was a typical Italian/Lebanese Christmas, with plenty of Baked Ziti, Eggplant parm, and of course, Kibbe Balls!

In addition to the holiday meals, I engaged in various brunches and lunches at places such as L'Express and Bar Tabac .

My favorite food outing was with my girls roopa and
kristen, for our annual White Trash Christmas. Many strawberry margaritas were imbibed, along with mass quantities of fried foods such as tater tots and sweet potato fries...and many drunken conversations were had. Things such as "teeny weeny peen" and "he makes balloon animals with his cock" were uttered. Somewhere along the way, kristen and I became obsessed with needing to have cake, so brilliantly, roopa suggested we go Billys Bakery

where I proceeded to have two cupcakes and a glass of milk. I think I put my system into shock with the milk...unless I'm drinking it with coffee, when the hell do I ever drink it?

In addition to all the fabulous food outings, I also received 498572729 bajillion boxes of candy for Christmas from various vendors. Some of them got regifted, but most went down the ole gullet.

And I wonder why my stomach hurts...

Vanderbilt Avenue is Singing a New Toon

For the last 2 years that I have lived in this neighborhood, it has been seriously lacking in Middle Eastern restaurants.

As it is, the dining out experience leaves us with slim pickins on this side of Flatbush Avenue, with a scant few good places to chow down at {my late night drunken munchies hangout used to be Crown Fried Chicken, if that gives you any indication. But it's closed now. Boo.}

The popular Zaytoons, which already existed in BoCoCa and Fort Greene/Clinton Hill, opened in prospect heights a few months ago.

Let me begin by saying that I am half Lebanese, and spent 1/4 of my life in the Middle East, and eating my Grandma's cooking, and I KNOW good Middle Eastern food when I see it. And this, my lovely blogger friends, is DANG good.

I've been ordering in from the restaurant a good twice a week now, and
Brooklyn Gal and I ventured over to the actual restaurant a few weeks back.

Very importantly, the space is quite big, with tons of room between tables. None of that cramming in bullshit. perfect for all you claustrophobics. More importantly, they serve alcohol {which I don't think they do at the other locations}, and it is cheaper than a hooker outside the Holland Tunnel on a Sunday morning. We're talking $4.25 for a glass of wine or beer--ok it's not Chateau Margot but hey, it's not about the wine now, is it?

Now, most importantly, the food. It is divine. If you are into Middle Eastern Mezze, this is the place to get it. I always order the combo plate-you get a choice of five salads, including felafel. I usually get the labneh,

which is just thick enough and peppered with dill and mint.
Fattoush salad,


with just the right amount of baked pita crumpled over it. The felafel is crunchy and bite sized, the hummus and babaganoush creamy and delicious.

I've also had their mujaderra {lentils rice and fried onions} which is extremely flavorful and filling.



The appetizers all come with a couple of warm, homemade pitas, which are soft, and perfect for dipping, but I like to order a side of zatar bread.


It's served like a pizza, and tastes delish dipped in a mound of labneh. YUM.

My new favorite thing to do is get off the Q train after work, pick up a cheap bottle of white from Fermented Grapes, grab my grub and head on home for a feast. Such as tonight. Good times.