Dallas

I spent this last week in the Dallas area.  Actually, to be more accurate, I was in North Dallas; Frisco and Garland to be exact.  Overall, it wasn't much to write home about (I was there for work); my days were filled with meetings and training and my nights were filled with cramming.  (I really have no love for professors who load their students up with mountains of homework and assignments due the day after spring break.)  On top of that, I was surrounded by mile upon dreary mile of suburbia.  Think endless concrete and strip malls, chain stores and huge, apparently never-ending neighborhoods filled with pricey, cookie-cutter homes.  (On the positive side, there were always at least five Office Maxes, eight Targets, seventeen Wal-marts, 38 grocery stores and 8,000 restaurants, give-or-take, within a 15-minute radius of a person at any given point.)  The bright spot in all of this was the little bakery I found around the corner from my hotel (Kolache Heaven), serving cinnamon rolls every bit as good as the ones I make myself, which are pretty good, I might add.  That, and spending a last few days with someone that I love very much and who I'm not sure when I'll see again.

Ok, so I ate alright... (This was from Norma's Cafe, which was way better than I expected.)

Friday night rolled around though, and my work was done, so I headed downtown.  (I'm a big fan of extending business trips a day or two, so I can feel out the lay of the land.)  My workday ended pretty late Friday, so I didn't have much time for anything except grabbing dinner. (That is a total excuse.  I could have gone and checked out Seryn at the Big Folkin' Festival in Deep Ellum; they weren't playing until late, but I wimped out.)  I settled for driving down to the Bishop Arts District and grabbing a quick bite at Boulevardier.  I ordered the charcuterie and cheese board.  I get a total kick out of the variety you get with these; this one was no exception.  Pate, prosciutto, smoked salmon, a few varieties of cheese, bread and crackers, plus all sorts of sweet, sour, crunchy and smeary things. (Think caper berries, gherkins, pomegranate seeds and blackberries, pepitas, some sort of stewed raisin things, and other stuff I'm probably forgetting.)  I've had better (the prosciutto was especially...weird), but it was still pretty good, and I would definitely eat there again.  (I didn't take a picture - it was too dark, and I was too tired.)

OK, so I stayed at the Aloft downtown.  My favorite hotel EVER.  It's located in an old building at the heart of downtown (a block or so from the Convention Center) and it is EXCEEDINGLY COOL.  Lots of exposed brick and ductwork, edgy art and groovy seating areas.  The whole effect was extremely hip and happening; when I arrived, the place was hopping - great energy.  (I say this like it matters - I went straight upstairs and to bed like the live wire that I am.)  Still though, the cute couple that got into the elevator with me in the three piece suit and hat and ravishing retro-cool black dress and red rose combo, straight off an indie album cover, fit right in with the vibe of the place.  No lobby shots (I forgot), and room shots aren't great, but gosh, I had a grand time living in that space for a few hours.

I slept in there! (Why is she so excited, you ask?)

Next morning, after a lovely sleep sesh, complete with the luxury of NO ALARM, I hit the city.  My window looked out on what appeared to be a pleasant little park and sculpture garden, so I wandered over to it before I went out in search of food.  It turned out to be a historic cemetery, filled with the mostly Civil-War era graves of Dallas citizens, some of whom were prominent history-makers.  I love wandering old cemeteries, looking at names and dates, wondering about the stories that lie buried there, and being enveloped in this quiet sense of timelessness that one finds.  I ran across one headstone in particular that really stuck with me:

Loved by his family
Regretted by all
Respect to his memory

You get to wondering, in a moment like that, what someone might see fit to write on your tombstone.  I'd be pretty happy to earn that epitaph right there.  Loved, missed and respected.  Job well done, I'd say.

The park also had this big sculpture installment - I think it was a tribute to Texas' cowboy tradition, because it was basically a whole herd of Texas longhorns, plus a few cowboys.  It was really cool - I love looking at how they lay these things out, their eye for perspective and timing and all; some of the cattle were crossing a little water canal on the property; some were racing down a little hill... It was just neat.  What was really great was when I walked down to inspect a little more closely - the sculptures were big, maybe a little bigger than life-sized, and I had the sensation of being in the middle of a moving herd.  I had to walk between a few of the cows, and my heart actually pounded a little.  Kudos to the sculptor.

Here's where it felt a little freaky real.

All of this introspective wandering was suddenly punctuated by the doors of the Convention Center across the park opening and regurgitating what appeared to be thousands of Mary Kay reps into the park and its surrounding areas.  These ladies, bless their hearts, would be recognized anywhere - lots of red and hot pink two-piece suits, impeccable makeup, hair that is styled in the italic sense of the word, and whose passing wafts heavily-perfumed air past one's nose.  Time to move on!

A few sights on the way to brunch...

Check it out!  A house on top of a building!

 I love how this little guy is dwarfed by the buildings around him.  Obviously, he has a bit of grit.

Yes, an eyeball. 

I walked a couple of blocks to CBD Provisions, where I wanted to eat breakfast.  (Lunch, actually.  It was after noon by now, a product of not setting an alarm.)  I ordered a Grown Up Soda (Eh. I'll stick with the kid ones), the Roasted Carrot Hummus, and the Green Chile Pork Tacos.  Ok, the hummus was amazing.  It was garnished with harissa (a spicy pepper paste) and spicy peanuts and served with toasted bread for dipping.  The effect was incredible - the hummus itself, slightly sweet from the carrots, with a little bit of heat from the peppers and crunch from the peanuts... Divine.  I could have just eaten that and been happy as a lark.  The tacos were pretty good - corn tortillas filled with scrambled eggs, pork and queso fresco (a delicious Mexican white cheese), garnished with white onions, cilantro, radish and lime, and served with skillet potatoes and peppers.  Not rock-star, but very, very solid.  (The hummus? That was rock-star.  Just saying.)

 So. So. Good.

My breakfast was enlivened by an adjoining table full of a bunch of dudes, apparently celebrating some sort of brunchy bachelor party.  (Could there be such a thing?)  It was hilarious in a suffocating sort of way - a bunch of guys in flip-flops and preppy outfits, Neiman Marcus bags and pricey-looking bottles of liquor giving clue to their upper-middle-class status, all outrageously loud and thoroughly pleased with themselves, swapping the most obnoxious of stories, and no doubt savoring this estrogen-free get-together.  I got such a bang out of how each one of them would contribute something incredibly witty (from his point of view) to the conversation, and then sit back and wait for the appreciation of his peers.  They always obliged quite vocally with uproarious amusement.

I, in turn, amused myself telling their stories - they probably all drive the obligatory decent car - Lexus, BMW, that sort of thing, live in those cookie-cutter developments where houses go for 500k or so, their wives are probably all Mary Kay reps, probably all work on their golf game at the country club and hold nice, respectable jobs at the law firms they joined after graduating nice, respectable universities... Each will have 2.5 children, at least one boy and one girl, who they will raise in an entirely appropriate manner, which will include attending Father-Daughter breakfasts at school, coaching Little League, and taking nice vacations at the family lake house every summer.  Socializing will consist of barbecues in the backyard and wine tastings at the neighbors', and once the kids are grown, they'll retire to South Florida and go on cruises with other retired friends.

Ok, I need to go outside now, for some fresh air, before I smother.  Three words.  No. Thank. You.

Anyway.

I was on my way to the Sixth-Floor Museum on Dealey Plaza (site of the infamous assassination of JFK), but I wanted to see as much of the area as I could, so I took the long way around.  I thoroughly enjoyed passing the Dallas Aquarium and walking through the Arts and Historic Districts.  It was a beautiful day, and folks were out en masse, enjoying the lovely weather and the festivities in the parks.  (I passed the Second Annual Mudbug Bash in one park and some sort of music festival going on in another.  The food trucks offered things like architectural ice-cream sandwiches and blew bubbles over the crowds.)

Dallasites doing the spring day.

I passed this building on my jaunt - made me think civil engineering wouldn't be so bad after all, if I can be a part of structures like this...

It was quite the experience to walk around the corner and see the Texas Schoolbook Depository standing in front of me, in living color, after having watched so many documentaries and read so many accounts of that dark time in American history.  Sure enough, the building was immediately recognizable, as was the triple underpass and grassy knoll.  The museum was thought-provoking, as one might expect.  So many questions, so few answers, and what was the purpose of it all?  Tragedy, pure and simple, but an important link in our national story.

And there it is, complete with that sixth-floor window.

The grassy knoll...

The triple underpass...

The view of the road in front of the depository. You can just see one of the "x"s that mark the spots where the bullets hit.

A better view of the X. Plus a classic shot of Americans being American.  "Here, take a picture of me in the middle of the highway next to the exact spot where a bullet entered John F. Kennedy, as speeding cars approach and honk!" I love us.

I had just enough time after browsing the exhibits (I am an expert museum-goer - I study every exhibit, read every word, examine every photo, and listen to every sound clip.  I do not recommend me as a companion if you are bored or in a hurry.) to walk across the street to the memorial fountains and walkways on the grassy knoll (isn't it funny how those two words go together?) and the plaza itself.  So beautiful, and so conducive to walking quietly, thoughtfully, giving one a bit of time and space to reflect.

So, that was it.  Back to the hotel, pick up the car, off to DFW, and then home.  Final verdict?  I liked Dallas, as in Dallas (not its suburbs), a lot.  I'd go back.

Let's Hear It For Productivity!

Ahhhhhhh.  House is clean (we are not going to talk about how long it's been since that happened...), ironing is done, laundry is almost done, car is washed (not going to talk about that either), and [what passes for] landscaping beds are weeded.  Oh, and I'm relatively caught up on sleep.

The sense of contentment and peace I feel is...well....let's just say that if I was a cow, I would be chewing my cud and mooing in utter bliss.  It's weird how when things are out of whack at home, it just...stresses a person out.  (It's this way for me, at least.)  I can be surviving out there, keeping up on the work front, making those grades, being a (halfway, I think) decent friend, but if my house is a mess and my yard is out of control, I just can't relax.  On the other hand, when things are whipped into shape; sure, I have several hours of calculus ahead of me yet tonight, but it doesn't even bother me.  I'm as calm as a cucumber and happy as a clam.  (One might comment, "Hey Carrie, if your primal response is such, why don't you just clean your dadgum house more regular-like?"  I know.)

So I sit down to my bowl of crockpot chicken soup, light my candle, and savor a few minutes before I tackle those books.  All is well.

That's what's going on in my world today!

Mooooo...........

Gosh

I don't know if you ever have those times when you're out doing and you come home and you just take a minute and put life on pause and ruminate for a little bit.  I do.

I just got to thinking about my life, what I value, what I don't, what makes me happy, what doesn't; that sort of thing.  Sounds harmless enough, I know, but here's where I want to go a little further (I'm hoping I can pull this off without embarrassing myself).  I think if we're all brutally honest, we have things in our lives that we're a little...proud of.  You know, something that makes us secretly puff our chest out a little?  Maybe we have really good legs, or the best serve on the volleyball court, or a real knack with the boys, or we can hit the highest note in the choir, or we're known for our peanut butter pie...  Not bad stuff necessarily, and in many cases, kind of cute or downright endearing.  We'd probably laugh embarrassedly or vehemently deny it if we got called out, but these things are true, whether we admit it or not.

So here, I'm going to blow my cover and admit for all the world to see (or anyone who cares to read this blog, LOL!) what my secret vanity is.  

So I have this collection.  I treasure it and I add to it whenever and wherever I can; in fact, I'm always on the lookout for new specimens, and nothing tickles me more than when I find one.  I'm not particularly picky about style or substance - my thing is quantity and variety.  The bigger my collection gets, the prouder I am of it, and the more joy it brings me.  I love to bring it out sometimes, when I have some quiet moments to myself, and just look at it.  Line it all up, piece by piece, hold each one in my hand, turn it and let the light reflect on it, admire it and, hey, high-five myself for finding it!  You see, the collection I speak of is my friends.

When I get to thinking about it, I realize every time that I'm truly one of the most blessed girls alive.  I have a sample of every different kind of age, size, gender, socio-economic status, education, interest.  Mine are old and young, boys and girls (big ones and little ones), entrepreneurs and students and housewives, world travelers and homebodies, city friends and country friends, straight shooters and colorful creative types; some talk a lot, some talk a little.  Some are feisty, and some are more gentle than a lamb.  Some make me hurt and some make me happy, although I've noticed that even the ones that hurt end up being pretty worth the bother in the long run.  

What's the use, you ask?  What can you do with them?  Well, let's see.  I can go hiking or I can go shopping; I can see a play or hear a concert; I can deep-sea fish, or I can put my feet up and talk politics and economics and world history.  I can wander a flea market or an art museum or build a fort in the woods; I can learn about blacksmithing and bread-baking and really cool music; I can play tennis or play Uno; I can watch sappy movies and shoot-em-ups; I can go paintballing and ziplining and on excursions to exotic places, or I can sit in one spot for hours and do nothing but talk.  I can laugh until my sides hurt, and I can share something so deep that the only release is to let the tears pour down the face.  All of this, and so much more, and I have somebody to do it with.  See, that's the cool thing about the variety in my collection - all of these incredibly amazing, colorful people, and me, little old me, I get to reap the benefits.  

In fact, sometimes I feel a little smug, especially when maybe one contingent turns up its nose at another.  "Silly people," I think; "little do you know what you're missing."  See, my friends are so wonderful, all of them, that I start to feel sorry for anybody who doesn't have a collection like mine.

Sometimes, I wish I could find a way to tell each one - I see you, I remember you, I treasure you.  Some of you know who you are; some of you might not.  It's no matter, you all are a part of the most valuable thing I own.

The fun thing is I'm still on the hunt.  My collection is in no way complete, and I get excited thinking about what I might find around the next corner. 

Anyway. It's refreshing to do a heart-dump periodically. Thanks for enduring! :)

Since there isn't a picture big enough to contain the whole shebang, and I do think a blog post is better with a little shot of color, may as well post one of my favorite pictures of all time!

This and That...

I stumbled upon this amazing innovation that has forever revolutionized how I make banana bread.  I'm going to share.

I've grown up, like everybody else, eating banana bread, also known as that great savior of overripe bananas.  I mean, banana bread is ok, but I've always seen it as kind of...eh.  My sister Ashley gave me a recipe a few years ago that was definitely the best yet (probably due to the fact that it relies heavily on a buttery, nutty streusel topping), but it still just has never really been something I crave.  The other day, I had the requisite black, semi-rotten bananas on hand, and I've developed a virtuous, non-wasteful streak, so I dutifully pulled out my mixing bowl and whipped up a batch.  As I went to bake it, though, I had an epiphany.  Figuring I had nothing to lose, I tried it out.  Voila!  At long last, craveable banana bread!  (And yes, it's easy and extremely low-maintenance.)

Behold...

Banana Bread Unplugged

A Joint Collaboration

2 eggs

3/4 cup - vegetable oil (no wonder it's so moist...)

2 teaspoons - vanilla

3/4 cup - sugar

2 or 3 overripe bananas, mashed

2 cups - flour

1 teaspoon - salt

1 teaspoon - baking soda

1/2 teaspoon - baking powder

Streusel Topping:

1 cup - brown sugar

1/4 cup - butter, melted

1/2 cup (or more) - chopped pecans or walnuts (if you want to rock this, lightly toast them)

1/4 teaspoon - nutmeg (or you can use cinnamon.  I get bored with cinnamon after awhile.)

A good shake or two of salt, preferably kosher

Combine eggs, oil, vanilla, sugar and bananas and whisk until combined.  Stir in flour, salt, baking soda and baking powder and mix well.  In a separate bowl, combine the streusel ingredients and set them aside.  

NOW for the fun part.  Heat your oven to 350, grab a 10" cast-iron skillet (no need to get too picky, a little bigger or a little smaller is no big deal) and toss two tablespoons of butter in it.  Stick it in the oven while it's preheating and get it nice and hot.  Pull it out, spread half of your batter in it, then sprinkle half of your streusel over that.  Repeat with your remaining batter and remaining streusel, and stick it back in the oven.  Bake it for, oh, 20 to 30 minutes, depending on your oven.  The center should be firm, and the edges dark, golden brown.  When it comes out of the oven, you can tip it out of the pan onto a plate.  Good luck, then, not burning your fingers, snitching.  All that streusel gets all melty and oozes down into the bottom of the bread, where it caramelizes against the hot pan...  Gosh.

Side note, I've developed a crush on soft-boiled eggs.  All I do is boil a little saucepan of water, stick an egg in it and let it boil for five minutes.  Then I run it under cold water so I can peel it without burning my fingers.  Sprinkled with salt and coarsely ground pepper and eaten with a toasted and buttered slice of good bread, accompanied by a glass of orange juice or a cup of fresh, French-press coffee, it's seriously one of the most comforting breakfasts (or lunches or dinners, especially when recovering from the flu) around.  Plus, it's totally the sort of breakfast I imagine someone like Amelie (as in the movie), dressed in a cute little skirt and cardigan combo, eating in her chic little flat before she saunters outside into the Paris morning light and sails off on her adorable bike (probably with fresh flowers in her basket).  Me, I eat it dressed in button-down and jeans, at my living room coffee table or desk, surrounded by textbooks and half-read magazines before flying out the door to work, but still.  Such a lovely little dose of Continental-ness.  Plus, I never get tired of the minimalist artistic quality of the plate...

Side, side note.  (Obviously, I feel chatty this morning.)  Nicole has developed a baking bee in her bonnet.  She went and invested in a couple of Thomas Keller's cookbooks (Ad Hoc and Bouchon, I believe), among other things, and has been experimenting in her kitchen.  This is, like, SERIOUSLY the best development.  Why, you ask?

THIS is why.  Buttery homemade croissant, soaked in almond syrup, slathered with almond butter, and topped with sliced almonds.  One of the best things that has ever entered my mouth.  (And anyone who reads this blog has a rough idea of the sheer amount of good food that has entered this mouth.)

I think she needs way more practice.  Wink, wink.

Reunion!

It's 7 AM; I'm stuck in a hotel room and desperately homesick for my family.  I've been meaning to sit down and chronicle my last weekend in Atlanta for awhile now.  I think it's a good time to do it - maybe writing about my sisters will make them feel closer.

A couple of weekends ago, it was time to run up to Atlanta and see Kate and Andrew again.  This time was extra special, though - school was out for the holidays, so my other sister Ashley and her family were able to sneak away, PLUS my brother let me bring one of my favorite nephews along, resulting in a regular family slumber party!

Al and I hit the road early Saturday morning.  Our first stop was The Deconstructed House.  In addition to being a really terrific brother-in-law, Ashley's husband Isaiah is also the contractor for the absolutely fab house I plan to build soon, so the plan was for him to meet me at a couple of places and do some idea-generating slash house-planning.  The Deconstructed House is a sort of a salvage yard for home fixtures I had found online and I wanted to check it out, see if I could find any cool stuff for my house.  The place turned out to be a little smaller than I anticipated, but it contained loads of pieces full of charm and character.  In fact, I got so caught up browsing, I forgot to take pictures!  Check out the site here though.  (Side note: one of our family legends has to do with my dad honing his sales skills selling a quirky piece of baby furniture years ago.  Lo and behold, we found an antique one!)  Isaiah and I found some great old doors, plus some pretty cool ideas.  (Let's just say that when this house gets built, you're going to want to come visit me, wink wink.)

After we left, we hit the gigantic superstore that is Ikea, and we spent a couple of hours roaming its cavernous halls, harvesting more ideas.  One of my favorite things about Ikea is the fact that they create these little simulated living spaces.  I'm not always (sometimes, but not always) totally crazy about their wares themselves, but I love love love looking at the spaces they create and furnish and "stealing" ideas from them.

My consultant.

(How cool is it when your sister marries an incredibly talented person?  Talk about windfalls!)

The world's cutest shopping companions.

It was now high time for lunch, PLUS it was time to connect with the real reasons for the season.  After a flurry of phone calls and texts, a meeting spot was arranged - JCT. Kitchen, located in the Westside Urban Market.  I liked the looks of the place based on their Yelp reviews but I nearly squealed with delight when we pulled up.  The place is located in this amazing little foodie/shopping area, full of hip little boutiques, home furnishings stores, artisanal food markets and restaurants.  (Check out Star Provisions.)  It was cold and rainy and we weren't able to stay very long (dudes and kids are not conducive to leisurely browsing, just saying) but by golly, I intend to go back there and stay for a very long time.

I loved JCT. Kitchen from the moment I walked in.  Food is the primary focus of a restaurant in my opinion, and the ultimate yardstick by which I measure a place, but when the owners get both the food AND the look right, I fight the urge to applaud.  JCT. was like that.  I dug the vibe of the place immediately.

Look who we found!  (Doesn't he look glad to see me?)

 Shots of a joyous family reunion

Oh, and the food was really good, too, from the salty, spicy, sweet popcorn we started with, to my lamb banh mi, to Andrew's lobster roll, to the grilled cheese and tomato soup for the girls and the kids, to Al and Zay's utterly superb chicken and dumplings (that's what I'd order next time).  

Of course, when we were done, we had to hit Jeni's Ice Creams.  Homemade and good, with flavors after my own heart.  I did a scoop each of the Biscuits with Peach Jam and the Brambleberry Crisp in a waffle cone, and was pretty darn contented by the whole shebang.  

Babies and ice cream are a potent combination...

Check out those flavors!

Now, let me point out, we had my baby sister along.  Where my baby sister is, there is shopping.  Lots and lots of shopping.  So, next stop...the Lenox Mall, where else?  I have to say, it felt good.  Juggling a full-time job and a full-time courseload doesn't leave much time for that wonderfully relaxing, rejuvenating pastime that is wandering a mall.  Poor Al the Pal, hauling around with me from Anthropologie to Zara and all points in between.  My dude should get an award, he was such a great sport about the whole thing.  Never a word of complaint; our only mishap was a misplaced cell phone.  (Well, technically, he did get an award.  A multi-faceted award, called Apple Store/Brookstone/Nike/etc.  I am a nice aunt.)  Oh, and a note to the wise, the scenery at the Lenox Mall is...quite pleasant.

We grabbed a quick dinner at a local Mexican place Kate and Andrew knew about (I wasn't hungry, but the bowl of chicken soup I got was pretty good, anyway) and then we moved on to the best part of the whole trip.

 I could eat that.  Just saying.

She loves her auntie and her auntie loves her.

I speak the truth when I say that the times in my life when I feel like the richest, most blessed woman alive are the times when those that I love are gathered around me.  I don't crave money or power or fame or thrills; I crave my people, and when my people are close to me, it is more satisfying than anything else the world can concoct.  So yes, an evening gathered around, playing Monopoly and Scrabble, chewing the fat and loving on the kiddos, was pure heaven.  (Except for the fact that Andrew whupped my hide in Scrabble.  I'm still chafing at that.)  

Really, our Sunday was a continuation of the same.  We got up late, leisurely ate a killer breakfast (one sister married a genius builder, the other married a fantastic cook.  You done good, girls), loaded up, hit another mall (my baby sister was still with us), chilled at Fuddruckers with burgers and milkshakes, wandered Dick's Sporting Goods, and then it was time to part ways.

It's always a little hard to say goodbye, but we play all tough and, with an insouciant wave and a jovial "oh yeah, we'll be seeing you!", we sail off into the sunset.  (Don't tell her I said this.)  But, in the end, we always do see each other again soon, and in the meantime, we do our stuff and group-text and look forward to these good times.  

Oh, and on the way home, Al's last Awesome Nephew Award: a stop at the World of Coca-Cola.  (If I am being completely honest, I like it every bit as much as the kids do.)  We had but just enough time to watch the cute Polar Bear movie short, ride the 4-D theater (the memory of the sight of two little people, 3-D glasses perched on their wee upturned faces, completely enthralled, is one I cherish) and hit the sample room, where Alvin was utterly grossed out.  The dude who is usually the picture of chill was filled with horror at the monstrosities masquerading as sodas that filled his cup and attacked his palate, and it was a complete riot.

And then, me and my sidekick and the family in the black truck aimed our headlights south, towards home.  A good weekend it had been, a good weekend indeed.

Andaz

Wow, the ol' self-expression juices have obviously been on hiatus!  School started again, though, so it's time to crank it back up a little, just so the brain doesn't turn into a dull gray soup full of nothing but numbers and formulas...

So last weekend, we took off on an Adventure Eating excursion.  This time, we were accompanied by our favorite Tyler and our favorite Rebecca.  (This always adds a certain zest to an event...)  We decided to hit this new Indian restaurant in downtown Gainesville that I've been eyeing for awhile.  Now, let me start by saying I LOVE Indian food - love the complexity and power of the flavors, not to mention just the overall change of pace in comparison to other genres.  But my experience with Indian food has been limited to strip-mall joints, cheap buffets and the like.  Andaz Restaurant is a little different; more of a fine dining experience.  Suave host, thick, leather-bound menus, swanky bar and chic decor is not what I'm used to when I eat Indian food, to say the least.

(I mean, check out this silverware!)


In addition to the traditional crispy cracker things (I don't know the name of them) and their accompanying tamarind and chutneys that you usually get at the start of your meal in places like this, we started out with Vegetable Pakora and Aloo Tikki Chat as appetizers.  Pakora is basically various vegetables (ours included spinach!), dipped in chickpea batter (Indians apparently dig chickpeas in a big way) and deep-fried.  This was good, but I liked the Aloo Tikki better.  (Chat or chaat is just another broad term for snacks, by the way.)  Aloo Tikki Chat was a sort of potato dumpling, filled with spices and other tasty stuff that I couldn't begin to identify, fried, and then topped with this delicious combo of tomatoes, chickpeas, and a yogurt, mint and tamarind chutney that was just freaky good.  I could have eaten that all night and been happy as a lark.

I love Marc's expression here.  This is Adventure Eating in a nutshell.

Our entrees were terrific - we all got something different, so the Roving Fork got a great workout.  (Have I ever mentioned that no plate is safe when I am at the table?)  Sum total, we had a couple of chicken dishes, a couple of lamb dishes, and a fish curry, plus a really delectable onion and black pepper kulcha (bread).  Every single one of them was delicious, but my hands-down favorite was Marc's lamb dish.  (I wish we could remember the name of it, because I would order it, it was that good.)  Me and Ty opted for some heat, and it was a nice, friendly burn.  (We went with medium - I tremble to think of what the Indian Hot might do, and I like heat.  Just saying.)

Look at the pure, blissful abundance.

Love that crazy girl!

I do believe we ate well...

We were left with loads of leftovers; unfortunately I accidentally dumped mine on Tenneboes' driveway, more's the pity.  I noted with some trepidation that the place was extremely not full; either traffic needs to pick up (please eat there, friends, please!) or I need to hurry back before they close. Because seriously, I want to eat my way through the menu.