Underpants

Why do boys of all ages leave underpants in the middle of the floor? Are they dirty? If so, disgusting. Are they clean? If so, you, boys, are lazier than previously suspected. I just found a pair of J's undies drooping over one stair about 75% of the way up the case and a pair of T's near but not too near our hamper. Is this another empty-OJ-bottle-back-in-the-fridge trick? Deep, existential musings on this Thursday.

Grand Budapest, and other hotels

T came and picked me up just before 4p yesterday. We packed in quick fashion and raced downtown, checked into our hotel and set out for our anniversary date extraordinaire. Romance to the extreme, he took me to a jewelry store where we looked at a celebratory ring. No purchasing but he's got something in mind, and I felt rather swept off my feet. Then to Proof for an app and drinks at the bar. I started with a glass of Grillo, a white varietal that hails from Sicily and proximate areas. Done well, it excites the palate with a crisp raciness that is nonetheless soft and accessible. T had a beer, and we tucked into a dish of homemade mozzarella atop mushrooms and crispy shallots tossed with an aged balsamic vinaigrette. Not awesome, but very solid. We laughed, I had a 1/4 pour of a Turley Zin, T had a subpar beer, and then we were off to Zaytinya, walking in the rain, holding hands without a care. In their bar we sat (we love to sit at the bar of any good joint, fancy or not at all so) and shared four mezze: Htipiti (roasted red peppers, feta and thyme dip); Seared Halloumi with Dates, Oranges, Pistachios and Mint; Crispy Brussels Sprouts with Barberries, Coriander and Garlic Yogurt; and the Fried Calamari. I ordered a slight of rosés to go with it all, and T ordered yet another subpar beer. Poor guy. We ate and laughed more, it started raining to beat sixty and when it let up a bit, we headed on, this time to Dangerously Delicious Pies, for dessert.

I loved everything about this place. It's little more than a tiny yet very welcoming storefront on H St, NE, down in Chinatown. The proprietor is a lanky, smiling, knows-everything-about-the-place-and-products, gloriously afroed young man who has a marvelous demeanor for running a shop. A couple in line ahead of us ordered thick slices of savory pies: he the chicken pot, her what looked to be the BBQ pork. At the last minute, the also ordered a slice of the Peanut Butter Chess.

Not one for peanut butter in any dessert, I chose the strawberry rhubarb while T went with the Baltimore Bomb: crumbled Berger Cookies (I learned last night that these are a beloved Baltimore thing) swirled into a vanilla chess filling. Naturally we got it topped with whipped cream. While waiting, we listened to a charismatic regular with few teeth soapbox about how DDP needed seats out front. He made some good points, but according to charming man, such was not possible because they were not currently zoned for such although how they were much different than Starbucks -all of whom are zoned for such- remained a mystery. To all of us in there. We took our pies to go, walked back to our hotel, got into PJs, ordered up The Grand Budapest Hotel and started watch-eating.

It is great fun to stay at a hotel in your own city just because. Such a treat. Seems so decadent.

It is with sadness that I admit that the pies weren't amazing. Solid! Beautiful! Not amazing. But I'd go back. 'Cause if ever I owned a spot, I'd want it to be as cool and welcoming and calm as DDP.

Now, The Grand Budapest Hotel was Wes Anderson at his most eccentric and delightful. Have you seen it? I enjoyed every strange second. Ralph Fiennes is sublime, and I simply must ride in a funicular like the GPs at some point in life. Why Anderson chose Tilda Swinton for such a tiny part only to have her sit in the makeup chair until she was unrecognizable is beyond me. I adore Tilda Swinton, but Anderson could have worked with an older actress and possibly saved some time. But that wouldn't be W.A., so there. Bill Murray! Ed Norton! Jeff Goldblum! Saoirse Ronan! Tony Revolori! Utterly weird and silly and marvelous.

Today we slept in and then it was back to the real thing. T went to work, I came home and visited with Mom and El, picked up my darlings, made a dinner feast: the Brussels sprouts; Chicken with Caramelized Sumac Onions; Rhubarb Cherry Hibiscus Crumble with Almond Whipped Cream. We are all tired and feel piggish but in a grand way, and now it's to bed.

Fabulous anniversary dinner at Blue Duck (and I wore "the shoes")

Last night, I donned "the shoes" (and the skirt I bought to go with them), and T whisked me downtown to Blue Duck for our 10th anniversary dinner. He'd not yet  been but based on my wildly enthusiastic reviews, was really excited. It did not disappoint!

I started with a glass of Moet Rosé Imperial and was reminded that truly, it is perfection in a flute. So when our waiter offered to treat me to a second glass in honor of our night, you can be sure I agreed. T, of course, started with a beer, an IPA from Port City in VA. I thought about ordering the Wagyu filet but ultimately decided on the Braised Beef Rib because the thought of fall-apart tender sounded decadent and easy. That plus a Baby Wedge with Green Goddess Dressing sounded like a winning pair, and then T and I also decided to share an order of the BD grits which drive me positively wild.

When this lovely salad arrived, I dove in, eager for a non-iceberg Wedge (bless you, Blue Duck; I can think of nothing redeeming about iceberg lettuce.) It was fresh and pretty but not great; the dressing wasn't punchy enough, and it was either too loose or the lettuce hadn't been dried quite thoroughly enough because there was a watery'ness that you just don't want in a salad. I want my dressing to enliven the foundation and fun additions and to stick right to them so that effortlessly I get the flavor in every bite.

The braised rib, on the other hand, was downright amazing. When it was placed in front of me, I told Tom, "Wow, I can't wait to make a sandwich with my leftovers tomorrow" because really, this was an eNORmous rib. I then proceeded to eat the entire thing. Literally people, the whole honking rib. With the grits. Which together was manna from heaven, albeit unbelievably rich manna. And I washed it all down with a wonderful glass of Zin from Quivira.

Meanwhile, T chose the 12-hour Suckling Pig and the Asparagus Salad with Parm, a Fried Hen Egg and Guanciale. Doesn't the latter sound outrageously good? It really was. Just delicious!

I did not photograph the suckling pig because s.p. does not make me happy. T enjoyed it immensely though he said it was rich beyond belief. And, a complete grit-skeptic, he nonetheless felt they were superb and ate his full share! And ordered a Delirium Tremens.

We were full but how we could we not have a celebratory dessert? Not least since we were having a ball and next to us was the quietest couple ever to dine together. He was so thin I thought he was a stick person, and she had enormous hair and kept looking at him as she pecked at her chicken, and I swear I'm not sure they even breathed. So I rather felt we had to have some fun for them. And we did. We ordered the Rocky Road Cookie which came warm and gooey with toasted marshmallows on top and vanilla ice cream. But our waiter also brought us a cup of cardamom-coffee (white? still) ice cream that was fabulous, and I must have one of these gelato cups because it's so appealing. We ate all of this too.

Finally we were done. We settled up with our waiter who was sort of like Stanley Tucci meets a wannabe spy (he swore six ways to Sunday that he worked for the Japanese government, couldn't say more and travels there often; his work at BD is seasonal and just for travel money. All possible of course, but T and I looked at each other and simultaneously said, "Lie.") though very nice, walked out to our car and drove home in happy satiety. There waiting for us were my sister who is so preciously pregnant with a little boy of her own and Jack who couldn't sleep. And then my parents arrived and finally we all went to bed, and I ended up moving from my bed to Jack's and then to Oliver's all before 6am and I feel like a nauseous load of dung right now but a happy one at that.

So cheers to great food and drink and happy marriages and family and friends and kids and love. Have a good one!