Although becoming a distant memory already, the amount of calories consumed this past weekend will no doubt continue to linger with me for some time. But hey, that’s the price you pay when you decide to splurge on an over the top French meal at one of the best restaurants in town like we did on Friday night. Lucky for me Amanda enjoys white wine as much as I do, so armed with a bottle recommended by our server (whose colourful language made me think perhaps he was relieved to see some 20-somethings in a sea of Oak Bay wives) we embarked on a journey beginning with oysters and fancy frites, which led to truffled tagolini pasta and boeuf à la Bourguignonne and was capped off with, of course, crème brulee. I can’t resist the damn thing after watching Amelie declare that one of her favourite pleasures is cracking the caramel coloured shell. Of course, as the classic Seinfeld episode taught us all, heavy food and wine equals instant bedtime and by the end of our meal I was ready to head home and pass out. Thanks to Doug and Amanda for being the most charming of dinner mates, by the way.
My foul mood on Saturday morning matched the bitterly cold weather and I should have trusted my gut instinct to stay inside and start a Top Chef Masters marathon. Instead, after finally watching the Project Runway finale (meh), I ventured downtown to meet Jordan at Habit. Huge mistake, it was crowded, chilly and attempting to manoeuvre my bike along the sidewalks full of people was absolutely agonizing. When walked, my bike is as savage as Calvin’s evil bike, you know, the one waiting in his closet to attack him, but rather than beating me with tires it instead mercilessly stabs at my kneecaps with uncovered spokes, resulting in knees dotted with scars and torn nylons. As a result of this, my tulle polka dot tights met an untimely fate last week; my screamed obscenities echoed down Fort Street as I mourned my loss. Tearing tights is like throwing away money!
Things improved in the evening when we went to Castle Fireball for a birthday/welcome home potluck. The theme was childhood favourites, so I decided to attempt a classier version of my beloved tuna casserole, replacing the Campbells soup with a basic cream and chicken stock base and adding some gruyere cheese to spice up the cheddar. It was pretty delicious at home but mysteriously tasted like burning once I heated it up at the potluck. It all made sense when I realised I had charred a good three inches of macaroni on the bottom of the pot, I guess the old stove at Castle Fireball had a little more oomph to it than expected. Menu items at this potluck included Hamburger Helper, chow mein cookies, meatballs, rice krispie squares, and tempah sticks with sweet chilli sauce from someone obviously raised by hippies. It was a lovely evening of straight up socializing and eating until you felt sick (rice krispie squaries are weirdly not filling and can result in eating way more than necessary, by the way).
On Sunday I resisted any crazy urges to “go out and get some air” and spent a good portion indoors until I was struck with a desire to go thrifting and headed down to ValuVillage. I resisted the $24 sequined dress with the outrageous shoulder pads (could have been a good New Years frock) and the knit Pug sweater (it was kinda grody but otherwise you know I’d be on that shit) and came away with some skirts, couple dresses and a striped turtleneck which I am still not quite sold on.
Rest of the day was spent hanging out with Kevin, watching District 9, making the world’s most delicious red curry to ever come out of a can, and choir practice.
Now I’m mired in a Tuesday, waiting for the next weekend to start. It should be a good one, what with Jim and Al coming for a visit, and possibly the parentals as well. Onwards, to Friday!