Clash of the Carbohydrates

...New York Rooftops not Included

Wednesday. I'm at my desk at work drinking a slightly burned french vanilla cup of coffee, and it seems the weekend is finally catching up with me. So far, the only battle wound I have suffered is some sort of mysterious eye infection that appeared on Sunday. Apparently, it's not a good idea to put your hands in your eyes after using such means of transportation as the D train, the PATH, the 7 train, a handful of cabs, or the ramp/a metal seat at Shea stadium--the last one may not be a form of transportation. Still, I wouldn't put it past Shea Stadium for having a little bacteria here and there. So, now it's in my eye. Yess.

My best friend John came to NYC this weekend to celebrate my big 2-6. Other sources say this age officially makes me a grown up. I beg to differ. It was a weekend for the books, for sure. Thursday night we ate at Maria's, because I am obsessed with margaritas, chips, and guacamole.Last meal before I die? Possibly. I took the day off of work on Friday and spent most of the day dragging John around the city, to Hoboken, to the city, and back to Brooklyn. Last time he visited was in September and went to Crif Dogs, so naturally, he had to go back again. These are not your everyday hot dogs. Tucked in the East Village, Crif Dogs has by far some of the most memorable hot dog concoctions out there. This is John (below) eating a Tsunami Dog, which is a bacon wrapped Crif Dog topped with pineapple chunks and scallions. He washed it down with the 80's drink of choice, RC Cola.

Don't they look delicious? The Tsunami Dog is the one on the bottom, and the Crif Dog topped with coleslaw is the one on top. Southern style and such.

My first triumph of the weekend (besides buying a new set of false eyelashes) was finishing two hot dogs. My second was finding a table at Brooklyn Brewery on Friday night. I forgot my camera (drat), but I knew John would love this place. It's only open on Fridays from 6pm-11pm, and it has a touch of the ambiance like that of the Hofbrauhaus in Munich. It fills up early, but David finagled us a table (picnic style), and twenty card games later, we were in need of a cab and had spent an hour trying to tell James it was not humanly possible for him to run 100 miles in 24 hours. He was adamant he could do it--and easily. Bar Bonus? You buy wooden chips and poof wooden beer money. Beats starting a tab, and it's much faster.

Saturday. B-day. Breakfast spread, coffee, two shots of Brazilian Cachaca. Wikipedia (which,FYI,often times gives you made up information) tells me this is "...the product of the distillation of fermented sugarcane juice, with its alcohol strength between 38% and 48% by volume." 1:05 pm-- Mets game at Shea Stadium. $10 tickets, you know it. Usual suspects attended: David, James, Claire, Kara, Carrie, Keaton, Eddie, Steph, and John (who lives in NC, but we will include him anyway). After I had already consumed 1 1/2 Nathan's hot dogs, a birthday hot dog was passed down with this perfect little candle in it. Best birthday cake (hot dog) ever. Better when everyone started singing happy birthday. Love it. This is me not consuming my almost fifth hot dog of the weekend. woof.

The Mets lost, but the sun was shining and the day was young. FYI. Spring fashion staple items include: American Apparel v-necks. We trucked it back to Brooklyn, and spent dinner on the roof. You don't know what a beautiful day is until you experience three months of disgusting weather. Oh joy. It was amazing. We ate sandwiches from Tempo Presto and drank delicious Coronas. The sun was setting. Manhattan winked at us over the water. Yes, the scene is just as you are imagining it. Quick stop in the BEST store for a poor-wannabe- shabby-sometimes-chic-omigod-is-this-a-Betsy-Johnson-for-$15-girl in the nation. And the night had finally begun. Song of the weekend? "Love Song," by Sara Bareilles.Try it on for size during an early morning shower.

We went to Fat Baby for a double birthday party with my old roommate Allison. I wore a red dress. I danced. My bangs became piecy, my feet hurt like crazy. I sloshed my vodka tonic all over everyone. They danced too. There is no way I am 26. So, no night out is complete without a Panthers shot. This shot was invented by John and company in Charlotte. Recipe for fun, uh-huh.

Recipe: Panthers Shot

1/2 oz. Lime Juice

1/2 oz. Triple Sec

1/2 oz. Vodka

Splash of Blue Caracao

This drink is simply a Kamikaze with a splash of Blue Caraca0, but that is the most important part. Without the Blue Caracao, you have nothing. Bartenders look at you like you're crazy when you ask them if they have this mysterious blue liquid, but tell them to dust off the bottle and take a shot with you. Go Panthers.

After an unsuccessful trip to the Karaoke bar, we took a cab to Brooklyn and had Bageltique. Ah, late night Bageltique. I ate an unfortunate bag of Cheetos and went to bed. Fell asleep on the couch. Same thing.

Sunday? Are we there already? Took a shower, noticed my eye was getting puffy, and went into the city for brunch at the highly recommended Danal.I had the Croissant French Toast, but definitely had breakfast burrito envy. David gave me a bite or five, but I was still already looking forward to dinner. I tried to sleep off Saturday, talked on the phone, and watched The River Wild back on David's couch. Again, I was in the mood for something else (maybe Baby Boom?) We had Songfor dinner, and I was satisfied. Chicken Pad Thai, I'll love you forever. They also have this amazing Mango salad that's really fresh and light. I usually have Thai on Sundays, so it seems I am at least consistent in year 26. Oh. And this time last year, I could not have imagined this is what the next year would bring.

And so, it was for sure, a weekend for takeout menus, Mexican, Margaritas, pizza, beer, hot dogs, pastries, vodka tonics, shots, bagels, french toast, sandwiches, and several bites and sips of whatever everyone else was having. It was a weekend for the books. Or the cooks? If this is 26, I am doing something right. It is D-Lish.