wknd 6/7–6/8: a little too baller, always
This post's title was my response to someone's text about how, from social media, I "seem, as always, to be baller." It was sent through the hungover haze of Sunday morning, after Saturday night was just too much. Let's back up to that.
Saturday afternoon was spent on my stoop, reading Eileen Myles, trying to figure out what to do with myself before Mondo at midnight. Doug was DJing a wedding; Justin was cooking (some poor) fish in Queens—these are my bros and I was adrift. I scrolled through Instagram and noted a fancy cocktail from a place called Nights and Weekends in Greenpoint, so I hit up Megan to see if she'd be into a little Field Research: Weekend Edition. Luckily, she was down. I put on my new favorite article of clothing, this tie-dyed Mara Hoffman skirt, and headed out. My first cocktail, Mi Corazon, contained fresno-pepper-infused avua cachaca, coconut milk, and lime. Coconut milk are the words you use to get me excited about anything, and this cocktail lived up to my expectations with its spicy creaminess. We ate yuca fries and shisito peppers; I ordered a readily vegan meal of a mashed chickpea blend with cilantro on fried flatbread that was totally delish; and we talked homemade nut milks, work, dudes. When we were done and awaiting Joe and Melissa, we had the perfect space of time to hit up Van Leeuwen and make further questionable but delicious decisions before we were on to Torst to drink a bunch of fancy beer. I was very into Evil Twin's Yang double IPA, and thoroughly enjoyed what I drank of a Spanish cider before I knocked it over when I wanted to tell everyone that Ray from Girls had just walked by. I am a teenager, in case you're not aware.
Sunday, I forced myself out of the haze early on because I was determined to get in some beach time at the Rockaways. On I went, Sareen in tow, directing myself, obviously, to Rockaway Taco rather than the beach. We were starving and the line was insane, so we went across the street to the Roberta's box and got a cheese-less pie, plus mushroom and onion—it was great. Those mushrooms were perfection. Motorino is my favorite Neapolitan pie, but this certainly bolstered my perspective on what Roberta's can do without meat and cheese after a subpar experience with their Rosso pie last year. It was then on to the beach for a bit until we had to persevere through the taco line with sufficient time to digest before Justin was making dinner. (I really do have pretty baller problems.) So we did, and boy was it worth it. The tofu taco was just what I wanted, and any place that offers plantains is a place I am down with.
Back in Bushwick, Justin served up some crazy-good tempeh bánh mìs with homemade pickled veg. That guy's cooking makes me wanna step up my game. It was once again our intention to watch Labyrinth, and we were once again foiled by our own penchant for talking bullshit.
This week, I'm planning a very cool little baking project to celebrate our fourth Music Video Make-Out Party, which is moving to the bar Alaska on Friday. Please come out to drink and dance with us. There will be cake! There will be glitter!