Margaritas, Mayhem, and Messages

Two Jersey girls walk into a bar and order a margarita.  But it was no joke.  At least not for the bartender at Bua at 122 St. Marks Place in the East Village; she handled the patrons in this buzzing, cozy, brick-walled establishment with ease, laughing and conversing with them, all the time moving and working, multitasking with finesse.  It took her approximately 10 minutes to acknowledge Cindy and me, but it was well worth the wait.  I watched her prepare the drinks from a distance at the other end of the bar: lime juice from a plastic squeeze bottle which we prayed was real lime juice, Herradura, and a short squirt of agave.  She gave it two quick shakes and served it with a straw in a tall glass filled with ice and rimmed with flaky sea salt.  These top-shelf margaritas at first sip were tart, crisp, and clean as a Granny Smith apple, but after the second sip I was able to suck it down like it was merely lemonade. I finished it too quickly, as I was thirsty from our hot sunny walk from the subway station.  The slight heady buzz was worth the $13 plus tip.

 Our next stop was Empellon on 105 First Avenue but, alas, we arrived there too early.  They didn’t open until 5:30 and so we had an hour to kill - but not to worry.  We took a walk to Avenue B, passing the gorgeous Tompkins Square Park on the way, filled with fuchsia rosebushes, Congo drums beating somewhere in the distance.  Our next stop was to be a small Mexican restaurant but upon arriving there, the restaurant was clearly abandoned - dark and empty, graffiti on the windows.  Our hearts sank; our quest for the best margarita in the East Village was on a downward spiral.  “But wait”, I said, checking the spreadsheet Cindy had created, “This isn’t the right address”.  We needed 179 Avenue B, not 170.  And there ahead of us, across the street, was the name Mercadito – clearly they had moved on to a bigger and better location, and what a little gem this place was, all décor, atmosphere, and upbeat music.  And happy hour on a Saturday!  As we were seated at a table, we were not able to observe the making of the margarita, but I did glimpse the bartender shaking the drinks to the beat of the salsa music.  These drinks arrived in short salt-rimmed glasses along with a small dish of guacamole and chips.  Divine all around.  I sensed a bit of sweet and sour mix or possibly triple sec in these drinks as they were ever so slightly sweet, and halfway through finishing it, I clearly was starting to feel the alcohol.  We then ordered a second round along with fish tacos and I could feel these margaritas had the potential to knock me off my feet, and I was glad we were eating.  The fish tacos were absolutely delicious so we then ordered a plate of shrimp tacos.  These tacos were simply some of the most flavorable (I know that’s not actually a word) foods I have ever eaten, and hands down the best $5 margarita(s) you will probably ever find. 

 Clearly someone was cheering for us!

Since we spent a good deal of time at Mercadito, it was time to head back to Empellon as their doors were now open for business.  In our research for the best margaritas in East Village, this place was voted number one for “Classic Margarita”.  Upon entering, at first I felt slightly intimidated, as this clearly was an upscale place and we were dressed casually, but we were warmly greeted and shown to the bar area.  The bartender was a slight and pale but very friendly man who set to work on our margaritas right in front of us.  Lime juice, tequila, and agave.  His shaking technique was interesting; very slow at first and then he rocked it hard.  There were three plates of fine sea salt in varying muted colors and he first rimmed our glasses on a fresh orange slice.  Somewhat to my disappointment, he only used one of the salts on our glasses, but then I saw he rimmed only one side, covering approximately half an inch down the side of the glass, and he got points for that little bit of creativity.   Cindy and I were getting texts from our husbands that they were now in the area and were on their way to meet us for dinner, so I knew our little tequila-laden adventure was soon to end.  We enjoyed these margaritas and the environment and the friendly banter of the bartender.  I asked him the ingredients for the drink, just to confirm:  lime juice, tequila, and agave.  And again: lime juice, tequila, and agave.  That’s it.  Pure and simple.  End of story. The classiest classic margarita you will ever have will be at Empellon. 

 

The Classiest

All told, we had five margaritas that day, the last one being at Hearth, the restaurant where we went for dinner.  It was as good as all the prior ones but at that point I almost had to force it down! 

So, what did I learn from this little foray into the world of lime and tequila?  Well, if you want a syrupy sweet limey drink or a frozen concoction, you’ll have to visit your local sports bar or chain restaurant.  They’ll have none of that here in the East Village.  The one regret of the day was that we did not have time to visit The Wayland, where their “garden variety margaritas” are infused with kale ginger juice, but there will be other sunny summer days when the thirst for tart and tequila will eventually bring us to that spot.

Mean Green

My sister-in-law and I recently joined an organic farm/weekly local produce club and we should start to get the produce just after spring begins.  I bought a juicer to make sure we use up all the produce my husband and I might not be able to eat before it goes bad.  Coincidentally, just after ordering the juicer, I watched the documentary Fat, Sick, & Nearly Dead – not knowing what it was about at first – but turns out it was about two men who went on a juice fast ~ one of them for 60 days having nothing but “mean green juice” and water.  He lost a ton of weight and was able to stop taking steroid medication he had been taking for a chronic autoimmune disorder which caused him to break out into hives.  The second guy also lost a lot of weight and was able to go off his cholesterol medication. 

The documentary also reinforced how crazy awful the American diet has become.  Supersized soda.  Boxed processed meals.  Lunchables.  Chemical ingredients.  It’s touted as quick and convenient, but personally, I think it’s just sheer laziness. Americans are sorely lacking vital nutrients that fend off disease.   But, has the American diet become this way because of the laziness, or is the laziness because of all the quick boxed convenience? 

Knowing full well I would not withstand a 60-day juice fast, I wanted the mini-experience.  Last weekend I attempted a two-day juice fast.  I found a “menu” for a weekend juice plan that included recipes for four drinks a day.  I spent approximately $40 on fruits and vegetables. I enjoy new gastronomic experiences, so I was actually looking forward to this but the thought of no solid food for two days was actually quite daunting.  I made and drank every drink on the plan, but towards the end of both days I was shaky and starving, and had to eat a lean protein and some steamed vegetables.  I felt great after the two days, and did lose two pounds.  Since then, I have been trying to make at least one juice a day – even my husband drinks the “mean green”!

Carrot Pineapple Chili Juice

Orange Berry Smoothie

The makings of Mean Green Juice

Mean Green: chock full of micro-nutrients!

  If life gives you lemons, make some kind of fruity juice. ~ Conan O'Brien

Do-Over

If you had a chance for a do-over....

We often say: I wish I could do it over, knowing what I know now.  No doubt the outcome would be different?   But - what if you didn’t know what you know now?

I recently saw The Vow. Woman in a car accident, brain trauma, couldn’t remember a 5-year block of her life, including meeting, falling in love, and marrying her husband.   Her husband had to court her all over again, to try to make her fall in love with him again, without knowing if the outcome would be the same, if she would or even could ever love him again.  A daunting task.

If you had a chance to do it all over again, would you do it the same way?  It’s one thing to be able to do it over “knowing what you know now”, but, what if you didn’t know?  What if you couldn’t learn from your mistakes, because you couldn’t remember them?   What if you couldn’t rely on good memories to help you through the tough times, because there were no memories, good or bad?    What if doing it over didn’t feel like doing it over?   Would the do-over have the same outcome as the original happenings?

The Vow was based on a true story…but I won’t reveal how it ends.

“If I had it all to do over again, I would do most all things differently. However, how would I know that if, I had not had the opportunity to do them the first time.” ~Janice Markowitz

Hedy Stuff

Award shows.  The glamour.  The glitz.  The dream.  Escape from reality. 

The Academy Awards show is on tonight, and I can’t wait to watch.  I will imbibe in red wine and red carpet satire.  I will be in awe of the gorgeous and gasp at the poorly attired.  My eyes will be blinded by the borrowed bling.

I’ve always loved the idea of Hollywood, especially Old Hollywood.  Hedy Lamarr was once quoted as saying “Any girl can look glamorous. All you have to do is stand still and look stupid.”   While I believe any girl can look glamorous, it does not come hand in hand with stupidity or flightiness or shallowness. What was Hedy thinking?  Why can’t we be both glamorous and intelligent?

I could use some inspiration to unleash my inner Gaga.  Maybe the golden Oscar will inspire me.  I’ve been feeling dowdy lately, lackluster.  I have a case of the winter blahs.  (I think I have blogged of this before? I must have a recurrent case of the winter blues.)  I need to get out of my comfort zone.  I feel a spring makeover coming on.  A hair appointment is already scheduled…

But for now, tonight, I will just watch.

I think people feel starved of nice, glamorous entertainment. They want to see costumes and gaiety and a singer; old-fashioned entertainment - it won't die easily. ~ Ronnie Corbett

Va Va Voom

I recently went bra shopping with a friend.  Not the most fun thing in the world; it’s quite distressing, actually.  And we both seemed to have some of the same problems in trying to find one that fit, even though we are on complete opposite ends of the bra anatomy scale:  her cup runneth over, while mine is only half full.

We women are miraculous creatures.  We multitask like no man is able.  We give birth to new life.  Our bodies are interesting and complex.  We have the same anatomy, but no two bodies are ever quite the same. Trying to find a bra that fits that anatomy comfortably and does the job it’s supposed to do (while still being a cute undergarment) is quite an impossible task.  I dare say it’s even harder than finding the perfect pair of jeans.

Damn the bra, and the inventor of such. It shapes.  It molds.  It lifts.  It pinches.  It binds.  There are soft cup, minimizers, push-up, padded, underwire, bandeau, convertible, demi cup, and shelf bras, just to name a few.  You not only have to deal with the band size, there is also the cup size.  What’s a woman to do?  Next time I’m out there shopping for an over-the-shoulder-boulder holder, I think I will return to the boutique where my friend finally found her true size.  The sales women wear measuring tapes around their neck and they seemed to know their bras inside and out.

The bra as a garment has quite a bit of history (check it out on Wikipedia) and its evolution had significant social impacts, including oppression, sexism, and feminism.  And we owe it all to Herminie Cadolle, the inventor of the modern day bra in 1889.  Her boutique still exists in Paris, The Cadolle Company, and it is still family-owned.  The store claims today that Herminie ‘freed women by inventing the first bra.’  Most women these days would deny that a bra was "freeing", but compared to a corset, I can see the truth in it. 

"You know it's a bad day when you put your bra on backwards and it fits better."  -author unknown

Shoe Envy

Dear Shoe Gods: Please help me find a pretty pair of platform sandals that has heels less than 6-inches high. I just want a kicky pair of casual summer high-heeled shoes that give me enough height to make me feel important and visible and just a little bit better than everyone else, but that won’t make me topple over head-first when walking down an incline or sprain my ankle as I turn my head to smile at the construction guys who whistle when I walk by.

Right - who am I kidding? I am 41-going-on-42 for God’s sake. And I haven’t been whistled at since who knows when, six-inch heels or not. But have you seen the shoes these days? They are fierce, with your choice of wedge, spike, or platform heels that range from four and a half to 12 inches high! Seriously. I read an article that in this time of recession, extreme high heels are a form of escapism for women. And some men, too, I suppose. But honestly, how can you get through an entire day walking in them? Three catwalk models dropped out of a fashion show because they were required to wear 12-inch heels. No lie.

But I did find a delectable pair of shoes online that had only four-and-a-half-inch heels with a one-inch platform and the reviews on Zappos were impeccable. I received them last night and as soon as I opened the box I laughed and knew I must have been quite delusional when I ordered them. Crazy girl. Whose Kool-Aid were you drinking? You are not Lindsay Lohan clubbing it up at Chateau Marmont every night. You are not a 31-year-old fashionista with a reputation to uphold. You are a woman who works 9 to 5 each day and then some. You are a woman with an ache in her left hip and a pain in her right foot. You are a woman who aspires to vacuum the house more than once a week but knows it will never happen.

But damn, did those shoes look good on my feet! And for a minute they did give me enough height to make me feel important and visible and just a little bit better than everyone else. Ah, escapism!

But sadly, I must now send those precocious shoes packing, back from whence they came. And the search continues…

These shoes are much more dangerous than they appear to the human eye.

Funny that a pair of really nice shoes make us feel good in our heads - at the extreme opposite end of our bodies. ~Levende Waters

Tapastry

Here are a few shots from our delicious Spanish appetizer feast the other day!

Cherry tomatoes stuffed with crab salad and olive tapenade

Fresh tuna salad with capers

The hit of the night was sliced baguette topped with melted manchego cheese and carmelized onions.

Tips for a great white sangria:  2 bottles pinot grigio, quarter cup brandy, quarter cup orange or apple liquor, tons of fresh fruit, half cup simple syrup, and refrigerate overnight.

Our next event:  French appetizers