Monday was so action-packed that it simply couldn’t fit in one post, so consider yourself lucky to be getting another one.  Bonus!

After the zoo, Kat rinsed out her mouth (hopefully with some industrial-strength antibiotics) and we decided to check out some nearby petroglyphs we had read about.  It was a short drive from the restaurant where we had lunch.  I had proposed walking, but that wasn’t well received.  As usual, not following my suggestion was a really good idea- my ideas are not very well thought out, and we ended up doing a lot more walking then intended (also my fault).

To see the petroglyphs, you basically drive to the end of a dirt road and walk up to somebody’s front yard and tell them that you want to see the rocks.  We’d been told that it’s often local kids who act as guides, but we were greeted (or rather grunted at) by a pudgy, middle-aged man wearing flip flops.  I tried to communicate what we wanted to see using my mad Spanish skills, but like a lot of the people we met in Panama, I was having some major issues understanding what he was saying.  Evidently the Panamanian dialect did not come very naturally to me.

But even with the communication issues, he successfully guided us on the short walk to the petroglyphs we’d heard so much about.

At this point our guide started asking me if we wanted to see the rest.  Again, I was having trouble understanding him, but I did know he was saying something about waterfalls, and I freaking love waterfalls.  So I asked who else wanted to see a waterfall- Scott and Priscilla agreed to go, but Mary and Kat decided to stay behind and keep an eye on the car.  So we set off.

We continued along the mostly straight path for a few minutes, chatting amongst ourselves and trying to make conversation with our guide, when suddenly the clear path disappeared and our guide started sprinting up the rocky trail.  Seriously, for the next 25 minutes, Scott, Priscilla and I huffed and dripped sweat trying to keep up with our pudgy guide.  It was a a much-needed, but heavily unanticipated uphill sprint.

See my flimsy blue flip-flops?  I told you I was unprepared.  But it was really pretty!

Once we made an equally speedy trip down, we found Kat and Mary sitting in an air-conditioned car happily chatting without a single drop of sweat on them- bitches.  Once they finished laughing at us, we piled back in the car and went back to the hotel to relax and get ready for dinner.

After such an exhausting day, we decided it was time to treat ourselves and headed out to the fanciest restaurant in El Valle, La Casa de Lourdes.  Located in the only fancy resort in the area, we had been warned that it was way more expensive than anything else we’d find nearby, but came highly recommended.  Considering that it came out to about $30/person including generous pours of sangria and champagne, it was definitely worth it.

Sangria goodness!

Mary and Scott!

america's next top models

mary and i had grilled corvina- pretty much the national fish of panama. sooo yummy.

scott had steak. wrapped in bacon, of course. and he marco-ed the shit out of it.

there are few things in the world more entertaining the mistakes that come from using the self-timer on a camera. mary thought the picture had already been taken. AWESOME!

It was a fantastic last dinner in El Valle!  It was hard to imagine leaving this cute little town, but the next morning we packed everything up and made our way back to civilization.  The drive was a total bitch, and may have included certain individuals having to pee on the side of the road while we were stuck in traffic, but we successfully made it to the airport and catch the flight to our next destination- Bocas del Toro!

Ugh.  I really really really hate small planes.

What did you do on Sunday?  I went for a walk.  You know, a nice 13.1 mile jaunt.  No biggie.

Okay, so kind of a biggie.  Once again, Barrie convinced me that walking the Mercer Island Half Marathon would be a good idea.  If you remember, we did this last year too.  Of course, last year I was too lazy to actually do the recommended training walks beforehand and ended up with so much pain in my left hip that I proceeded to self-diagnosis myself with bursitis.  (When I was fine two days later I proceeded to self-diagnose myself with wussiness.)

But this year I did the training walks.  Most of them.  And low and behold, no faux-bursitis.  In fact, with considerably less pain, it was much more enjoyable.  Even registering was enjoyable- the weather was gorgeous and Seattle-warm (aka about 60 degrees)- we even walked over the the nearby lake to sit in the sun and skip stones:

lapping water, check.

stones a-skippin’, check.

decidedly cheery messaging on city vehicles, check.

The weather wasn’t quite as nice during the actual race- instead of warm and sunny, we got cold and wet, but not as cold or wet as last year.  So it was good.  Also good- crazy people and entertaining sights along the way:

like the crazy lady who hula-hooped.  the entire time.  she reminded me of my mom.

or the two awesome ladies who set up an rogue water station along the way, cheering on racers while they guzzled bloody marys and mimosas.  I love them and want to be their friend.

At the finish line, most people with cameras were eagerly taking pictures of themselves after completing a grueling physical endeavor.  I chose to take a picture of the fact that a variety of apple (the fruit, not the computer) had it’s own marketing booth:

Aw, sweet sweet Seattle.

Post really long walk, we went to Spring Hill for brunch, where we ate quinoa waffles, duck egg croque madames and juicy burgers with fries cooked in beef fat.  (No fries for me, obvi, but everything I did try was deeeelicious.)  Our friend Ben had gotten into town the night before, so he joined us as well- yay for old friends meeting new friends and everybody holding hands and singing!  (Again, that didn’t actually happen, but everybody got along and laughed a lot, which is almost as good.)

And then I came home and took a 3 hour nap.  The End.

Meanwhile, today is Mike’s birthday.  We’re celebrating with hot dogs and good friends.  I’ll post pictures tomorrow!

Remember how on Valentine’s Day I tried to be all romantical by taking Mike to Red Lobster?  That day, our plans were side-lined by an epic 2 hour wait.  At the time, I promised Mike that one day we’d return and he could find out if the the food was really as good as the commercials make it seem (though I warned him it wouldn’t be).  When I said that, I was thinking that “one day” would end up being a day far, far into the future.

Well, fate intervened in the form of a Media Manager named Erica, who found our little blog (isn’t Google wonderful?) and read about Mike’s disappointment.  She asked us to email her and offered up a chance to try Red Lobster again, but this time on the house.  And not only did we get free food, but she sent us TWO $25 GIFT CERTIFICATES to give away to our readers- all 3 of you!  (You can enter by commenting on this post- I’ll give details at the end of the recap.)

So this past Friday night, Mike and I headed out to Lynwood to enjoy the bounty of the sea.  I was armed with my general sense of food snobbery, while Mike had a look of hope and wonder in his eyes that I just don’t get to see often enough.  Le sigh.

Yes, it’s Lobsterfest!  Evidently this is a MUCH BIGGER DEAL than I was ever aware of- there was a 1 hour wait.  However, WE had reservations because we’re special.  Of course, Red Lobster doesn’t usually take reservations, so when you walk up to the host and tell him that you have reservations, he just looks at you as if you really are special, and then you have to explain that a marketing person set up this very special meal for you and you really do have a reservation.  Then he gets a look on his face that basically says “oh yeah, I do remember the manager saying something about some crazy people coming in for a special dinner or something- who does that?” and he sends you to be seated.

I totally tried to come into this with an open mind- just like I had tried to encourage Mike to not let his expectations get TOO high, I was trying to set aside some of my own preconceived notions.  I mean, not EVERYTHING about chain restaurants is bad- who doesn’t love the corncake at El Torito?  And back in high school and college, there were few things I loved more than the portabello mushroom sandwich at Cheesecake Factory.  And even today, if you stick an avocado eggroll in front of me, I’m eating that shit STAT.

The waiter came over while we examined the menu.  He could see that we were totally overwhelmed and asked if we wanted anything to drink, which we declined.  He then asked us if we were POSITIVE that we wanted to pass up their “world famous” Lobsterita.

Lobsterita?  Seriously?  I don’t care what that is, I’m ordering it.  Because the name is crazy.  And because it’s free.

Then he brought it out, and I burst out laughing.

SERIOUSLY?  It was HUGE.  And sweet.  And blended.

So Mike dug in.

We ordered our food.  Just looking around, we were both intimidated by the sheer size of the entrees, so we decided to split an entree and some appetizers.  This was a good idea.

The Lobster Lover’s Dream- “a succulent rock lobster tail and sweet split Maine lobster tail, roasted and served with shrimp, lobster and langostino linguini Alfredo.” Overall…  it was…  okay.  It was the first time I’d eaten lobster and thought “this really needs the butter.”  It was just a bit more bland than I’m used to.  The langostino bits in the pasta was better than the lobster.  Mike liked the rock lobster.  The broccoli was NOT covered in butter, which was nice.

A side of crab legs.  Not great.  Mike loves crab legs (and is a champion at sucking meat out of them- you should buy him some crab legs just for the pleasure of watching somebody act truly efficiently.)  The ones I made when he and An and Jaime returned from the motorcycle trip were MUCH better.

Bacon-wrapped scallops- these would have been okay (I mean, they’re scallops that are wrapped in bacon) if they hadn’t been completely drowned in some way too sweet peach jelly sauce.  Way too much sweet, almost no salty.  Sad.  Mike’s review of the coconut shrimp was succinct and accurate- “They taste the way coconut shrimp are supposed to taste.”  That’s generally a good thing.

The absolute highlight of the meal- CHEDDAR BISCUITS!  These are as good as I remember.  Mmmmm…  cheddar biscuits.  I was kind of sad that they only brought out two at a time.  I mean, seriously, THIS is where you choose to show some restraint?  Oh Red Lobster gods, must I remind you of the Lobsterita?

If you’re going to give me a 72 oz (this may be a slight exaggeration) of high fructose corn syrup + tequila, you might as well bring me out a bucket of cheddar biscuits as well.

There was no dessert.  I mean, they offered the typical fare- a chocolate cake thing, a giant cookie with ice cream on top thing, some cheesecake, an apple pie or crisp or something, etc- but honestly, we had just consumed about a quart of butter.  There was no need for dessert.  (Speaking of dessert, if you live in Seattle and want a really good dessert, check out Barrie’s crazy enthusiastic review of the gourmet ding dong we ate last week.  You see the way she describes that thing?  That’s passion.)

Overall, it was somewhere in the middle of our expectations.  I had enough to eat, and aside from the general butter slick in my mouth, I had no negative side effects.  Mike, who just wanted to live inside of one of those damn commercials, wasn’t blown away like he wanted to be.  If there was another free meal offered, I’d go.  But if we really are craving lobster, we’ll either make it at home, drop a bunch of money somewhere fabulous, or go to an Asian seafood restaurant where we can eat really delicious lobster for a really delicious price.

I feel kind of bad not raving about it, because they did give us a free meal.  But honestly, people were lined up outside the door, waiting in the cold for the same meal we ate- obviously, they do something right.  So while it may not be for me, some people really dig it.  When I talked about it with our waiter, who had been there for going on 6 years, he told us about an older couple who drives 3 hours from CANADA every Sunday afternoon during Lobsterfest.  To me, that is crazy.  But they obviously dig it.  (Also, I kind of want to meet them- don’t you?)

OH- now for the most exciting thing of all- it’s time for our very first blog giveaway!  YAY!  We’ve got two Red Lobster $25 gift certificates to give away.  If you want one, just leave a comment below telling us what your most favorite chain restaurant guilty pleasure is (everybody has one, own it), and we’ll draw 2 names randomly next Wednesday, March 17th at 8:00 pm. One answer per person please. Make sure you leave your email address so we can tell you about your fabulous prize.  Good luck!

How do you say Happy Valentine’s Day to your one true love?

I know, you’re jealous.

But yeah, this year I decided to take charge of Valentine’s Day plans.  Considering how low the bar is usually set, it’s not that hard to do exceed expectations.  We just aren’t Valentine’s Day people- I don’t have an actual vase for flowers (those are still in storage in our house in California), Mike doesn’t like chocolate and I lack the self-control to keep it around the house. As for restaurants, those usually scare me on Valentine’s Day- too many people, too much waiting, too much planning required for Mike.

But this year, I decided to break my rule and tried to really surprise Mike with a trip to a very special restaurant he’s been talking about going to for like, years.

(Mike refused to pose in front of the sign and only let me take this picture if he could pretend to be nonchalantly talking on his phone.  Because that makes the whole scene normal.)

Some background on how we ended up at a Red Lobster 25 miles from our house on Valentine’s Day: Mike calls me a food snob- this is mostly true.  He, unlike myself, appreciates chain restaurants in a way that makes my skin crawl.  He talks about burgers at Rubys with an enthusiasm that makes you almost want to eat there.  Most of his family’s most important meals took place at Black Angus.  It’s really entertaining, but kind of terrifying when you realize that he’s not joking.

But one chain restaurant he’s never been to is Red Lobster.  For whatever reason, Mike has never partaken in Lobsterfest or All You Can Eat Shrimp-o-Rama (or whatever it’s called).  But he HAS  seen the commercials, and he really wants to believe that the commercials tell the truth.  He’s spent the last 2 years trying to talk somebody, anybody really, into going there with him, but nobody will ever go.  So this year, to express my love, I decided to suck it up and surprise him with a trip to Red Lobster.

We left the house at 4:30 and proceeded to drive 30 minutes to Lynwood, home of the nearest Red Lobster.  I hadn’t told Mike where we were going until we drove up to the restaurant (which, unsurprisingly, shared a parking lot with an Olive Garden).  As soon as we drove up, he started claiming that he totally knew what the surprise was going to be.  Lies.

What did surprise us, but probably shouldn’t have, was that there was a 2 hour wait for a table for 2!  Evidently Red Lobster is the very definition of romance in Lynwood.  I mean, with signage like this, who could resist?

Seriously?  Zagat, we need to talk.

Unfortunately, even Mike couldn’t hold out for 2 hours, even if it would have meant a giant bowl of cheddar biscuits as a reward.  I promised him that we would return one day (hopefully a LONG time from now), and we headed back to the city for another super romantic dining option- hole in the wall Chinese food.

Nothing says love like an empty Chinese restaurant!   Especially one with a really strange name- Jack’s Tapas Cafe.  I still have no idea why they even put the word “tapas” in the name, but their hand-shaved noodles and scallion pancakes are so super delicious that I don’t really care.  I was soon full and happy, and I was with a guy I kind of dig.  Even if he sometimes has truly terrible taste in food.

Contrary to my utter and complete lack of recent posts, stuff HAS been happening here since we got back.  In fact, it’s all the stuff happening that has kept me from actually writing about it.  However, now it’s 8:30 on a Sunday night and I’ve made dinner (roast chicken that Mike complained tasted too much like chicken- I have no idea how to take that), breakfast and lunch for tomorrow, so I actually have a bit of spare time.  (No such luck for Mike though- he’s been working all weekend and is still locked in his office.  I, of course, feel guilty.)

Speaking of Mike, I went with him to his new office last weekend while he picked something up.  Since he’s now back in Engineering, he changed buildings and now works in what they call “Dev-Land.”  Besides getting a sweet window office (which is basically the equivalent of winning the lottery in Microsoft-land), it also means he’s traded working amongst slightly delusional marketers for sharing a building with programmers.  When we ran in on Sunday, we found the common areas littered with the remnants of what a developer office party looks like.

Ain’t no party like a programmer party.

Speaking of slightly dorky gatherings, guess what I did last Thursday?

SOUP SWAP!

Barrie organized the swap again this year, and it was bigger and better than ever.  I showed up with my sweet potato-centric offerings- Sweet Potato and Chorizo Soup for carnivores, and a Sweet Potato Pumpkin Curry soup for vegetarians.  (The Chorizo soup was SOOOO good!  I highly recommend it.) We swapped soup while we ate snacks and drank wine (our friend Kevin even braved some of the Manischevitz Barrie has had open since early November and is STILL trying to pass off as drinkable.  We love Barrie).  I totally scored swap-wise, and now our freezer is stocked with soup varietals including Bacon Chard, Curried Butternut Squash, Carrot Ginger, Green Chile, Matzo Ball and Tomato Fennel Bisque.  Seriously, if you haven’t been to a soup swap, you need to get on that.  Everybody likes soup.

Also in the realm of food, I took a knife skills class with Dominic last week.  I’ve been talking about taking a cooking class for basically forever, so when Dominic picked this class I was instantly on board.  Evidently, it was very much needed, because when I told Mike about the class, he instantly perked up, stopped all electronic forms of communication he was currently engaged in (he’s been known to text, IM and send emails simultaneously with one hand behind his back) and very emphatically told me to sign up for that class.  NOW.

So I did.  Easy.

We watched.

We cried over onions.

And I smiled when I cut the butt off a pepper and it looked like a heart.  Or Mickey Mouse.  Or a tumor.

That’s all.

Between working from home, visiting friends and family and celebrating the holidays, I am WAY behind on blogging.  I will get around to doing a full recap of all 3 of our Christmas adventures, but not tonight.  Tonight I’m tired and slightly nauseous.

I’m tired because I’ve been running non-stop since a 9:00 am spin class led by an instructor who broke out into a full Rockettes-style high kick number in the middle of class  (that’s what happens when you go tot he 24 Hour Fitness across the street from the Disneyland Cast Member Parking lot) followed by brunch, knitting, yogurt and catching up with a couple of particularly fantastic friends.  I’m nauseous because Jimmy, Mike and I joined Mike’s dad and grandparents for dinner at a very fobby Chinese restaurant.

Mike’s dad ordered a feast for the six of us- shell-on prawns, sauteed pea sprouts, a whole fried fish, steamed clams, fried tofu and seafood hot pot.

The clams went fast and furious.

Yes, that’s ice in the beer glass.

The real star of the show was the hot pot.

Swimming in that broth you’ll find shrimp, lobster, squid, fish, mushrooms, sea sponge and some weird balls.  I still don’t know what those balls were.  Jimmy told me they were lychee (wrong), Mike said he thought they were either fish stomachs or “poop holders” (I don’t even want to know), and his dad just called them “fish balls.”  Mike’s grandparents, who don’t speak English, just stared at me disapprovingly and probably wished Mike had married a nice quiet fertile Asian girl with a graduate degree.

Naturally, Mike, Jimmy and I decided to keep things mature and appropriate and started daring each other to eat the stuff in the soup.  Jimmy volunteered to go first and ate a mushroom.  In case you’re wondering how eating a mushroom counts as adventure, you should know that 2 years ago, Jimmy called all vegetables “salad” (as in “I want a cheeseburger, no salad”) and would only eat Romaine lettuce drenched in ranch dressing.  So a mushroom is a big step.

He liked it!  Well, he didn’t exactly like it, but he survived.

Mike went next.  He tried to eat a fish ball.

He failed.

Even though Mike had failed, I soldiered on and went face to face with the sea sponge.

That shit is nasty.

The taste wasn’t terrible- it really just tasted like sea water.  The texture… well, that was a whole different story.  That’s where the face comes from.

I did it though- I swallowed the sponge and kept it down (even if the oil in the food made me fairly sick later.)  And just as we finished dinner, the entire restaurant was suddenly serenaded by the most random musical trio I’ve ever seen anywhere in my life, let alone in the middle of a Vietnamese-owned Chinese seafood restaurant.

I have no idea what they were doing there.  But somehow, it was a fitting end to the night.

Time: 10:00 am
Location: mother’s bistro, Portland, OR
Number of calories consumed: I don’t want to know

We made it to Portland just as my absolute favorite breakfast place in the world was opening, so we were able to eat without a wait. (By the time we finished the wait was an hour and a half.). Why was it so important to get the timing just right? Because this is the home of the greatest biscuits in the world.
Next, a quick stop to stock up on water and contact solution, and we’re off.

I just realized that I never blogged about the pie-stravaganza a few weeks ago.  Considering how much I talked about it beforehand, and how much shit I talked on facebook the day of, I am kind of surprised that I haven’t posted pictures yet.  But here they are.

If you have no idea what I’m talking about, I’ll backtrack.  A couple of months ago Barrie decided that it would be an awesome idea to have a pie contest.  So five minutes later, she sent out a mass email detailing rules, judging criteria, entry fees, prize structures and location.  The stage was set.  The pie contest was born.

I signed up to bake.  Now, I don’t claim to be a good baker.  In fact, while I love to cook, I fully recognize that I am rather poor at baking.  For one, it’s too exact.  You have to measure things and think about chemical reactions and lots of other crappy details.  The other issue is the CONSUMPTION of the finished products.  I love dessert.  I have a huge sweet tooth and a distinct lack of self-control.  I am not the kind of person who can eat half a piece of some awesome cake and say, “hmmm…  I think that was enough for now” and put the rest in the fridge.  I am more of the “holy crap this is delicious and I want to put it in my mouth NOW” personality type.  And since Mike DOESN’T have a distinct sweet tooth, if I started baking a lot, we would end up with a massive excess of pastries and those pastries would end up in my belly.  And ON my belly. And my ass.  You get the idea.

But since it was a contest, and I had never actually had an excuse to attempt a pie crust before, I signed up to bake.  And I signed Mike up to judge.  Because while he doesn’t really like pie, he DOES like to judge things.  (This explains why we spend so much time watching dance-themed reality tv competitions.)

The contest was held at a bakery here in Seattle called Curio Confections.  If you live in Seattle and haven’t been here, you need to go now.  If is THE cutest bakery in the world- it’s cute, it’s quaint, it serves a rotating menu of mouth-watering cakes, candies, pies, tarts and cookies, plus a sprinkling of savory options like quiches and pot pies, and they have wine.  Sugar AND wine- is there anything better?

But we didn’t come to eat THEIR pie.  We came to eat OUR pie.  (But we did drink their wine.)

First, Barrie greeted us.

Actually that’s not a picture of Barrie greeting us.  I don’t know what the hell she’s doing in this picture.  I took this picture sometime after she realized that her boyfriend Dominic hadn’t remembered to bring the pie prizes and Mike volunteered to drive him to retrieve said valuables.  I later found out that they stopped at Taco Bell on the way back to the bakery.  Who decides they need a chicken soft taco before they have to go eat 12 pieces of pie?  My husband does.

Once they got back, the judging began.

This was my pie.  Apple and Peanut Butter- it tasted really good (I thought), but let’s just say that I definitely lost points for presentation.  Honestly, it’s a miracle that I even finished the pie in time and in one piece.  Basically, my ugly-on-the-outside-but-yummy-on-the-inside pie had a really, really nice personality.

I didn’t place, but I didn’t have very high hopes.  I mean, look at what some of the other entrants turned out:

Now those are pies.

This shot features the winner right in the middle- amazing, melt-in-your-mouth delicious peanut butter mousse tartlettes.  Seriously, these were so good that I continue to dream of them.

The judging was intense.

Okay, so the only person who thought that the judging was intense was Mike, who, in hopes that the judging sheets would be given to the entrants after the contest (so that everybody could learn from their mistakes), decided to write a 250 word essay about each pie.  He took so long and go so into it that Barrie had to eventually tell him to hurry the eff up because the bakery was about to close.  Like I said, he really was hoping to “help” each contestant.  ::eye roll::

While the judging went on, Ange and I discussed our baking technique.  Or talked about knitting.  Or just gossiped.  Whatever.

But eventually, the winner was announced.  Yay Mary Jane!  And yay for the picture that looks like Barrie is copping a feel!

ps- not only is Mary Jane an AMAZING baker, she is also my mom-hero.  Seriously, if I ever have kids I hope that I am half as awesome as she is.  Plus she is a ridiculously fast knitter.  I am jealous on many levels.

And this is what I look like after having pie and wine for dinner:

Thank you Barrie for organizing the best pie contest EVAH.

It’s normal for couples to split up responsibilities.  One person cooks, one does the dishes (sometimes).  One person takes out the trash and the other vacuums (actually, in our case, Mike does both of these).  In our case, Mike is in charge of things like having an iota of common sense, while I generally handle important things like scheduling social activities and forcing him to leave his cave/office.

Well, it’s good to switch it up sometimes.  So the weekend before last, we switched things up and had HIS friends over for dinner.  YAY!  Mike has friends.

Unfortunately, now that I’ve actually looked at the pictures we took that night, we didn’t really take any pictures OF these friends.  Instead, I only have a picture of half of his friend Anees, a bunch of pictures of the food I made, several shots of his friend Scott’s freaking adorable kids, and one picture of me that is so horrific that I am going to post it just because it makes me laugh.

Mike, Scott and Anees met each other while working in the same group at Microsoft.  They became friends because they are all a bit… brutally honest with their opinions.  Vocal + blunt = instant friends.

Our awesome table with ORANGE placemats, yummy samosas that Anees and Tricia brought us and half of Anees.  We did get a picture of his wife though- I totally love this photo.

The food:

I made a LOT of food.  Brussel sprouts with figs and bacon (awesome, but only Scott’s wife Belinda and I ate them), a big ass salad, 2 racks of Alton Brown’s oven-braised ribs, garlicky mashed potatoes, Ina’s mac and cheese, and a roast chicken that you can’t see because of the angle.  Why so much food?  Well, Mike asked me to make ribs several days before the dinner, but then told me that Anees and his wife didn’t eat pork at about 8:00 pm the night before.  Considering that even the vegetables had bacon in them, I had to sprint to the store to get a chicken.

This is Scott and Belinda’s son, Corey.  Corey is awesome for several reasons: a) I LOVE kids with glasses; b) he (like the rest of his family, duh) is Australian and therefore has an awesome accent- especially when you tell him you’ll sneak him ice cream if he repeats “It tastes like it’s got buttah’ inside” over and over again; and c) he SHOVELED down at least 3 full bowls of my mac and cheese.  If you EVER want to get on my good side, tell me you like my food.

While Corey is a carb fiend, their daughter Emily is obviously partial to pork.  I was endlessly amused watching her eat ribs bigger than her head.  And then I was even more enchanted when she settled down to watch some Tinkerbell movie wrapped up in my ancient rainbow blanket, which I’ve had since I was a baby.  My mom claims she sewed it.  I refuse to believe that- my mom is totally lacking the craft gene.

So effing cute.

Considerably less cute is this picture of me- I swear to god, I only had 2 glasses of wine that night.  But you take one exhausted hostess (me), one photographer who loves candid shots a little too much (mike), and somebody who favors overly dramatic facial expressions (me), and you get this:

Hehehe.  This amuses me to no end.

I know I’ve been going on and on about our vacation, but you’ll have to endure one or two more post before I finally shut up about it.  Only two more- I promise.  Then I’ll get back to chronicling our slightly more monotonous and definitely colder day to day non-adventures in Seattle.

When you think Mexican food, you generally think of the typical stuff- tacos, burritos and anything with salsa and guac.  Maybe throw in some ceviche for a bit of good measure and you’re set.  Well, we definitely ate all of that, but we also had some of the best Italian food either of us have ever had.

I know, I know- you’re sitting there thinking “Italian food?”  And you’re probably silently judging us for being the stupid tourists who go to another country and don’t take advantage of local eating options.  (Well, you’re probably judging ME and thinking that you’re still rather impressed that Mike made it through the entire trip without finding a Weinerschnitzel.)  Well, before you totally judge (or just laugh at my habit of projecting my insecurity on anonymous readers), let me preface it by telling you that we had set out to go eat some ceviche on the beach, but our original destination was closed for a wedding so we decided to check out the place next door, Posada Margherita .  Mostly because there was a flower on the sign, and it was close.  We were hungry.

We wandered into a tiny patio in the middle of some beachfront cottages- so far, so good.  There were about 10 tables and we were told to just sit down wherever we wanted, so we did.  A waiter came by a few minutes later, and instead of giving us a menu, he sat down at the empty chair and listed about 5 options.  Once he said “fresh tagliatelle” for the third time, I realized that we had wandered into an Italian joint.  I was a bit confused.  (His heavy Italian accent probably should have tipped me off as well).

At this point I woke from my low-blood-sugar-induced stupor and looked around.  I realized that we were sitting next to a gorgeous wine cellar and were surrounded by older couples who were all dressed with at least a hint of Eurotrash- heavy on the ascots and flowing silk scarves.  I suddenly suspected that we had sat down to a meal that was going to cost more than what we had intended.

So I did the dumbest, most embarrassing, Ugly-American thing I’d done in a while- I interrupted our waiter and asked how much the meals he had listed actually cost (no prices had been mentioned).  He paused, gave us the prices in pesos, and said he’d come back to take our orders in a minute.  Meanwhile, I did some math and realized we were talking about $30 a plate- not something I’d bat an eye at for a nice meal in Seattle or LA, but in the land of $3 ceviche, it suddenly seemed REALLY expensive.

While we debated whether or not we wanted to really complete the embarrassment and leave, the table next to us got our food.  Mike took one look at the feast in front of them and told me to stay in my seat, order whatever I wanted and get some wine for good measure.  I was confused.  And then I remembered- my husband is a whore for lobster.

So here is what the most expensive meal in Tulum looks like:

the complementary meze platter. love at first sight.

my grilled prawns. heaven.

the lobster that stole mike's heart. magic amazing seafood bliss.

Seriously, if you are ever in Tulum and you want an amazing meal, go to Posada Margherita.  Eat pasta in Mexico without shame.  Yum.

After spending $70 on dinner on Saturday, we ate for $8 on Sunday.  And it was super good too, if not a tad more authentic.

if this face doesn't say happy (or homicidal maniac) i don't know what does

This post encompasses everything that is good about vacation food.

Ok, I have one more post to share about our vacation, and then it’s back to pictures of gray skies.  I promise.