As many of you may recall, my cousin Smooth came to Pittsburgh last weekend to visit and celebrate his twenty-first birthday. Smooth is the eldest son of Neilbert's youngest brother, Robert, and so lives and works in Neilbert's hometown of Salamanca, NY.

Smooth and the City

While Smooth, by all means, took advantage of the opportunities for getting drunk in Salamanca following his Monday birthday, he found himself craving something more... be it big city glamour, fast-paced living, or even just a wider variety of places to get drunk. And so Smooth arrived last Thursday looking for post-21 fun in the big city (well, big-ish city).

Smooth arrived, as is the fashion among men in Neilbert's family, at 11:15 am on Thursday, having left at eight o'clock in the morning (at least we know he wasn't hung-over from Wednesday). After a leisurely afternoon with Saundra at the Highland Park Pool, Smooth and I headed down to catch the bus into Oakland for our dinner date with Mad Mex happy hour at 4:30. We happened to catch the 500 and consequently also happened to run into Sabrina, who was on her way in from Shadyside to join us for the planned evening of drunken revels.

Me and Smooth at Mad Mex

It was a rainy Pittsburgh afternoon, and we made our way down Atwood street in the drizzle, and at the end of it Sabrina proclaimed that she felt even more deserving of a half-price margarita. She put in her order for a Big Azz traditional lime, I got a 12 oz. frozen lime, and Smooth got a 16 oz. frozen strawberry margarita. A mere five sips in, Smooth ordered a Miller Lite. I was disappointed, to say the least, and in large part because the strawberry is my least favorite Mad Mex margarita, but I took one for the team and poured the remainder of Smooth's drink in with the remainder of my lime marg in the hopes of tarting it up. I've written recently on Mad Mex food, and we experienced no anomalous circumstances in our meals that day—suffice to say it was delicious as usual. In addition to the lime margarita, and the bastard strawberry lime margarita I created from the dregs of mine and Smooth's drinks, I also managed to fit in a small frozen kiwi margarita before leaving near the end of happy hour. Also toward the end of our time at Mad Mex, Sabrina and I convinced Smooth to live a bit on the wild side and get a Dos Equis Amber Lager instead of yet another Miller Lite. He drank it and we counted that a victory.

Sabrina and Smooth at Hemingway's

We left Mad Mex just after 6:00 and trekked back up Atwood Street and across Forbes to Hemingway's. It was pretty quiet—summer session and all—but we were shocked not to see a dollar draft special on the front placard. Hemingway's always has a dollar draft special! Never fear, Sabrina asked after the special inside and found that there was indeed a dollar draft for the drinking—none other than Miller Lite. Sabrina and Smooth anted up their dollars for Miller Lites, but I coughed up the extra fifty cents for Hemingway's bottled beer special, $1.50 Coronas. After taking the time to sip and contemplate, we decided our best bet was to go next to the South Side. We deemed it a good route for providing Smooth with some non-Miller Lite drinking experiences—experiences that clearly weren't going to happen at Hemingway's. That, and Smooth was thinking he might want to add to his slowly growing tattoo collection, and there's no better place than South Side for finding reputable tattoo parlors. We hiked up to Fifth Avenue and ran for the 54C, which we luckily caught in the nick of time. Upon arriving on Carson street, we got out at the South Side library and went across the street to the nearest tattoo parlor. After a consultation with the folks at the parlor, Smooth discovered that the tattoo he wanted would have cost nearly twice as much in South Side as he would have paid in Salamanca, so we gave up on Smooth's big city tattoo dreams and set off down the street in search of interesting drink specials.

Smooth and Sabrina in the South Side

We did not go terribly far before stumbling upon Margaritaville, whose outside placard proclaimed $3 you-call-its from seven to nine. We stopped in to ask for clarification. Indeed, the special meant, truly, any cocktail with any booze, no matter how top-shelf, for only $3. A perfect opportunity for Smooth to try something new. For our first round, I got a glass of 1800 tequila, on the rocks; Sabrina got a Black Label on the rocks; Smooth had no clue. We mined Smooth's memory, hoping for clues as to what sort of cocktail he might enjoy. When he mentioned that he'd had SoCo and lime Monday night, we suggested that he might want to revisit the drink—it may not have been new, but at least it wasn't Miller Lite. Alas, Smooth took one sip and made a face. It had been SoCo lime shots he'd had on Monday, not SoCo lime on the rocks.

Smooth getting carded at Margaritaville

Apparently, Smooth prefers any drink if it's jetting down his throat at break-neck pace. Sabrina and I were not giving up. We devised a strategy for our next round: we would order two of our favorite drinks with top-notch booze, Smooth could have a taste of them both and whichever he liked best, he could order. I got a Black Russian with Starbucks coffee liqueur and Grey Goose vodka. Ah, I had missed Black Russians. The Starbucks liqueur boasted a more coffee bean flavor than traditional Kahlua—either way, nothing to complain about. Sabrina ordered a Maker's Mark Manhattan, and ended up having to tutor the bartender on how to make a Manhattan. Smooth tried each, hated them both. After finishing my Black Russian and taking pity on Smooth's orphaned SoCo Lime, I was pretty damned drunk; Sabrina would have been too, but she can hold her liquor better.

Smooth, on the other hand, was hardly buzzed.

Primanti's, a bleary perspective

He was hungry, though, and Sabrina volunteered to eat with him while I kept to my diet. We wandered down the street and into the South Side Primanti Brothers—Sabrina deemed it an essential component for Smooth's Pittsburgh experience. After sitting down to the table, I proceeded to take cascades of bleary, drunken pictures with my digital camera while Sabrina had a serious sit-down talk with Smooth. She explained to him that Miller Lite is all well and good when one is looking to drink for cheap or unsure of what local brews to order... but Smooth was in Pittsburgh, now, and there was absolutely no conscionable reason he shouldn't be drinking IC Light instead. And so, Smooth ordered his first IC Light and was converted!

Smooth, drinking his first IC Light

After Sabrina and Smooth finished their sammiches (they ought not to be called anything else in the Primanti's context), and I nearly lost Saundra's umbrella in the ladies' room (Sabrina rescued it), we set off once again into the South Side in search of good drink specials. Or at least, cheap booze, and so our most logical next move was Dee's Café. To our great disappointment, Dee's was closed for their annual two week vacation, and so we ended up across the street at 1311, a new and untested South Side bar. It even had a drink special... lo and behold, it was Miller Lite. I abstained, once again, as Sabrina and Smooth had their beers. Around this time Sabrina had a burst of inspiration and decided to call her fella, Ted (who wasn't out drinking with us because he was home recovering from a Wednesday night hangover), in the hopes he might be convinced to come pick us up in South Side and, as we say in Pittsburgh, "ride" us home. Ted apparently agreed, but the journey into South Side would take him awhile, yet, certainly longer than Sabrina's and Smooth's current round, so I suggested we move on after they finished their beers.

Smooth, outside Dee's in bewilderment at its being closed

We stopped first at Jack's to inquire about their drink specials. Surprise, surprise, it was Miller Lite! Then, we crossed the street and encountered our first promising drink special since Margaritaville—the placard at Rumshakers told of $2 shots, and so we went in. Rumshakers itself was a little dead, but they have a DJ and dance floor even on the driest of drinking days (I had been there once before on a Sunday, so I can attest). I held out hope for some dancing, while Sabrina and Smooth glared at me skeptically. We asked the bartendress for clarification on the $2 shots special, and she said it was on nearly anything. I then asked what was the most top-shelf vodka I could get for $2, and it turned out to be Stoli. I don't remember what Sabrina and Smooth ordered, booze-wise (alcohol fiddles with short term memory retention, you realize), but Smooth did walk away with a free "Big 21" Rumshakers t-shirt in honor of his big day, and Sabrina ordered a glass of water in effort to sober up, and allowed me to steal some ice so to convert my shot into a Stoli on the rocks.

Smooth and his T-shirt at Rumshakers

Ted soon arrived and in his vast sobriety drove us home. I was surprised at the mildness of my headache the next day, but a few moments after getting up, I realized that my hangover simply ran deeper than the ordinary headache variety. I hadn't been awake an hour when I told Saundra, "I think I need a nap." We forewent swimming that day—swimming buddy Sabrina conceded after a few text messages proclaiming her post drinking status as: "Oog!" We went grocery-shopping for our planned Saturday BBQ, and then returned back to Saundra and Neilbert's for naps. At 4:30 we were up again and headed out to dinner at my favorite local haunt, The Parlour, where we met up with our cousin, Tom, son of Neilbert's next younger brother, Jimbert. Tom's wife, Liz, also joined us for dinner. In effort to take advantage of The Parlour's happy hour special of $1.50 domestic bottles, I suggested that Smooth try a Yuengling—the quintessential Pittsburgh college student beer.

Smooth drinking IC Light and Tom drinking Smooth's Yuengling

It is something of a tradition, after all. My cousin Jennifer (sister of Tom; daughter of Jimbert) had a dollar Yuengling at Hemingway's a few years back when she came to Pittsburgh for her 21st birthday; I never even drank beer before one fateful afternoon with my Bulgarian class and a case of Yuengling... Smooth, however, was not impressed, and after about five sips, ordered an IC Light and pawned his Yuengling off on Tom. Smooth and Tom ordered giant burgers, Saundra got a chicken salad, I got the grilled portabella sandwich with gorgonzola and Liz went for the nachos sans fixin's. While waiting for our meals, we decided to start a game of pool, seeing as that pool is free during happy hour at The Parlour. It was me and Smooth vs. Tom and Liz, and we were all so terrible that it got to the point where I was praying for somebody... anybody to sink the eight ball so we could go eat. After one interminable game, we sat down to yet another—no surprise—delicious Parlour dinner.

Me, Smooth, Tom and Liz, playing pool

After the Parlour, we parted ways with Tom and Liz, and took Saundra back to her house before setting off for another evening of Pittsburgh nightlife. This time, our destination was Station Square and after the previous night's hangover, I was relieved to be designated driver. We strolled through the Station Square shops awhile, and then down along the river at twilight to look at the Pittsburgh skyline, but our ultimate destination was Matrix nightclub; we had passes for free admittance before 11 pm, thanks to the promotions readily available through the club's Myspace page. When it comes to "scenes" in Pittsburgh, you can't get much more mainstream than Matrix—but in a city the size of Pittsburgh, mainstream has distinct advantages. My nightclub experiences in Pittsburgh have been plagued by two consistent problems: not enough people and not enough good music. By "good" music I mean, of course, dance-worthy music. Dance-worthy music can be the pop-iest and most derivative radio-whore kind of songs, but if I know it and can dance to it, I'm happy. There's nothing like endless, unrecognizable techno or obscure 80's to ruin a night of dancing. Well, a sparsely populated dance floor also does the job of ruining a night out—my recent night at Altar stands as a prime example.

Matrix solves both of these problems in one fell swoop. Located in a warehouse-like club complex on the parking-lot side of Station Square, Matrix offers club-goers four different rooms, each with its own décor and music line-up. The first is a lounge-type room with leather, tapestries and beaded lamps. The great tragedy of this room is that they play Latin and salsa music but have no dance floor. It's strictly a lounge.

Smooth, in the Latin lounge

I suppose you'll have this in Pittsburgh—you need a place to put the big game up on a big screen, depending on the time of year. When there isn't a big game, the big screen in Matrix's Latin lounge showcase old black & white burlesque shows, and as the evening wears on, hired dancers in tube tops and sparkly undies gyrate on the bar for leg-garter tips. If anyone knows how I might apply for such a job, do tell. I beg of you.

The other three rooms at Matrix are fully club-sized, each with a large dance floor and at least two bars. The hip-hop/Top 40 room is art deco-ish with lattice and white leather booths; the 80's room is wood-paneled and has an almost ski-lodge atmosphere; the fourth room, black and chrome with cyclone fence accents, is for techno, and offers an oxygen bar in addition to two booze bars. Since Matrix is so large, it predictably draws a huge crowd, and since they have four different rooms with four different kinds of music, you can just move to the next room if the music in one is getting on your nerves. The hip-hop room is usually the best place to start off the evening because it fills up the quickest. And so, when the 50 cent drink promotion started at 10 pm, we found a table up by the larger bar behind the DJ station. Smooth initially got a Bud Light, because they were on special, too, but after he polished off that beer, I convinced him to try a rum and coke. Success!

The dance floor in Matrix's hip-hop room

The first non-beer drink I got Smooth interested in all weekend! Then one of the cocktail waitresses came around offering fruity neon shots in test-tube shot glasses. I advised Smooth to get the "Pussy Kiss," not because it would be any better than the other choices, but because it sounded naughty and would make for a better story to tell his friends. Despite my general cocktail know-how, I didn't even know what it was, so I asked the waitress and it turns out to be coconut rum, peach schnapps and pineapple juice. Unlike well-drinks, the shots turned out to be $3, which I found not-at-all unexpected, but it caught Smooth initially by surprise, as he had been expecting to pay 50 cents, like all the other drinks. Ah, Smooth, yet another education in booze politics. At this point in the evening, I was getting a little concerned, and certainly not for Smooth's lack of sobriety. You must understand, I love to dance. I dance drunk, I dance sober. I dance wherever dancing is feasible and I dance like I'm in a Madonna video, even without a single dose of the sauce. But Smooth was resistant, vowing not to dance at all the whole evening. Now, this is where my shy side sneaks out—without at least one friend on the dance floor, especially at a big club like Matrix, it just seems a little sad.

Me and Lauren, dancing on the bar

My fears, as it turns out, were for naught. Who'd have guessed, it only takes a couple drinks for Smooth to overcome his shyness? When the test-tube shot waitress came around again, Smooth was at her side in the blink of an eye, but not at our table... he crossed paths with the cocktail waitress at the table beside us—a table full of early twenty-something girls. After cocking an eyebrow and blinking a few times, I realized what was happening. Smooth was flirting with the ladies! Turns out, "Smooth" is not an ironic nickname. After a few moments, I was motioned over and introduced, and all of the sudden, it wasn't just me and Smooth anymore, but me, Smooth and a group of ladies—a happy turn of events both for me and for Smooth. It should be obvious why this eventuality brightened Smooth's evening, but now I had folks to dance with, whether Smooth's big toe grazed the dance floor or not. And so, after the gals had plastered themselves with several 50 cent drinks—Smooth had a few himself—I coaxed them all out on the dance floor. Within five songs I was dancing on the bar with Lauren, one of our newfound friends. It should be noted that "dancing on the bar" in this context is not quite so revel-some as it sounds; in the hip-hop room at Matrix there is a long counter behind the DJ station lined with bar stools and overlooking the dance floor. Drinks aren't actually served there, and the DJ's actively encourage patrons to climb up and shake their booties. And so, Matrix was not a bust, but rather Smooth's rockin'est night in Pittsburgh. Too bad Sabrina is opposed to dance clubs, or else it would have been the best of both nights—then again, her rapier wit would be lost in the deafening blare of club music.

Sabrina and Ted at the Smooth BBQ

Our Saturday night was more low-keyed, as Smooth was planning to get up early Sunday so to leave for Salamanca at 8 o'clock. We had a BBQ at Saundra and Neilbert's house, including a wealth of vegan goodies for the newly meat- and dairy-free Sabrina. As per Saundra's instructions to "bring some young people" to the BBQ, Sabrina had Ted accompany her. There was vegan bean dip (see below), salsa con queso, picnic-y salads, baked beans, vegan rigatoni (see below), burgers, hot dogs, not-burgers and not-dogs. I may not be a vegetarian anymore, but I sure love a not-dog on the grill, though Neilbert has an irrational aversion to not-dogs and only made half a pack so I didn't get to have seconds. For drinking there were vodka drinks, including gimlets (see blow) and vodka cranberry, and for the beer fans there was Augustiner. Smooth was a little miffed because there was no light beer, but Neilbert managed to find some Labatt's in the cellar fridge—apparently Canadian beer is as good as light beer in Smooth's book.

Smooth and Neilbert

It was a fairly early evening, but we had one last drinking hurrah with Smooth when Neilbert drove me back to my apartment and we stopped for drinks at the Guyasuta Lounge. I had my Guyasuta usual, $2 Jim Beam, and Neilbert and Smooth got Molson drafts. Despite having a sparse crowd, the Guyasuta had a particularly loud DJ, and we could barely hear ourselves think. We only stayed for one round, though Neilbert did buy Smooth a shot of Firewater (my recommendation), and we counted it as uncle-nephew bonding.

And with that, Smooth returned to Salamanca three days older and fifty drinks wiser.


For more pictures of Smooth's Pittsburgh weekend, check out my Photo Album of Smooth's 21st on Facebook.


Vegan Bean Dip

2 cans of black beans
onions, diced fresh or frozen, to taste (I recommend lots)
corn oil
1 small can of tomato paste
chili powder and/or cayenne pepper (chili powder is milder, cayenne is hotter)
cumin
garlic powder
cilantro

In a large non-stick skillet, sauté the onions in the corn oil until tender. Add the 2 cans of black beans, including liquid, and simmer. As the beans simmer, stir in the tomato paste and spices (all to taste). Simmer together, stirring occasionally, until a noticeable amount of liquid has evaporated. Squish beans with a potato masher until they resemble bean dips you've known and loved. Continue to simmer, stirring occasionally, until much of the liquid has been absorbed and the beans aren't runny anymore. Again, think of bean dips you've known and loved.


Vegan rigatoni

1/2 box of whole wheat rigatoni
1 jar of marinara sauce (I like Classico Cabernet Marinara)
onions, diced fresh or frozen
garlic, minced
olive oil
1 package of vegan ground meat. My favorites are Morningstar or Boca.

Preheat oven to 350. In a large skillet, sauté the onions, garlic and fake meat in oil. While sautéing, prepare the pasta according to package directions, except decrease the boiling time by three (3) minutes. In a large saucepan, warm the marinara sauce, and when the onions in the fake meat mixture are tender, mix the fake meat mixture in with the marinara sauce. After draining the pasta, combine it with the marinara mixture and then spread it into a shallow baking dish large enough to accommodate (9 x 13 should work okay). Bake uncovered at 350 for at least 20 minutes. The point of the baking is to get the rigatonis on top a little crunchy. Ovens vary, so try higher temperature or longer baking times to get your desired results.


Vodka Gimlet

2 1/2 oz. vodka
1/2 oz. Rose's lime juice; or 1/4 oz. lime juice and 1/4 oz. simple syrup*
twist of lime, for garnish

Shake the liquid ingredients over ice in a cocktail shaker. Strain into a chilled martini glass. Garnish with a twist of lime.

* simple syrup is an easy way to make the equivalent of Rose's lime or sour mix at home. Simple syrup is basically equal parts water and sugar, cooked at a rolling boil for about five minutes. Equal parts simple syrup and lime juice gives you homemade Rose's lime; equal parts simple syrup and lemon juice gives you homemade sours mix. Keeping simple syrup and unsweetened lime juice separately on hand has the added benefit of being able to offer your guests a gimlet with unsweetened lime juice alone, a tart but no-sugar, low-carb alternative.

Saundra and I recently went to one of our favorite local restaurants for a ladies' supper (and you thought ladies only ate lunch, didn't you?). We have been frequent Moré patrons over the years, though we rarely set foot through their doors. How so? Well, Moré is one of our favorite Wheel Deliver restaurants, and as a result we have dined on Moré's cuisine much more often in the privacy of Saundra's home than in the restaurant itself. But in addition to being a long-time Wheel Deliver restaurant, Moré is also a frequent Entertainment dining club member restaurant, and so a few weeks ago while Neilbert was off on his Wednesday night skate, Saundra and I headed off to Moré.

Moré

Despite being in Oakland, Moré is most certainly not a student hang-out. It's an upscale-ish restaurant with a dark-wood lattice Mediterranean décor that attracts a clientele of wealthy senior citizens—you know, the older folks who live in all those Craig Street apartment buildings that no Pitt student could afford. I say upscale-ish because it's not á la carte, as are restaurants of the particular class that do serve á la carte, such as Café Allegro or Laforet, being consequently much more expensive and fancy schmancy. Entrées at Moré run between $12 (for pasta-based dishes) and $25 (for your upper crust steaks and shellfish). All non-pasta entrées include a choice of two sides, soup, salad, pasta, potato or vegetable; pasta entrées include salad, of course. Saundra and I opened our meal that night with two glasses of iced-tea and an order of the fried zucchini. It was a breaded fried zucchini, and while I normally only like the beer-battered sort, I was pleasantly surprised by Moré's breading, forming a nice, firm crust, not too thin or thick, and not falling off before it got to my mouth. The appetizer came with a bowl of grated parmesan and a serving of hearty homemade marinara sauce, and while I could have done with more of the marinara (What can I say? I'm a saucy gal), the freedom to coat my zucchini liberally with cheese made up for any shortfall in the quantity of the marinara. You must understand, I'm the sort of person that hates when waiters shred parmesan over your food fresh at the table—while I certainly appreciate the taste advantages of fresh shredded parmesan, if I had my druthers, I would let the waiter go on shredding for five minutes. As it is, I usually just end up feeling guilty after twenty seconds, saying thank you, that's enough. Thus, I appreciate Moré's generous willingness to let me ravage their cheese supply. We ordered the zucchini in effort to slake an, at the time, persistent craving on Saundra's part for fried zucchini, but our usual favorite Moré appetizer to share, the one we normally get through Wheel Deliver, is the hors d'oeuvres sampler which includes shrimp scampi (the entirety of which Saundra eats), deviled crab (my favorite), seafood coquille, fried provolone and fried zucchini. It's also more expense, the price of an entrée in its own right, but an excellent way to sample a multitude of Moré delights.

Outside Moré

For our main course, Saundra opted for the shrimp scampi entrée with a salad and the vegetable of the day, beets. I was sorely tempted to order my very favorite Moré entrée, the stuffed deviled crab, but then I saw on the daily specials menu that they were offering a crab-stuffed portabella mushroom for five dollars less than the deviled crab, so I gave it a try, along with the Italian wedding soup and twice-baked potato. Moré salads are better than average on the iceberg lettuce scale, offering some darker greens, at least, but not enough darker leafy lettuce for my taste. Saundra had no qualms, though, and it was her eating the salad, not me. The Italian wedding soup offered predictable yumminess—as soups go it's a hard one to mess up, but also hard to do something truly fabulous and unique with. Saundra enjoyed her scampi, though says it's not the best she's ever had—but you must consider, Saundra has been ordering scampi at restaurants at least since I can first remember sitting at restaurant tables in childhood, and I imagine for years before I leapt into existence, so she harbors many memories of scampis gone-by. She also quite liked the beets, but after about two beets, she couldn't remember if they were low carb, and so erred on the side of caution in not finishing them. My stuffed mushrooms were, just as I had expected, a sly doppelganger to the deviled crab, only piled onto two portabella caps. The portabellas were tender and the crab stuffing was soft, sweet and creamy. My only complaint, and maybe I've just been too heavily influenced through osmosis by Saundra's new low carb eating habits, but I found the breading on top of the crab stuffing to be way too thick. I had to scrape the breading off right down to the crab; otherwise the texture of the breading was much too dominant in each forkful. The potato was good, but I knew that because I've had it before, and I was rather stuffed by this point in the evening and decided to have it boxed to take home for Neilbert. He has something of a penchant for restaurant leftovers, especially when he comes home from skating.

And so we bid adieu to Moré... until next Wheel Deliver.

After returning from Chinatown Friday afternoon with an assortment of fake Prada and Trader Joe's wine (more on that to come), Aunt TC and I enjoyed a brief respite before heading out to meet her friend Mary for dinner and drinks in Bronxville.

Bronxville

For those who aren't familiar with Bronxville, except insomuch as the name contains "Bronx" and thus suggests a location north of Manhattan, allow me to characterize. Bronxville is a northern New York suburb, of sorts (not how we envision "suburb" in Pittsburgh), which from the city can be reached on the Metro North line to White Plains. Up past the Bronx and Mt. Vernon, Bronxville is as far away from Manhattan proper as... well, damn, beats me. Maybe as far as Cranberry or Moon or something. Maybe further. I've never been good with gauging mileage. I judge distance based on how long it takes to get there, and thanks to the Metro North railroad, going between Grand Central and Bronxville takes about as long as going between upper Highland Park and Downtown Pittsburgh on the 71A. Maybe even shorter, depending on if you get a local or an express train.

The Bronxville station on Metro North

In character, I would say that Bronxville resembles a larger and more urbanized Fox Chapel or Aspinwall. In fact, imagine Shadyside and Fox Chapel rolled up into one, and you've got it pretty much dead on. After years of living the Bronx, archivist extraordinaire Aunt TC opted to purchase a co-op in a large stone Bronxville apartment building. This is the type of architectural phenomenon you simply don't see in Pittsburgh: early 20th century upscale stone apartment buildings nearly ten stories high with several buildings comprising the entire complex, and many of them in a neighborhood outside the city. Even Shadyside doesn't have anything to compare. Accordingly, the Bronxville business district offers many classy establishments for jewelry, housewares and real designer purses, but most importantly for eating. That night, we went to The Village Café for wine, food and jazz.

The Village Café

There was a live jazz ensemble and we sipped red wine while we waited for Mary and chatted with the bartender, a congenial fellow who also lives in Aunt TC's building. When Mary arrived she ordered up a martini with a twist we placed our food orders. Aunt TC and I elected to split two appetizers, rather than getting whole meals. We got the fried brie appetizer, and truly delicious wonder... the duck quesadillas. That's right, duck in a quesadilla. An inspired dish if I ever tasted one. The fried brie was also quite excellent, served with a delicate breading and berries. Yum. We also got to try some of Mary's burger, because after some confusion with her order, they brought her an extra hamburger on the house. I'm not normally a hamburger type of person, but it was purported to be medium and I was a little drunk, so I took one of the quarters into which it had been divided, and from what I remember through the red wine haze, it was also mighty delicious, tender and subtly spiced.

The Bronxville street sale

The next morning we were off to the Bronxville street sale, where local vendors display their wares along the sidewalk, often at a considerable discount. By this time, my wallet was a bit thinner from the Prada shopping spree and none of the sales really captured the interest of my inner bargain hunter, but Aunt TC bought quite a few things. There were some especially good jewelry sales. I was tempted by some, but my problem is that I too often simply forget to wear jewelry, and so I seldom get inspired to buy it. The few pieces that get worn on those rare occasions when I feel the urge to put on jewelry—usually my pearls and/or my cartouche earrings—service me well enough. And so, I decided to reserve the remainder of my cash for food and drink. For lunch that day, we ended up taking advantage of the sidewalk specials at a brand new Bronxville restaurant, and so sampled the Asian-fusion cuisine at Wild Ginger.

Wild Ginger in Bronxville

Aunt TC got the sesame chicken lunch special, a generous offering of chicken, noodles and vegetables. I selected the sushi special and picked out a serving of the spicy tuna rolls. Despite reporting that the sesame sauce was a little heavy, Aunt TC left with an overall good impression of Wild Ginger. I found the sushi to be quite tasty, though I was a little disappointed that my serving came with more vegetable rolls than tuna rolls. Still, anything drenched in wasabi is heartily welcome in my book.

Next up... A trip to Little Italy of the Bronx and find out what's so great about Trader Joe's that it helped inspire Aunt TC to get her driver's license?

In the last month, I have found occasion to dine twice at one of my favorite restaurants—Mad Mex on Atwood street in Oakland.

Atwood Street

I say "to dine" because I have also been there recently for drinks; half-priced margaritas at happy hour make it a fantastic place to meet friends for booze in Oakland. The margaritas, however, are mighty potent and the time I went to Mad Mex for margaritas exclusively, I ended on a two hour, two bus odyssey back home to my apartment. The frozen margaritas are so potent (yes, frozen, we're not even talking "straight up" here) that after drinking three small margaritas over four hours at the restaurant, I was still drunk after the two hour bus ride home.

Mad Mex on Atwood

And so, when I went with Davin to Mad Mex a few weeks ago, I resolved to drink less and eat more. Still, a trip to Mad Mex is ludicrous without a margarita, so we made it a point to show up for happy hour, which runs from 4:30 to 6:30 Monday through Friday. Happy Hour at Mad Mex in Oakland consists of the following drink specials: $6 for 22 oz. margaritas—affectionately titled the "Big Azz Margarita"—1/2 off 16 oz. and 12 oz. house margaritas, and 1/2 off drafts. Also 1/2 off wings, but I'm not so much a wing person. Davin got a 22 oz. traditional lime margarita on the rocks—being something of a margarita snob—and I got the 22 oz. frozen mango margarita—which, after stealing a sip, Davin admitted was actually pretty good and he ended up ordering a small one after finishing his "on the rocks" margarita. The great thing about most Mad Mex frozen margaritas is that they are made from fresh ingredients and as a result aren't too sweet. The strawberry ones are a little sweet for my taste, but the mango, kiwi, lime and raspberry are nicely tart. For an appetizer we got the guacamole, which is always chunky and fresh, with chips and salsa. The guacamole comes with a choice of salsa, and we picked the pico de gallo. It turned out to be rather strange with too-large chunks of tomato, not at all good for eating with chips. Our meals were quite delicious though—Davin got the fajita enchilada and I got the 3-cheese 3-pepper enchilada. I was warned by the waitress that the 3/3 enchilada was rather hot, and this may or may not be true, but it certainly wasn't too hot for me. I ended up dousing it with green hot sauce for a truly delicious and spicy treat, especially since one of the three cheeses was goat cheese. I do love most anything with goat cheese. Davin was pleased with his enchilada as well, though with the caveat that Pittsburgh Mexican and Tex-Mex is simply not in the same league as what one gets in the south west, the part of the country from whence Davin hails (no wonder he's such a margarita snob).

A Matthew Stover Margarita in a Lenox Tuscany Martini Glass

By the time we finished our meals, Happy Hour had expired and we decided to leave with what remained of our sobriety. Not wanting to "call it a night" so early (the unfortunate potential consequence of arriving to dinner in time for Happy Hour), we decided to stop off at the liquor store. Davin's inclinations as a scotch aficionado led him toward the whiskies, but I suggested that we might better continue our agave kick by getting a bottle of Sauza and mixing up one of my favorite drink recipes—the Matthew Stover margarita. Matthew Stover is among my favorite contemporary SF&F; authors, having penned such innovative and crazy fun novels as Heroes Die and Blade of Tyshalle; but it turns out he's also an experienced bartender and after he posted his margarita recipe (included below) on the Frameshift forums—a recipe very much like the one I use, only classier—I knew he was indeed the mixology master he claimed to be. So after a stop at the liquor store and then to Giant Eagle for lemons and limes, we eliminated the remainder of our sobriety.

Neilbert at Mad Mex

I ended up at Mad Mex yet again with Neilbert on Star Trek night last week. After having taken my mom to Eleven, Neilbert still had the better part of a Big Burrito gift card, and so I talked him into dinner at Mad Mex. We arrived at the tail end of Happy Hour, and so I recommended getting the $6 Big Azz frozen margaritas so to last us throughout the meal. True to form, I got a mango margarita and Neilbert got raspberry. Neilbert found his margarita quite enjoyable, though he observed that drinking it too fast resulted in a "frozen margarita headache." For dinner, Neilbert got the Kristy's Big Sister's Red Velvet Enchilada, which includes chicken, spinach, zucchini and cheese. I got the Mad Mex burrito with steak in a whole wheat tortilla. Neilbert much enjoyed his enchilada and fixin's, crediting his selection of red Ancho sauce over green Jalapeno sauce with ensuring that his dinner was not too hot. He enjoyed it so much that he cleaned his plate; lest he give the enchilada too much credit he qualified the voraciousness of his appetite with fact that he'd had a small lunch.

Neilbert at the former apartment of Neilbert

I also enjoyed my burrito, complete with an amalgam of guacamole, salsa, sour cream, green hot sauce and whatever sauce they use to draw the Mad Mex cactus on top. The steak pieces were predictably well-done, but still tender and not-too-tough. The rice was a little under-done, and when I asked Neilbert, he reported that his was also a little crunchy. Even after finishing our meals, we still had about a third of our Big Azz margaritas, and so sat around for another fifteen minutes while we finished them. In effort to sober up in the hopes that neither of us would fall asleep during Star Trek (an endeavor in which I ultimately failed), we took a walk up Atwood street to visit Neilbert's old apartment building. As a young civil engineering student in the 1960's, Neilbert transferred down to Pitt Main Campus after two years at Pitt Bradford. For one year, he lived in and hated the dorms, and so for his second year Neilbert—like many generations Pitt Students before and after his time—found some roommates and procured an apartment in South Oakland.

The window air conditioner at the former apartment of Neilbert

Standing outside Neilbert's old digs, he found it largely the same, except for the window air-conditioner, a luxury that college students did without in the rustic days of yore. They also apparently did without luxuries such as Mad Mex Happy Hour—Neilbert reports that there weren't any restaurants or bars on Atwood street during the days of his youth.

In sum, Mad Mex food is pretty damned good—for Pittsburgh; you should read Matthew Stover novels and try his margarita recipe; and in Neilbert's day, college students had to walk five miles in the snow for a good happy hour.

Looking for a margarita as hardcore as Caine?

Matthew Stover Margaritas

2 ounces of Sauza Hornitos
3/4 ounce of Cointreau
juice of one quarter of a fresh lime
juice of one quarter of a fresh lemon

Shake with ice and serve. And on the issue of salt, Matthew Stover says, and I quote: "You don't need the salt unless you're using cheap shit." I would go further to say that this is definitely not the margarita where you want to use cheap tequila. I often opt for a slightly cheaper alternative with Sauza Blanco, and I have to confess (this is why Matthew Stover's recipe is classier) I always use the cheapest triple sec—i.e. generic Cointreau—in the liquor store, but these margaritas are still mighty tasty even with the less expensive substitutions. Since these margs are heavy on the booze, I like to serve them straight up in a chilled martini glass. To chill a martini glass, either stand it in the freezer for about ten minutes, or fill it with crushed ice while you mix your drink, and then dump out the ice before straining your drink into the glass. Garnish with a wheel or twist of lime for added presentation value.

This past weekend being Father's Day, Saundra and I naturally planned to take Neilbert out for dinner on Sunday. Neilbert, on the other hand, decided very early in the week that he would prefer to be taken out Saturday and not Sunday. He did not, however, manage to pick out a restaurant until 2:33 on Saturday afternoon; his eventual selection was Gene's Last Chance in the Strip.

Gene's Last Chance

Gene's is a casual bar and restaurant. When we arrived that afternoon, there were a few people in the bar, but none in the restaurant dining room. The restaurant part was unusually nice for a sports bar type place with a fireplace and leather booths that were utterly duct-tape-free! In fact, you might have mistaken it for a pretty swanky place if not for the upright paper towel dispensers on each table. Most of the menu is bar food and sandwiches, though they do have a good selection of entrées offered at pretty swanky prices—most dinners were $17.99. Fear not, however, there is a very sparkly silver lining; each entrée comes with two, count'em two sides and when you buy two dinners (i.e. one for you and one for your friend, date, dad, etc.) you get $10 off the second one. We had a Entertainment Book coupon entitling us to $14 off one entrée, so we scored a slightly better deal, but good to know for future reference, huh? For side dish #1, I ordered the coleslaw and each of my parents ordered the salad. The coleslaw was fresh and generally good, though I wanted more of a kick, some slap in the face of yumminess, but instead found it a little bland. I was glad, however, I didn't opt for the salad because the iceberg lettuce was plentiful—I did enjoy the pumpernickel croutons I stole from Saundra's salad, though.

The dining room at Gene's Last Chance

For the main course, I got the amaretto almond chicken with a side of sweet potato fries. The fries were fresh and tasty, coming with a brown sugar dipping sauce that was also good, but I preferred them with just salt, and even a little parmesan cheese. The chicken, to my surprise, came with a cream sauce where I had expected a glaze. The cream sauce was a bit like a standard restaurant alfredo, but the almonds and amaretto added an intriguing enough zip. Saundra got the chicken parm, which she enjoyed, and Neilbert opted for grilled pork chops with honey pepper glaze. He liked it so much, he made the express decision to take one pork chop home for lunch the next day, leaving him hungry enough to eat up the remainder of my fries and Saundra's mixed veggies when we got too full to finish. Neilbert was especially fond of the mixed veggies, which included red peppers and squash.

Klavon's Ice Cream Shoppe

From there, at Neilbert's behest, we moved up the street to Klavon's ice cream parlour, for which we also had an Entertainment Book coupon. Klavon's is an old-fashioned style ice-cream and soda shoppe that many years hence were a ye olde apothecary shoppe... I mean, it was originally a pharmacy and soda fountain in the Strip many years ago. In addition to an authentic soda shoppe feel—including a penny (now nickel, dime and quarter) candy counter—Klavon's also offers authentic old time treats. Neilbert, however, did not take advantage of these, ordering instead a single dip butter pecan in a cake cone. Saundra and I, not following his example, had a truly olde thyme soda shoppe experience. At first, Saundra felt somewhat out-of-place looking for something low-carb on a menu of ice cream—that is, until the counter lady suggested a phosphate with sugar-free syrup. A phosphate, as it turns out, is the grand-daddy of soda-pop, basically plain soda with the flavor syrup of your choice. Saundra got sugar-free chocolate syrup, making for what tasted basically like a diet soda, except chocolate, a delight so yummy we could only wonder why on earth none of the major beverage companies has bothered to develop and market a chocolate soda. Who needs cola when you have chocolate? My not-so-low-carb selection also took advantage of the soda-syrup possibilities; I ordered an ice cream soda, with coffee ice cream and English toffee flavored soda, a confection which I immediately dubbed a Coffee Toffee.

Neilbert at Klavon's

It was delicious and generously loaded with ice cream. So generously, in fact, that even after much stirring I could not completely homogenize the ice cream with the soda and I eventually drank down to a sludgy remainder that would not go up my straw. Already full from dinner, I couldn't bring myself to dredge the ice cream out of the bottom, so I offered it to Neilbert. Still hungry from saving his pork chop, Neilbert happily obliged. He took one bite, nodded, swallowed and said, "Good." Took another bite, nodded, "Good." A third bite, "Good." While savoring the fourth spoonful, Saundra and I shared a chuckle at the prospect that Neilbert might repeat his sentiment yet a fourth time, but upon swallowing his fourth bite Neilbert foiled our expectations by declaring it, "Tasty."

Star Trek: TNG Season 6

From there it was back to the House of Parents, for the opening of gifts and an episode of Star Trek. It is pertinent at this time to explain mine and Neilbert's weekly ritual—one evening every week we get together to eat dinner and watch an episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation, sometimes simultaneously. After my trip to New York City, we got thrown off our usual Star Trek schedule and so elected for a make-up session after Father's Day dinner. In order to sustain this weekly event, I buy Neilbert a season of TNG every Christmas and Father's Day. On the one hand, this is a good gift-buying strategy because Neilbert, like 99% of dads, is impossible to buy gifts for; on the other hand, it has become somewhat predictable. In effort to throw Neilbert off the scent, and toss the element of surprise back into his gift-opening, I devised the clever—at least I thought it was clever—scheme of packing Star Trek into a Lenox Tuscany Classics Petit Pinot Grigio box. After all, I buy everyone else Tuscany, why should Neilbert think himself exempt?

Mr. Coffee Iced Tea Maker

But alas, upon tearing the paper away, it gave Neilbert only a moment's pause. To quote: "I don't drink Pinot Grigio. When I saw it wasn't the pilsner glasses, I knew it had to be Star Trek." More surprising for Neilbert was Saundra's gift of a Mr. Coffee Iced Tea Maker, which we picked out instead of the Hamilton Beach because the former was on sale that week and the latter was not. As far as I know, Neilbert has yet to give it a test run, but I can't imagine it's of abysmal quality, being Mr. Coffee and all. Either way, the gift was a hit, because as we know from previous installments Neilbert loves iced tea. I however, was so full after dinner and Coffee Toffee, that I fell asleep during Star Trek.