We’d planned to take our drinks to go, and continue on Hugo and Diana’s tour of all the reasons we should move to Denver, but were distracted by the toys, games and Asian magazines in Lollicup.

There was also a stack of I have a desperately uncool habit of looking at anything written in Chinese and announcing the characters that I can recognize.  It’s lame and annoying, and yet I’m so incredibly proud of myself that I can’t stop. Eventually I will progress beyond just reading the date aloud and actually know what’s in the paper.

We played some foozball, too, blaming any mistakes the headless players and the rogue Red Shirt on the Blue Shirts’ team.  It was pretty close, but eventually Stick and I pulled into the lead. (This has more to do with Diana scoring on herself slightly more often than I scored on myself, but let’s not talk about that.) (We are prize girlfriends, let me tell you!)

And then Hugo turned Lollicup into yet another reason we should move to Denver.

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Lollicup

“If I’d known,” Stick said. “I could have worn my Hugh Hefner smoking jacket,”

Although Stick and I found Awesome Street endlessly hilarious (“There’s no room for the car here! We’ll have to park over on Mediocre Street!”), some of the other guests told us that the town of Cary was less than thrilled with creativity cutting into their cutesy themed-named subdivisions, and the Awesome Street residents had to apply several times to get the name approved. We also learned that Awesome Street beat out runner-up names Floppy Drive and Hard Drive.

“Yeah, sometimes I’m working and I see people pull up and take photos of the street sign!” one guy told me.

“That was me.” I said.

I’m of the school of thought that social gatherings require me to put on lip gloss and bring a six pack (see also: ways in which I will never fully leave college), and I was totally impressed with this one’s Sno-Cone maker, margarita machine, and all kinds of toys. What really set it apart from our last our last Playboy-themed office party, though, was Mama Hoffmann’s twin circling and insisting that we all eat! More! Have another one! Do you want something else? Eat! You should eat more! Have another one!

It was a nice crowd, and we talked about the joys of Bosphorus, Unaabi Grill, and how Cary, for all its soulless sameness, really does have great food. I met a lot of –  can’t resist it any longer– awesome people. (If you were at the Awesome party, and I was not swift enough to trade contact info with you, I would love to get in touch!)

Later on, I met a girl who — and I could not make this up — was an element bridesmaid for her best friend’s pagan wedding. (She was Earth, but when I was in Allison’s wedding, I was Air) The former-element-bridesmaid and her now-husband decided to get married at the courthouse. I am not saying those two facts are connected, of course, just mentioning two things I learned last night.

“So, how do you know the Intelliscanner crew?” another girl asked me.

“I drove past one day and I got out to take a picture.” I said.

“Oh. Oh! I thought you were kidding about that.”

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The Awesome Party

“You clearly need to learn the Chinese for ‘Nigerian royalty’ and ‘bank transfer’”

From the blog Simpson's Paradox, please comment here:

Vocabulary Building

Want a peek into your new boyfriend’s mind? Just browse his Twitter timeline!

A guy’s Twitter stream gives you clues about his hobbies, how he relates to his friends, and what wanders across his mind when he’s supposed to be working. Want to know how he spent last weekend? No need to casually ask around — his updates tell you where he went, what he did and how he liked it.

I’ve written on the intersections of tech and relationships for WomenGamers, Bleech and so forth, I really like it. I especially like that now when Stick and I have an argument, I can respond with “Oh yeah? Well who’s the relationship expert around here?”

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TechCoquette

Last week was Triangle Restaurant Week, when an assortment of local restaurants run a special set menu. We were meeting up with Lynn and some of her friends.

I ended up narrowing our dining choices to between Oliver Twist and Red Room, but the humor value of a restaurant naming itself after the Dickensian orphan famous for wanting more gruel, won out. What can I say? As an English major and bibliophile, that’s right up there with Gatsby Gardens and Gatsby hair products for men.

The interior was gorgeous. With it’s strip-mall location, Twist has a challenge with the utter lack of windows and natural light, but they succeeded with dark wood furniture, red drapes, cushions and a stylish wine bar feel.  (A bit like the wine cellar at Alla Osteria)

Our wines and martinis were all tasty, our waitress was friendly, and I can’t emphasize enough just how pretty the place is. Our food was all stylishly plated and looked like a food magazine. But the food tasted… fine. It wasn’t bad, but for a splurge restaurant like this, I expected better. There was nothing I couldn’t prepare myself (with my meat the slightest bit overdone and my asparagus just the slightest bit underdone, it was uncannily like I did cook it myself!), so the markup for gorgeous plating was just too high.

Also, the food arrived in the way Stick and I call “Chinese style”, which means there was a huge wait between when the first plates and last plates came out. This works in a traditional Chinese restaurant because everyone’s eating from the same dishes, no one is watching their food get cold as they wait politely for their date’s dinner to arrive. But, in a Western restaurant, it’s really annoying.

I still had a great time, because the drinks and company (thanks to Lynn’s “devious friend matchmaking scheme”) were both fantastic, and the food was fine. I think Stick and I would go back for a bottle of wine, or a cocktail from the extensive martini list.

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Oliver Twist

We went on a really interesting winery tour taught by the owner and winemaker, Marek Wojciechowski, a biochemist who took up winemaking as a retirement project. Yes, taught by is the right phrasing, he gave a really interesting lecture on the history of local wine, beginning with North Carolina’s thriving winemaking industry before Prohibition. Sometimes I forget that this area has a history beyond the car-convenient shopping and cul-de-sac houses, and it was good to be reminded of distinct North Carolina culture.

North Carolina is considering adding a “sin tax” on certain luxuries, and our tour included some really interesting politics of how alcohol is taxed, whether it should be based on bottle price or alcohol content per volume or type. Although I think a tax on luxury items seems like a fair way to raise state revenue, the winemaker was concerned that fine wines would be taxed like, say, Mad Dog 20/20. (Growing up with my father, my mental narration is listing all the ways I can work sin tax error into this paragraph. But I won’t. )

Although the outside of the winery is pretty typically Cary, in yet another nondescript industrial complex, it’s worth making the trip through the maze of identical roads, to an unpretentiously informative tour and tasting.

At the post-tour tasting, we tried an assortment of Chatham Hill wines, including a chardonnay that was extra-good because of bad weather that year, a late frost that produced smaller, sweeter grapes.  We had a great time sipping blackberry wine and picturing Dr. Wojciechowski mixing it up in his lab.

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Chatham Hill Winery

“The day after Ea—The day Cadbury eggs go on sale.”

“Oh. Guess you already knew then.”

“Meg, we’ve been dating for five years.”

Related: Last year’s post on Cadbury Eggs.

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No Surprises

My recipe said that if you don’t have a steamer, you can boil artichokes, placed upright and arranged snugly in saucepan with a few inches of water. I think there was a typo, and what it meant was if you don’t have a steamer, don’t even think about boiling artichokes, placed upright and arranged snugly in saucepan with a few inches of water!

First my artichokes turned brown, which was a little odd, and then they spectacularly failed to get soft enough to eat. Then the water turned brown, and somehow began to smell of blanching citrus peels,  while the artichoke leaves were still hard. Also the leaves never opened up and out. I pulled a leaf off to taste, just in case I’d picked up that rare African Brown Artichoke, that looks bizarre and tastes good, but it had the consistency of bark. Bark with the smell of toxic vegetable matter. Sadly, the extremely rare oak-artichoke crossbreed is inedible.

Once it was clear that my artichokes were more science project than delicacy, I thought I’d cut one in half. I tried with a paring knife, an awesome culinary knife and finally a serrated bread knife, which shredded the artichoke, into a mass of unmarinated artichoke heart and tree bark. Some of the leaves managed to be both over- and under-cooked, which defies all logic.

I’d been thwarted by an artichoke.

I decided to be thrifty and not order a pizza, although it was definitely warranted. Stick is awesome, he didn’t complain about the thrown-together replacement dinner, and he even offered to clean up the kitchen. Possible because if I saw the artichoke debris, I would cry.

Stick thought it would be a good idea to put the artichoke bits in the garbage disposal.  Remember that part where none of my knives could cut through the leaves? Yeah, he didn’t remember. Again, the smell of toxic vegetable matter, only this time, it was rising up from the clogged sink.

Good thing we didn’t order in last night, because we’re definitely eating out tonight.

Update 3/31: Any chance I bought Hurley’s cherimoya instead of the artichoke-oak hybrid?

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All Artichoked Up

We were intrigued by the new restaurant Unaabi Grill, but honestly, we were not impressed with the outside. Unaabi Grill is in a converted Pizza Hut, and from the street, it looks it. But Unaabi Grill turned out to be like many of the hidden gems we found in Beijing, the inside is all carved screens, flowing curtains, shining polished wood and bright Afghani fabrics, so peaceful and pretty that we felt a bit underdressed.

Our waiter, Driss, was very knowledgeable about the different dishes, which was great because neither of us had tried Afghani food.  We like Middle Eastern food and love Indian food, so according to the map, we were excited to try this!

The pumpkin bolanee, flat fried turnovers, were amazing, served with a cool yogurt sauce like an Afghani version of cucumber raita. (Did you see how I just dropped that in there? Like bolanee is something everyone knows, and not a word I heard for the first time a couple hours ago!) There were quite a lot of vegetarian options, hearty main dishes with eggplant and cauliflower, not just a token salad.

Stick got a Turkish coffee, and I tried a gingery green tea, both were awesome. Well, Stick’s coffee was awesome if you like drinking sludge that makes your hands shake, but that seems to be the standard of good Turkish coffee. I always like appetizers better than the main course (see also: metaphors that can be applied to my life) but the kebabs were good too. Main dishes were between $12 and $20 a person, for more food that I could possibly eat.

Unaabi Grill opened just three weeks ago, but everything seemed to be running smoothly and, although it wasn’t exactly packed, it did have a pretty good turnout. Unaabi Grill is also getting good reviews and ratings on local sites, but it was really just the word “Unaabi” that first got our attention!

Edit: Just wanted to make it extra clear that this isn’t a paid or sponsored post in any way.

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Unaabi Grill

“You can eat the one on the left, ’cause I screwed up the seal.” I told him, hoping to deter him from sticking a spoon in the boiling cranberry-orange goo.

“Great,” he said. “You make jam and save the botulism for me.”

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Secret Ingredient