Cafe Pacific

My budgets been a little tight lately, due to the fact that I was forced to write a check for way more than my checking account had. Taxes. No one ever really explained them to me, and suddenly I am forced to write a check that puts my stomach in knots. So, to un-knot my stomach, I decided to have a budget friendly lunch at Cafe Pacific. Ha. Well, when I say I decided to have lunch there, I mean, I walked into my dad's office and said "hey, do you want a salad from Cafe Pacific?" He responded yes, which meant that clearly he had to pay. So I asked my other two sisters what they wanted, and I called in the order. I ordered the Oriental Chicken Salad for my dad and I, and a house salad w/ crab cakes/shrimp for the other two idiots. When I pulled up to the valet, they looked concerned. Probably because last time I was there, I forgot my wallet, left my cell phone in my car, and had to have them pull around twice and almost drive me to Tom Thumb to cash a check. So, before I ventured from the office yesterday, I made sure to bring my wallet (or at least my fathers Visa). So, I left my car running in the middle of the street while I ran inside, and people gawked at me because who am I to leave my YUKON there--only Maserati's and Ferrari's are allowed to do that in HP Village. Blow me, HP, I don't want to park.

So, I pick up our 4 salads and got the bill. 76$. That seems reasonable for 4 lunchtime salads. Ya right, for that 76$ I could have gotten 76 things from the Sonic Value menu, and I would have been five times as happy (and fat). Anyways, the smell that came from a mixture of crab cakes, shrimp, and potato soup was interesting to say the least. The salad was presented beautifully, but the dressing on the side looked like a glob of beige mayonnaise. And we know how I feel about mayo (basically only for the blocked arteried people). So, I was disappointed from the get-go. My dad looked over me with such a judgemental look, and I knew he was thinking "Am I allowed to fire my own daughter for f-ing up lunch?" What sucked so bad too, is that my two sisters salads looked delicious, with just the right amount of vinaigrette (spelling?). Lauren didn't eat her potato soup because, quote, "Care-you know I only eat the potato soup from La Madeline--they like, invented potato soup." I kid you not. So, on my salad, the chicken was perfectly sliced and the lettuce was crispy and delicious. So, was it really that bad? No, but I was an idiot and didn't ask for soy sauce to mix with wasabi to use as salad dressing. So did I f it up, or did they?

I hate being wrong, but I was the one who messed up, it was the first time I have EVER been wrong in my life, so it was difficult to cope. Honestly, I love Cafe Pacific. Any place that serves complimentary sweet potato strings with TWO types of bread and whipped butter--they have my heart. And my loyalty. Now I just need a new car so that the valet situation isn't so embarrassing ;)

http://www.cafepacificdallas.com/

Next time I go, I will ask for soy sauce, and give them my compliments, and possibly have a lunch-time martini, since that's what I really wanted.

Pizza Pizza (In a creepy Little Caesar's voice)

BEFORE


Dining in Dallas is an endless adventure. For us twenty-somethings, we wish our pockets were endless too. Unfortunately, they end. A lot SOONER than we expected. Allowance is possibly the greatest invention in the world. Think about it—your parents basically sponsor your eating, drinking and rent throughout college, and all you have to do is stay there and pass classes. (Well, for some, the passing part is difficult, but it wasn’t too bad for me). Then, May hits you, and all of the sudden, once you have a job, the allowance well dries up. On June 1st, I asked my dad for my allowance, and he looked at me like I was an idiot—“What allowance, you work now.” Well, ya, I work, but I also have to pay bills and pay for dry cleaning, and most importantly, EAT. How am I supposed to do that without allowance? There is only so much Ramen I can eat before my face swells up like a balloon. If you want to go out to dinner and have one (6) martinis and a meal, you’re looking at upwards of 50$. That’s 50$x3 nights—plus going out after—and that is one number that isn’t pretty. Well, your money troubles are over, so stop eating peoples leftovers, because at Campania, the BYOB pizza restaurant in West Village (ehh), you can have 2+ bottles of wine, a huge pizza and 3 salads for less than 20$.

After receiving a TXU bill for 800$, I panicked—but panic doesn’t suppress hunger, or the need to go out on a Friday, so I got to thinking…Campania. I’d been there once, but I was with people who thought Rosé wine magnums were an acceptable drink, so I really needed some new company. So, three of us went, and got there around 8:45. The waiter said it would be a 45 minute wait, but he would uncork as many bottles as we had, so we didn’t mind the wait. If you are waiting, I think they don’t charge you a corking fee, but if you are seated, it is a 5 dollar fee. We waited for about 15 minutes and watched a bunch of West Village-ites act like they were eating, and laughed at the 50-something men who were with their 25 year-old fake boobed girlfriends. People watching should be an Olympic sport. (PS—I don’t judge these people who I write about, I guarantee I am far more weird/idiotic than they are) but they are fun to mock nonetheless. Anyway—we only waited for 15 minutes and were seated next to a large group of old grannies who seemed to be on an awkward first quadruple date—they had clearly been drinking before they got picked up, had several cocktails before their wine, and were most likely on their tenth bottle of wine. The uncomfortable gentleman on the end, who happened to be wearing pants that perfectly accented his fupa, and a shirt that clung to his mobs, spilled his water twice—once on the table and once directly on his and his date’s pizza. (Side note: If I were ever on a date where he spilled liquid on my food, I would cry, say horrible things, then get outta there—even if the relationship was serious.) His date didn’t seem at all perturbed, which implies that she was just as drunk as he.

Anyways, we sat down and uncorked a second bottle while looking at the menu which was pointless since we had already piggily discussed what we were getting—small caesar salads and splitting a pizza with pepperoni, mushrooms and artichoke hearts. The service wasn’t bad, it was 9:15 by that time, and our salads came quickly. The salad wasn’t impressive, but it didn’t need to be. They definitely abused the use of caesar dressing. The pizza was legit—thin crust and plenty of toppings. Would definitely go there again—basically free food.




AFTER (WHALES)
Me: 4 chins
Shannon: 5 chins (She’s from Graham, not many restaurants there)
Mary Martha: 4 chins

Avilas- South of the Border (aka South of Lemmon)

If you haven’t seen Triple D (Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives) you are an idiot. If you feel at all bad about yourself after food escapades, DON’T. While the host, Guy Fieri, goes to some of the most delicious looking places in the world, he can’t seem to keep the food he samples out of his platinum blond beard. Well, sometimes it’s a beard, sometimes it looks like a creepy playground lurker swallowed his face. Anyways, Avila’s was a restaurant he tried, but his report was mainly on the Mole. No offense to Mole eaters out there, but you are gross. Well, I guess you might take offense to that, but I still mean it—who enjoys eating a chocolate/mocha based sauce on an enchilada? WOOF, you shouldn’t look at yourself in the mirror.

So, my dad and I finally got a chance to eat lunch around 2:30 last Friday, and I suggested Avila’s for lunch since it is semi-close to where we work. The parking lot (a six car parkway behind the restaurant) was full, so we waited for a car to leave. Once we got inside, you could tell the place was going to be pretty legit—looked like the same crowd that scalps for tickets outside of a Cowboys game. They sat us down at a table for two right next to a pretty flamboyant young couple—so my dad was immediately a little on edge. The chips and salsa came immediately, as did a waiter to take our drink orders. Tempted to get a margarita, I sadly had to order a diet coke—apparently drinking during the workday in front of your boss is not acceptable? The waiter asked if we would like some queso, which, to me, is an obvious—look at me buddy, I’m a little hungover and at a Mexican restaurant, does it look like I want a side of lettuce with my chips? The chips and salsa were ok, I prefer salsa to really set my mouth on fire, and this one was fresh, but mild. We both ordered. I got a special plate with a fajita taco and an enchilada with some tostado, he ordered crispy beef tacos. The queso came quickly, and was a little thick, but tasted better with some salsa mixed in—not the best, but edible. Looking around, Avila’s looks like someone’s house, and is decorated very “Spanish-y?” The specials, which change daily, are written on a chalkboard in Spanish, so that wasn’t too helpful, and I didn’t want to look like some white-y that doesn’t know a lick of Spanish, so I didn’t ask questions. For 2:30, the place was still crowded, but the food didn’t take long.
The food was good—my tostada was supposed to be a bean tostada, but came like a cup of queso in a chip cup (more queso—I’m not complaining). The enchilada was ok, too cheesy, but the fajita taco was delish—it came with fresh pico which enhanced the dish. Before I could ask my dad how his was, his plate was empty, with just taco grease left. Clearly he wasn’t complaining either.


All in all, pretty good spot. You definitely stick out if you are: a) white, and b) speaking English. But, the place was great, really good service and nice staff. Legit Diet coke.
My rating: 3 ½ chins
Scott’s rating: 3 chins

Great American Hero

When I think of "Great American Hero" several people pop in to my mind, and sadly, they all were stars of late 1990's CBS Friday night dramas. Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman, Texas Walker Ranger, and everybody's favorite cat loving/early newspaper recipient, Gary Hobson (Kyle Chandler, Early Edition). Sadly, none of My American Hero's greeted me at this Lemmon Ave. establishment, but the sandy more than made up for that.



When we first tried to enter the drive through line, Lauren and I almost died. I went the wrong way, then had to turn around, go 3 blocks down and turn back around. Instead of being deterred by our unfortunate routing, our excitement only mounted. If the parking lot is full, and the drive-thru is stopping traffic, something must be legit about this sandwich shack. Legit it was my friends, legit indeed. The menu choices are endless and as soon as I saw the 50000000 different bread choices, I started to sweat. MENU ANXIETY. As I sat there and pondered if they would allow me to do half my sandwich in a spinach tortilla and the other half split between wheat and jalapeno cheese, the window lady asked for my order. She must have thought I didn't speak English because for about 6 seconds I stuttered and said umm, uhh, before finally asking if she would allow me a moment to think. But I didn't ask it like "ya, can you give me a sec please," I asked her in a way that you would ask someone to give you their baby--"Oh, please, so sorry ma'am, but can I have just a minute, I am soooo sorry!" (All said in a fake, high-pitched voice). I settled on turkey, cheese, avocado and sprouts on wheat. I think mayo is for fatties (even though its usually the skinny ones who love it so much), but they had basil mayo, so I asked for a little bit of that. Lauren (one of the skinny ones) ordered Turkey, roast beef, cheese, lettuce, pickles and MAYO. Roast beef and mayo, La...Really? Training for a shot-put tournament are we? Anyways, I got baked Cheetos and she got jap chips. All very legit.

Bread--very soft, very delicious. The meat and cheese were freshly cut (shaved? not really sure what deli terms are used), and the avocado was ripe. All in all, this bright pink and yellow shack makes a sandwich that will be a contender for best turkey sandy.

Lauren's vote: 3 1/2 Chins, maybe she shouldn't have gotten roast beef, butch.
My vote: almost 4 Chins, I'm a sucker for good bread

I can't believe I almost forgot the most important part...Close your eyes, now picture this: A hot piece of Sonic crushed ice walks in to Eatzi's. She's walkin around, trying all the dips (acting like she hasn't tried them twice already today just like the rest of us), and she catches the eye of the slightly more refined Eatzi's shaved ice. Long story short, they fall in love and create a baby Ice, which is the perfect balance between shaved and crushed, with a crunch that goes lovely with a fresh diet coke. If it were possible to date a piece of ice, I would. So, thank you Great American Hero, for feeding my addiction and for mating two such wonderful ices.


http://www.greatamericanhero.net/Heros.htm

Rating System

While pondering what kind of rating system I was going to use, I considered all the options...stars, thumbs, smiles, all seem a little mundane and uninteresting. Thus, I have created the "CHIN RATING." Based on how good the meal is, I and whomever accompanies me, will rate our selections based on a number of chins--0 being the worst (aka, we'd rather starve than risk eating this abomination again) to 5--being the best (aka, I am totally willing to eat this selection until I have so many chins that I no longer have a neck.

Ratings will be based on a place's drinks (mainly ice), eats, and atmosphere/service.

Anything that combines the word 'winner' with 'bread' = my best friend

More about that picture later...


Your food probably shouldn't suck if you have the name "winner" in the restaurant title, and Breadwinners is a winner in my book. My only disappointment when I opened my to go box--the waffle chips--for a brief moment, I looked at that waffle shape and thought to my self, "ahhh, Chick-fil-a sounds prettttty legit right about now." Then I realized it was a Wednesday and fast-food on weekdays is unnacceptable. So, I opened my to-go box and after the initial fast food fatass moment, I was delighted...my chicken wrap (grilled chicken, cheese, avocado, bacon, and lettuce) came with a side of salsa and ranch. And to me, that is like Christmas. Actually, better than Christmas, because you can't eat Christmas and it only happens on 1 day--this meal could happen whenever I so please. The wrap was huge, so I felt like a skinny little schoolgirl when I could only finish half. The chips were legit, tasted like thin waffle fries w/ Burger House seasoning. (If you don't know what Burger House seasoning tastes like, get out of Dallas or stop acting like you're from here).

Now, about the picture...since I don't have a picture of my meal I give you this one. Yes, it is from 10 Things I Hate About You (R.I.P Heath), and my story is about the middle guy, Michael. Do you remember that party scene, where he is trying to hit on girls using the line "I just got a Tercel...that's a Toyota." Well, until today, I thought that Toyota Tercels were non-existant, just some fantasy car that Warner Brothers cooked up in their lab. But alas, on my way to Breadwinners, I almost was side-swiped by a Tercel...and instead of getting angry, I creepily smiled and cheered to myself as the idiot passed me--MY VERY FIRST TERCEL. Maybe I'll sell my Yukon during this cash for clunkers phase and get my very own Toyota Tercel

Best of...

By Christmas I hope to compile a "Best of List." Unless my pants get wayyy too tight (well, any tighter than they already are, damn you summer snacking), I plan on sampling the best of what Dallas has to offer. If anyone has any places that are "must try's," let me know. I will try anything. Unless it's salmon. I hate salmon. Salmon is cat food, and while I respect my cat (it's hard not to respect/fear an animal that weighs twice what it is supposed to and could possibly devour you in one sitting), I will not eat it. I do not meow, am not covered in fur, and no longer have a tail, thus, salmon is not in my diet. Below is a list of categories, feel free to suggest more.

pizza, queso, guac, salsa, brunch, hungover place, grilled cheese, grilled chicken sandwhich, turkey sandy, "fast food," french fries, onion rings, cheeseburgers (emphasis on the cheese--people who eat plain hamburgers are weak), hummus, any sort of dips, homemade chips, tortillas, pasta dish, salad, tortilla soups....and so on.
(Side note: Just had to go look in the mirror to see if I had developed a second chin just by writing that. Guess I will have to start two-a-days to balance out the food intake.)

on the easier flowing side of things, here are a few libations I'd like to sample...
Vodka Martini (gin makes people mean) sans olives **on my first few dates I ordered "dirty martini extra dirty" because I thought it was cool (I was 19 and it looks cool when the hot girl in the movies order them), but making a face like you just drank alien sweat or actually spitting your drink into the glass=very UNcool.**, margarita (frozen and on the rocks, none of that mango crap), best wine list for post-college grads, champagne cocktails, mojitos (I hate rum, but I just really want to be cool), best beer on tap (for girls), best specialty drinks, etc.

So...if you have any suggestions, post them, email me, whatever. I will try it. Note-please don't send me to places where I could get shot unless I have someone far less important with me to use as a shield. Thank you.

Devouring Dallas--A girl on a mission

The mind of the modern day twenty two year old is not a very complex one. For those of us who have graduated college, the job search is daunting. Thus, for most of us, our life schedule is as follows:
1) Find job openings
2) Land interview
3) Get to the [insert generic fast food chain restaurant] interview thinking that you are there for some corporate management job (after all, you did graduate with a 3.8 in Business Honors at an Ivy League school) and find out that you are actually interviewing to be the new McNugget fryer.
4) Terrified of being jobless, you accept your fate as a fast food fryer, leaving the interview with a brand new hairnet and cleanly pressed “chef” pants.
My schedule is a bit different. After graduating from the University of Texas with an English degree, I moved back to Dallas to work at an Auction Gallery. Sadly, during my down time at the office, I am not scrolling through facebook or gchatting with friends…My keystrokes during breaks always tend to be the same. Google is my best friend, and that genius search engine always knows what is coming as soon as I start typing the letter: “B.” As soon as that first keystroke is down, Google, my omniscient, obedient pet, knows the rest of my search query… “est restaurants in Dallas.” When a list of the generic, paid advertisers pops up, my frustration mounts. Every time I go out to eat, I go back to my old faithful…anything in the MCrowd (not talking bad about MCrowd—love me some Mico or Taco Diner), anything owned by Lombardi (you can’t go wrong with Taverna or any of his restaurants), or a chain restaurant are always my go-to’s. But not any longer—I am now going to start popping in to all of those restaurants that I drive by and say “Oh, I’ve heard of that, I want to try it,” or “That place looks legit, look at the mix of cars/people/etc.” I am going on the quest for the most satiating of sandwiches, mouthwatering Mexican, etc (I can only do so many alliterations with adjective and food genres.)
I have decided, to start, to find the best of these items in Dallas, all the while documenting my meals, experiences, and maybe a few side stories (I’m not that interesting, but I do get myself in awkward situations that make people feel better about themselves—hey, my humiliation is for your sheer enjoyment.