YaYa

Dinner was at the Red Barn last night. We combined Gretchen's birthday with our YaYa night out.

The Red Barn has been around since the Grant administration. Okay, I lie... Truman, possibly. In any event, it's been around for a while. The prices are steep, as in $290 pre-tip for five people with only one bottle of wine. The food is usually excellent and, for the most part, last night was no exception. Their version of chicken marsala, which my sister Gretchen had was... different. Can't quite explain what was so unusual, but that it also didn't work well was a bit of a downer as she was the birthday girl. My stuffed shrimp with pilaf and asparagus was fantastic - I nearly licked the plate - and I hate asparagus!

I'm something of a foodie (oooh looks so dirty, doesn't it?), as my BMI will attest to. This got me to thinking about blogging a list of favorite food blogs (and yeah, I've done this before. Sue me.):

Chezpim: makes me pea-green with envy. I want her life. I would weigh 900 pounds, but I would be happy.

dcfud: I now want to eat my way through DC.

Cooking with Amy: recipes, reviews, good looking foodporn - who needs more?

The wine makers wife: her photographs border on the pornographic. Love looking at and reading her site.

Chocolate adn Zucchini: she has a cookbook coming out - give it some loving!

The Food Section: beybeys and food and the occassional snark - a good time!

The girl who ate everything: girl after my own heart.

101 cookbooks: I almost never make any recipe showcased here, but I read this site nearly every day. I should cook more and read less.

As Mercury is retrograde in Scorpio (scandals! election fraud! recount!), I'll confess yet another dirty little secret:

I watch Top Chef.

Yeah, I know... there's something wrong with me. But at least it's not Dancing with the Stars!

Apparently the YaYa's are huge fans of this insanity. Dancing with the Stars now has some sort of road-trip thing and their "Stars" are coming to our area early next year and the YaYa's want me to go. A YaYa trip, they say.

Kill.

Me.

Now.

The YaYa's are not happy that I picked on their choice of reality television so in good old sisterly fashion Gret just had to let out my deep, dark, sorted secret:

"Well you watch Top Chef!"

Silence descended. It was painful. I wanted to hide. But, in my usual fuck you fashion I sallied forth with a brilliant retort:

Yeah, so?!

Yes, I'm five. But my sister's four! And, and, and... she chews her hair!

So there.