i discovered it about a month into my new york city transplantation.
i devoured the restaurant reviews.
you see, this was before i even knew the term 'foodie' existed. and this was when i wasn't embarrassed to dine at red lobster. i didn't give a fuck about stars, michelin or celebritay, and definitely didn't give a fuck about who was seen in what scene. i just loved the descriptions of food, how they were prepared, words like buttery and flakey, pictures of fat juicy steaks and tiny little of concoctions of colorful layered vegetable shavings in sauces i've never heard of.
i felt the same warmness in my heart and tingle in my belly as when i watched yan can cook as a kid or read each and every recipe in the land o lakes country cooking cook book my moms ex boyfriend had laying around our house. sometimes, i just happily read menus out of our yellow pages.
eventually, in my later service years, i used the magazines restaurant guide to know where to apply for jobs.
and now, when i pick up a time out, not only have i been to most of the restaurants listed, i've been fired from most of them as well.
here's to Time Out New York EAT OUT AWARDS 2010
my current place of employment won
'BEST INSTANT CLASSIC SINCE THE CHANEL SUIT'
my place of employment prior, (last place i got fired from before this gig) won
'BEST NEW COCKTAIL LOUNGE' and 'BEST NEW BAR-RESTAURANT HYBRID'
cheers fuckers. congrats!
