expensive taste

Do I ever have it.

Behold a few of my pretties:


The Bianchi 'Milano' bike, in the wonderfully retro Celeste color.


Crane's/Kate Spade letterpress calling cards in Futura, my favorite font.


DWR's take on the Murano glass chandelier. In smoked glass - but of course.

Charleston.

Baltimore's poshest restaurant was featured in the Wall Street Journal's Power Tables.




Evidently, for dinner we were teh A+ awesome.

movies

Recently viewed a briefly-shown documentary called The Rape of Europa:



Amazing. I'd strongly recommend WWII fans and art lovers alike see it.

It probably got retired after only a week's run to help make room for what I want to see next:



I admit - I love Wes Anderson movies, and this looks like it will touch on some themes that will resonate with me. If I made movies, I'd want them to be like this.

Redheads are always so effortlessly chic in autumn, don't you think?

Via The Sartorialist.

the ace hotel

Do I have anyone I can visit in Portland? A forgotten acquaintance? A scientific meeting? A band's reunion?

Do I have any reason, any at all, to travel to the PDX?

Because I know exactly where I'd want to stay.

September 2007 - the books.

The Autograph Man, Z. Smith
Ideas of Heaven, J. Silber
How to Lose Friends and Alienate People, T. Young
Italian Neighbors, T. Parks
Plainsong, K. Haruf
The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency, A. McCall Smith
A Natural History of the Senses, D. Ackerman
On Natural Selection, C. Darwin



A pleasing month - wherein everything I read was enjoyable.

Autograph Man was just as good as White Teeth, in my opinion. Ideas of Heaven and Plainsong were nice surprises to come across. Toby Young is yet another in my little streak of humorous authors (Burroughs, Rakoff, to a certain extent Archer and Dennis.) The very famous No.1 Ladies' Detective Agency - I could see a young Teri being extremely drawn to this simple story with its veiled philosophy. And another Ackerman book - her writing is so dense - every paragraph filled with randomness, whether in scientific tidbit or in metaphoric description. That and the Darwin were both well suited to visit with and return to throughout the month.

night swimming

"There might be sharks out there."

"I don't care. I need to do this."

How perfectly cool is this bit of news from the NYT?

Oliver Sacks Joins Columbia Faculty as ‘Artist’

The new appointment will allow Dr. Sacks, the author of 10 books and a frequent contributor to The New Yorker, to range freely across Columbia’s departments, teaching, giving public lectures, conducting seminars, seeing patients and collaborating with other faculty members. Many of the details of his appointment have yet to be worked out, but among other things, he will be teaching in the university’s creative writing department as well as at the medical school.

Hearing about this new interdisciplinary position makes me happy. My two life goals: philanthropy and (more importantly) creative leeway.

baltimore foodies

They're out there.

I've found two more blogs I'm fond of.

Curiously Ravenous - classic blog styling; a good Baltimore cook and lover of food.

Marginal Foodie - "Gastronomic Economics and Baltimore Restaurant Guide". I really dig the graphs.

In case you were wondering where the title came from.

August 2007 - the books.

What is the What, D. Eggers*
Tuxedo Park: A Wall Street Tycoon and the Secret Palace of Science That Changed the Course of World War II, J. Conant*
Out of It: A Cultural History of Intoxication, S. Walton
Dry, A. Burroughs
Ghost World, D. Clowes
My Family and Other Animals, G. Durrell*

Ghost World was a housewarming gift. Thank you, Bateman.

conversational snippet

"Sometimes, it's like shopping in an empty store."

-My mother, on contemporary art

unknown age

For all the features it hoards and displays
age seems to be without substance at any time

whether morning or evening it is a moment of air
held between the hands like a stunned bird

while I stand remembering light in the trees
of another century on a continent long submerged

with no way of telling whether the leaves at that time
felt memory as they were touching the day

and no knowledge of what happened to the reflections
on the pond's surface that never were seen again

the bird lies still while the light goes on flying



- W.S. Merwin

song of the summer

"Cherry Bomb" by Spoon.

It's catchy and hooky and I love it.

That is all.

a perfect combination

One tiny square of the 91% cacao Guittard Nocturne bar, paired with black coffee. The coffee somehow tempers the strength of the extra, extra dark chocolate, allowing smooth fruity notes to materialize on the tastebuds.

best breakfast ever

Steel cut oats with buttermilk and farmer's market blueberries. A touch of Trader Joe's new Vanilla Paste drizzled on top - you can see the vanilla bean bits.

This is seriously delicious - and it's so easy to make!

(Am I nesting or what? I'm sure it's not just the oats - this place is starting to feel more like home.)

I'm about to go lounge in a soon-to-be-painted room with the latest issue of Domino Magazine. August 2007 just looked too full of useful information to not grab off the shelf. Maybe for September I'll actually commit to a subscription.

There are so many wonderful design blogs around now, too....I'm so happy with the information overload! I have a lot to learn.

Yes, there is some sifting involved, but I've been lucky to come across some gems.

This post from The Peak of Chic is one of my favorites. Wonderful article on Elsie de Wolfe that I would have likely completely missed otherwise.



Big week of science coming up. For now, though, I'll just be dreaming about being surrounded by beautiful design.

mysterious knitting

What is this? It's something woven right onto the chain link fence by the St. Stan's demo in Fells Point.



I've seen this twice before, on other chain link fences. For a long time, there was one by Peter's Inn, and I spied one soon to be swallowed by urban underbrush in an alley by Jack's Bistro.

Is it some sort of art project by a disaffected MICA student? Or maybe a bored grandma with no one to knit doilies for....

...with Baltimore, you never really know.

July 2007 - the books.

The Nasty Bits, A. Bourdain
The Art of Scandal, D. Shand-Tucci
Don't Get Too Comfortable, D. Rakoff *
Matter of Mind, K. Heilman
An Equal Music, V. Seth *
So Many Books, So Little Time: A Year of Passionate Reading, S. Nelson
Ex Libris: Confessions of a Common Reader, A. Fadiman *


**************************************************

August 2nd edit -

A bit about the books...

Nasty Bits: having it all be recycled material took a bit (but only a bit) of the fun out of it.

Art of Scandal: great subject matter, terribly written.

Don't Get Too Comfortable: reading Sedaris sometimes makes me cringe too much. Loved Rakoff, since it's the same kind of humor, but without quite so much dysfunction.

Matter of Mind: actually well written - but Oliver Sacks has more interesting cases for the layman. This is 'dryer' - aka less unusual - stuff.

An Equal Music: Lovely read. Classical music fans will especially enjoy. If you liked Possession, you'd like this.

So Many Books, So Little Time: A little disjointed. Was this originally a blog? It reads that way.

A Common Reader: Astounding. I loved this little book, with every turn of phrase just right. It's unfortunate that I read two similarly themed books back to back, because it really illustrated how much better this book was. If you are a lover of books, you should read this.


This was the first month in two years without my beloved New Yorker or Atlantic subscriptions - they ended in July, at the old place. It might end up being a blessing, especially for the reading project - without the weekly onslaught of NYer verbosity, I might be able to get through more books!

a girl can dream...

Library hallway....with an Eames lounge chair.

Delicious.

(Image courtesy of Metropolitan Home)

I dream of...

...bookshelves.

For the library hallway.

Because it's hard to read a year of books when they're hidden away in boxes.


Michael Haverland

Angela Free

Glen Gissler


Chotda's gorgeous room on Flickr.

on the move

We're waist deep in cardboard chic. Heavy boxes and the heady perfume of primer.

Lime green's last stand. One shade down from pure neon - it had - er, has- to go.

How can we have so much and yet so little?

The door is closing.

The first home that felt like home. My sanctuary. Crumbling at the end.

The site of dinner parties that went until 3 am and lazy afternoons curled up on the loveseat with a book and a cup of tea.

The ancient push-button electricals.

The antique key in the side door.

The shockingly bold colors I grew to love. Goldenrod to teal to tomato red (with accents of orange). Bubblegum pink hiding beneath the apple green of my bedroom.

The Mr. Boh peeking out from a nautical porthole.

The fat Elvis, resplendent in his baby blue suit and tinny golden frame, in his place of honor....above the fridge.

Every fading color, every esoteric sticker. I'm sure they'll be gone soon. The crack of the auctioneer's gavel will signal the end of this house as I know it. Soon it will be gutted, stripped down to its bones. The drafty, creaky character I knew drywalled over in Everyday Eggshell. Refinished in the latest designed-for-profit style.

Sundays are Postsecret days. At this point, checking the site is a compulsive habit - it's been around for ages in interweb time. It's always been interesting to see what people will say when their words are no longer attached to them.



I do love this one - but for the art even more so than the message. Does anyone know anything about that beautiful statue?

serenity now

Call him Ishmael.

My crazy roommate departed this morning for Miami.

Why is he crazy?






Because he's SAILING there.

With one intrepid friend, on a sailboat named Serenity.

Godspeed, Gary. I'd prefer to not hear about how you got rescued off the coast of Cuba.

epicure's lament

I believe that blogs can often be best when they have a singularity of purpose. A theme is decided upon and developed, and then you (you plural, the blog reader) always know what you'll be viewing once you click on that particular link.

And I'm (actually not very) sorry to say that this one does not. You get the same non sequiturs that you would if you talked to me in person. That's okay, really, because I'm not writing for an audience. If there's any sort of theme, it's just what I happen to think about while living in Baltimore.

And with some great restaurants in this town and some friends and loved ones with developed palates, well, it's often thoughts on food.

Enter the food blog.

I've found three consistently good Baltimore-specific sources -

• The local Chowhound board - of course.

• http://weblogs.baltimoresun.com/entertainment/dining/reviews/blog/ is the Sun's critic's blog.

• Coconut & Lime is quirky, neat recipes. It's where I first learned of the ultra-summery Baltimore lemon sticks. (Don't those sound so good right about now, in this heat?)

There are others, certainly. But ones that looked promising weren't, and I won't be bothering to link to them. Guess there's an semi-open niche to fill....if I ever decide to keep my thoughts to one subject.

I'd heard of the elusive (for a reason?) 'cat poop coffee', but this LA Times article really brought me up to speed.

Adventurous eaters - a new bar has been set!

Somehow I doubt you can find kopi luwak at BlueHouse.

desire to inspire

A website that lives up to its name.

I am so in love with these beautiful rooms.


Domino Magazine


Angela Free


Elle Decor


Marc Cutler


Graham and Green


Greg Natale


Judith Miller

snap crackle pop

Happy 4th of July, friends. I like this holiday because I love fireworks, and the city of Baltimore puts on a pretty decent show. They're the definition of the word ephemeral, and therefore difficult to capture with my rinky dink digital camera. Shutter lag is not my friend.



The thunderstorm today had us taking shelter inside my roommate's boat. While I wished we had cards to play rummy, we idly talked of whether the fireworks would be rained out. It was good that they weren't.


This one looks a little...synaptic, doesn't it? Maybe I just have work on the brain. (ha)


Right moment (and the right settings on the camera) and the whole harbor looks lit up.



An attempt to document the fireworks finale. My favorite part is the very end, when the sky goes red, and the very last big golden spray of sparks falling from the sky.

June 2007 - the books.

Understanding and Treating Adults with ADHD, B. Doyle
To Cut A Long Story Short, J. Archer
The Maltese Falcon, D. Hammett
About Town: The New Yorker and the World It Made, B. Yagoda *
The Invisible Heart: An Economic Romance, R. Roberts
The Better of McSweeney's, D. Eggers (ed.) *
An Alchemy of Mind, D. Ackerman *


It's a beautiful day here. I think I'll come back later to talk about this month's selections.

****************************************

July 3rd edit:

Ok, so it's been a beautiful few days. My ideal weather - comfortable, not hot, sandal weather. Maybe with a thin sweater at night.

About the books...

(n.b. - the starred books are the ones I enjoyed most)

The New Yorker book was such a fun read...all about how the magazine got started. I really enjoyed it. I plan on going through the book again, and this time looking up any especially good writing mentioned with the Complete Archives on CD that D. got me.

The McSweeney's compilation was (predictably) very good. I bought several items from their store to help with averting their funding crisis, and it was nice to see that I wasn't the only one.

And Alchemy of Mind...wow. For only two hundred something pages, it's a very dense book...it's prose on neuroscience! Loved it, of course. I carried this book around with me like a talisman.

6 months into my year of books - 45 books read so far.

nueva casa

I think I found my first new home purchase:



It's the 'Before Dawn curtain' by Tord Boontje. It's actually been around for a couple of years, so it's not exactly cutting edge design. But...we will have a living room window that looks right out onto the sidewalk. I'd like to have this as sort of a first line of window defense - both to help keep people from seeing in quite as well if other curtains are open, and to help keep the exterior looking nice by diffusing the look of the 'other side' of whatever curtains we go with. (Does that make any sense?)

Dayna's comment on my cherry blossom pie picture has inspired me to wax poetic about something near and dear to my heart...

the porte-couteau.




Simply translated as 'knife rest', it's an idea whose time has...well, never left, really. An outrageously simple little device that is placed traditionally by the upper right hand quadrant of the plate until it is called into service during your meal.



And then - you rest your knife on it. That's all. But it works beautifully. No soiling the tablecloth. No precarious teetering of knife on edge of plate.



One more functional, yet decorative element. One more thing to love.

As an aside: they're not the easiest things to find. You can look for them under knife/chopstick rests, too. Ebay France seems like a good place to find antique versions, usually of the cut glass or animal-shaped variety.

bowl of cherries

I thought my cherry blossom bowl was a fitting vessel for said cherry DDP.

a most dangerous pie.

First cherry pie of the season.

It's a beautiful thing. And by beautiful, I mean tasty.

Totally worth the traffic-battling drive to Federal Hill.

Phd comics....hits a little close to home.

I sent off my Father's Day package Priority Mail, with plenty of time to get to its destination.

It contained:

One card, carefully selected. It's hard to find ones that have just the right sentiment - respectful without the 'you're the best dad ever!' fawning - because he wasn't. Fifties-style fathering - grades, chores, done.

And two pairs of SmartWool socks (Standard Hiking variety, muted gray color preferred), because I know he likes them. And he doesn't like too many things. Especially if they're things I'm interested in. We don't seem to have too much to talk about. The overlapping bits of our particular Venn diagram contain very little right now, save high quality socks.

This is what I can tell you.

My father has blue-gray eyes. Summers growing up were spent with his grandmother, who had a vegetable garden that was the stuff of legend. He had a pet raven and a pet rat. The rat's name was Squeaky. He was very handsome when he was younger - a Harrison Ford lookalike. He signed up to fight in a war. He bought his parents a house, even though he was a mere construction engineer to everyone else's loftier careers. He won a lot of sharpshooting contests. He sold his motorcycle when my mom got pregnant. He saved every one of the handmade cards I made him as a kid. He has cried only a few times: when his father died, when his brother died, and when our German Shepherds died. When he worked on the Big Dig, he saved all the old bottles from Bostons past, instead of just letting them get crushed beneath the heavy equipment. He enjoys building things. So far there is a complex irrigation system to keep the basement from flooding, a brick-floored sunroom, an inground pool, and now a giant garage to house all of his many toys. He is more outgoing to and forgiving of strangers than his family. We haven't spoken in months.

Who is my father, and how can I not really know much more than this, after 26 years?

Well, there's one more thing...

he likes good socks.

t minus 31 days

Looked at a seemingly endless rainbow of paints (Ben Moore) today.

There is something about those paint chips that conveys limitless possibility.

Left the paint store with samples of: November Rain, Revere Pewter, Driftwood, Kingsport Gray, Dusk to Dawn and Buxton Blue. They may not all work, I realize. It's just a start.

I also fell hard for Iced Marble, Smoke Embers, and surprisingly, Galapagos Turquoise.

My current place is full of bright, warm colors....deep gold, tomato red, apple green. They've served their purpose well - gave a cheerful, lived in air that comforted a distressed Boston transplant. I remember the first time I walked into this house, I instantly knew I wasnted to live here. It felt like home then, and I wish it still did. But extenuating circumstances have interfered with that. Given the situation, it's most definitely time for a change.

I'd like to switch to dark, sophisticated shades. A new palette, for a new phase in my life.

To my Valentine

More than a catbird hates a cat,
Or a criminal hates a clue,
Or the Axis hates the United States,
That's how much I love you.

I love you more than a duck can swim,
And more than a grapefruit squirts,
I love you more than a gin rummy is a bore,
And more than a toothache hurts.

As a shipwrecked sailor hates the sea,
Or a juggler hates a shove,
As a hostess detests unexpected guests,
That's how much you I love.

I love you more than a wasp can sting,
And more than the subway jerks,
I love you as much as a beggar needs a crutch,
And more than a hangnail irks.

I swear to you by the stars above,
And below, if such there be,
As the High Court loathes perjurious oathes,
That's how you're loved by me.

-Ogden Nash

Happy Birthday, Mr. D.

I recently took D. to DiPasquales, where he enjoyed a meatball sub that came with a warning...."BE PREPARED."




Italians. More than a little insane about their food.

conversational snippet

"Is your tatoo in Times New Roman?"

The answer was yes.

This is stunning - 500 years of women in western art.

Thank you, S.

May 2007 - the books.

An Italian Affair, L. Fraser
The Virgin Suicides, J. Eugenides
Auntie Mame, P. Dennis
Until I Find You, J. Irving
The Things They Carried, T. O'Brien
Wild Thoughts from Wild Places, D. Quammen*

Did not originally care for it, but I finally picked the Irving book back up. It gets somewhat better after the protagonist's uh, formative years. Still, I'm glad to be done with it.

I liked The Things They Carried. I don't know much about Vietnam, except for my dad's experience, and he was an outlier. (He SIGNED UP for it, then got shipped off to Europe, and hunted rabbits destined for dinners as a way to get in some target practice. Not the same.) I felt that I would have gone through similar emotions, had I been in O'Brien's shoes. And he does put you right there in the action. The other things I read were on the fluffier side, so this brought some gravity to the month's reading.

My favorite book this month was the Quammen book - it's more like a collection of essays a la Stephen Jay Gould. I had already read Monster of God, so I knew his style. It appeals to the hidden National Geographic photographer inside me.

coming home

When we're driving, in the dark,
on the long road
to Provincetown, which lies empty
for miles, when we're weary,
when the buildings
and the scrub pines lose
their familiar look,
I imagine us rising
from the speeding car,
I imagine us seeing
everything from another place -- the top
of one of the pale dunes
or the deep and nameless fields of the sea --
and what we see is the world
that cannot cherish us
but which we cherish,
and what we see is our life
moving like that,
along the dark edges
of everything -- the headlights
like lanterns
sweeping the blackness --
believing in a thousand
fragile and unprovable things,
looking out for sorrow,
slowing down for happiness,
making all the right turns
right down to the thumping
barriers to the sea,
the swirling waves,
the narrow streets, the houses,
the past, the future,
the doorway that belongs
to you and me.

-Mary Oliver


For Tuesday.

El Jefe Poster for the DC show.


Sunday night I went to see my favorite band play the Black Cat. They're breaking up and this is their last tour. (I think I first saw them in 2002 at the Middle East in Cambridge, a show at which my friend Evildave jumped on stage to help A.Z. sing 'Bring It On Golden Pond'. )

It was so emotional. Everyone - musicians, fans - was crying. They played like they wanted to wear out their instruments before they got to their last tour stop.

They played all our favorite songs.

I haven't been able to listen to any other music since then.

Update on the headphone saga...

I think I'm going with the Grados.

speakers push the air

With the work I'm doing on this soundtrack project, I've begun to feel the need for some serious headphones.

I've found a few that look promising:



The Sennheiser HD-280.


The Grado SR80.


The Panasonic RP-DH1200.

This acquisition might have to be via the interwebs - I have no idea where to find these to try out in Baltimore. (Other than the Bose Triports I tried on at Best Buy - super comfy, but I want to keep looking. )

grazia

*red velvet cake
*seriously beautiful weather
*quality time with people I care about
*some nice new summer clothes
*perfection in a light, flavorful lunch - Soup's On in Hampden.
*finding my sunglasses
*seeing another Verdi opera
*600 thread count sheets
*getting an A in my genetics class
*my Mother's Day card getting to Massachusetts in time (phew)
*Dayna + Kevin's happy news

on time

Time can be told in the opening of a flower,
Trumpet of dawn, flugelhorn of the sun
Sinking down. Noiseless explosions
Greet an attentive eye. And the ear

Is a flower, too, a welcome home for echoes,
Kisses, and cackles. Cauldron of starlight,
Tincture and blaring cry, whatever brushes
Your senses unlatches a doorway

Scoured by salt, vanishing as you plunder
The coffers of sleep. So you will know
What it means to be utterly free, floating

Without a hope, floating in hope, a medium
Fit for the being you have become, given
The bed you have made, the race you won.

-Phillis Levin



This issue (May 14th) is absolutely fantastic through and through. And perfectly timed.

passing the bar

Congratulations Mike, from one of your fans in Baltimore.

charm city scooter rally

It starts today.

retail therapy.

peridot earrings, courtesy of d.

More shopping to come this week. Really, it's the only way to get through getting older.

April 2007 - the books.

How To Cook A Tart, N. Killham
The Accidental Tourist, A. Tyler
Acquired Tastes, P. Mayle
The Stone Diaries, C. Shields
A Suitable Boy, V. Seth*


Two light and fluffy books (first and third), two depressing books (second and fourth), and finished with one of the longest novels ever published in the English language. I've always had an aversion to the ultra-long novel, they have such a stigma for being sisyphean (cue in everything I've ever heard about Middlemarch and Ulysses.) Having conquered this one nicely nullifies that. I'm all for dismantling self-imposed limitations.

By the way, the How to Cook a Tart book was written by a Washington Post food writer. While the plot goes round the bend at the end, the decadent food descriptions are well done and fun. Also, she mentions Sutton Place Gourmet, the former name of my current favorite posh food store, Balducci's.

the difference.

I continue to be conflicted about not trying out for the Charm City Roller Girls. On one hand, I love the idea. The comraderie. The (most likely) fascinating social circle. Plus, I may not have the semi-required sleeves of tatoos, but I do currently have the multicolored hair for it.

On the other hand, I've already broken my nose once, and I think the second time around's results won't be as benevolent.

I can ponder this more at this season's opener. How can you not be entranced by that flyer? Well played.

the isabella stewart gardner museum.

the museum of stones

This is your museum of stones, assembled in matchbox and tin,
collected from roadside, culvert, and viaduct,
battlefield, threshing floor, basilica, abattoir,
stones loosened by tanks in the streets
of a city whose earliest map was drawn in ink on linen,
schoolyard stones in the hand of a corpse,
pebble from Apollinaire's oui,
stone of the mind within us
carried from one silence to another,
stone of cromlech and cairn, schist and shale, hornblende,
agate, marble, millstones, and ruins of choirs and churchyards,
chalk, marl, and mudstone from temples and tombs,
stone from the silvery grass near the scaffold,
stone from the tunnel lined with bones,
lava of the city's entombment,
chipped from lighthouse, cell wall, scriptorium,
paving stones from the hands of those who rose against the army,
stones where the bells had fallen, where the bridges were blown,
those that had flown through windows and weighted petitions,
feldspar, rose quartz, slate, blueschrist, gneiss, and chert,
fragments of an abbey at dusk, sandstone toe
of a Buddha mortared at Bamiyan,
stone from the hill of three crosses and a crypt,
from a chimney where storks cried like human children,
stones newly fallen from stars, a stillness of stones, a heart,
altar and boundary stone, marker and vessel, first cast, lode, and hail,
bridge stone and others to pave and shut up with,
stone apple, stone basil, beech, berry, stone brake,
stone bramble, stone fern, lichen, liverwort, pippin, and root,
concretion of the body, as blind as cold as deaf,
all earth a quarry, all life a labor, stone-faced, stone drunk
with hope that this assemblage, taken together, would become
a shrine or holy place, an ossuary, immovable and sacred,
like the stone that marked the path of the sun as it entered the human dawn.

-Carolyn Forche

politics and pipettes

Indeed.

As Noel put it, it's like the bitch-ifying slime running under New York City in Ghostbusters. Things have just been uncomfortably off. And I can only hope the worst has passed.

the joys of research

Unexpected findings, such as rats....giggling.



Thanks, CuteOverload.

for mah peeps

You have to see this. Be sure to click on the slide show.

sympathy for the tummy

I am no restaurant critic. The pleasure of food defies a pinpointing description far too often for me. Frank Bruni can sleep at night, I'm not after his day job.

At the same time, I can't deny the small triumph of a dish that transcends mere sustenance to become, perhaps, the highlight of the evening. And the small satisfaction that comes from your lucky guess as to what might be the best thing on the menu.

So, here are some of my very favorite items, from some of the places I'm happy to frequent.

Some are places you suffer through abominable service to get to the food (Mezze, Taste). Others are spots where the atmosphere is part of the fun (Henninger's, Golden West, Pazo). And still others you likely don't notice anything, except the Ode to Joy your tastebuds are singing.

But all are dishes I adore.

Akbar - tamarind chicken, lamb pasanda
Attman's - rare roast beef
Blue Moon - cinnamon bun and eggs Benny
Bob's Noodle 66 - oyster pancake
Brewer's Art - rosemary garlic fries
Charles Theatre - the classic combination of popcorn and Junior Mints
Dipasquales - tuna diavolo
Dangerously Delicious - cherry pie (mixed berry running a close second)
Dukem - kitfo and lamb wot
Five Guys - little cheeseburger
Golden West Cafe - whole wheat blackberry pancakes, and Rose's cake (n.b. - the version with chocolate cake & mocha icing. An important distinction.)
Henningers - pan fried oysters with Pernod sauce
Helmand - kaddo borwani and kabouli
Jack's Bistro - smoked gouda grits
La Cazuela - plantains...in all their glory
Mama's on the Half Shell - raw oyster selection and diver scallops
Mezze - grilled mushroom
Nacho Mama's - ribs (best delivery in the [relative] 'hood)
Pazo - fish with pomegranite sauce
Petit Louis - cheese plate, but everything here is good
Salt - pecan-crusted venison with cherry foie gras spaetzle and ginger butter brussel sprouts
Samos - souvlaki
Sotto Sopra - lamb with gorgonzola risotto (a special- if you see it, order it)
Sushi Sono - rolls - some of the absolute best sushi I've ever had.
Tapas Teatro - the olive and cornichon amuse bouche
Taste - grilled Caesar
Teavolve - bubble tea
Thai Arroy - tom yum
Tio Pepe - sole with hollandaise



Feel free to comment...I'd like to hears others' suggestions or opinions.

March 2007 - the books.

Baltimore Noir, L. Lippman (ed.) *
Fierce People, D. Wittenborn (surprising - a dark horse *)
The Memory Palace of Isabella Stewart Gardner, P. Vigderman *
Never Let Me Go, K. Ishiguro *
Speaking With The Angel, N. Hornby (ed.) *
The Dante Club, M. Pearl
Snow Flower And The Secret Fan, L. See
The Shadow Of The Wind, C.R. Zafon *
The Lake of Dead Languages, C. Goodman
Possession, A. S. Byatt *

I've starred the ones I particularly enjoyed.