Archive Page 33

Pay to play

Quelle surprise.

FroYo

This might not be on everyone’s mind, but from time to time I find myself wondering about frozen yogurt. Do you? Specifically, do you think about how it was really big in the early 1990s and then suddenly it was nowhere and now it seems to be back and no one is acknowledging its former absence? Because I do. I think about that more than I should.

So today I wandered over to the omniscient Wikipedia to see if I could get any confirmation for my thoughts and lo and behold, I’m not completely off base. Turns out, if the article is to be believed, yogurt came to the US in the early 1900s and the frozen variety started to pop up in the 1970s. TCBY opened its first store in 1981. Being that all trends take longer to hit the midwest, I don’t take this as inconsistent with my early 1990s memory of frozen yogurt treat nights. Apparently, the demise of frozen yogurt was due to the Atkins-esque crazes of the late 1990s. So why the resurgence? Something about “probiotic powder-based mixes” and Pinkberry. There you have it. Mystery solved. Kinda.

Tulum: the food

I’ve been bad about following up on travel posts in the past, so I bet you thought I was heading down that road again. Waha! I fooled you. See, here I am and I’m prepared to break down our culinary tour of Tulum. Or, I’m sort of prepared. I’ve got pics, but my memories have already faded so bear with me. Plus, it’s annoyingly cold outside so looking at these pics might make me more bitter than nostalgic. In any event, here goes. When you tell people you are going to Tulum, they will tell you many things, but frequently you hear that you simply must eat at Posada Margherita (on the beach) and El Camello (in the town). So, of course we ate at neither of these top spots. Oops. We decided that it just meant that we’d have to return.

Anyway, where did we go, you wonder? Well, here you go. We had absolutely delicious breakfasts at our hotel, Posada Luna del Sur. It’s true. They. Were. Amazing.

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The second day that I ordered this delicious egg and salsa verde number, it came with crema, which made me sad. I suppose that’s what I get for not branching out.

Oh! I almost forgot! This breakfast shown above was actually our second meal in Tulum. The first came the night before at Charlie’s, which was a couple of blocks from the hotel. I had a quesadilla and AO had something I can’t remember, but I know that he didn’t think it was very good. The more memorable part of the evening, though, was when the restaurant was bombarded by some sort of postmodern avant-garde small theater troupe that put on what I can describe only as bizarreness. I know I’m kind of a cultural-stick-in-the-mud anyway, but this was just odd. There was a group of America’s Next Top Model contestants sitting next to us (ok, not really, but there was something going on) wearing weird hats and some of them seemed to think the whole thing was so awesome that they took out their phones and videotaped it all. I can’t really explain it except to say that the troupe was maybe five people and one skit (I’m sure that’s an offensive term for what they were doing but I don’t know what else to call it) was about selling shoes. There were possibly some political overtones to the whole thing, but I couldn’t tell you because it was all in Spanish.

Mostly we ate in town, though we had a few meals/snacks on the beach. In town, we had yummy nachos, fish and shrimp fajitas (we ended up taking almost all of the fajitas back to the hotel) at El Capitan.

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One morning, we skipped our hotel’s breakfast to try breakfast in town. We settled on Don Cafeto and ended up more lunching than breakfasting.

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We had a beer at Mateo’s, which is not on the beach but in the beachy part of Tulum.

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On the beach, we ate chips and guac at Playa Paraiso, which were quite tasty. Plus, is there anything in the world like sitting on a warm beach in January and having someone bring you drinks and guacamole? I can’t think of much.

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We also ate absolutely delicious Thai appetizers at Mezzanine, which is a really neat place. It’s up on a hill, above the beach, with great views, tasty food and yummy margaritas. For some reason, I don’t have great pics of it. I think I was too busy pinching myself for being so lucky.

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Another highlight was La Nave, which is an Italian spot in the pueblo. This is where we had delicious pizza, toasted to 40 and listened to street musicians do a bang-up version of La Bamba.

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Excellent, excellent pizza.

The number one spot that we hit, though, was here:

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Antojitos La Chiapaneca. This place opens at night and gets crowded, which makes sense because the tacos are delicious and inexpensive. I’m really annoyed that I don’t have pics of the actual deliciousness. I guess we’ll just have to go back.

Wisconsin 2015

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This is 40 (Yahoo!)

A billion years ago, my mom told me that it was perfectly acceptable to decline to be weighed at the doctor’s office. Years later, Doc Heather confirmed the accuracy of my mom’s report. Despite these wise women’s words, I never used my voice to ask not to be put on the scale. The most I had ever braved on this front was saying meekly to the nurse, “I don’t want to look.” Often, this was met with mucho respect. The nurse would go out of her way to shield me from the computer screen or whatever other papers would show the numbers. Other times, not so much. Today, though, I was staring down the barrel of a doc appointment to look at some itchy splotches on my right calf that have been there for months that, according to the interwebs, could either be (a) eczema or (b) cancer. What’s more is that said appointment was going to directly follow a lunch I was required to attend to listen to the Administration defend its budget proposal. Add to that that I’m swamped at work and feeling like there’s not enough time to do anything well in any arena, and I was just not feeling the scale. Plus, I have a regular physical in June so what in the world is the point of adding insult to injury? I remembered my mom and Heather’s advice, and told myself, “Today is the day. Today is the day I say, ‘Uh, can we skip that wretched machine that discounts all of my positive attributes and shows me an ugly number that will make me feel bad forever? Please!’ Yes, today is the day.” So, I steeled myself. I drove to the appointment, parked, checked in, got kicked off of the self-check-in kiosk because I admitted I’d traveled outside of the country in the past 21 days, was gently told I broke the kiosk, was asked about Ebola and corpses, used the restroom, sat down in the waiting room, stood up when a nice woman asked if I were ‘Kate’ and told me that the nurse had called my name, and then nearly lost all of my resolve when I relaized that the nurse assigned to my appointment was male. Why would this matter? I’m not so sure, except I think I worried that maybe by asking not to be weighed I’d be fulfilling some sort of stereotypical ‘women can’t handle the truth’ nonsense. In any event, it didn’t take long before I snapped back to reality and my courage returned. The nurse made his polite introduction and said, “And then if you’ll just come this way and we can get your weight.” He swerved to the right, ever-so-slightly. I said, quickly, “Actually, can we not do that?” He swerved back into his lane and took a left, saying, “Sure. No problem.” And that was that. And this is 40.