spicy review

Time for a wrap.

X is still studying for the Bar but is within about 10 days of having the entire mess behind her. She’ll be testing next Tuesday and Wednesday down yonder.

We all headed to the Farrah Olivia portion of Kora for dinner on Saturday night and were pretty disappointed, at least The Eleven was. If I held up his restaurant at the old location as a 100, I gave this iteration an 85; X gave it an 80 as were driving home. Her stance was solid since one of her four courses was completely off. Pure math on that one. Of course, there’s no way this idea of hosting nights in a largish room inside his brother’s restaurant was going to work well from the get-go. From just a logistical point of view, I don’t know how they separate the kitchen for work even though I tried to peek and catch a glimpse of what was happening in there. Second, Kora isn’t a good restaurant by any stretch of the imagination so weaving something fabulous within it presents all sorts of issues. I’ll give you a few examples. The bathrooms aren’t very nice. Seems petty but when you’re dropping $100 per person then there are some expectations. The bread, though good, was served in the crappy Kora metal baskets with big placemat-sized crinkly paper with maps of Italy on them. The dishware, though it appears to be the same set from Farrah Olivia, wasn’t presented with nearly the detail (or the staff didn’t know how to serve) as the old place. Lots of finger prints on the edges and overall they just weren’t up to shiny snuff. The wait staff was questionable, at best. I know it’s probably impossible to get his old crew back but our section of tables (four) had one waiter and he struggled to keep up….severely. And finally, I held my bitter, pointy tongue to this point…I gotta hit the hostess. I know how catty this sounds, but they are sharing the hostess between the two ‘restaurants’ and her Saturday night apparel was shocking. I need to really sort out the right vocab here – cover your ears or eyes if you are easily offended: she had on some sort of cat-like print skirt that pretty much enabled me to date, to the day, the last time she had a Brazilian. I didn’t need mirrors on my shoes or pretend to drop some change in order to catch a look. Considering that she spent every other step yanking down on the skirt as she walked might explain something. What I found completely strange about the entire ‘skirt’ situation was that as we were leaving, and the hostess station was vacated, she had changed from her ‘skirt’ into a pair of jeans…on a Saturday night. At the hold place, I believe his wife acted as manager/owner/hostess and it was a pleasant, high-end experience; this was more Lady GaGa. Or S*&*chy Spice (that might have been offside) Overall, the food was familiar as Morou’s but it was off a by some margin. C. said he didn’t see him in the kitchen when he peeked so we have no confirmation of his presence. The more I think about the night the lower my score goes – it’s probably more of a 75 by now. Hopefully, there will be a new place soon because there are two serious strikes in the books: the first being the claim that he was ‘cooking’ at Kora and now this misfire in his ‘relaunch’. All of us have Cedar easily jumping to the top of our favorite list.

L. and I saw a fantastic show, The Cripple of Inishmaan, at the Kennedy Center on Saturday afternoon. I’d bought through the half-price booth in D.C. and we ended up in the front row, stage right, which is generally too close for my taste, such a snob. But, upon further review a bit of slumping down made it easier and I had about seven feet of legroom which easily overrides our proximity issue. Every stinking one of the cast members was memorable, exceptional, and dreamy. Perfectly delivered lines with impeccable timing and character-ly enclosed. I’d say it’s probably the best show I’ve seen outside of Streetcar and Lost in Yonkers. Quite pleasing.

** If you’re a North Parker, stop reading.

We had pizza last night that was solid but not quite perfect. The problem was that I was wearing a skirt that was way too short – oh, never mind, that’s another story. The problem was that I tried to build up from my initial idea of Gorgonzola dolce and didn’t quite make it to the summit. I came up with spinach, leeks, garlic, sun-dried tomatoes, Kalamata olives, and a parmesan/gouda white sauce the roast pine nuts. The taste of the cheese didn’t really come through but not because of the other ingredients – the whole thing just feel steps short from my goal. The only other time I started with the Gorgonzola I was able to move on to fresh figs and then have the entire thing come just right.
Right. I’m blabbing.

I’ll leave.

t

** There are no guests at Pizza Night until after the Bar Exam. Time restraints and whatnot.