Matt and Jere and Christy

Christy Says

2001-08-20T14:54:34Z

Okay, first of all, I've been slack. I need to write about my impressions of two supperteams.

So last week...Viva Barcelona. Guests were Berk, with whom I bonded in a major way later that evening, and Hallie, who told us a lot about her shit--I wasn't grossed out though, it reminded me a bit of home in fact. Initial impressions can be deceiving, we discovered. We discovered it in the most charming possible way. We drove through suburbs and came to a glassy office building, part of which housed the restaurant. Jaguar in the parking lot. "Oh, I need a new hood ornament," Berk said. We walked in to find a demurely decorated, dimly lit place with couples in their fifties populating most of the tables. Waiters in tuxedoes. Supperteam and guests were dressed in varying degrees of casual. We thought, "Oh, no, another Lola's." We bravely sallied forth, though, requesting smoking. There was a special room and we got the largest table, marked by a peacock-esque bench attached ot the wall. Initially, it was awkward as the tuxedoed waiters attempted to make the huge table comfortable for a party of five. We sat and ordered the customary Long Islands. It became obvious then. We were clearly the people to see in the place. The waiters who were not our superspecial, supercharming Portuguese waiter all came to fill our water glasses and get a glimpse of our funloving anomaly. Charming, and delicious food. I had the salmon. It was the hugest piece of fish I have ever seen. Just enormous. And tasty. The side dishes--rice and steamed vegetables--were served on large platters. Our waiter, Marcello, served us from it, to save us the trouble. Jeremiah picked up a cigarette; Marcello insisted on lighting it. After dinner, Spanish coffee. Sex in a glass. I wanted to have sex with that drink so so much, were such a thing possible. They sang to us, the waiters did. We all felt so loved. Or maybe even like a celebrity. Someone to be fawned over, adored, taken care of in the best possible ways. It was a supperteam success, all the way.

Brief Synopsis of Events Occurring after Supperteam: Matthew, Berk, and I went to Manja. Matthew had to work early in the morning, so he left Berk and me at the bar. At closing time, we left. We walked the several blocks to the apartment. I discovered that my entire purse was in fact still at the bar. We beat on the door, but Matthew must have been asleep because he was definitely not answering. I was too drunk to accept the idea of sleeping in the stairwell all night, so I suggested that we walk somewhere for food. I had money in my jacket pocket. So we did. Walked all the way from the apartment to 117th Street, where we went to a diner and saw a transvestite and split a BLT and fries. We called Matthew with my change but he would only open the door. So we walked back, too. I should point out, I was wearing plastic shoes. When my feet started to burn and shriek, I simply took them off walking on Madison with no shoes at all and rejoicing over the broken sprinkler in front of a church. So during this walk of several miles Berk and I did a lot of talking (some of which I don't remember, it turns out). He's a cool guy, whose coolness is only increased by the facts that he walked all that way with me, checked the sidewalk for broken glass when I wasn't wearing shoes, and never once said, "You stupid bitch, leaving your purse at the bar." So it was a fiasco, yes, but also fun.

Last night's supperteam was a downhome kind of an affair. Matthew and I made things and we all ate at our apartment. Jere brought the makings of liquor soup. One bottle of extremely cheap citrus vodka, one bottle of extremely cheap tequila, and one bottle of extremely cheap rum. Do you see a theme here? There was something liberating about seeing all the bottles poured into a pitcher. It smelled deathly. We added orange juice and a little strawberry daiquiri mixer. It was definitely not as vile as we imagined. As Matthew said, "It's the sort of drink that really makes you appreciate what you're eating." We ate his vegetarian chili, which was good with the proper amount of spice. And I made six layer dip, mainly because there were no green onions at the grocery store. It came out nicely, and I was inordinately pleased. I'm a master chef now! Our guest, Tess, seemed to enjoy the offerings, though she drank pearl necklaces instead of liquor soup. I sort of regretted the relaxed version of supperteam she was getting; I hope she comes when we do our regular things. The best dinner companions make faces at you, but not when your mouth is full. Unfortunately, I think that's all I can say now. I've been far too long at this as it is.

And the bathroom? It was angry.

Matthew Says:

2001-08-15T00:27:21Z

It began with a look through the "Local Eating Guide" in the local copy and a quick phone call.

"Viva Barcelona"
"Yes, hi, I just wanted to confirm that you are open on Sundays."
"Yes we are."
"Do you have a Sunday liquor license?"
"Yes we do."
"Excellent. We'll see you in about an hour." *click*

OK, everybody pile into Matthew's little escort. He's driving.

drivedrivedrivedrivedrive

park.

Hey, this place is covered entirely in reflective black glass, it looks like. That's kind of... erm...

stoic.

Plus, also the swords used for handles on the front doors. The swords.

We walked in and there were old people having quiet polite conversation being waited on by short Spanish men in tuxedos. There was some sense of formality going on that boded ill. I don't mind telling you, we were all a little apprehensive. How little we knew.

"How many?"
"Five, for smoking."
"Right this way."

OHO! The smoking section is it's own room, with Spanish apertures that open to the rest of the place, these large indoor windows for us to peer through. Aside from an elderly couple, the smoking room is all ours. Especially the far bench with the elaborate headboard with the stylized peacock feather pattern and a beautiful woman painted on it. That's definitely ours.

There is a little tension as two tables are pushed together in front of the peacock bench and all but five place settings are cleared off. The waiters seem a little confused by us. We clearly do not fit, and we kind of clumsily arrange ourselves as best we can at the remaining place settings and are presented with a thick wine menu.

Our waiter arrives. Marcello. I will never forget him for as long as I live. He begins by asking us with brisk good cheer if we'd like to start with something to drink.

Wine menu? Wine? Anybody want... ? I didn't think so.
We'll have five long island iced teas. Please help us feel foolish by making them very strong and then having us be surprised when we realize that there's an extra lot of tequila in them. Thank you.

Have you noticed that these guys keep coming around to check us out? Have you noticed that our water glasses are never more than half empty before one of them comes around to refill us all.
With the exception of Marcello, I feel as if we're being waited on by incredibly polite, excited schoolboys who are anxious to see the new guests.

Yes! Burke is wearing a leather wrist cuff. Yes! We are the youngest people here. Yes! We are in extremely good spirits. And YES! We'd love to hear the specials for the day.

Broiled swordfish? Calamari over rice in a white cream sauce? Roost bebee goot? Oh my god yes Jeremiah will have the roast baby goat.

And there's more talk, and Marcello is amazingly charming, and Jeremiah goes to get a cigarette and Marcello is there with a lit match for him, hustling around the table before Jeremiah can get his lighter. It's almost embarrassing but completely enchanting. All sense of unhappiness is completely confounded.

Then the food arrives, carried by what looks like a small army of short Spanish guys in tuxedos, with Marcello in the lead. Who to start serving? Uhm...

I do the right thing by glancing in a deliberate way at Christy and Hallie. Marcello nods with his eyebrow arched knowingly. Always start with the ladies.

And he dishes out a starting sized portion of rice and shrimp for Hallie and we see that it's a whole giant fucking iron skillet full of rice with an entire layer of shrimp. Not the usual five shrimp, plus rice, but a whole layer of them.

And Christy gets her salmon (was it salmon? the fishy that she raved about so well?). And Marcello's co-workers are bringing the food in and Marcello is pointing to where the food should go and giving orders in Spanish and moving around the table, dishing it onto our plates for us, and does anyone want the gently steamed vegetables?
Vegetables? Whose are these? Everybody's!

Oh, GOD it's tasty.

And more drinks are ordered and Marcello gets back with them, passing them around. He looks at me and says "Eez veddy guud ah? Veddy strong, ah?" and then winks at me knowingly. Sure enough, round two is a fucking hammer in a glass.

Apparently one of the elderly people who share the room with us has a birthday, because the waiters all gather around and sing "Happy Birthday" in Spanish. They have some conversation and we hear mention of Marcello's birthday?

Birthday? Our friend Marcello? Hey, we hear it's your birthday. Really? Later this month?
Jeremiah insists that Marcello is turning 29.
(He admits it, Marcello does, that yes, he's turning 29.)

Then suddenly each of us picks up 5 years or so when Marcello tries to guess our ages. We reveal the truth and he looks happy and surprised and says that we're beautiful people. He says to me "So! You are the old man, ah? The big man!"

I point out that, while I may be the old man, Jeremiah is definitely the big man, which Marcello doesn't get until we're just getting ready to leave and Jeremiah finally stands up. Then Marcello exclaims in surprise and delight "AHA! You are veddy beeg!"

And the other waiters are now just hanging around the big Spanish windows just watching us and laughing and we're laughing too and when they bring desert they launch into song. All five of us are blushing furiously and charmed and giddy with delight. When we're getting up to leave, Marcello comes and shakes each of our hands personally. He sings for us, a special song about being in Spain and eating good food, and then presents us with a tray of almond liquor shots in five little brandy snifters. His parting gift to us. We thank him profusely, and we toast him, and it's delicious, and we're laughing because everything is so wonderful and all of the waiters are laughing with us and the delight is unstoppably infectious. We're so happy we're radiant as we leave, and all the way home. There's a pause in conversation and Hallie says "Roost bebee goot," and we all start laughing again. The next day for the first three hours of work I'm unabashedly beaming, and even now two days later I'm smiling for ear to ear thinking about it and I go back and read Jeremiah's account and I smile even harder and it still doesn't compare to how astronomically good the night was.

In retrospect, Jeremiah is correct. The food at Viva Barcelona was not as good as the food at Martini's. No matter. I do not remember an evening that felt more gloriously, unabashedly delightful.

Jeremiah Says

2001-08-13T02:41:25Z

I'm home first - Christy and Matthew went out for drinks after but I had to get Hallie to her car so I'm home.
I think I might have a lot more to say about Viva Barcelona, tonight's subject, than I can get into one post - but while it's still gidilly fresh I'll tell you a little something.
First of all - Go there. This is not optional. It's on Detroit in Westlake. Go there.

We must have magically charmed the staff because all throughout our waiter was constantly accompanied by at least three other very short latin guys. Very few of them spoke more than a splash of english and Marcellas - our waiter- claimed to have been in the states since 82 and his english was charmingly charmingly poor. He's portugese though - get him to be your waiter when you go. NO. Really.

The waiters all sang to us. They asked us to sing, they claimed that Hallie was from Hollywood and they doted on us to the point of cloying. They were amazingly amazingly great men.
I don't want to explain in great detail where we sat - just to say that we (me, Matthew, Christy, Burke and Hallie) had the whole of the smoking room to ourselves for most of our visit. This room had these windowlike aperatures into other parts of the resteraunt and at all times some of the little latin men were hanging through and checking us out. Whenever the chance arose they were engaging us in some way - taking turns bringing us water even. What we did to get this amazing amazing amazing treatment I cannot say - but I hope that the staff was as charmed as all of us were.

Marcellas runs down the specials and I hear Rooust Bebeee Goot. I decide I really want roast baby goat. I ask him what he reccomends anyway - just to be sure - and he waxes poetic about the Rooust Bebeee goot. Talks for a moment (kind of wonderfully incomprehensibly) about how rooust bebee peeg is not so good, but that rooust bebeee goot is bueno. Even does that thing where he kisses his fingers and snaps them.

The Roast Baby Goat was phenomenal. It was better than good - except not consistently so. The part that I refered to as the 'arm' was the least tasty. The part that I recognized as the 'head' was the best. But oh my god. The fact that the waiters served it up on my plate with care and panache didn't hurt matters any.

When desert ordering time comes around Matthew's not around. I tell the waiter to surprise him, or does Marcellos decide he's going to surprise him? I can't remember. While we drink cognac spiced coffee drinks (again not at all optional - have these - under all circumstances have these) the men of the place all come out all in their tuxeedoess - with a candle decorated hunk of Flan . They sing to us charmingly. They clap they sing again. They try to get Hallie to sing. It's amazing.

When we finally get around to checkout time I'm startled at first by the bill - so small?! But it's fakey. Not a cheap place, but it definitely seemed like a bargain considering the treatment we got.

Oh, the Flan by the way was perfect - the Tiramisu was really nice too.

But he comes out a bit later with apperatifs for us all. Shots of almond liquer. It's sublime we stand around and toast to Marcellos he shakes our hands, poses for photos, sings us songs- all the men of the place are watching and laughing along with us because none of us can stop laughing in pleasure and amazement.

When we leave? When we're walking back to his car - I look at Matthew and he looks at me and we double over laughing. It's been one of the best times I've ever had really. It's been glorious. It's been magical.

Down to brass tacks if you like: The food wasn't the equal to Martini's. It just couldn't be. I think if it were we all would have died right there. The atmosphere and the staff and the...EXPERIENCE was phenomenal. Just amazing amazing amazing. Delightful beyond words really. Seriously I'm almost teary.

Go there. Go there right now.

Matthew Says:

2001-08-11T03:42:52Z

The Long Islands were tasty indeed. Very slurpable.

The bathroom? It had a wooden sign nailed to it that said "MEN" and really looked like it meant it. The WWII newspaper clippings (real clippings) were pretty compelling and I wanted to stop and read them.

The company? Fantastic. After the Lola's debacle of a week ago, it was good to be really laughing out loud again. Our waitress obviously dug us as did the busboy, although I couldn't help but notice that the busboy was the only black guy in the place. Also the only busboy in the place, it turns out.

The food was tasty, but I was a bit sad at the lack of vegetarian meals on the menu. I was amused that the menu had a mission statement a few paragraphs long that could have been condensed to the word "steak". Even the soup seemed designed to go along with steak. Actually, I'm right with Jere on the subject of the beer and cheese post-fondue broth stuff. It really really needed for other tasty things to be dipped in it. For once, he and I are of one mind on the subject of sauce: someone tried to make soup out of it.

The spontaneous trip to the airport just to wander around also worked out well. Especially when the Girl From the End of the World refused to make out with Jeremiah on account of him calling her "food flavored garbage" earlier. I understand they've since made up.

Christy's guest was nice but a bit on the shy side. I can't blame him, really. He was gracious and all around enjoyable, and obviously acclimating to the social environment, having never met any of us in person before that day. Besides, what do you say at a table where a guy refers to his girlfriend as food flavored garbage?

Jeremiah Says

2001-08-10T17:58:47Z

Woah - forgetting my chores!
Okay - Supperteam was filmed before a live audience at the 100th bomber group. A neat place down by the airport made up to look like a WWII military camp. It's really pretty neat - I mean, sure there's ambience like a military surplus store, but that's definitely something. Lot's of VE newsclippings and specialty drinks named after bomber groups. The Long Islands came fast and furious - bigger and better than any I've had yet. (Though still - Martini's remains the pinacle of the supperteam experience) The Mai Tais were tasty and good - so was the bloody 100 (they're cunning name for the bloody mary)
We gorged ourselves pretty thoroughly too.
I started out with the reuben bits - these reuben fixins in fillo dough. Tasty, but only I liked them. The bread was actually the best we've yet had in my estimation.

The Girl From the End of the World was my guest - Christy brought Darby out on their first date. He's cute I think - good eyes.
Um... Matthew and I had the Beer Cheese soup which was actually pretty much just fondue - but tasty fondue.
The stuffed Filet Mignon was not so stuffed as I expected but still rather tasty - still not up to Martini's if you're in a comparing mood.

Really the best thing to reccomend the 100th bomber group was our Waitress - Betty I think? She was so typically a woman of the west side - I was in love. Abrasive and harsh voice - always a bit too loud - but instead of yelling at you like you think she is - she's actually being really nice and cool. So - betty. Oh and the Busboy who was superhelpful and kept trying to take things away we weren't done with. He was all beleaguered seeming and I really wanted him to sit for a drink with us.

One table over from us was the Mullet man. Tank top wearing mullet man. It was really all I could do not to try to capture him for my human zoo.
Afterward we went to the airport for laughs. Big ones.

I dunno - really the 100th bomber group was a good time - but we needed pictures of us clowning around there to spell it out better. So shame on Christy.

Make sure you yell shame! whenever you see her okay?

Christy says

2001-08-09T01:13:42Z

Well, it's Wednesday, and none of us has posted yet about the supperteam experience. Why not? I think we're either too hot, too lethargic, or too busy. Or some combination of the above.

We went to a restaurant whose name I don't remember. It had to do with WWII and bombers and war memorobilia on the walls. So picturesque and our waitress so simultaneously pleasant and harsh. It was a shame that I forgot my camera. Slack on my Supperteam duty. Guests were Jess and my new internet friend Darby. It had to be rather strange for him, but he seemed to enjoy our hi-jinks.

The drinks were good (hugest Long Island I've ever seen and a mai tai), but I made a poor decision when ordering an entree. I got the crab cakes. I think I expected the breed of crab cake that I now realize is indigenous to the Chesapeake Bay region. Something tangy with a focus on Old Bay seasoning. These were kind of bland and tomato-y. I wish I had opted for something else. Steak maybe, since that is the majority of the restaurant's philosophy.

The bathroom was not as themed as I had hoped.

That's all I can garner the energy to say. Hopefully my comrades will improve upon my read of the situation.

Jeremiah Says

2001-08-03T17:18:00Z

Well - I haven't had the internet all week. The internet is like cable - it goes out sometimes.
Anyway - Matthew has been good enough to let me borrow a cup of his internet so here I am.

Late in the game -
Lola. Well, my girlfriend was there and it would have been nice if her first foray into supperteam worked a little better. Would have been good for Jen too? Hallie's now a supperteam altranate I think - so maybe we should let her post too? Nah. Something tells me her positions on food would tend to inadvertently depress people. Haha.

Um - well - Yeah, Lola.
Lola sucked.
Lola is the place you take a girl if you're a big looser yuppie (like the other looser yuppies at the place) when you want to impress her not with your good taste and cleverness with wine-lists and exotic beers - but where you go when you want to throw around a lot of money in vain.
Really the place has a kind of pompus air that makes it totally unenjoyable. I can't un-reccomend it enough. Seriously.
The only draft beer is Guiness. The fact that the only draft beer is guiness is offensive and stupid in so many ways. First of all - guiness is unpalatable to very very many people. Second - fuck you! That whole dark beer + America thing is just farcical. Now - it would have been okay if they had the reasoning persons' alternative to snooty pretensious icky beer- the Bass ale. Bottled even by Guiness. But no. No - they have only that and the icky anchor steam instead of Rolling Rock the cunning persons' cheap alternative to bass.
So - instead of having good things - Lola had expensive showy things. That's the atmosphere there. Fella's? If you know girls who are easily impressed by money thrown around extravagantly - Lola might be a good datespot(don't take your friends though - fun is frowned on there)
Girls? If a boy tries to impress you by taking you to Lola - it means you could easilly sodomize him with any number of objects. On the first date. (It's because he's an asshole)

Um - yeah.
Oh and hey! I'd like a shout out for reccomendations - Anybody know any good places to try sunday?

Matthew Says:

2001-08-02T16:01:38Z

Usually all three of us would have posted about our Supperteam goings-on this past Sunday by now. Notice that we haven't yet, really.

The food was very good, the bathroom was nice, the place was good looking, the company was great.

It was also completely not the place for Supperteam. We are invariably loud and happy and fun. Lola's is the place you go when you want to have quiet, sophisticated conversation and eat very tasty but high-priced foods. Not that I'm against quiet, sophisticated conversation, but this is not what we seek on Sunday evening.

Our waiter was clearly hostile towards us. We did not fit the Lola's image. We were spoiling the high class, stoic atmosphere.

*grumble**grumble*

Fuck those people.

The wine list, by the way, includes $400 bottles of wine. No kidding.

Christy says

2001-07-30T22:13:42Z

Lola's. The food was great. The wine fantastic. The company as brilliant as usual (Guests were Jess--filling in for me vis a vis the powder blue; Hallie--with new eyes; and Jenn--with a hankering for goat cheese). There were even three things to love about the bathroom. Somehow, in spite of all this, all was not right. For lack of the special liquor license, supperteam couldn't indulge in the customary round of Long Islands. Our waiter was hostile and fairly patronizing. He scowled when we ordered a bottle of wine, he unnecessarily explained to me what "pan-seared tuna" is, he--well, you get the idea. There wasn't enough refilling of the water glasses, forcing Matthew to drink fry grease. Apparently, all the snoot in the air was because they want you to eat their trendy foods and be serious about it. Supperteam exudes fun! We share forks and stories of insane young men. We take pictures with a disposable camera and laugh hard about too many things. Hence, pariahs at Lola's. Everything was tasty, but I'm not sure I would recommend the place to funloving types.

Oh, and the three things to love about the bathroom. 1)I was instantly charmed by the exotic flower in a bud vase attached to the stall door. 2)An ashtray over the sink. 3)Complimentary tampons in a chic glass bowl behind the toilet. I meant to take a picture, but I forgot to venture back in there with my camera.

The Food:

2001-07-25T14:32:46Z

2x Blue Strip Steak
4x Long Island Iced Tea
1x Brie En Croute
1x Asparagus Tart
1x Salmon
2x Chocolate Mint Martini
1x Key Lime Tart
1x Creme Brulee
1x Berries Foster

Matthew Says:

2001-07-25T14:29:21Z

There was a lot of preliminary grousing. More or less bad days all around. I was pretty much ok, but in the mood mostly for relaxed fun. After some back-and-forth about where to eat, Jeremiah says:

Hey, there's this Martini's place. Didn't you say the food here was good?
Oh my fucking god did I ever.

The Ambiance (not food items)
It was somehow incredibly appropriate that we were the only people in the dining room. It was us, the lady Dee, and some of her friends at the bar. It was explained to us that they're usually pretty slow on Sundays. We pretty much had the place to our selves, which fuckin' rawked.

There was a lot of green, the chairs were sturdy wood. About half of the light came from triangular sconces. The decor was nice.

And the menus! The food menu is one sheet of paper, with medium sized print on both sides. That's it.
The drink menu comes in a freaking binder, man.

The waitress (and, we would later find out, also bartender and cook) did something strange to my head, I'm sure. Jere and Christy will confirm that she wasn't exactly the model of modern beauty. They will also confirm that this didn't matter at all. I was so damned turned on by her.

Finally, the men's bathroom wasn't terribly interesting. It was clean and functional and had large posters advertising hard liquor and Kamel cigarettes.

The Eats (food items)

When I ordered my now traditional Long Island Iced Tea she replied "Good choice. I make a killer Long Island." Then Jere and Christy each also ordered one. They were delicious. The only other Long Island I've had that was comparable tasted like a very tasty blend of hard liquor. Dee's Long Island tasted like iced tea. Mine hit me pretty hard and I'm not sure why.

The food was unbelievably good. If you're ever in Cleveland and you can hack the prices, I recommend this place highly. Demandingly, even.

In sticking with my vegetarian tendances I had the Salmon (fishies are ok to eat sometimes, brave though they may be), which was smooth and tasted lightly of lemon and some strange, gentle herb mixture. The brie was delicious. Ditto Jeremiah's asparagus tart. I dig me some caramelized onions.

But this doesn't even cover it remotely. We were stunned and delighted and for one brief moment actually drooling. We began exhibiting physical symptoms from the richness and just unspeakable tastiness of the food. Jeremiah broke out in a visible sweat during dessert. When Dee came back and asked if there was anything else, Jeremiah asked with genuine interest:

"Is there anything else you'd like to prepare?" .... which was code for ...

"Goddamn, woman, everything that you make is gold. Anything else that you think maybe we should try, we'll find the room in our already way way too fucking full stomachs."

At which point she put her hand on her no-nonsense hip and said with a smile "Honey, I just want to prepare to get out of here."

Oh my what a great evening. I still felt full three hours later. Felt full. Three hours later.

Christy says

2001-07-24T02:09:22Z

I wasn't sure how it would be. We all seemed a little...cranky, maybe? Blame the heat and absence of guests. Matthew was a big proponent of inviting a random person from the coffeeshop and/or bar, but that smelled of trouble. We were going to one place, a place I bet we were bound to look down our noses at (seeing as how we always manage to make snide remarks about the clientele when we walk past), but we stopped at Martini's instead.

Decor, green dining room. Everything about it was green. Culinary emerald city! We were the only people in the dining room. The single staffperson, Dee, permitted us to choose the music. Because the disco was just not going to work.

The food was so phenomenal. Wow. The fruits that came with the baked brie were preferable to the brie itself. Fresh and delicious, mmmmm. Strawberries to trade your soul for, yes. I haven't had steak that good in a long, long time. Mashed potatoes were good but so pepper-intensive that I could feel it in my eardrums. Decorative squashes. Dessert. She was trying to kill me, with cloyingly delicious berries foster. The fact that my plate was black was more than a little symbolic, I say. So much sweetness and richness, every bite was giving me intense shudders. The drinks were fabulous, too. Long Islands just like tea. I daresay the initial round of long islands is becoming a supperteam staple. Only Matthew seemed to feel it, but I contend it's because he's a slurper. Then Jere and I tried the Mint Chocolate Martini. I dug the way it was served--in a flask, nestled in a glass bowl/ice bucket thing. But it was so very brown. And the taste, while delicious, seemed like one that should have been paired with a solid food, not a beverage. Very potent, also. With dessert, it was all the pathway to destruction. Tooth decay, adult onset diabetes, heart disease, the works. But magnificently tasty! I'm the resident craveologist. I know from tasty.

Once we were there, it was a good time, despite initial misgivings. We took advantage of having a whole room to ourselves. Matthew drooled excessively, topping the list of disgusting sights for the week. There were, as usual, plenty of insults flying around the table. But we laughed hard, and it bettered my impression of the weekend as a whole. Meals should always be so pleasant.

(The bathroom was not impressive. Small, gray, with an empty sanitary product dispenser. Where are all the exciting ladies' rooms in Cleveland?)

Jeremiah Says

2001-07-23T15:37:07Z

Get right to it.
Martini's on Madison is the destination - sort of randomly come by actually. The girl-from-the-end-of-the-world couldn't come, her kittie is too sick. But Tim Hutton and His girl the Marauder not coming? It's too terrible I'm pissed at my friends' lack of wherewithall.
Speaking of Wherewithall - if you've got it, and the means - I'm going to reccomend Martini's. But seriously. It's not even a little bit cheap and it's punishingly good. Punishingly good.
In case you didn't catch that - Punishingly good.
The baked brie is always a great choice. I liked it well - but I always want crackers with it instead of bread.
The Asparagus and onion tart was very strong as well. Now - at this point it was all pretty rich, but the Long Islands really tasted exactly like iced tea (this is a first for me) and we weren't exactly checking our rich-food-o'-meter to tell us that well yes! This is going to kill you all.
And it didn't either, but almost. I'm pretty sure none of us used the bathrooms - which is a big failure! We fail.
Oh, my teeth still hurt? They so do.
But before the fatal desert that actually caused me to prespire (no really) there was the blue strip steak. I assert here with some certainty that I have never tasted anything so good. I... I? I'm stymied.

Let others go on. I'm spent with only the remembering.
Ultimately I was put out completely, unable to even attempt enjoying the unporn at the Nametaghouse. It's so true - I fell right asleep.

Christy says:

2001-07-16T22:11:18Z

Let's talk cuisine first. I liked all the drinks we had; they were sweet and fruity and generally foo-foo. Watermelon daquiri is like summer in a glass. The menu was a little daunting at first; all those trendy world dishes. I had my share of the appatizers (that slather was amazing; I could see myself buying a tub of it, were that available) and a mushroom/black-bean quesadilla. It was pretty damn good, but I think maybe I was hoping for default cheese. I expect cheese any time a tortilla is involved. The dessert was this creamy, mousse-y chocolate cake. I enjoyed that, except I had to share with Hallie who got me comparing the rasberry sauce on the plate to menstrual fluids. I was compelled to use the word "clot" in a sentence. Actually, I just realized that Johnny Mango's is the restaurant of condiments. We had all that salsa and slather and some special sauce for the tofu and plenty of sour cream with the quesadillas and the raspberry sauce and an entire bowl of whipped cream. I ate so much that my center of gravity was effectively altered.

Our company was excellent. We were lewd at the dinnertable, but it was all out of love, right? There was discussion of Iron Chef, which always delights me. I didn't get to speak to Dawn very much, though, because our table was huge and she was more in Matthew's chatting range. We took pictures of the supperteam and our guests, as well as the bartender. I think this is the heart of why supperteam is a good idea--having a nice meal with people you enjoy talking to.

Ladies' room: A bore. Painted drab olive with one messy but well-lit stall and one poorly-lit stall which seemed to be clean, but that could have been the lighting. Not a chalkboard to be had! The walk there was somewhat interesting what with its counterintuitive signage. Nice murals of gigantic tropical flowers and stairways taking you in every direction.

Matthew Says:

2001-07-16T14:01:46Z

The strawberry long island iced teas were tasty, but not nearly the hammer-in-a-glass that were the long islands of Alfonso's Tuscan last week.

The men's bathroom wasn't much to speak of, except for the chalkboard above the lone urinal. No chalk was to be had, though. The walk to get to the bathrrom was actually more interesting than the bathroom itself.

The appetisers were an all around good idea. If you ever end up at Johnny Mangos, I recommend Bread and Slather with a side dish of salsa. The slather is a spicy bean paste and the salsa sure looked like they made it fresh in the kitchen. The combination was super tasty.

The company was stellar. From the moment we appropriated the biggest table in the place (and ended up using all of it, what with the appetisers and all) to the moment we were leaving and Petey ended up absent-mindedly rubbing her full tummy at an enthralled middle aged man, it was pure gold. Dawn did actually go up to the guy bartender and ask to take his picture and did actually request "Please articulate your neck for me". King Tycoon and WittyNightOwl (EFF) had just a titch of their godawful banter, but left it pretty much alone. This is probably because most of it had got out of their system at Zeke's party.

We were all crazy full by the time the (complimentary) dessert came out with more drinks.

We also got pictures of both Supperteam and our delightful guests for the evening. Those'll be posted shortly.

The word of the day is: crapulence.

Jeremiah says:

2001-07-16T10:29:01Z

Johnny Mango was pretty okay I think. The overall experience was extra gold actually - but the food? Eh, I think it was a little overpriced. (My word of warning to the wise consumer - Johnny Mango is not not not 'lots for cheap')- still there was some neat stuff to eat. I think my favorite thing was the cornbread and 'slather' which is a much much better idea than butter. The rice for my flanksteak was all the scrapings from the bottom of the cooker and I didn't like that so well.
Chris - the guy from way back? Remember him? Well - maybe only I do, anyway - he was our waiter and sweetie that he is - didn't charge us for the truly sublime dessert. Good for us. Dawn came out and I think she was really amazed by just how vulgar Christy and I were prepared to be to each other and the resteraunt as a whole - but whatchagonnado eh? I mean - I found a lot of laughs at the bottom of the first pitcher of drinks. Hallie was out-o-her-mind with it too (she can only drink scotch - everything else leads to a mess on the carpet).
But boisterous. Yeah - I even graffittoed the bathroom with my foolishnes (there's a chalkboard over the urinal) oh - and the corridor leading to the bathroom was the part of the resteraunt that really brought the place's decor together - that corridor...I liked it - even when the crazy girls were shouting at each other on the stairway and wouldn't let me by.
Um - I thought she looked like she was in her forties - well preserved, but I knew.

Dinner at Johnny Mango's

2001-07-16T05:05:08Z

Here is the list of tonight's fare in total:

Chips and Salsa
Bread and Slather
Bermuda Fries (fried banana slices)
Fried Tofu
2x Miso Soup
2x Beef Quesadia
Mushroom Quesadia
Bean and Feta Quesidia
Flank Steak
A pitcher of Strawberry Long Island Iced Tea
A pitcher of Watermellon Margarita
2x mai tais had by King Tycoon and The Lemon Merchant.
2x Chocolate Pate w/ whipped cream and raspberry sauce

Our guests for the evening were DawnDawn and Petey Townshend, who were both delightful.

supperteam @ 2001-07-10T23:56:00

2001-07-11T03:52:42Z

The waitress wore a bent cocktail fork as a tie clip.
The resturaunt was populated mostly by the elderly.
The Long Island Iced Teas were, indeed, well mixed.
The bathroom caused psychic distress, but was clean. Cutesy things about using the bathroom never fail to hurt my brains.
The food was ok. Not stellar, but ok. For the price, it's a good deal. I was only a bit disappointed that the ceasar salad came with creamy italian dressing instead of regular italian. I think of ceasar salads as being a sharp salad. This whole creamy dressing thing doesn't quite jive.

On the other hand, the waitress brought us the drinks pretty quickly, which was also quite nice.

I am generally unfond of places that force female employees to wear ties, but I am quite fond of women who wear ties of their own volition. I [heart] chicks in ties. Pity they don't make a dress that you can wear nicely with a tie.

supperteam @ 2001-07-10T22:34:00

2001-07-11T02:54:18Z

The Lemon Merchant was indeed cranky, and it took a lot of cajoling to get him to trade dreams of the bar for mundane restaurant realities. The place was named Alfonso's. I know this because I went there twice in the same weekend, once with a lunatic! Although I didn't mention it before, I did in fact sit at the same table both times.

I never know how to feel about places that make girls wear neckties. What is that?

The Long Islands were well-mixed, I thought. And the food was good--fresh vegetables and all that jazz. I especially like the way red peppers look like slices of raw meat, or maybe disembodied tongues, nestled in the pasta. And Jere's salad dressing did strangely resemble the product of some bodily function. Very mucous-like. Maybe it was tasty?

This is the first time I've ever heard of the guys getting the more interesting bathroom. The ladies' had nothing better than a line drawing of a man's head peeping out of a toilet with the admonishment "PLEASE!! NO NAPKINS OR SANITARY PRODUCTS!" Maybe the toilet is his home and our plastic tampon applicators will choke him to death in his natural habitat. How would you like it if someone choked you to death in your own home?

And so the vow is on. Sunday is a nice day for dinners. I'm usually pretty tired from the rest of the weekend for much of anything else. And as for next week? Hmm...new Steak n Shake is next door. Complete with patronizing "n"!

Inauguration

2001-07-10T16:04:54Z

Matt and Christy and Me decided...well, I decided and they accepted. Every sunday I'll treat - dinner for us and guests - every week a new venue. The family that dines together on sundays etc...

As for our first attempt? I'm stymied actually - can't recall the name of the place to save my life. Little italian joint kitty-corner to the plaza with the commongrounds/keybank. Food is okay, stay clear of the sweet and sour poppyseed dressing though - it's more of a sauce than a dressing, but even Matthew wouldn't touch it. The long island iced tea was the drink special and we each had one. Rather, Christy had one, Matt had his and half of mine, couldn't palatte the liquor to well sunday actually.
I dunno, the food was okay. I'm zero epicurian - but they had sort of mediocre bread but good oil to dip it in. Um... oh - Matthew was in the middle of a day-long vexation festival. It was really all I could do to try and soothe him with liquors and zanieness. The bathroom I think cured him finally though. Golf lesson as penis holding technique... and Picky Picky is the poster. Maybe christy will tattle about the girl's bathroom. It was clean anyway, just a little psychically harming.

So that's that. Next sunday? Who knows where?