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| - I always make a point to inquire as to what people do for Christmas dinner. This is easily mistaken as an interest in learning and understanding other cultures, when in reality I'm just looking for a scapegoat.
Just once, when someone screams "YOU EAT CHEF BOYARDEE FOR CHRISTMAS!?" at me, I'd like to be able to say "oh yeah...well [insert your name] eats [insert something like but not necessarily puppy tails and applesauce]!"
For like, a long time, my family have made hand-made ravioli for Christmas. It's a long and laborious process that takes up the better part of a Sunday afternoon. So naturally that's when I decided to pick up a gift certificate for someone from Tammie Coe.
We're almost knuckle deep in flour and grated cheese when I call to see when they close.
The ravioli was going to take us 2-3 hours to finish.
And guess how much longer Tammie Coe was open? That's right, 2-3 hours.
The smell of dough still fresh on my threads, Misty S and I jetted (or should I say "jetta'd"...fuck you) to central phoenix to pick up the gift certificate before the dogs realized they preferred raw dough to dog food.
Now, I had been to Tammie Coe quite a few times, usually in tow with Amanda B. Since layers of delicious frosting tend to clash with layers of expensive makeup, I usually opt out of eating any of their tasty treats. I simply sip on a peach tea and pretend I'm not starving for some fucking cake.
But there we were, on a Sunday morning, dressed in our pajamas, having missed breakfast and looking forward to three hours of pasta-making.
Misty S said looking at all the food made her hungry.
Well, yeah.
Saying that Tammie Coe doesn't make you hungry is like saying Bandaids doesn't bring you deep, deep shame.
So along with the gift certificate we got two chicken salad sliders, a peach tea, iced chai, and one of those giant chocolate chip cookies I like to call "diabetes frisbees".
The sliders were all kinds of delicious. Even my veg-leaning squeeze thought so. And considering the prices at other places in the area, you're not going to beat a $2 sandwich. Unless you rob the place.
Would a yelp review count as evidence in court?
"Your honor, I present to you Exhibit Y, where the defendant writes 'and as I walked out of the restaurant, money in hand, the cowering hostess muttered to me 'thank you for coming, have a nice day'. Three stars for outstanding hospitality."
The peach tea was, as expected, great. I almost wish someone would find a way to fuck up peach tea so I could judge how good all this tea I've been drinking really is. The few sips I had of Misty's iced chai latte were above and beyond Starbucks quality.
But then again, what isn't?
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