April 9, 2010 – What a Cheese Spread

9 Apr

1:30 pm

Rio Brasil

steak ipanema

side of rice

side of black beans

1 can of Coke Zero

I wanted to go to Roy Choi’s new non-truck eatery Chego for lunch, only find out that they’re only open for dinner with no immediate plans for lunch. Ah well. Chego is next door to Rio Brasil, a Palms hole-in-the-wall that’s as charmingly rustic as can be. The waitress doesn’t speak English and there is no menu, just a couple of dishes scribbled on a dry-erase board and a placard with six pictures. I saw feijoada, a black bean and meat stew that’s the national dish of Brazil, but their cash only policy (despite the sign on the door saying they take it) precluded me from ordering it. In fact, my only option was the lunch special, which was just an overcooked piece of flank steak cooked with onions and garlic. The beans were good, and mixed with the giant heap of farofa on the plate, made an excellent meal in itself. I’ll have to come back with enough cash next time to try the feijoada.

8 pm

a lot of cheese and crackers

2 glasses of red wine

2 glasses of white wine

My friend Robyn and her boyfriend Larry hosted a small birthday party and had one of the most impressive cheese spreads I’ve seen in a while. Let’s see, there was smoked gouda, brie, St. Andre Triple Creme, blue, some hard cheese with peppercorns, Cotswold (my contribution), some cheese with pesto that I should not have eaten due to my allergy to pinenuts (but I enjoyed anyway) and a bunch more that I can’t identify. This is what happens when you know someone at Silver Lake Cheese shop and is good friends with Terri from Auntie Em’s, who also bought a birthday cake that I unfortunately could not eat do to another time commitment. I more than made up for it by eating a crapload of cheese, never venturing further than six inches from the spread. Other guests actually noticed how I circled that thing like a satellite. I don’t care though. Damn if I’m giving up my prime parking spot!

11 pm

The Bar

2 bottles of Red Stripe beer

“What kind of beer do you have,” I asked the bartender. She pointed to the top row of beer bottles. I could not make out a single label because it was backlit, rendering all the bottles to be shadows. I told her I can’t make out the beers. She couldn’t care less. So I ordered the one beer who’s bottle was shaped differently and which I could make out from the silhouettes, Red Stripe.

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