The Palm Express

I went back to Zurich after 5 months away with only 3 firm plans –lunch with the girls on Monday (at yummy Café Schoeder), a BBQ at our place with friends and neighbors on Tuesday (as always, so great to see everyone and hard to remember why I left in the first place) and a weekend getaway with Martin, destination unknown…We purposely didn’t plan out where to go until I got into town - our only two thoughts were 1) avoid flying and any train rides longer than 5 hours and 2) go some place warm. With only a 4 hour travel time radius, Martin and I opted for a SBB package deal – The Palm Express - with one night in St. Moritz, a bus ride through the mountains and one night in Menaggio on Lake Como; as the brochure noted – from Glaciers to Palms.

Here is my photo montage!

We arrived in “sunny” St. Moritz Thursday afternoon…yes those are rain clouds and that is snow on the mountain.

With the weather preparing for the next storm, Martin and I enjoyed a quick walk along the lake and retired indoors for coffee, strudel and beer. And with no other plans for the evening, we enjoyed a long dinner and went to bed early.

We awoke the next morning to winter…it was snowing! So much for going someplace warm. Good thing we were leaving for the palm trees of Lake Como that morning.

We worked our way up and over the mountain in a blizzard… I am sure the views would have been stunning, I was mainly focused on the narrow, winding road along the sheer cliff.

We had a brief stop in Chiavenna for 20 minutes, during which Martin and I took a quick tour of the town and enjoyed the arrival of the sun.

We also worked on our “self-portrait” shots.

We arrived in Menaggio and, to our delight, we found it sunny, although not that warm (especially when compared to our trip to the region the same weekend the year prior). But at least we had found the vacation we were looking for.

Sorry for the kissing shot…our “self portrait” shots were less than stellar – as you can see.




That night, we enjoyed another long dinner and possibly one too many adult beverages, but hey, we were on vacation and enjoying ourselves. Too bad it had to end the following day, but not before another semi-warm day after the partially sunny morning.

The Robertson

Warning – the following post is in no way culturally stimulating, life-changing or even slightly mature. It is utter nonsense, and completely me. If you have any false allusions about my worldliness, please stop reading.

I was first introduced to the Robertson, a shot of Jim Bean chased by a slice of bacon, by a friend’s brother in San Francisco and it has become my destiny and mission to make the shot a local treat. What is not to love, it is a perfect pairing of whiskey and salty sweetness that can be enjoyed during brunch or after dinner. That plus, the shock value of ordering a shot of Jim and side of bacon is just priceless (well, maybe just class-less, but all the same). That first weekend in San Francisco, we single-handedly introduced the shot to over 30+ people at different bars throughout the day.

However, what I thought was amazing, my closest girl friends were all too willing to disagree…they were slightly confused, slightly grossed out and yet, slightly curious. So two weeks later, when we all convened on Reno NV to celebrate Anj’s 30th Birthday (plus Joanna and Markus’s engagement and just our overall friendships) I was instantly bombarded with snide comments and looks of disgust from the girls, and yet, encouraging remarks from the guys who were more than intrigued.

Unfortunately for me, my overall goal of spreading the word of the Robertson came back to haunt me. After the Friday night of what I thought was all talk, I joined the crew Saturday morning at the casino café only to find a plate of bacon and shot of Jim Bean waiting for me. Unwilling to start the morning off alone, I convinced Brad, Anj’s boyfriend, to join me and by the end of lunch all of the guys had joined in. Yes, it was the perfect recipe for instant bonding with the group of new boyfriends (and fiancé)… who knew bacon could do so much. As Justin put it…Bacon is the new ranch – you can put it on or pair it with anything.

The day continued along in the usual manner…we finally left the casino café table after breakfast, brunch and lunch (4 hours all in) and spent the rest of the day hanging out, jokingly ordering the Robertson for each other and just catching up. And when it was all said and done, we must have eaten a whole pig and consumed a bottle of Jim Bean. In fact, so much bacon was enjoyed, that I suffered from the bacon sweats and shakes the entire drive home the following morning.

Turn your noise up if you will, but as a true testament of the amazing-ness of the shot - all of the guys from Reno have subsequently order (or tried to order) the shot at their local bars, Joanna and Markus may or may not be serving them at their rehearsal dinner and Brad has now started working on new whiskey pairings…next up Crown and Twinkies.

Drakes Bay Oysters!

On Saturday morning, fully booked for the weekend, I threw all engagements to the wind and opted to celebrate Buckle’s birthday with her and friends eating oysters at Drake’s Bay.

After a quick drive over the Golden Gate Bridge and North on Highway 1, we got out of the car and were hit by the smell of salt water, the noise of the seagulls and the feel of the not-so-subtle ocean breeze. We had arrived at Drake’s Bay with a picnic in hand and ready for the ocean’s treat of fresh oysters. Like Hog Island Oyster Co (which was closed for the day), Drake’s Bay offers fresh oysters, unshucked and by the dozen, picnic tables along the water’s edge, a small shack selling seafood delights and condiments and endless piles of discarded oyster shells (some of which were over 10 feet high). What the place might have lacked in ambience (because in reality, it really wasn’t all that glamorous) it made up for in the quantity and freshness of its oysters.

We bought our oysters (5 dozen medium sized locals) in the nearby shack, unpacked the picnic (which included white wine, beer, crackers, hot sauce, lemons, chips, salsa, cheese, salami and cookies) and got to work. First order of business, learn how to shuck an oyster. While we had all we needed – oysters, gloves, shuckers – we lacked the skills or technique to actually enjoy them. Thankfully a gentleman at the next table exchanged his knowledge and know-how for a lemon and splash of hot sauce.

With the oyster firmly pressed against the table with my left hand, I wedged the shucker into the hinge of the shell (the back-door if you will) and began the battle of strength and endurance, using a cross between back and forth and clockwise rotations to pop open the shell. After the 5 minute struggle, the shell opened up and I was able to admire my hard work. I garnished the oyster with care, including hot sauce and fresh squeezed lemon juice and enjoyed my reward in one quick motion. And after only a few more attempts, I had reduced my shucking time down to 10 seconds and officially nominated myself as the “master shucker” of the table.

The day continued in a leisurely manner, taking breaks from the effort to tell stories, enjoy the sun and company and work back up an appetite. And when the bag of oysters was finally empty, we packed up the remains of the picnic and prepared for the journey back to the city in our seafood and wine induced como and more than slightly sunburned from our first weekend of Spring.

Another Rendezvous

With Martin’s and my last visit four weeks prior, we were ready for another rendezvous - this time in New York City for a four-day Easter weekend. In lieu of a hotel, Martin and I rented a studio apartment in the West Village resulting in the return to our previous home life including big breakfasts at home in the morning and the absence of feeling completely like tourists…on a side note it was definitely the way to go and I would consider it again in the future.

The weekend was absolutely perfect, as are all of our weekends together. And to make it the best of both worlds, before Martin arrived on Friday evening, I had the whole day to catch up with Erin who had Good Friday off (I may or may not have booked my flight for such the perfect opportunity). Catching up with Erin was the usual practice: shopping, mimosas, a quick snack with more champagne, and an amazing dinner with plenty of wine, great food and a cameo from Nick, Erin’s boyfriend, to pick up the pieces at the end of the night. Unfortunately, (at least for them) I had to leave early to meet Martin at the apartment, and after a quick stop at the market to get stuff for breakfast, I was on my way home to meet my man. I however mistimed my arrival and, with Martin’s flight having landed 45 minutes early, poor Martin was waiting for me…so much for my warm welcome and show of gratitude for flying across the ocean for me. Thankfully he wasn’t too upset.

With Martin and I finally back together, Saturday was spent just the two of us hanging out, walking around the city (and up on the High Line, a reclaimed elevated train track now an outdoor garden and walking path), an outdoor lunch and bloody maries (at 5 Ninth near Pastis), shopping (well actually Martin shopped, I supervised –they had his favorite store Superdry, so we had to go), and date night movie night on Saturday with the uplifting film The Green Zone (similar to our first date of Body of Lies…I think Martin is trying to not-so-subtly convince me to move back to Europe through the use of movies). The movie was followed by a late dinner near Union Square, where Martin got confused and spoke not English or Spanish but rather German to the Puerto Rican waiter, who surprisingly didn’t understand.

After breakfast in on Sunday morning, Martin and I headed uptown for an Easter picnic in Central Park with Kim, the original Griswalds and two friends, with me dragging Martin to not one, but two flea markets both before and afterwards (he must really love me, because no guy likes flea markets that much). We enjoyed a romantic dinner on Sunday evening at our neighborhood restaurant The Waverly Inn (where the wine list, with an average bottle of wine priced at $400, was incorrectly matched to the menu, which included chicken pot pie for $24). And to compliment the meal, we followed dinner up with drinks with Erin and Nick who had just returned from the Hampton’s. The night ended as it always does in these circumstances - I ate and drank too much and complained the rest of the night of needing elastic waist pants.

And no trip to New York is complete without…wait for it…a trip to my favorite book store in the West Village , The Biography Bookshop, and a slice of pizza, which we hit up on Monday. What. I definitely wouldn’t have said a trip to Times Square or up to the top of the Empire State Building or even watching a show on Broadway…those, my friend, are child’s play.

Having done all we came to do in NYC we were saying goodbye once again on Monday afternoon…Just a few short weeks and we will be back together again, next time in Zurich.

Martin and I relaxing on the High Line