Cocktail of the Week: Mojitos, by Candy Man, the Official Mixologist of Roxie's World:
Culinary Revelation of the Week: Strawberry Risotto, by the Italian Stallion:
Transgression of the Week: Late-Night Beach Walks with Dog, in Clear Violation of Stupid, Local, Anti-Dog Ordinances:
(No, that isn't a freakish August snowstorm, just salt on Geoffrey's camera lens. Looks cool, doesn't it?)
Restaurant Meal of the Week: Blue Moon, Rehoboth, where we celebrated somebody's 39 + 1 birthday:
The Moms ate at Blue Moon aeons ago, back when their idea of Beach Week was a couple of nights at a just-a-notch-above-seedy dyke-owned B&B in Rehoboth. They were delighted to revisit the blue-and-yellow Victorian just a couple of blocks off the beach and discover that the kitchen is still putting out the tastiest and most creative food on the shore (that's a superb fried green tomato appetizer in the photo above) and the bar is still a mecca for pretty boys on the make. The main difference between then and now? The cruising gets a tech-assist from Grindr. Oh, yeah, and the pretty boys aren't, you know, dying.
Yes, there are photos of our happy queer family frolicking on the beach in bright sunshine, but we won't be posting them here. We figure we've shown you enough skin. this summer, darlings. School's about to start, so we need to start figuring out ways to boost our academic cred. That's right. Y'all can look forward to a series of posts so weighty and profound you'll think you've stumbled into Tim Burke's corner of the blogosphere. Soon, kids, I swear to dog. In the meantime, we'll play you off with something light and fun and beachy while we're still shaking the sand out of our shoes and you are still wishing this crazy-a$$ed summer would never end. Peace out, surfer dudes and dudettes. May you catch the wave of your dreams and ride it, like, forever.
(Photo Credits: Moose, except for that artsy-fartsy shot of Ruby on the beach, which Geoffrey, the Official Prep-School Teacher and Forty-Year Old of Roxie's World, took.)
I am NOT 39. How dare you suggest I'm the f-word!ReplyDelete
Yes, dear, and De Nile is not just a river. <3ReplyDelete
Y'all have inspired the Radicals to rent a beach or lake house at the last minute for the week prior to the beginning of school. But what I want more than anything else is for you to book me for the Thursday night of ASA, which is in Baltimore, and we will go to dinner. I realize there is distance between your house and Baltimore, but this is a solvable problem.ReplyDelete
That's TR, above.ReplyDelete
It's a date, TR. Remember, the Moms are Americanists, so going to Baltimore during ASA is no problem at all -- especially if it means an opportunity to meet a big gay blog pal in the flesh! We will ink you in for Thursday.ReplyDelete
Enjoy the beach. We highly recommend the mojito and the whole dog-walking at night thing.
Slide me over a mojito, babies. I'm already in my swimsuit!ReplyDelete
Happy Birthday to G. The 40s are awesome. (And YOU don't even have to have mammograms, so you've got a leg up on the broads.)
I'd certainly try the strawberry risotto, but if you hadn't told me that's what it is, I would have assumed it was just a festively garnished bowl of oatmeal.
Mojito coming at your, cowgirl. Chips and salsa, too.ReplyDelete
Believe me when I tell you the strawberry risotto was nothing -- NOTHING! like oatmeal. I blame the mushy look of the photo on poor resolution of the iPhone camera. We would never have believed you could make strawberry risotto if an actual Italian had not prepared the dish for us. It was sublime.
Mojitos and FGTs look fucken delish! But the risotto looks overcooked.ReplyDelete