La Casa di Oakenfold is Operational
La Casa di Oakenfold is unfolding and unveiling!
I am rather excited at the wonderful people I will be renting with, the subletters I will have until official room mates move in, and the opportunity to truly have a space that permits me to hold the kind of salon/hookah bar/exotic noms food parties I've been dying to have. It's a great summer space, it's a great winter space. The kitchen is squee-tastic and the neighborhood is perfectly not-quite-never-will-be-posh.
La Casa di Oakenfold features a vegetarian/vegan/exotic foods profile, along with gardening of medicinal herbs and a fellowship with the brewer next door (who makes the most elegant cherry mead I have ever consumed). I have much plotting for my limoncello and my raspberry liquer. I will be brewing absinthe
(Yes, legal. No, not a hallucinogen unless you're doing opiates. No, *I* won't be doing opiates. Yes, real absinthe with real wormwood based on a period recipe.) and he will distill it not ONCE but TWICE for me. Amazing neighbor.
Also, the neighbor let me sleep in his backyard, brought out a mummy bag base and a wool army blanket and wrapped me up. It was beautiful; star-filled and just the right amount of cold. He also rebuilds bikes. Most importantly, he knew I needed to sleep under the stars to be happy and brought me warm, scritchy blankets.
There are possibilities of other members of the Bloomington branch of the food service mafia joining me to broaden the spectrum of the hippie food collective and martini club. Oh, the martinis. Vodka martinis. In broad daylight. Yes, yes we did. Yes, we can and did. They were crisp and refreshing. Then we moved on to Bear's place and gimlets. Oh, tasty gimlets. Then we stopped drinking for a while? I'm not sure why we thought this was a good idea, having been continuously consuming vodka since noon...
It wasn't our fault that we couldn't buy bubbles for mimosa, or that Runcible was over-charging, or that tutto bene was closed, and then it was just too much effort. The vodka martinis were closer and easier, and my porch was built for lounging. The landlord found us, and only a sense of deep personal guilt kept her from drinking martinis all afternoon with us.
We're assembling a guide to days of the week and Bloomington drink specials. This is important for our impoverished pseudo-alcoholism problem. If you know something or someone I don't know, please e-mail or leave in the comments your favorite Btown drink special night or day.
La Casa di Oakenfold: lease signing will occur as soon as my landlord and I are both awake. I'm handing over checks and watching my bank account cry. That's o-kay. Crycrycry. I have my first shift in years at the illustrious mystery pizza joint. Those of you who know where to find me, I'm waiting tables noon-till. Then I'm behind the anti-bar as a barista at Chez Raquel's. Come visit me at one or the other. Both serve decent beer/wine and quite tasty food.
One is greasy, the other is nutritious. Nom.
I was handed my operations card as a renewed member of the food service mafia, Bloomington chapter. I'm so glad to be a card-carrying, government sanctioned drug dealer (again). Hello, Liquor License of goodness!
I spent my Sunday with a gentleman who turns into Mick Jagger when he drinks too much. I apparently asked him out on a date; I just wanted someone to have good conversation with over brunch (and as I had slept outdoors) I didn't have a previously installed one. I called him and told him to haul his sorry self to Runcible, and to do it posthaste. We split some tasty food, had a beautiful server who was perfect as a wait staff professional, so good I wanted to pinch her cheeks and buy her vodka.
Then we started drinking. Not like we'd stopped that long ago (sometime around 3 a.m.?). He was a great partner in debauched good times. He let me feed him, many foods. So if you can accidentally go on a brunch date with a boy, and then just happen to enjoy his company all day, that is what I did. Hi Mick!
I am rather excited at the wonderful people I will be renting with, the subletters I will have until official room mates move in, and the opportunity to truly have a space that permits me to hold the kind of salon/hookah bar/exotic noms food parties I've been dying to have. It's a great summer space, it's a great winter space. The kitchen is squee-tastic and the neighborhood is perfectly not-quite-never-will-be-posh.
La Casa di Oakenfold features a vegetarian/vegan/exotic foods profile, along with gardening of medicinal herbs and a fellowship with the brewer next door (who makes the most elegant cherry mead I have ever consumed). I have much plotting for my limoncello and my raspberry liquer. I will be brewing absinthe
(Yes, legal. No, not a hallucinogen unless you're doing opiates. No, *I* won't be doing opiates. Yes, real absinthe with real wormwood based on a period recipe.) and he will distill it not ONCE but TWICE for me. Amazing neighbor.
Also, the neighbor let me sleep in his backyard, brought out a mummy bag base and a wool army blanket and wrapped me up. It was beautiful; star-filled and just the right amount of cold. He also rebuilds bikes. Most importantly, he knew I needed to sleep under the stars to be happy and brought me warm, scritchy blankets.
There are possibilities of other members of the Bloomington branch of the food service mafia joining me to broaden the spectrum of the hippie food collective and martini club. Oh, the martinis. Vodka martinis. In broad daylight. Yes, yes we did. Yes, we can and did. They were crisp and refreshing. Then we moved on to Bear's place and gimlets. Oh, tasty gimlets. Then we stopped drinking for a while? I'm not sure why we thought this was a good idea, having been continuously consuming vodka since noon...
It wasn't our fault that we couldn't buy bubbles for mimosa, or that Runcible was over-charging, or that tutto bene was closed, and then it was just too much effort. The vodka martinis were closer and easier, and my porch was built for lounging. The landlord found us, and only a sense of deep personal guilt kept her from drinking martinis all afternoon with us.
We're assembling a guide to days of the week and Bloomington drink specials. This is important for our impoverished pseudo-alcoholism problem. If you know something or someone I don't know, please e-mail or leave in the comments your favorite Btown drink special night or day.
La Casa di Oakenfold: lease signing will occur as soon as my landlord and I are both awake. I'm handing over checks and watching my bank account cry. That's o-kay. Crycrycry. I have my first shift in years at the illustrious mystery pizza joint. Those of you who know where to find me, I'm waiting tables noon-till. Then I'm behind the anti-bar as a barista at Chez Raquel's. Come visit me at one or the other. Both serve decent beer/wine and quite tasty food.
One is greasy, the other is nutritious. Nom.
I was handed my operations card as a renewed member of the food service mafia, Bloomington chapter. I'm so glad to be a card-carrying, government sanctioned drug dealer (again). Hello, Liquor License of goodness!
I spent my Sunday with a gentleman who turns into Mick Jagger when he drinks too much. I apparently asked him out on a date; I just wanted someone to have good conversation with over brunch (and as I had slept outdoors) I didn't have a previously installed one. I called him and told him to haul his sorry self to Runcible, and to do it posthaste. We split some tasty food, had a beautiful server who was perfect as a wait staff professional, so good I wanted to pinch her cheeks and buy her vodka.
Then we started drinking. Not like we'd stopped that long ago (sometime around 3 a.m.?). He was a great partner in debauched good times. He let me feed him, many foods. So if you can accidentally go on a brunch date with a boy, and then just happen to enjoy his company all day, that is what I did. Hi Mick!
posted by Kari Stevenson @ 12:50 AM
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