The Best Wurst Sauce Ever

So the brother and wife are in town (his, not mine). They arrived on Saturday night after the long flight from San Diego. Seeing as how this was their only weekend night at my place (since they're leaving on Saturday), we cruised down to the Lower East Side (where else?) with a mini-entourage of Paul and Cathy. After waltzing around trying to find a new place to eat at (I know they exist, I read about them all the time!!), we ended up at Kuma Inn, which some of you may recognize because it was in J. Riley's premiere blog posting back in March. This time, it wasn't Valentine's Day and there was no prix-fixe menu. Being an Asian-French fusion restaurant serving tapas (which are Spanish), we were in for a treat. The classic plate, which we ordered two of, are the Chinese sausages with lime-chili sauce, which I have termed the best wurst (uhh....that means "sausage" auf deutsch) sauce ever. It really is the bomb. Really.

Afterwards, we cruised around to some of the overcrowded bars in the neighborhood. The flavor in that part of town is definetely punk/vintage/rock and roll, as were the places we stopped by in. We did find a cool band playing and we hung out there for a bit. The lead singer was wearing a "John Kerry is a Rockstar" shirt (because he is) and low-rise jeans.

Question for the audience: who thinks that low-rise jeans on a guy are stylish? I think they are, but the Californians seem to differ. Can you PLEASE click on "Comments" down below and tell me what you think? If you don't know what low-rise jeans are, feel free to tell me about how my blog is the best (or worst) thing you've ever read. Ever.

Anyway, back to the matter at hand. After cruising the nightlife scene, we headed to the traditional Teany tea-shop to get a bellies full of warm milk teanychinos to cap the night off. MMmmhhh....teanychinos.

Sunday morning (more like afternoon), we headed down to Chelsea and went to Rue de Crepe, a French brunch joint. While waiting an hour for our seat, we noticed that right in front of us was Chris Martin, lead singer of Coldplay. Unfortunately, his wife Gweneth Paltrow must have been at home in the West Villiage with their baby, Apple. I was going to ask about their upcoming tour dates, but I figured I'd just leave him alone and let him enjoy his banana-nutella crepe with a side of fresh fruit (two pieces of orange, three grapes, and four pieces of pineapple) and a pot of fries. I wasn't stairing or anything.....

No más tango chalazio,

J. Riley