Staycation

I’m really tired. Honestly, just plain tired. Since taking on a full-time gig at the Morg (i.e. Morgan Stanley), I’ve not had more than a long weekend off in almost three years. Yes, the corporate world has afforded me a lifestyle where a delicious Spam and Ramen noodle dinner is a choice rather than a necessity, but the schedule has left me a bit run down. Instead of using my three-week vacation time to jet set around the world, I’ve spent the time with the Pineda Conservatory kids at the summer sweat lodge known as CDC Theatre.

Yes, I know I shouldn’t be complaining but this is my blog. Where else can I go for a self-pitying rant?

Anyway, This past weekend Trish and I had a staycation in historic Philadelphia. It’s just over 2 hours from NYC, but it’s in another state and they have a different accent, so it's nearly a foreign country.  Anyway, this weekend "abroad" turned out to be my summer vacation (I know, sad).

Like most Pineda trips it was all about the food. I mean, yeah, we (Trish and I) went to the Liberty Bell (above left - looking very serious.  This is history, dammit!), took a tour of Independence Hall (above rightt - don't I look excited!?) and all that good shit, but the real historic moment was our cheesesteak taste-off between legendary South Philly rivals, Pat’s and Geno’s. Of course, arriving smack dab in the middle of lunch hour on a beautiful Sunday afternoon may not have been the smartest plan. Lines at both literally wrapped around the block and we waited a good half hour at each spot. For the sake of judging, we shared one sandwich at each location and picked the same toppings - onions and cheese wiz, the traditional Philly cheese of choice. Mmm-mmm (insert obscene oral sound here). The verdict? - Geno’s - their sandwich was just, well, "beefier" (is that even a word?).  But maybe that's just the special phlegm sauce (read on, it'll make sense).  Unfortunately, since getting back from our trip we discovered through the magic of Yelp that Geno is actually a racist asshole who sometimes spits in your food if you appear to be "not American" - City of Brotherly Love, my ass.  Blinded by my food-gasm I missed the "I am mad as hell!  I want my country back!" poster prominently displayed at the front counter and on the homepage of their website.  Moral?  Even assholes can be good cooks.  Thankfully, we enjoyed our sandwiches in blissful ignorance. 

For most people a beef, onion and cheese orgy would more than satisfy the need for vacation gluttony but this carnivore ain't most people.  Instead, we took Adam Richman's (the Man vs Food guy) advice and also stopped by Reading Terminal Market to share a Tommy DiNic's roast beef, spinach and sharp provolone sandwich and an assortment of Flying Monkey specialty cupcakes (including Lavender, Guinness and Mint Chocolate Chip flavors, yum!).  Full yet?  I think not!  After taking the afternoon to digest the days intake, we headed out to wine bar and tapas joint, Tria, where I got wasted on wine and extravagant food.  Just a sampling of our small plate feast included poached figs with gorganzola and prosciutto, truffled egg toast with fontana cheese and pistachio herbed ricotta with lavender honey.  I've got a food buzz just thinking about it.

Between bites of cheesesteak we were also able to check out the Cleopatra exhibit at the Franklin Institute.  It's from the same people who are presenting the current King Tut exhibit at the Discovery center in Times Square here in NYC.  It's actually a much more interactive exhibit than Tut with tons more articfacts.  But we were suffering from a bit of a food hangover so by the the time we had finished, we weren't in much of a mood to browse the rest of the museum.  We might have also been a wee bit annoyed that half the regular museum exhibits didn't work.  Oh, and frehen up that human heart exhibit already.  That thing needs a new coat of paint and a good Febreze-ing. 

Happy sphinx (below) and sexy headless Cleo (left).