I’m going to be real straight with you guys.

My ass is lazy.

Technically, not just my ass, but all of me. Although right now my ass, which is so sore I can’t walk without making constipated face, is reminding me that it is truly a lazy ass.

I am not one to spend hours in the gym. I am, instead, one to spend hours on the couch watching shameful TV and eating until I have nothing left but shredded cheese. And then I eat that too.

So, when I decided to do the Livefit Program that everyone and their mother’s poodle is doing, I was concerned.

It starts out innocently enough, with four days of weight training but no cardio and three days of rest. That’s three days to bask in my lazy ass glory.

Loved it.

Then, you move on to the second phase (you can find other blogs for a more technical discussion of this program), and it gets a little annoying.

You have to do stuff SIX days a week and do cardio.

My ass did not appreciate it.

But we adjusted, and figured out that we could do the weights at lunch and do the cardio while watching TV on our phone. Lazy ass and I were happy with that.

But now, guys, now things have just gotten out of hand.

Last night I did the first week of the third phase, and it has become all too clear to me that my lazy days are over.

I was squatting, I was lunging, I was jumping in the air, I was doing jump rope, and then I was doing it all over again.

There were moments I thought I was going to yack.

There were moments I thought, “I’d rather be running 13.1 miles right now than doing this for even one more second.”

But I did it.

And today I can’t walk.

Which is fun, because not only do I have another weights workout to accomplish today, I also have a fun sprint workout to do after work.

Because you know how much lazy people like to run fast.

You can’t even watch phone TV when you do sprints, people. What kind of travesty is this?

I’ll be wearing black all week to mourn the passing of my beloved lazy life.

The only thing that keeps me going is the hope that my gut will follow suit and die right along with my shredded cheese habit.

So, fun news! I’m moving into the district in April! I applied for an apartment in the Mount Vernon/Chinatown district yesterday and I’m all kinds of excited about it.

In the interest of full disclosure, I should mention that I’ll be moving into said apartment with Mr. T.

No, we haven’t been dating that long (8 months by move-in day) and no, we’re not getting married, but we’re doing it anyways.

Because I’m only going to be a Virginian for another two months, I decided I should get to work on checking out some VA restaurants I’ve been dying to try.

First up, was Restaurant Three in Clarendon.

I haven’t read much about this place, but after perusing the menu online I knew it was a must. The food is upscale southern favorites, with a LOT of bacon on the menu (for those of you who like bacon, which sadly, I do not).

As far as drink options go, the wine list features many full bottles under $30. They also have a fairly impressive list of beers available.

That, along with the fact that several of the entrees are affordable and great for sharing, makes Restaurant Three a good place to go on a budget.

Mr. T and I shared two appetizers, an entree and a bottle of red wine for under $80. We split all of our meals 50/50, so that meant an awesome dinner and a good wine buzz for about $40. I can dig it.

Oh, and they serve a breadbasket with seedy/grainy break and mini corn muffins as well. Cornbread is a lover of mine.

The restaurant itself is cozy, not at all pretentious, but still feels fancy. Our server was very knowledgeable about the menu and the wines and took great care of us.

We started with the Fried Green Tomatoes and Scallops and Grits.

I have a fascination with fried green tomatoes. They’re hard to come by, and when I see them, I must order them.

These particular tomatoes were crispy and accompanied by a spicy aoli and goat cheese. The flavors of the tart cheese and tomato balanced perfectly with the spicy sauce. I loved them.

I was excited to sample the scallops and grits as well because I’ve never had grits before, and shrimp ‘n grits is one of those famous southern dishes I’ve always wanted to try.

The scallops were cooked well and the grits had a great texture – not too mushy. The flavors could have been a little less pungent, for my taste, but it was still a highly palatable dish.

For our entree, we split the Hanger Steak, which came with a goat cheese hash brown cake and sauteed spinach.

They split the order up for us and it was the perfect amount of food. The steak was cooked perfectly and the potato cake was wonderful – any kind of cheesy potato makes me happy.

Overall, I was really impressed with Restaurant Three. I may even have to trek back in from the city to eat there again if I ever get a random bacon craving to try the bacon on a stick, country fried bacon, or bacon waffle for dessert.

What’s your favorite “southern” dish? I don’t know if it’s technically considered southern, but fried okra is my pick. I have yet to find a place around here that serves it though, which is probably good for my waistline.

I think saving for retirement is the most preposterous thing in the world. How do I know I’ll make it to retirement? How do I know I’ll want to stop working at 65? How do I know some communist dictator isn’t going to take over the U.S. and steal all of my money? What’s so ludicrous about just having your money near to you and spending it while you’re still able to enjoy it? If I die, I’m going to be really pissed about all that money I never got to spend. (I’m going to do it anyways, but I think it’s stupid.)

I have felt entirely too grown up this week. I need to go find some bubbles to play with, or a water gun. Life shouldn’t be sooo serious all the time, ya know?

I bought a Living Social deal to go to a preview of Mike Isabella’s new restaurant – Bandolero. I’m pumped. There will be food and tequila, and it’s on the Sunday before President’s Day so I can party down and not have to get up early for work the next day. Oh, and there’s a meet and greet with Mike but I get super awkward around “celebrities” so I’m not as excited about that part. But whatever, it should be cool.

I have no feelings about the super bowl, whatsoever. I don’t care about either of the teams. I know I’ll see commercials all over Facebook/Twitter/blogs for days after and I don’t like chicken wings. At least not the kinds with bones in them. I may not even watch, but I’m sure I’ll get sucked into it somehow.

The fact that I have to both go to the dentist and get blood drawn this month is severely hampering my ability to enjoy life these days. I want to just skip the blood thing, but I’m afraid my doctor will be mad at me when I go back, and I don’t like people to be mad at me. Damn my people pleasing issues.

I ate Chipotle last night for the third time in my life. I just don’t get what all the fuss is about. I got the brown rice/vegetable burrito bowl, which meant I basically ate a bowl of guacamole and sour cream. I like those things a lot, but it felt unnecessary.

I really, really want to move into the district when my lease is up in May but I have to decide if I want enough space to put all my stuff, or if I want to live in D.C. I still don’t know. The other option would be Rosslyn, which is right outside D.C. and has easy access to the orange and blue lines so I could zip around places pretty easily, but I feel like that would be less fun. Decisions, decisions.

Kraft Mac and Cheese and terrible television can cure most of life’s problems. I had a bagged salad first – it was Fresh Express Harvest Peach and I ate the whole bag.

I’ve actually started to like lifting weights. Like, a lot. I’ve been doing it for about 3 months consistently now, and I can definitely see a difference in my muscle tone. Plus, it’s a lot more interesting than doing the same cardio over and over. I still hate leg workouts though, with atom of which I am composed.

Things are looking up. You guys are right, I’m an adult now and I can handle this.

I’m 26, after all. I’ve been wearing big girl pants for some time now.

It was a shocking blow, but I’ve recovered. Things are fine right now and it will do me no good to worry about things I can’t control.

I almost deleted the post, but then decided that something I like about myself is that I don’t hide my weaknesses from anyone.

I just overshare to the point of people thinking I must be insane.

Regardless, I’ve been told by several of you that you appreciate my candor and that you feel a little less crazy because of it. That makes me happy.

I think being honest about your problems is important. For the first many years I struggled with my drama, I kept it hidden, and that sucked.

So now I tell the whole Internet! And it feels good.

I’m still sad, and my anxiety levels are at a place that makes me uncomfortable, but I’m moving forward.

Thanks for all of your support. It means more to me than I can say.

I had an interesting day trying to figure out all my moneys. Taxes! IRA accounts! Reinvesting my 401(k) <- if that even makes sense! I don’t know anything about it, but figured it was time I start learning.

I sufficiently overwhelmed myself to the point of being distracted from my woes, and wore myself out to the point that I think I may be able to sleep tonight.

Things are looking up!

I shouldn’t be writing this. It’s going to be raw, and probably something you shouldn’t even read. I may even delete it later or never post it, which is unlike me. I usually post what I want, when I want.

I have been very open with you guys about my past, my mother’s alcoholism, my struggles with depression as a result – all of it.

I have come a long way since high school, when my life revolved around anticipating my mother’s every move. In those days, I lived in a perpetual state of terror. I was afraid she would die. I was afraid of the words she would say, of how she would say them, and that she would say something I’d never be able to forgive.

I was young, and that fear just became a way of life for me. I felt as though I was living by way of my mother. I couldn’t separate our lives, because she was so dependent on me and I was so afraid of her.

Over the years, things got way worse but then they got better. My mom almost died, and then she stopped drinking.

It took years for me to stop being so afraid all the time, but over time I started to calm a bit, and believed for the first time that maybe things could be different.

Still, at night, almost every night I have dreams that she’s drinking again. I wake up drenched in sweat – my face stained with tears. I wake up feeling like that girl I was in high school – terrified.

In the dreams I’m begging her, pleading with her not to do it but her mind is always made up. It’s paralyzing.

Yesterday, that nightmare came true.

I have such mixed feelings about it. She says she’s changed and she won’t be the same person she was when she used to drink, and in a lot of ways I believe her.

I also feel that I can’t judge her. I drink too. I don’t feel controlled by alcohol the way she clearly was, but I can’t tell someone I think drinking is inherently bad when I do it myself. That would be hypocritical.

At the same time, I feel as though she’s telling me that I can’t have an emotional response to it – that she’s going to do it regardless of how it affects me. That’s hard.

As much as I can try to tell myself that it’s going to be okay, and it won’t be the same as last time, I feel like I’m 16 again and I can’t breathe.

I don’t know if this is a fair response, and I know it’s not an adult one, but I don’t know if this is something I can handle emotionally at this time – when I had just started to believe everything could finally be okay.

I know I’m not the first person to go through this, and my situation is probably preferable to what a lot of people are going through, but knowing that isn’t enough to help right now.

I might be gone for awhile as I process.

Well hey, friends. Another weekend, gone. They leave us so fast, don’t they?

This weekend was kind of exhausting. Friday night I went out and had fun, but Saturday was spent hunting apartments from morning til night, and Sunday was consumed by a 2-hour workout (combined Saturday and Sundays weight routines plus cardio) and then all the cleaning.

But Friday night, as I said, was fun.

Mr. T treated me to dinner at Ripple in Cleveland Park. I’m not going to do a full restaurant review of it though, because I wasn’t impressed and think I need to try it again before I pass full judgment.

After we dined on over-priced, not incredibly delicious fare, I suggested we hop over to Tackle Box for $1 oysters.

We split a dozen oysters, in varying sizes and flavors. Some of them were too big to swallow in one gulp!

I used to hate oysters, after a traumatizing experience when I tried to chew them <- never chew them.

But now that I live closer to the sea, I’ve found myself craving them on occasion. Especially when topped with enough Tabasco sauce to chap the lips right off your face.

While we were slurping our shells, I also discovered a new favorite beer – National Bohemian, or “Natty Boh”, straight from Charm City. I liked it because it was local, easy to drink in large quantities, and cheap. It quite reminded me of my first beer love, Miller Lite. Judgers can judge for that, but sometimes I just like a light beer okay? It takes me back to a simpler time.

Maybe that’s what spurred the decision to order a platter of fries. That or the fact that I was still starving after our lackluster dinner.

Do you like oysters?

Are you a beer judger?

I hate feeling stupid.

We all do, I’m sure.

Unfortunately, I possess a certain set of characteristics that result in the feeling of stupid more often than I would like.

For instance, I’m not a good driver. I’m not a terrible driver, and I’m getting better, but I do have a propensity to run into inanimate objects.

It hasn’t happened in awhile, but there are little bruises all over my car that remind me of my shortcomings.

It pisses me off.

Another thing that gets me into trouble is that I’m not very observant.

I’m in my head all the time and thinking about a million different things at once, which often results in me doing stupid little things like running into doors or spilling things on myself.

Most of the time, I just laugh it off.

I mean, in many other ways, I’m quite intelligent. I’m good at thinking smart things, and saying smart things – just not so great at DOING smart things.

Whatever, two out of three ain’t bad.

Regardless, I’m the only one who is allowed to make fun of these things I do – in the same way that I’m the only one who is allowed to make fun of my friends or family. If you do it, I will cut you.

Because these are sore subjects for me, and you never know how I’m going to take it.

Sometimes, when I’m in a particularly jovial mood, a little jab at my driving skills will result in outward laugher and inward tears (it always embarrasses me, human nature). But other times, if I’m not in the correct mental space, I will unleash a full-blown hate storm on my verbal assailant. Even if it was a joke, and even if you think it was REALLY funny.

Another thing that really just inflames me, is pointing out the obvious.

Let me paint you a mental picture.

I’m sitting at a table and take a sip of a liquid substance.

Upon trying to accomplish this, I spill said substance all over my person.

Someone then points out, “Hey, you spilled that all over yourself.”

Um, no shit. I did not need your commentary.

So, to be safe: Don’t make fun of how I drive, or how I can’t drink water and walk at the same time – then we’ll all still be friends.

It is not a good idea to borrow a book from an acquaintance you don’t particularly like just because you like the title. You’re not likely to actually enjoy his choice of Russian conspiracy literature, but you’ll still have to finish it so he doesn’t mock you. The mocking being the reason you don’t particularly like him. That, and his homophobic, closed-minded rants that kill your insides little by little, every day.

You know you should never complain again when you find yourself complaining that you haven’t had time to catch up on The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills and The Bachelor. Besides, The Challenge is back on and that’s way more important.

There’s this candy dish at work. It is the bane of my existence, because it’s located right next to my desk. The guy who keeps it stocked was given approval to start working from home, so the candy stopped being refilled. I was excited, and thought maybe I would lose a few pounds. Then, people started wandering over to the candy dish looking all forlorn without their daily sugar fix, and I felt bad. I’m a people pleaser, so I went out and restocked the damn candy dish. I also stocked it with top notch shit – Dove chocolate and Twix bars (okay, that’s not top notch, but it’s good) – which means I’m probably going to hit the dish even more often than I used to. I have no one to blame here, but myself.

The not weighing myself every day thing is going pretty well. Or at least it was, until today, when I stepped on it before I was fully awake and saw that I’ve gone up quite a bit since last week. I wonder why?

Because I spend the majority of my day on the Internet, or watching TV, or watching Netflix on my phone – I’ve instituted a mandatory ten minutes of both (non-blog, non-Internet) reading and (non-blog) writing at least 5 days per week. Once I get into a routine with this, I hope to increase the time for both, but I have to start small. To start out, I’m using this site to give me prompts for free writing, but hopefully I’ll gain enough discipline to actually write something I’d like someone to read someday.

Mr. T and his friends signed up for some sort of online workout video game type thing and of course I had to jump on board. I’m on Level 6!

I got a free burger from Bgr Shack for my birthday. I guess I need to stop ordering my burgers “medium well” because it was charred to a crisp and tasted like burning. I can deal with pink in the middle of a steak, but pink in the middle of a burger just freaks me out. Eating raw hamburger meat is gross, y’all. I don’t feel it’s too much to ask for a fully-cooked burger that isn’t crusted with a thick layer of ash. The employees were incredibly nice though, so I’ll go back and try again.

I only cursed one time in this post. Progress?

For a very long time, I was blessed with a broken picker. I had good intentions, but every time I’d start “dating” (in quotations because I’ve probably been on less than ten non-relationship, real dates) I’d pick the absolute wrong guy.

Every time.

Eventually I just gave up and stopped picking at all, because I realized the problem was me. You can’t pick properly if you’re a hot mess emotionally. Let that be known.

Then I stumbled upon Mr. T and got to thinking that maybe my picker has been rehabilitated. That, or I didn’t pick him and our relationship was fated to be, but either way I think I’ve found a keeper.

I can’t see into the future, and have no idea what will happen with us, but I am confident enough to say that he is the best I’ve ever picked.

Since I started dating Mr. T, I’ve struggled with how to represent our relationship on the blog.

I don’t want to give an inaccurate sense that everything is perfect between us and I don’t want to write about him in every post – because I have a life outside of my relationship – but I also don’t want to brush off something and someone who is so important to me by not talking about him or giving him credit for being a great guy.

I’m by no means an expert in picking now, but I am an expert in picking badly, and I’ve noticed some sharp contrasts between what I’ve found in Mr. T and what I chose in past dud boyfriends.

So yes, this basically an excuse to tell you guys how awesome my boyfriend is, but I won’t do this every day. Promise. And I didn’t post it on Valentine’s Day, so at least I’m not that annoying. Right?

All that being said, I present -  Signs that Your Picker is Healthy:

You’d be friends with his friends. This is vitally important. I’ve been in many a relationship, but very rarely did I become good friends with a bf’s friends. Either I was never introduced to them (VERY bad sign), they were older and just hated my youth (downside of dating older, which is something I usually encourage) or they were total douche faces I wanted nothing to do with (most common scenario).

Mr. T and I had been courting for awhile before I began to feel a romantic connection because I was so closed off, but once I met his friends and saw that he hung out with awesome people I loved immediately, I started to sweat him pretty hard. Having non-douche friends is a major turn-on. Life is just so much easier when you like a love interest’s friends and when he likes yours. But more than that, if you abhor every friend someone your dating has, it’s probably a sign that you won’t see eye to eye very often.

He makes you things. There’s a lot of hype about dating rich guys, but I think it’s better to go for the thoughtful and creative ones (bonus points if they’re thoughtful, creative AND rich). The card Mr. T made me for Christmas was a clutch moment. I like stuff. I’m pretty materialistic, if we’re being honest. However, I don’t like getting stuff from boyfriends if I can’t afford to return the favor. And even though I would never turn away diamonds, they’re just not as personal as something that is hand-made just for you.

Your family likes him (before they’ve even met him). Because my picker was broken for so long, I think my family has lowered their standards of who they expect me to bring home. So, when I started talking about Mr. T, I was amused at how enthusiastically everyone responded to him. I was constantly hearing things like, “He sounds like such a nice guy, I like him already” and “I can just tell by looking at his smile (via Facebook stalk, of course) that he’s a good person”. Maybe they’re just eager to marry me off, but I think this says something about my recent upgrade in taste. He’s already impressed people over a thousand miles away.

He never calls you crazy. Ya’ll know I have my issues, and I assure you I can certainly seem crazy at times. BUT, what the fuck is up with guys calling girls crazy when they get emotional? I am an emotional person, and I speak my mind when I’m pissed off/sad/upset or whatever. This has led many an ex-boyfriend to call me crazy. Not cool. Emotions are a part of life, and definitely part of a relationship.

A good pick will accept you, no matter how you express (or don’t express) those emotions (unless it involve throwing things, then the guy may have a point. funny story there, but I digress). A good pick will also listen to you when you tell them about your issues and won’t make you feel like you should be committed.

He has his own things, that he does sober – at least occasionally. In my past two failed relationships, the only hobby my bf’s at the time had was getting drunk. I like to booze, and I like it a lot, but it should never be your only past time. A person who has at least one non-work, non-school passion that they regularly partake in without the influence of alcohol tends to be many things:

Less likely to cheat.

Less likely to treat you like shit.

Less likely to wind up in jail, with you having to fork over bail money.

I could go on, but you get the point. A guy with passions is a good pick.

You have your together things, that neither of you are faking. I have done the whole changing myself to like whatever my boyfriend likes thing a couple times. Sometimes, I even learned to like the thing I was pretending to like. But that’s stupid. And once you’re older than… 18, you have no excuse to be that big of a pushover. A good pick will have several shared interests with you, and you will be able to enjoy those things together with even more enjoyment than you did before.

On a related note, even if your pick doesn’t share an interest in something you love – he’ll still let you love it without mocking it or taking you away from it. You have to have your own things and together things to make it work.

He doesn’t run from your non-negotiables. Mine is that I don’t want kids, may never want kids, and don’t want to be pressured into having kids. I have to put it out there up front, because it’s my non-negotiable. If a guy can’t accept that part of me, then they’re not a good pick. Non-negotiables are… not negotiable. So don’t negotiate.

He doesn’t like Dave Matthews Band. Oh wait, how did that get in there?

How’s your picker?

How much do you hate me for this post?

Warning, the first: This is a really long restaurant recap. I know people skim over these most of the time, but when you have the meal that I’m about to write about, you have to ramble on about it for 2000+ words. Sorry.

Warning, the second: Not vegetarian friendly.

As a person who is literally obsessed with food and eating it, I have had many a wonderful dining experience.

I’ve eaten at fancy places with creative culinary concoctions, world-famous eateries known for their foods, food trucks, wine dinners, beer dinners, cooking demonstrations – you name it and chances are that I’ve done it.

I am more likely to spend money I don’t have on food than any other thing, even shoes.

So, when Mr. T asked me if I’d rather go shopping for my Christmas/birthday gift (his was a hotel room in Vegas) or go to the #1 restaurant in D.C. (as rated by the Washingtonian this year and several previous) you can go ahead and guess what I chose.

Last Saturday night, I got to cash in my gift at Komi in Dupont Circle.

Komi is located in a rowhouse in a discreet part of D.C. that is hard to find if you’re not looking for it. They specialize in extremely innovative cuisine, offering a 12+ course pre fixe dinner.

The standout hospitality of Komi started as soon as we walked in the door. Our coats were taken, we were seated immediately, and Kat Bangs – the adorable sommelier in a chic vintage dress I coveted all night long – arrived promptly to assist us with our drink orders.

We decided to go with a Greek viognier, after receiving complimentary tastes to ensure we liked it. I picked this wine on my own, and later learned that the restaurant liked it so much they bought out the vineyard. This, of course, means I’m a wine expert now. It was reasonably priced, around $40 and was light enough to go with the first several courses we were served.

The reason I’ve had to wait so long to write this review is that I’ve been waiting for the list of dishes we ate to arrive in the mail. There were so many, and they were all so unique and exquisite, that I couldn’t remember everything properly.

Pictures are not allowed at Komi, but even if they had been, I wouldn’t have taken any. Mr. T and I were in a lovers/foodie paradise and had the most incredible time tasting, talking and drinking that I wasn’t thinking of anything that was going on outside the perimeter of our table, specifically beyond what was going on in my mouth.

Komi seems to want to keep their flavors a surprise for newcomers, so even the list they sent isn’t very descriptive. I can understand why they do this, because as hard as I’m going to try to tell you how amazing the food was I know I will do it no justice.

I’m not even going to wait until the end of this to tell you that if you ever have a chance to eat at Komi, do it. Even if it means eating ramen for the next two weeks. It’s that special.

The way Komi works, is that they bring you several small, light dishes at first – featuring mostly raw fish, building up to the main course, and then going back to small dishes with several desserts. It is not for the faint of heart. You have to be willing to try new things, and eat past the point of uncomfortable satiety to prevail.

Okay, so here’s the breakdown of our dishes:

Salt Cod Puffs – When we were presented with the description of these, I began to worry that I had perhaps gotten in over my head. I like seafood, but I’m not an adventurous seafood eater. However, knowing what the meal was going to cost and that I’d probably never have better salt cod puffs in my life, I threw it down the hatch. This is when the love affair began. I can’t even explain the flavors, but they were just powerful enough as to ignite my taste buds to prepare me for the rest of the meal. I was intrigued.

Madai: So this was some sort of fish jelly, and sadly, the only dish of the night I didn’t like. Throughout the course of explaining the dish to us, I missed the part warning me that it was jellied fish and only heard things about honeycrisp apples and other lovely things, so I was a bit surprised by the taste. Mr. T ate my portion and seemed to enjoy it.

Scallop: This scallop was served sashimi style, meaning raw. I’m sure it was “cooked” in acid or something, but I really couldn’t tell you. It was pounded thin to where it almost looked like a sheet of paper. I was dubious, especially after the fish jelly, but again resolved to try all the things. I say this a lot, but I assure you this was the best bite of food I’ve ever eaten in my entire life. Ever. Mr. T said that he always hated the phrase “orgasm in my mouth” (as do I) but that there was no other way to describe this scallop. And, he was right.

Sea urchin: This was served alongside the scallop, and because I was so enamored with its predecessor, this one kind of got overshadowed. I just remember being impressed with myself for eating sea urchin. Urchin isn’t a very appealing word.

Shrimp/Pear: At the beginning of the meal, I was asked if I had any dietary restrictions or if there were any foods I didn’t want to eat. I mentioned that I don’t care for shrimp, so while Mr. T was served a shrimp dish I was given a pear creation instead. At the table behind us, a patron had requested an all vegetarian dinner, and I was impressed that they were able to accommodate. I’m sure the pear dish I was served was part of the vegetarian menu, and it was very good. The flavors combined to taste like barbecue sauce, which doesn’t sound as good as it was. Mr. T said his shrimp was almost as good as the scallop, but I didn’t believe him, only because I hate shrimp.

Trout Roe: So, I like fish eggs. A lot. This is something I never would have tried, ever ever, unless in this environment – but I’m so glad I did. I believe it was actually served with raw tuna, with the roe on top. It tasted like bacon. I don’t even like bacon. So yeah, nothing about me liking this makes sense – but that’s just how good Komi is.

Spanikopita Bites: Little warm puffs of spinach and cheese pastry lightly breaded and fried(?) to perfection. My former vegetarian/more normal food loving side really appreciated this one.

Vitello: I must have been wrong when I mentioned the tuna earlier, because I’m pretty sure it was in this dish which was a carpaccio type creation with both tuna and veal. I rarely eat veal, but I did it here, and it was good.

Foie Gras: While we were getting pre-dinner drinks, I asked Mr. T what he thought would be the weirdest thing we’d eat that night. I said I was pretty certain we’d have foie gras, which has always been a fear food of mine. Duck liver just doesn’t sound delicious, regardless of how much it costs. And here it was, but just saying foie gras is insufficient. This was actually a deconstructed gyro, with the foie gras, lamb, and other components I can’t recall that, when eaten all at once, tasted exactly like a gyro. So good.

Half Smoke: A hot dog! Okay, not really, a smoked sausage. One of the awesome things about Komi was that as soon as you thought you were adjusting to one kind of flavor experience or weird food mixture, they’d surprise you with something completely different. The half smoke was perfectly cooked, served on a crusty bun and topped with cabbage. It was a way more delicious version of something you’d find at any football tailgate, and made me feel comfortable and nostalgic.

Mascarpone Stuffed Salted Dates: Do I really have to convince you guys that these were drop dead amazing? No? Well, I will anyway. There are two kinds of people when it comes to dates – those who are obsessed with them (mostly health bloggers, I would say) and those who have never heard of them. That’s kind of a lie, because I don’t fall into either of those categories, but I still think I have a point. Anyways, I knew they were good and kind of like them a lot and Mr. T had never heard of them. We both talked about them for at least three days afterward. The waiter said they were to cleanse our palette and prepare us for the upcoming main course, but they really just made me want 50 more just like them. The dates seemed to have been boiled or baked to soften them, then rolled in sea salt and stuffed with glorious mascarpone. Second to the scallop mentioned above, this was the best thing I’ve ever eaten in my life.

Gnocchi: I’m typically pretty picky when it comes to gnocchi. It’s usually either too crumbly, or too gummy, or too mushy. It’s hard to get it right. This was a potato gnocchi with rabbit ragout and it was a standout. We were starting to get a little tipsy on the wine at this point, but still stopped to marvel at how good the rabbit (sorry vegetarians!) tasted. I’ve only had rabbit once before on a charcuterie plate at Lyon Hall and it was awful. Like, I gag just thinking about it awful. But this was amazing. If I wouldn’t have known it was rabbit, I couldn’t have told you as much.

Katsikaki: THE MAIN EVENT. Roasted goat shoulder served on the bone, with pita, meyer lemon sea salt, charred onion relish, pickled peppers, tzaziki, and beet salad. Goat shoulder is my new favorite meat. I’ll probably never eat it again (where can you find goat shoulder?) but it was so succulent and tender, a lot like brisket, but better. And all the accoutrements were just outstanding – particularly the peppers and the beet salad. If you put it all atop a pita it made a fabulous sandwich. As lovey dovey as Mr. T and I were during this meal (nothing spurs great conversation like awesome food and wine), I wanted to stab his hand with my fork and eat this all for myself. I couldn’t, because I was too full and he was paying, but I wanted to.

Butterscotch Pudding: Then came the desserts, served with a complimentary dessert wine that escapes my memory. I was so full at this point that my level of enjoyment went down a notch. I’m also not a huge dessert person. However, the butterscotch pudding was terrific. I am sure there was some fanciness added to it, but that escapes me as well.

Date Cake: The date cake was topped with a Greek yogurt gelato. Mr. T liked the cake,  but not the gelato. I liked the gelato, but not the cake. This wasn’t our favorite, but still good.

Peanut Butter Caramel Truffle: Beyond good. I had a nibble and took the other half home because it was too good to give to Mr. T.

Beeswax Milk Chocolate: Same as above.

Cardamom Truffles: These were my birthday gift from the restaurant, and I saved them for later, but they were wonderful. Just the right amount of spice from the cardamom to make them interesting, without going so far as to be unpalatable.

Salted Pineapple Lollipop: These are given at the end of the meal to take home. Such a cute way to top off the evening.

From the first dish to the lollipop, we received the best service I can recall ever receiving. The wait staff was incredibly knowledgeable and enthusiastic about the food (we got different servers for most of the dishes), our water glasses and our wine glasses were always full and we just felt incredibly welcome and at home at Komi.

Wow, that was even longer than I thought. Some things just cannot be said quickly.

In summary, this was the best meal of my life. Do whatever you can to eat here.

Would you have tried all of these dishes? I always thought I would never try foie gras, but it was a much better experience than I had anticipated.