New Orleans Night Duck

I was just inspired. The Westword, a lovely little paper in Denver, posted an article on their CafeSociety blog about the best leftovers. There is absolutely nothing I love in this world more (sorry, Mom) than LEFTOVERS. In fact my mom even brought me some leftovers today so I think she knows where my loyalties lie.

I wanted to not so covertly expand upon (steal) this idea but how? Then I remembered a glorious moment, in New Orleans (Yes, Sara and I went to New Orleans but were much too busy and important to blog about it.) We went to Galatoire's for an early bird dinner. Much has been said about Galatoire's (I'm sure) and I agree with all of it (the good stuff). I ate some food, in fact I think I ate a lot of food thus I didn't have the stomach room left to eat all of my entree of delectable duck.

I guess it's officially called "Roasted Duck." Which reminds me of my absolute favorite thing about Galatoire's, no fru fru fancy named bologna. Well, no bologna, actually. You want duck? Order Duck. You don't have to order the "apricot infused glaze of hashish with pumpernickel garnishment toast mixed with an awe-inspiring lumped potato and Count Chocula approved 7-day duck roast." Call me old fashioned but duck is duck, no matter what cereal character endorses it.

Back to the story. So since I couldn't finish my duck. The waiter tried to convince me that I needed to take it with me. I protested, I was in a hotel, I had no fridge, it would become yuck duck. He said no, you're wrong it will be good for hours! Who am I to argue with a seasoned Galatoire's waiter? If anyone knows his stuff, it would be this guy. So I took it and deposited it in the hotel room.

We went out drinking, as one does in New Orleans. This particular night may or may not have involved Absinthe drinking at a Pirate Bar, the details are understandably fuzzy. Upon return to hotel room I was greeted with the best thing that could ever happen! Leftovers! Sitting in their shiny material, just waiting to be eaten! And so I give you Night Duck. That's a look of elation not demonic possession, I assure you.


Working on the Night Duck! Similar but better than the Night Cheese.

Might as well stop eating now.

I'm going to tell you a little story. And it might make you roll your eyes a little, and it might make you take me a little less seriously, but it will most certainly put the events of a certain evening at Fruition into perspective.

The first night Kevin and I ate together, I knew I would probably keep dating him because he traded plates with me halfway through the meal. This is an odd thing on which to base a relationship. I'll admit that. But food is really, really important to me.

Flash forward a few dinner dates. Somewhere around TAG. Kevin and I come to the realization that we need to talk about our entree choices because we usually end up wanting the same thing. His mom thought it was hilarious. (I can see your eyes rolling. HANG IN THERE.)

Fast forward again. It's a Friday and we've got a very rare 6:45 reservation at Fruition. The maitre d' is charming. He wears a bow tie. He tells me he likes my dress, says women don't dress up enough in Colorado. I appreciate this.

(Sidebar: you may remember that the maitre d' at Six89 had a bow tie. Then we had an excellent meal. Fruition's maitre d': bow tie. Fruition's food: mind blowing. Coincidence? I think not. I'm thinking of adopting this as a litmus test for restaurants I visit, similar to how I usually buy bottles of wine based on their labels. It hasn't let me down yet.)

Anyhow, the restaurant was busy, and had the feeling of a friendly bustle for the entire time we wee there (nearly 2.5 hours). Our seating wasn't perfect (a bit closer to the draft from the door than I might have liked), but I think we were just happy to have a table...and I was happy to watch the bow-tied maitre d'.

The crowd skewed slightly older, but there was a diverse mix. Midway through our meal, a couple seated at the table next to us were celebrating a birthday dinner. One of the diners gave his partner a first edition copy of Mastering the Art of French Cooking. Seriously. Click that link. I think that is a pretty good indicator of how seriously people who eat at Fruition take their food.

This wine list was extensive, though the selection of wines by the glass was somewhat limited. Understandable, because this is the kind of place where you want to linger with a bottle of wine. I ordered a pinot (big surprise) and Kevin ordered a zinfandel. One of the rotating cast of characters that served as erstwhile waiters (while ours was...I don;t know...practicing his maddeningly vague accent?) brought bread, with butter, sea salt and herbs.

Round One: Starters

Winner: Kevin

Veal cheek pot pie, in the cutest little cast iron pot I've ever seen. Kevin said he wished he had about five more. Or a giant one. Or five giant ones. The puff pastry was flaky, the vegetables perfect (not too mushy). Of course, i can't accurately speak to the wonders of this dish, as I only got about one bite of it. This was very abnormal behavior for my dinner date.

I had a microgreen and winter vegetable salad with hazel vinaigrette and prosciutto. It was delightful. But I really wanted that pot pie.

Round Two: Entrees

Winner: Sara

Both of us wanted to order one of two things: confit pork shoulder, or beef culottes. I (maybe a little sneakily) ordered first so I could get the pork, and it was the best selfish decision I've ever made. Confit pork shoulder (click here for a definition) served over sweet potato polenta, with a salad of pears, candied walnuts, red grapes and microgreens. This dish was an example of how simplicity can sing - how the fruit brought out the sweetness int he slow-cooked pork; the bitterness of the walnuts balanced the richness of the polenta. I almost cried a little. I reluctantly parted with two bites. Very strange behavior indeed.

Kevin ordered the beef, and it was excellent. I had some. There were potatoes and carrots involved. It was beautifully cooked. But I just don't remember it. Sometimes, the best things in life overshadow even the really good ones. (See also: Pirate's Booty vs. Cheetos).

Round Three: After Dinner Drinks

Winner: Depends on how you define "winner"

I ordered a Muscat. Kevin ordered Scotch. I really enjoyed my dessert wine. Kevin really enjoyed his Scotch. So much so, in fact, that he wondered why I do not enjoy Scotch. So I tried some, and very nearly died. I think he was punishing me for not sharing more pork. It was worth it.

This is where a pun on the word TAG would go.

This blog is allegedly about food, and not relationships. If you're looking for a relationship blog, check out Kristen's newest addition to her writing portfolio, Kristen's Fishing Trip. (I don't know if that's supposed to be a secret blog or not. Either way, it's a riot and required reading in my house. [And cubicle. And on the couches of anyone with a sense of humor.])

Therefore, I will only briefly mention that Sara and I went to TAG on Saturday night, and that it was sort of a big deal, because one of us met my mother. And seeing as how I lived under the same roof as my mom for 18 years, it probably wasn't me who was meeting her for the first time. Although we were strangers for the better part of my teens.

When you're deciding on a restaurant in a situation like this, you can go one of two ways: Slum it, pick Village Inn, and hope the food makes everyone decide to call it an early night - or you can pick a fancy restaurant and hope the strong drinks (fingers crossed) make it bearable.

So, very serious things aside. TAG is famous 'round these parts for making their own tonic water. I don't drink many gin and tonics these days, because they get me into the Villegas version of "trouble." Needless to say, I've had my fair share of gin and tonics. And the gin and tonic at TAG is really good stuff. Even though quinine can be nasty stuff, it's magical when included in homemade tonic made with Cinchona bark. By the way, I just earned my two-wikipedia-links-in-one-sentence award.

So we started with a salad (come on, Mom. Live a little.) and two appetizers - the Hiramasa and the Duck confit sope cakes. The sope cakes were very good. They sat on a bed of guacamole and were savory, warm and flavorful. The winner of round one, though, was the Hiramasa - which was pan-seared, had a small amount of truffle oil drizzled on top with and a little myoga.

And, oh yeah, a slice of jalapeno and pop rocks on top. What started as a "What's sizzling?" thought in my head led eventually to, "What's pink on my plate, and doesn't smell like roe?" And eventually ended in my saying out loud, "Holy God, those are pop rocks." Very creative, Troy Guard. Cheeky monky. It was a great way to start this experience.

Main course time. My mother had the safe choice, which was cooked extremely well and still delectable: Caramelized sea scallops. She reported them to be "perfect."

Tamarind mustard braised short ribs was the entree du jour for Sara. Pear, yuzu (or some citrusy fruit) the rib...a great plate, full of balanced flavor. The citrus did it well, I thought. And I never met mustard that I didn't like. Tamarind mustard should be required on all hot dogs. Hear that, Montforts?

No fork needed, although for the sake of appearances, she kept her butter knife on the plate. Polite company apparently uses a knife to cut ALL meat, even when it's not necessary.

And I had Szechuan Colorado Lamb, with couscous and Dragon Sauce...a touch spicy, but in a good way. Lamb is one of those meats that needs another flavor to contrast with when prepared correctly. (And it's uneatable when cooked wrong.) The Szechuan influence is a standard choice, but executed correctly here. The couscous is a welcome addition of an entirely different texture.

I have my problems with Lodo eateries, and especially Larimer Square restaurants. We were seated right next to the door, which wasn't fun. But someone has to sit there, so oh well.

But TAG is a nice place to go, even if it is a little pricey, and can sometimes come off more about appearances than food. Which is not a problem, because, let's face it, I'm can be sort of about appearances. All of this coming from a guy who uses the word "classy" more than Donald Trump.

An outstanding meal at Six89

Saturday night, I made the 160 mile trek from my front door in beautiful downtown Denver to devastatingly charming Glenwood Springs on Saturday night. Reservations were made, nice clothes cleaned and pressed, personal grooming attended to, drive made.

Six89 (www.six89.com) seems to be a restaurant that most people agree is worth the trek to Carbondale from Glenwood Springs, or further south, Aspen. I'm a fan of crowdsourcing - and the people on Yelp give this place a full five star rating. Mission accomplished.

So Sara (yep, Sara of EatFace fame) and I sit down to eat, and the waiter brings us a couple of Six89's version of fried pickles - except these are pickle chips which have magically somehow remained cool on the inside as a pickle should be, and crispy fried on the outside. They're good. Damn good, especially for what is generally considered bar food.

I have a scotch. She has a glass of Pinot Noir. We exchange pleasantries about the pickles. She smiles. About halfway through her glass of wine, we order dinner. "You may have to drive back," she informs me. I discuss scotch, and she very graciously nods her way through that portion of the conversation, even though my material is about as interesting as watching Guy Fieri sample the food of some ethnic minority. (WOW, THAT'S REALLY GOOD.)

We didn't wait long for our food to come out, and that was after the waiter had informed us that they were really busy.

An aside about our waiter: if you enjoy eating something that one of us has ordered, do tell. We can discuss. But don't say that it's your favorite thing on the menu. Because that means that the thing the other person has ordered is not as good, in your eyes. And nobody wants that. Other than that, our waiter was a stand-up guy, was extremely knowledgeable and just the right amount of attentive.

We both had decided on the hamachi for starters - and we were not disappointed. A lot of times, fish this far inland is hit or miss - but it was fresh, and topped with a really light jalapeno sauce and homemade thin crunchy tortilla strips that gave it some much needed texture. I ate mine quickly, and she, being a lady, took her time with it. So I stared longingly at her plate. Don't think she caught me.

Main courses came quickly thereafter, and that's a definite positive. Hers: Grit and rabbit cakes, braised in milk, in a tomato-based sauce. Mine: BBQ Pork in a pear and melted cabbage sauce with pieces of pear. Both dishes were meticulously crafted, you could tell. Presentation was great, and flavor was - well - outstanding.

Outstanding is not a phrase that I use a lot on this blog. Outstanding is not a phrase I use on ANY blog. But the food at Six89 is outstanding.

Her food was delicious and had an interesting texture because of the grits ("I love it when they call grits, grits," Sara said.).

My pork was tender, flavorful and the pear, which I thought would not go well with pork, actually was what pulled the entire plate together.

Delicious, local, and the host wears a bow tie, which Sara was particularly impressed with.

I'm particularly impressed with a lot of things about Six89. It's in an older style house, and the ambiance reflects that. Huge wine selection, a varied menu that has something for everyone and it's not particularly crowded at all, which you can bet is not going to be the case forever.

That'll do, pig. That'll do.

Tonight I made a new best friend.

His name is barbacoa.

Let me explain. I've lived in this valley off and on for 21 years of my life. I was here before Carbondale was trendy. Before we had a Target. Before you couldn't find a one-bedroom apartment for less than $1500.

But before all of that, and before me, there was probably a carniceria.

What a shame that it took me such a long time to figure out where one was: 15 minutes away, in Carbondale, by the liquor store and the Family Dollar and by a place that, I guess, installs woodburning stoves. In between all those things is a little bit of perfect. There are three bowls on the plastic picnic tables: onions, limes, cilantro. There are three bottles of salsa (chipotle, green-hot and really hot). There are sodas in glass bottles. There are chicharrones and menudo in glass cases. You can buy a pig head for $20. This is a real butcher shop that happens to have a menu, and happens to make the best tacos I've ever had in my life.

Fresh meat is good meat. I'm a firm believer in that. I don't know how much of it is local, but all of it is hand-cut. And if it looks that good in the case, it's roughly 12473 times better cooked. I got two barbacoa tacos with fresh avocado. My dad got a carne asada burrito.

Both came on fresh tortillas (me: corn. him: flour). I love pork so much I am considering going all Top-Chef-Kevin and getting a pig tattooed on me, and this pork did not disappoint. Slightly sweet/spicy barbecue...amazing. And only $1.60 per taco. Suck it, Chipotle.

Dad's burrito: I think it weighed maybe 6 lbs. And 5 lbs. of that was steak. The remaining pound of burrito was homemade refried beans, onions, avocado, cilantro, salsa verde and queso fresco. Note that not one of those ingredients is rice. And then note that the burrito costs $6.50. Suck it, Qdoba.

So, basically, my plan is to go back until I've tried everything. Except maybe the menudo. You can choose from upward of seven meats, combined into magical creations including tacos, burritos and quesadillas. I'm going to try all of them. Except maybe the tripe. You can also get about eight different kinds of tortas and a lot of things I couldn't read because I don't read Spanish (taking French in high school finally reveals its downfall).

And extra plus: there's a tortillaria next door, so you can pick up some delicious souvenirs. And who doesn't love eating under a collection of giant pinatas?

A short postscript about Cheetos: Here at Eatface, we have determined through extensive research that crunchy Cheetos are texturally a meal unto themselves, while puffy Cheetos are best enjoyed with a robust sandwich. This, of course, is a matter of personal preference. Not a matter of personal preference: Cheetos are the best snack food ever, and I'm not ashamed to say that. Own your love of artificially-orange food. Your life will be better for it.

The Second-Saddest Place on Earth

Detroit might have it nailed down in the "saddest place on Earth" category, but Albuquerque could close in on it if it doesn't watch its back.

I'm in town for a business trip, leaving tomorrow for the happiest place on Earth, Disney World (duh). But for the moment, I'm in the Hyatt business center (Hyatt=very nice rooms, good pool, decor circa 1993), and here I will recount a little tale about my time in Albuquerque, NM.

I got here and thought, "Hey, not so bad!" It was a reaction spurred by not-so-stellar reviews of the city from, well, pretty much everyone who had been here before me. It was warm. It looked like they had some urban renewal projects going on. There were trees by my hotel. There seemed to be things within walking distance. But soon, my hopes were dashed. To summarize:

Biggest Disappointment
Brazilian food at Tucanos. Turns out this is a chain restaurant, not quite what we had in mind. Anyone remember the Mongolian BBQ in Boulder? This place was that place, only with large skewers of meat instead of grills. And a super wierd salad bar that contained things like garlic mashed potatoes juxtaposed with quail eggs and beef stroganoff. Hm. Also, beware of Tucanos if it is your birthday. They will bang lots of congas and sing in something that I must only assume is Brazilian. There were a lot of birthdays that night. However, local beers were on tap and I had an IPA from the local Marble Brewery which was really quite good. And the old Route 66 area is pretty cool - old neon signs and the like, but not somewhere a lady should be alone at night.

Biggest Fun Surprise
There is a HUGE brigade of bicycle-riding policemen in Albuquerque. This didn't make up for the fact that the 7-11 closed at 9 (as opposed to, you know, 11) or that I counted five passed out drunk dudes and a puddle of vomit in the five minutes it took to walk to the 7-11. Remember how I was heartened by the urban renewal? I think they forgot to finish it.

Biggest Historic Sighting
We ate dinner at the Church Street Cafe in Old Town, which is housed in what the menu claims may be the oldest building in Albuquerque (early 1700s!). Very cool little place with a nice patio and tasty sangria. Sadly, not the best Mexican food, particularly if you enjoy things that are spicy, or, for that matter, things that have salt in them. Nice ambiance, though. Old town is also super cute in the tourist way and there's lots of shopping, some of which is wicked cool, like Santisima - seriously one of the most interesting stores I've ever visited; made me wish my suitcase was way bigger and I was way richer.

Biggest Not-Fun Surprise
My dining companions and I were chilling on the corner waiting for the bus when, out of nowhere, a little to-go side order of salsa flew out a car window as the passenger of said car let out a maniacal cackle. Salsa was everywhere, the carnage smelled of jalapeno. I avoided the drive-by salsing but others weren't so lucky. Then we got on a bus that had a big ad across the ceiling that said, simply, "AIDS." I later saw a bus with a similar sign advertising "SYPHILIS". Wtf.

Biggest Delight
Get ready for a shameless plug. Coworker and I lunched at a restaurant owned by two of our (now married) culinary grads called Cafe Green. It's a French breakfast and lunch joint that had the most delicious (and beautiful) chicken salad sandwich I have ever laid eyes on. Crispy French baguette, cranberries, cucumber, walnuts, hard boiled egg, chives, salt and pepper. Simple and delicious; plus it came with a side of truffle fries. Joy! The menu rotates seasonally based on what is fresh and local. If you ever find yourself here, get there sometime before 2 p.m. and eat well.

Fast Times

So yeah, we went to some nice restaurants in Vegas (see accidental awesome wine post).

But we also see Vegas as another kind of food Mecca. It is where the best fast food in the world lives. Fast food worth paying for cabs; fast food worth braving the heat; fast food that will change your life.

Or at least it will if you live in Colorado and don't have regular access to In 'n' Out and Nathan's.

The Happiest Hamburger in the World.

There are a few things that make In 'n' Out's food pretty awesome. Most important: Everything is fresh. Crispy lettuce, thick tomatoes and onions, fresh cut fries.

Buns are toasted.

Special sauce is present.

You can get like 5 hamburger patties on a burger if you want, I think.

Also: don't miss the milkshakes.

And if you're a huge burger dork, you can unearth In 'n' Out's secret menu. I personally stick to the basics...it's kind of not worth trying to make it better.

In true Vegas style, In 'n' Out Las Vegas is graced with a giant neon sign, so it'snot hard to find. But remember: even though it looks like it's close to the Tropicana, it's really not. Take a cab. Seriously. Food will only be like $5. Don't kill yourself walking there.

Hot Dog Heaven, and Maybe the Best Fries Ever.

Oh, Nathan's. Yeah, you can buy Nathan's hot dogs in the store. Or at Heidi's deli. Or whatever.

But they won't be made to order, and they won't come with amazing crinkle cut fries.

Nathan's hot dogs might be the only reason I would ever move to New York. They are traditional style, with natural casings (that little "pop" when you bite in will tell you if there are natural casings, btw). They don't get overpowered by condiments (important, because I eat mostly so I can put condiments on things).

But, most importantly, there are fries.

Kristen and I tried to think of fries we liked better. We couldn't. And that's quite a feat. They are thick cut, but not mushy or too stachy. They are soft inside with perfect crispness quotient outside. They come with a teeny-tiny fork to eat them with. They are perfection.

Also! Best tip we discovered in Vegas: If you catch it on the right day, the Coney Island area of the New York New York has a special: buy fries and a drink, and your hot dog is free. Yes, please.

Jet setting on the cheap

Doing my daily surveying of the Internets, and came across an interesting post on Mashable. Turns out if you aren't too picky about your travel dates, you can go pretty much anywhere in the US, Caribbean and Mexico for well under $1,000 - and sometimes even Hawaii.

Voyij scans all the best deals on the web and combines them in a super easy-to use filtering system so you can decide on a trip based on location, length of stay, star ratings, etc. Very handy, especially if you don't have a schedule to work around. For instance: Four night hotel stay plus airfare to Puerto Vallarta in the beginning of August = $480. For reals? Yes.

Here's to becoming Samantha Brown and having some Great Weekends-style trips.

Rain ruins potentially awesome blog post, and other misadventures

What we planned to do in Montrose:

• Hike in the Box Canyon in Ouray with my favorite baby, Castelle. (Photo is of Cas and Brooke, his mom, at the Black Canyon)
• Go garage sale-ing.
• Go for a nice long bike ride toward Gunnison.
• Go to the naked hot springs, Orvis, in Ridgeway.
• Have a picnic.
• Hang out at the pool at the Best Western Red Arrow, my favorite hotel in the world (disclosure: it is managed by Castelle's mom and dad).

What actually happened in Montrose:

• It rained.
  
• A lot.
• Wtf.
  

So stay tuned for a real blog post about the loveliness that is Montrose, CO. Beyond the meth addicts and crime problem, it's really quite a nice area. Of course, I really like deserts; to each his own.

Three things I can write about in spite of inclement weather:

• Pollux. I miss shopping so much. Glenwood has, um, Target (which I love, you know that, Target) but I haven't found a store here that caters to my personal style, if you will. Luckily for me, I have Pollux (there's also a location in Grand Junction). Last time, I spent an amount I am embarrassed about. This time, I kept it to a hat that looks sort of like this. Cute. Go me, with the willpower.
• Belly. In addition to being my favorite word, this is also a new-ish restaurant in Montrose. Excellent Friday night specials for the ladies ($1 wells), good live music Saturday nights. Food: average, though I hear the coconut shrimp are pretty great. BLT had lots of bacon, which made me happy enough. Oh, and apparently Justin Timberlake and Jessica Beale ate there once when they were in Telluride. So it's kind of like I'm famous now.
  
• 
• Suds. Sure, it may not be the best bar in town, but it's home. They don't serve food. Unless you count hot pockets as food. They don't have a patio. Unless you count the back alley. BUT: colorful characters abound, it's worthwhile to get to know the bartenders, and sometimes there is karaoke. Plus sometimes the bartenders jump over the bar to break up fights. So it's kind of like Roadhouse. You can also smoke in the bar, which may be good or bad, depending on your habits.

This is just to say…

I ate the cheese fries
That you put on my table
They were delicious
So melty, with bacon.

Yeah I made a William Carlos Williams joke just then. But the cheese fries at Rib City are seriously delicious.

So delicious I couldn’t finish my super delicious pulled pork sandwich.

As far as BBQ goes, this ain’t no Rib House (I will always carry a torch for the Rib House) but it’s pretty fricking good for the Western Slope. Plus, within walking distance of my house, and work (that means downtown, such as it is in Glenwood).

Worth pulling off the highway for if you need a snack.

Especially if you like cheese and bacon as much as I do.

Just try not to think of these little guys while you’re eating it.

Albuquerque here I come!

Booked flight/hotel for my trip to beautiful Albuquerque NM this morning.

Front desk clerk: "Would you like a mountain view or a city view from your room?"

There are mountains in Albuquerque? Wtf?

This led me to wonder what else there is about this city I don't know. I'm gonna be there for three whole days - plenty of explorations time.

So, dear readers, I am soliciting your advice. If you comment here and tell me what to do in the desert, I promise I will, to the best of my abilities, attempt to try it. And take photos. Because right at this moment the only thing anyone has suggested is that there is a really awesome lesbian bar. Hm.

Am I in Kansas or Missouri? Hmm.

I recently shuttled myself off to Kansas City, Missouri for a work conference (in March), but chose to arrive a couple days early. Yep. On purpose. Just hanging out, in KC.

The conference brochure promised loads of excitement, including the birthplace of Hallmark Cards (Crown Plaza, where my hotel was located), Harley Davidson production plant, etc. I decided there must be more to it than that. And I was right. For the most part.

Biggest sad:
Somewhere along the line I had read that Kansas City was the “Chicago of the Midwest.” I thought this was odd because, er, isn’t Chicago in the Midwest anyway? But I took this to mean that KC is full of hip young things and good music. And it might have been. The week before and after I was there. Unfortunately SXSW was the week of my visit, so all the bands were in Austin and I languished; Ryan Adams and the Kings of Leon played dates on either side of my trip. Go figure. Otherwise, though, it woul appear that KC has a good music scene. Especially if you’re into jazz/blues. (Hit up the Jazz Museum if you are…I didn’t have time, but it looks fabulous!)

Biggest cliché:
I ate a lot of barbecue. And discovered that “burnt ends” may well be my favorite food. And KC makes some pretty great beer. And that seating yourself at the bar at Jack Stack BBQ (in the Freight District) is the best way to get a table without a two-hour-plus wait. Yum.

Biggest ouch:
Take tennis shoes. You can walk everywhere in downtown KC, and it’s pretty flat. But little flats won’t cut it if you want to explore the arts district (galleries), downtown Power & Light District, etc., and walk the whole time.

Biggest bummer:
The economy is rough. Lots of empty storefronts in the metro area.

Biggest AWESOME!
The Nelson Atkins Museum of Art and the Kemper Museum of Contemporary Art are open and FREE. Both buildings are architecturally fantastic, and are worth a trip on the bus to get there (very easy if you take the MAX – comes every 10-30 minutes depending on the day, $1.50 was the going rate while I was there – ticket lasted 3 hours). Make sure you visit the sculpture garden, and the audio tour was the best way to make sure you hit all the best parts. A pleasant exceeding of my expectations. Especially the giant badminton birdies on the lawn, and the Art Institute hipsters flying kites among them.

Biggest temptation to exceed my travel budget:
Country Club Plaza (also a short bus jaunt on the MAX). The day I was there, the weather was gorgeous, the fountains were on, and I was in the mood to shop. Which was perfect, because I love open air shopping centers more than just about anything, and this one had a nice mix of locally owned and national shops. Example: Bought great vintage jewelry and a scarf at Standard Style, got a dress at Anthropologie. Perfection. The best fountain in KC is here (Kansas City is called the “city of fountains,” by the way) so you can shop while pretending to do actual sightseeing.

Biggest (tallest) friends:
This year, the first couple rounds of the NCAA basketball tournament were in KC. I ran into OU in my hotel elevator. Swoon. They also ate dinner among us at the Peach Tree, where I ate the most amazing collard greens I have ever had in my life. Serious.

Biggest (haired) friends:
There was an anime convention the weekend I arrived. Kids love hairspray, cat ears.

Biggest nerding:
Union Station, a short walk from my hotel. A few years ago, the city restored this ginormous rail station to its former glory, and being the dork that I am (and also obsessed with train travel) I enjoyed wandering around here and looking at Pullman cars. Shut up. Also made me curious as to why KC would need such a big rail station…I mean, it’s not like KC had immigration or pig slaughtering or steel to create a metropolis upon. I didn’t know my history so I looked it up. Turns out it was cattle slaughtering. Go figure. Moo.