Back when pork used to market itself heavily, post-“the Other White Meat” and pre-“Be Inspired” (which is apparently their current campaign), they had a series of billboards with common sayings where “pork” would take the place of some other noun. As a fan of the absurd, I loved these billboards. My favorite was the one that said, “Time flies when you’re having pork.” Which brings me to my main gripe today: the weekend went by much quicker than two days of work time ever has, and I object. If the pork-time continuum is real, I obviously brought this upon myself.
Saturday while I worked, Zach was busy prepping for Fried Chicken Night. His chicken is legendary among our friends, and I can think of at least two people who are going to be mad because FCN happened without their attendance (I’m sorry y’all!). I am not into dark meat, or gnawing chicken flesh right off of its own bones, but I will eat the shit out of some fried titty meat, so Zach prepped up a whole chicken and some change. After soaking the poultry in buttermilk, he created his own blend of herbs and spices (move over, Colonel Sanders, ya old racist), then set up the fry station outside so as not to stink up the entire house. We also made some green beans (blanched, then sautéed with garlic and butter), grilled zucchini, Mexican corn salad, and fried up some okra. I’m not normally a fan of okra, but Zach does everything in life correctly, including marrying me and making fried okra, so his is delicious and crispy. After shoveling all of the food we could handle into our respective faces, we closed down the evening with a round of dominos. Regretfully, many of Saturday’s foods are beyond my food photography skill level at this time, but trust me: they existed, and dinner was more beautiful than I could accurately portray.
To celebrate Mother’s Day, we went up and had dinner with Zach’s parents. They live in Cumming (worst city name EVER), which is, to me, a road trip requiring music of multiple media types, snacks, bottled beverages, and Dramamine. Since we were going upstate, I figured I would tone down my fashion choices for the evening. I also made Zach take photos of me with our beloved children before we hit the road since a holiday that doesn’t involve me at all seems pretty pointless. This outfit is barely worth telling you about but since I have you here: the dress was from Gwynnie Bee, by MM2. Shoes are these Swedish Hasbeens that I’m trying to break in so they stop eventually trying to kill me. Earrings were a Christmas gift from the in-laws. The bra was an accidental accessory but it’s by Goddess and probably came from Zulily.
We met Zach’s folks at a restaurant called Norman’s Landing. None of us had ever been before, so we were cautiously optimistic. Because I’m terrible at feeding myself on a schedule, I was starvin’ Marvin about 2 hours before our 6:15 reservation. I may or may not have made a slider run slightly before we left home, meaning I wasn’t super hungry by the time we rolled up to the Landing. Also I get carsick when I look at my phone in the car, but for some reason even this cannot stop me from looking at my damn, addictive, beautiful, perfect phone.
Norman’s was your standard family-filled, crap-tacked-to-every-inch-of-the-wall, wood-paneled wannabeach seafood restaurant. I love seafood, but I get nervous about any place that’s trying this hard to convince me that they’re dockside, in Forsyth county, GA. Granted, Lake Lanier exists, but it’s not exactly a geyser of lobster. Since I was full of bad decisions I just ordered the crab cake app, which was a lone cake, very salty, and cost $10. I had the option of either grilled or fried and if you’ve read this blog for any amount of time, you already know which method I chose. Despite the sodium level, it was tasty and had a good ratio of crab-to-filler. Zach’s mom went with the lobster roll, which was generously portioned with claw meat, came with slaw and another side (she got squash casserole, which appeared to just be sliced squash, covered with cheese and baked), was and only $18. The gentlemen both got blackened grouper and some veggie sides, and I didn’t even try to get a photo so I won’t lie to you about “forgetting” to. Fish is sort of ugly, the restaurant lighting was terrible, and I still feel a little silly taking photos of food in public. I’ll get over it I’m sure, but maybe I should make myself a little badge that says “PRESS” or “INSPECTOR” in the meantime.
Afterwards, we walked over to the neighboring Yogli Mogli for dessert. This was my first Mogli excursion, and I don’t think I’ll be back. The yogurt was excessively sour and barely tasted like the flavor it claimed to be. I tried peanut butter and dulce de leche and couldn’t tell you which one was which. Luckily I always have a built-in backup plan for just such an occasion. If you always just get a little bit of yogurt and a metric fuckton of toppings, it doesn’t matter how abysmal the yogurt is! Mine was saved by the addition of Oreos, cheesecake, and cookie dough. Mmmm, good ol’ healthy yogurt!
Today has been my favorite kind of day: uneventful except for eating. Zach makes the best pancakes, bacon, and eggs, but today I had to make the eggs because he was busy flippin’ flapjacks. We dined al fresco, and based on today’s weather, the patio will soon be too hot for eating and will mostly be for looking at. Which is precisely why I bought such cute outdoor decor.
Earlier I got dressed to go to the post office but then I regretted it, so there are currently no outfit photos to share. See you later, tater.