So, after a 27-hour, Ambien & alcohol-fueled, 3 plane segment (SF>Taipei; Taipei>Bangkok; Bangkok>Krabi), then an hour taxi to some funky little wharf outside Krabi, then an hour or so boat trip in this longboat with a 1970′s Chevy V8 strapped to it, we lumbered onto the lovely sands of Koh Jum, and the awesome, eco-friendly yet still luxurious, small – only ~10 villas- and aptly named Koh Jum Beach Villas. WTF is Koh Jum, you ask? Right here:

Baan Madelaine, to be exact as to the name of our villa (click on the little blue underline, called a ‘hyperlink’ for pix). It’s the best villa here, and this place is, bien sur, the most killer spot on the Koh. We’re talkin’ right on the beach, with a central house and two separate bedroom pods for some…privacy* So, for you impatient ones, here’s the bottom line: 1) Get yer asses to this island!, and b) Don’t stay anywhere else but Koh Jum Beach Villas.

The charming and attractive couple Chris and Severin run this place (nope that’s not them to the left, that’s the other J), give it an air of easy luxury and make ya feel right at home. But let’s face it, your hovel is no where close to as cool as this! I think it has just made our ‘we gotta come here every year’ list. And just like we are Pizza Bitches, we have become the worst kind of Hotel Snobs. So take our word here. I mean, it’s like “Shirt? Shoes? NO service”, the epitome of relaxed upscale coolness. Damn I love that word, epitome. Calliope too.

About the only knock we have is, at least this time of year and maybe it was caused by some freak gravitational pull of the moon, is when it’s low tide, it’s l-o-w. Low like in that Usher song. Low, low, low, low, low. So time your swims appropriately, bitches! And if it’s low, quit whining and go to the bar…or get the best massage ever for the grand total of $10…or, or…you get it.

OK, back to the deets:

*Oh yeah, by ‘we’ and ‘privacy‘ it’s not just us two kids this time around. That’s right, we broke our cardinal rule of traveling solo (except to Capri with our sadistic best friend Barry who damn near killed us on a boat trip gone wrong), and teamed up with our rock and roll, more ‘mature’ and ‘responsible’ buds Bob & Jane. We’re even sharing the villa! OMG!

And partly due to this fact, we’ve entitled this portion of our trip ‘Rehab Island: Koh Jum’

Now all we need is that douche Dr. Drew or Jeff Probst to make an appearance. (I say ‘this portion’ of the trip only because after our week-long stay here we’re off to Bangkok for 72 hours – look for that post next!)

But before that rigmarole, let’s set the record straight – of course we can and do drink in front of, and with, Bob & Jane. They’re not teetotalers or some bible-thumping freaks that think alcohol is the devil’s brew. They drink. But we…DRINK. Feel me? All I’m saying is, I’m amazed at the amount of booze we haven‘t consumed the past few days!

So you might be curious, “then whatdya do there, VdV?” Well, we had no clue either. My first fear was that I’d die of boredom in a pool of my own sweat; but contrary to rampant online rumors, I’m pleased to say that didn’t happen.

One reason is, January is the best month to be here, only gets into the high 80s daytime, low 70s at night. Not bad on the humidity front either. Just lovely. OK, I’m not stupid Christina Loren or anything and this isn’t weather channel, so let’s move on, shall we?

As we’re sure you know, when we’re hittin’ the road we sometimes do a day-by-day diary-like post  (to the best of our feeble minds’ abilities. We just make the rest up). But this is the islands, mon. Chill. This is “What’d we do yesterday? How ’bout we do that again today? Works for me.” type of action. So here’s the basic daily modus operandi here:

1) Wake up listening to and looking at the crystal clear Andaman Sea (do we have a picture? do we have a picture?! Ummm, no.)

b) Roll outta bed and into aforementioned sea for a swim. Our version of bathing. The water is perfect, clear and just warm enough so I don’t get those embarrassing nipple hard-ons, yet cool enough to be refreshing. Yee Haw!

3) Come back and voila!, there is fresh fruit for us to nosh on. Thanks Jane!

4) Buzz kill alert! Get online and knock out a little work to keep those pesky clients and investors at bay. Waaahhhh!

6) Lay on the beach. Or at least lay somewhere.

f) Grab lunch. This place has an awesome little restaurant called Urban Café where we’ve eaten every meal except for one (which was a mistake). Needless to say, this family serves up incredible Woon Sen (spicy glass noodles w/ shrimp), Crab fried rice in a carved out Pineapple, Laab spring rolls, whatever the fishing boat just hauled in and  Pad Thai. Or when in Thailand, should I just call it ‘Pad’?

A little Kindle Fire action – Yes I’m actually reading a book, to finally put to rest all those accusations of illiteracy (did I spell that right?).  Kitchen Confidential by my man Anthony Bourdain. Fave line so far “Your body is not a temple. It’s an amusement park” Well played! Second best line: “As soon as I stopped doing heroin, my life got really bad” Wow. Next on the reading list is Jobs’ bio, but it seems a bit daunting and maybe not that funny.

P.S.A. Time: Notice anything? That’s right, kittens. No mention of another good pal of ours, alcohol. I mean typically #b above would have been replaced with ‘slam a bloody mary ‘ or at least a Mimosa. What is this island doing to us?! Also, NO TV. I cannot believe we happily survived KJ sans TV and a serious reduction in alcohol consumption.. Thanks to engaging conversation with Bob & Jane (and our Kindle Fire loaded up with books, magazines & Family Guy) for helping us cling on to our version of sanity.

g) OK, here we go…game time. What we’d been waiting for all day: toss back a few adult bevvies at Koh Jum resort bar, the place just down the beach. Get some sun on our faces and watch the lovely J transform into a mad sort of Annie Lebowitz meets Ansel whoever, y’know that guy was that takes all the Yosemite pix (almost all photo credits go to her). She just starts snappin’ away, and may have discovered her next career!

n) Pop a bottle of bubbly with Bob & Jane and watch another ‘the most awesome sunset ever’ (each day better than the last), while often listening to a chorus (or cacophony) of Cicadias, we think cousins of the Locust, shrieking from the trees. Cool, actually. Unless one flies into your ‘noggin like happened to Jane. I got up to help, but those bastards don’t scare easily. I do.

13) Grab din din back at Urban Cafe. Pure awesomeness, all family-run. Fresh fish right off the boats, curries so hot they’ll blow yer head clean off, yummy spring rolls, crab in a pineapple (yup), even Thai Pizza. Pizza w/ chicken and spicy stuff on it. All lip smackin’ good. I think between the 4 of us we literally ate the entire menu, then we made our way back through. Bonus – they don’t allow shoes!

14) Stop by the bar sans B&J and hang with our new BTF (Best Thai Friends) Ohdd and Aht…something like that. I’m going phonetic here, kittens. I have no idea how to really spell their names, or even what their real names may be. I would suspect many more syllables. This is just what we were told to call them. Anyhoo, these 2 could have their own comedy show and are the coolest. Plus Aht is a fierce fire dancer.

So we’d kick back and chat about things like  their experience with the crazy Tsunami a few years back, where they huddled on a mountaintop for a week waiting for helicopters to drop food to them, and other stuff.  They taught us some Thai language each night, from basic language structure stuff structure like “Ka” and “Kap” meaning either feminine or masculine inflection. But here, it’s not who you are referring to, it’s about who YOU are.

So I, as a full-fledged male (last time I had a physical), was sternly warned to make sure not to say something like “Sawadee Ka” or anything with “Ka” after it even when speaking to a woman, because I would really be telling people “Hello, and I’m a girlie boy”. Thanks for the warning guys! Bizzare. But hey I respect it. So as a dude, suffix everything with “Kap”, like “Sawadee Kap.” Meaning, I’m greeting you and telling you I’m a guy. Seems more useful in Bangkok actually if ya get my drift. Anyhoo, that just got boring and maybe even a tad confusing.

On our last night, we taught them “Va Fangulo” and they reciprocated with “R Rai Vah” (say it: R – Ray – Waah)’, my newest fave expression (yes, you guessed it: ‘What The Fuck!?’). If you’re feeling frothy you can even add “Ceere” (Kee – Ray) for a “WTF Bitch!?” and really impress the locals!

15) Consider a late night swim or at least stroll on the beach. Or just pour a glass of wine. Or a Vodka + Sprite. Whatever. Dang boy, I was so happy the lovely, and way more intelligent J, persuaded me to pick up a couple grips of Vodka in the BKK airport.

z) Crawl into bed under the mosquito netting (which can double to keep out barking frogs, cute little geckos and who knows what else) with a nightcap and watch a dumb movie or episode of Family Guy or Always Sunny in Philly on the Kindle. Dude…Family Guy: The Hand That Rocks The Wheelchair is petty twisted! Up there with the one where Stewie & Brian get locked in the bank vault. Classic!

Repetitive? Perhaps. Shouldn’t good things be? This place is now on our list of annual vacay spots to hit! And bonus!, the Baht (Thai currency you plebian) is worth about 3 pennies here. So once you’re here food, lodging, boats…whatever you’re into, are quite economical.

But hey, it wasn’t all ‘tardo laziness either, we did do some extra-curricular activities that rocked. And may even be less boring than reading about us tucking ourselves into bed each night. Wanna hear it? Here it go:

• Snorkeling! Dang, I’ve been all over the world and this place is tops. The four of us rented a long boat for a full day for about $100 (incl lunch) and treated the Andaman Sea like our bitch. Bamboo Island (didn’t see any bamboo, but great fish) Mosquito Island (again, no bugs, but awesome diving), Monkey Island (not great diving but a shitload of grimy primates, and I’m not talkin’ the German tourists). That said, Monkey Beach that the most fine, pure white sand either of us had ever seen.

The best snorkeling I’ve seen, at least. So may awesome fish – Parrot fish, Angel fish, Triggers, hell I think I even caught a glimpse of the reclusive Abe Vigoda (Look it up, young ‘un). Plus cool anenome, blah blah. Nice warm clear water and decent coral action. We hit Koh Phi Phi as well, just so I could grab some Baht from an ATM (skip it, way overrun unless you are in desperate need of cash).

• Thai-style massages. For the staggering sum of $10 USD get pushed, pulled, poked and twisted like ya did something to piss her off.  And love every minute of it! I am officially sold on the Thai massage, screw that BS deep tissue crap they sell you on in the states! It was kinda weird when she told me to say “I’ve been a bad boy” but other than that;) she transformed me into almost super-human status.

• Kayaking up and down the coast. Pretty chill way to get some core exercise in, my little ones. And sneak a couple Singha along with you, so much the better!

OK you VdV disciples sorry for the 2000+ word count post! But hey, it’s been awhile. Doesn’t it just give you the warm and fuzzies to be back in touch again?

Next: 72 Hours in Bangkok!

OK this is a prior review I never posted that I just found in drafts. Aye aye aye I must be losing what’s left of my feeble mind. That said we’ve been back, enjoyed many more meals of rare cuts of Filet – just a week or so ago we had another great meal and did the “Crackhead Crazy Expensive Filet Trio Eat-Off” ($195). Ask for it by name! Dang it was tasty. (From left to right) Hailing from New Mexico the Lone Mountain Wagyu vs. a Cabassi Wagyu from the land down under vs. a Japanese Miyagi Perfecture. From Under Meat. Eww. Ha. But au contraire´mon ami, all three rocked it with the Lone Mountain coming in first by a hair. No, not really a hair, it was just a close call. All good, but this night at least the Japanese cut needed to be different cut perhaps, the texture was good but not quite enough taste, esp. when you’re paying about $25 a bite! This is a fun meal to have occasionally so splurge. Or have someone treat you! We also had the Truffle Fries ($12), cooked in duck fat bien sur, Wild Mushrooms ($14), pass on these and a terrific Steak Tartare ($18). Yup, Steak tartare as an appetizer to a Filet Trio. That’s some nasty carnivore action!

Please, read on for the original review!

Bacar, we loved ya. You brought sexy to SoMa back in the day. But then you just didn’t age well, kinda like Kenny Rogers.

So out with the old and welcome to the ‘hood, Alexander! And smart move keeping that killer wine storage:)

So we saddled up to the bar the other night. Nope not the bar bar, the kitchen bar. We love kitchen bars – chat chitting with the cooks, seeing the preparation, the operations and in the case last night getting lots of free vittles to boot! As in a Smoked Escarole appy, which had excellent texture and spice, as well as a complete lack of fishiness that resulted in even the other (non sushi-ish fan) J being a fan. More? A Scallop and Crab Lumpia dish, with super-sweet tiny scallops and a generous lump of crab, deep fried and succulent. And the Hamachi shots are unreal.

So we were greeted a tout de suite by Sean, a very cool, fun guy who acted as our main server, but is in fact a GM. Opened up the SF location, and was at the Cupertino location for years. Knows his meat, if you know what I mean. Good, ‘cuz I don’t know what I mean.

Wait, there is some seriously tasty B&T people watching at this joint too. Night of the living whores. Awesome watching these dudes with their dates in 5″ heels (yes, some clear) trying to walk the stairs to the bathrooms. Worth the price of admission alone! I guess the night before some guy came in and…wait for it…had his ‘date’ on a cat leash. I wonder if they brought her a bowl.

So we had not eaten all day. That is, except for a serving of kick-ass Steak Tartare at Epic Roasthouse an hour before. Meat meat meat meat. The dance of meat. It may be a jig, actually. So of course our next stop is a Steakhouse! By the by, Alexander’s has an equally awesome Tartare as well.

So we ordered up the Iceberg Wedge ($10) with Bacon & Bleu (yeah I spell it French) Cheese, not even a healthy tomato in sight! How was it? It’s an f-ing Iceberg Wedge, you cretin, of course it was good!

Then we had Tony’s Potatoes ($9), which rocked the house. Gratin, kittens. Yummy.

We had some Sauteed Mushrooms ($14)…hmm, this was the one thing that was kinda blah. Tasteless. Skip it. Then WTF did I get it again the next time we went (read above…)? I’m kinda dumb I guess. But hey, we’re not here to graze on veggies, let’s get on with it!

Wait. Yes, surprise, surprise we did have some beverages. And we started with Sangria with Beets?! WTF? That’s TF, people. This was odd, good and semi-earthy. They also have a solid BTG (by the glass, keep up) wine list – we hit the Nebbiolo and Grenache, the Reussiac Sauternes and 20 Year Grahams Tawny.

Oh yeah, THE MEAT. There goes that jig again. So these guys have tons of delish meat. Doi. It’s not called a Steakhouse for nuthin’. But something in particular caught my bloodshot, beady little eyes…The Tajina F1 Filet ($125). What is it? “It’s a rare (as in scarce) cut of Filet Mignon”. What else is it? “One Hundred And Twenty-Five Dollas“. Anything else to add? “Why yes, and thanks for asking. The best f’ing steak we’d had in memory”.  Say it with me. R-A-R-E! So is it worth $125 bones? Every day – no? On occasion? Hells yeah!

Oh yeah, the Cotton Candy they serve for dessert…cute…I guess. But not for moi. Anyhoo, go!

Crust! It’s not a dirty word anymore. Crust is king. Yeah I know I’ve said toppings are king. I say lotsa things. Ask my friends & clients. But anyone can go get some San Marzanos, a little dried oregano, some bufala mozzy and basil, and have a fighting chance of making an edible pie. Plus that’s just good sourcing. And nothing against excellent ingredients, I mean they are absolutely necessary.

But the crust. Yes you can use double zero flour, filtered water, corn meal if you’re a hack. And whole wheat flour if you’re a real hack, at least according to a certain chef by the name of Sarah B:) But seriously  you really don’t have much to fool around with. It’s a classic ‘fiddle vs. fiddler’ debate. And lemme tell ya kittens there’s some serious fiddlin’ going on at Joe’s Pizza. My picture doesn’t do it justice! Dammit Jim I’m a Pizza Bitch not a Photographer!

So we scampered over to this funky little shack the other day, even though we had just strapped on the feedbags at…hell I can’t remember where…I’ll have to check my Foursquare log-ins…anyhoo, we had to have a slice of pie that none other than the greatest dramatic actor in the world Kevin Bacon (uhh…did you see My Dog Skip?). Ha, me neither. Then maybe Footloose or The River Wild? How’s that, punk?!

Oh yeah, back to Mssrs. Bacon and WTF that has to do with Joe’s Pizza: In response to a question from the most editorially respected magazine going, Maxim, who asked him “What would be your last meal?” KeBa responded “A slice of pizza from Joe’s on Carmine Street in NYC!” How’s that beeeyotch!

And while VdV might not take it quite that far (Del Posto, Le Jules Verne, anyone?! I mean I want my least meal to last awhile) we do concur that this pizza kicks some serious hiney. We grabbed a slice of the Fresh Mozzy ($3.50) and it brung it strong on all fronts – nice big blobs of fresh Mozzarella, melted just so; a sauce I would say is zesty and slightly sweet all at the same time and very fresh, I think made out of Cali vs. San Marzano tomatoes; all on a crust fit for the gods. I added a little crushed red pepper just to make it my own.

But back to the crust: Miraculously Joe (yup, good ‘ol Joe’s still making pies since 1975) tosses it very thin. I dunno how he does this, but it comes out pliable enough for the whole NY fold-over style of eating but still with a crispiness to it. I can hear ya now, I know I’ve said the best pizza is napoli style and it should be thin and ever-so-slightly chewy, not crisp. Well…1) Like I said before (refer to the first paragraph) I say lotsa things, and b) we’re not in Napoli are we Silvio?

And for all ya haters, if you don’t wanna take Kevin Bacon’s, GQs (Top 25 Pizzas in the world) or, clutch my pearls VinDivine’s word for it…then take it from Kelly Ripa!

“This is the one. This is where you wanna come for the best slice of pizza in Manhattan.”

And you can tell that’s a woman that hits the pies hard.

And if ya know shit from shinola (whatever the hell that means), you’ll know that J&J don’t often do the whole gastronomique thing. We’re more the ‘belly up to the bar and strap on the…feedbag, perv!

Mario, I know VdV gave you some shit about our experience at Esca. Maybe it was a case of the bar being set too darned high from all the killer reviews that place gets. Then we hit Otto (review to follow soon) where the lovely J was underwhelmed by the pizza. So when we made resies for the two of us + our stylin’ friends Kim & Marc, it was not without trepidation. We don’t wanna go 0 fer 3 with ya! Wait. You don’t want you goin’ 0 for 3 with VdV! That’s right.

Soo, bitches. How was Del Posto? Well, since this was a four+hour feed-fest, this review should oblige in kind. Meaning, if ya know us, we’d bore you to tears with detail and ADD-driven rants. But VdV likes to zig where others zag, so we’re gonna cut to the chase. Don’t get used it it!

Like I said, this was a marathon feed-and-drink fest, 10p-to after 2a. Hear that SF!? 2 AM. Nighttime! And it was divine. VIN divine I may say. Seriously, I’ll spill the beans right now and letcha know we bestow (sing it with me) Del Posto (keep it going, even though it doesn’t really rhyme) the gilted VdV 4.5-star rating! Woo Hoo! Pop a bottle, Batali! OK, 2 Thumbs Up will suffice. I’m sure we’ve made your day.  Frank Bruni who?

What’d we eat? What’d we eat? What does it matter! Eat the menu. Literally. It’ll make you weak in the knees. No, not like Mario ‘cuz he’s about 100 lbs overweight. Because it’s scrump-dili-umptious, sucka! Photos? We don’t need no stinking photos! (OK I lost my iPhone that night). We did the Tasting Menu ($115), which has changed by now anyway. Everything was prepared excellently, beautifully presented and tasted heavenly. That’s right I said heavenly!

So if you haven’t crawled out from under that rock of yours, this is an Italian joint. Ha. Joint. This place is pretty upscale. Big ‘ol NY spot, definitely not hip, but OTT traditional in design with a large piano, big ‘ol stairwell, and kinda out of the ’50s glamour type of vibe. Pretty cool. And the service rocks. They know when to be there and when to get out the way.  And…what else? Lets just suffice to say I’m not gonna articulate the experience and we’ll just move on, shall we?

In addition to the delish Tasting Menu, we found (after several cocktails) a kick-ass Nero D’Avolo on the wine list. MB, ya had me there. I love Sicilians and their wines.

Post Tasting Menu gorging? You thought we’d be done? This was an expense report dinner, people, come on! We then had the famous Rum & Chocolate pairing ($70). Something like 5 high-end Rums, all very different in their ‘taste profile’ each paired with a chocolate. Oh man, the pairing with whatever run it was and that salted choco was killer.

So like I said, this was an EPIC meal. And the bill matched it. So don’t come here if you are prone to cheap attacks. Come here with that friend of yours that just scored the big raise. Or the Trust Fund kid that just got her first distribution. Whatever, rob someone at gunpoint. Just go!

Chef Perry Hoffman runs a tight ship and prepares some of the most delicious, inventive and…downright puuurrty…dishes going.

For some reason I’m not in a very chatty mood so let’s just get into it, shall we?

It’s a very nice beautiful setting with lotsa windows and natural light. Very nice but not stuffy, feel me?

We chowed down on:
Bubbly of course, suckas! A glass (ha, right just one glass do you know me?!) of the étoile rosé for starters, along with an appy I would never ever ever order but they brought it anyway and I must admit I loved: The Seared Sonoma Foie Gras ($23 if ya pay for it) with Pickled Yellow Peaches and Brioche. This stuff was awesome. I apologize to all the geese out there who suffered, and their friends and family, but at least your discomfort was not for naught. The searing made it. Gave it an incredible texture (i.e. not slimy), a slight smokiness and just rocked it. All you haters, throw your SPCA ‘tude outta tha door for a minute, suck it up and enjoy!

Then, we had the most puurrty dish I may have seen in recent memory (no comments about my memory): the Yellowtail Tartare, I don’t think this is always on the menu. It was awesome! And I would describe it in agonizing detail but why when we can just look:

Are you serious?! It looked great and tasted even better. Yum!

Then, the Liberty Farms Duck Confit ($26) with Black Mission Figs, Glazed Eggplant & Padron Peppers. That’s duck cooked in duck fat suckas. That’s rich. And so is this duck. Tender buttery lusciousness. Dang, I guess had something out for the winged creatures that day I guess!

To finish (hell it was only lunch time), I had the Autumn Black Truffle Pappardelle ($26) with Heirloom Beans and El Trigal Manchego. I paired this bad boy with a Newton Unflitered Pinot Noir I believe. Well, well. Here’s another reason why this place rocks: this was a perfect portion that tasted perfect.

Chef Perry adjusts the portion and mix of ingredients from lunch to supper. So for lunch, it was  agreat portion, but not too much of the wide, semi-chewy yet tender pasta. Lots of fresh pea shoots, beans and a righteous amount of black truffle. But not so heavy that ya wanna go pass out. And the dish was incroyable!

Bonus! Then a huge rainstorm came (great for us to watch as it delayed our departure and necessitated an vino refill, bad for the chardonnay vines during harvest time), had an espresso,  and signed some business. Yee haw!

Hey, this place has an awesome reputation for good reason. The service is spot-on, the atmosphere is sophisticated yet casual enough, and the food is amazing.

Big VdV hint: Eat here then spend the rest of the day wine tasting and spa-ing and spend the night at the equally awesome Bardessono Hotel & Spa. Life is short – live it large!

We replied with something along the lines of “…hey good for you Matteo bring us a slice someday ‘cuz we’re not stepping foot in the East Bay anytime soon. As in never, dude!…” But guess what? Chicken butt! Nevermind, here’s what: as crappy luck would have it, we were forced to make an Ikea run last Friday for some new office furniture (no, not for the already plush VdV headquarters, for the cool new digs of our day jobs). And, Ikea is in Emeryville! What a coinkydink.

So we gassed up the hooptie, packed some water and PB&J sandos, a compass and some flares, increased our life insurance policies and set sail for the EAST BAY!! Clutch my pearls. What lengths will VdV go it for a slice or 5 of killer pie?! I dunno, but crossing the Bay Bridge tested us.

So after a fun-filled 3 hours at Ikea that i won’t even go in to, we mapped out the route to Rotten City Pizza. We only got lost twice. This place is a dive. Yay! And I mean that in the most complementary of all ways. Rotten City is a small place with a dozen or so stools, a glass case housing the pies and a very small kitchen. That’s it, kittens. And that’s all it needs to be. NY-style, bitches!

This fine, sunny Friday, they were offering 4-5 different slices including Funghi (Sauce, Cheese, Creminis, Thyme and Garlic Chips), Pepperoni (ummm, Peperoni) Neapolitan (Cheese & Sauce), and a sexy little Bianco Verde (Mozzarella, Ricotta, Parmigiano, Chili Flakes, Arugula Pesto) number. They have tons of other pies too, these were just the slices they had when we were there. The pies go for the low to mid $20′s the slices are $5 or so.

So Rotten City…the name…what does it mean? Well, pilgrims I guess back in the day, Emeryville wasn’t the toney zip code it is now! Ha. Anyhoo, back then, the Alameda County D.A. or something proclaimed Emeryville as ‘The Rottenest City On The Pacific Coast’. Rottenest? How’d he get voted in with grammar like that? What he was eluding to is that during prohibition Emeryville was somewhat of a den of iniquity. I guess these RCP guys dug the theme and went with it.

Speaking of the guys, very nice dudes, friendly jovial and full of chatter. Cool. Whatever. Let’s get on with the pies. Slices, to be specific. We gorged on slices of the Funghi, Bianco Verde and Pepperoni. All very authentic NY-style thin crust slices. Very thin crust, not crispy but with enough body and texture to do a great jog of holding the toppings. I prefer not to have any corn meal on my crust, but it was still very good. Foldable is the key takeaway. Toppings? Yes, the sauce was fresh, well spiced but I coulda used slightly more oregano. But I’m a pizza bitch! The cheese was well-proportioned, and tasted very fresh indeed. The pepperoni was great and not too greasy, and the way they roasted the Cremini mushrooms prior to baking was excellent! All good.

And I know, I know…the choice of the Bianco Verde (photo above). Don’t be a hater, it looked great! And tasted awesome too, with lotsa creamy ricotta, zesty pesto and, I am scared to say, it may of been our fave. No sauce, basically like a white pizza + pesto. Went great with the tasty micro-brew i can’t recall the name of. You’re welcome.

Bonus alert! These cool dudes whup up onna da best Meatball Subs ($9.50) I’ve ever had. Ever. The roll is perfect, crunchy on outside, and stuffed with a pantload of tasty, tender beef-pork-veal meatballs with a nice spiced sauce and gooey cheese. Word. Go to a pizza place for a meatball sub. Christ that was good.

So bottom line? Well, I had those stalagmites you get on the roof of your mouth after eating things with hot cheese. Yummy! It’s like a badge of honor inside your mouth. OK, real bottom line? I’d risk my life again crossing over to the East bay for another trip to Rotten City Pizza! But if they’d deliver to SoMa in SF it’d be even better (hint, hint).

Oh yeah, buy a hoodie while you’re there, that logo with the chimp carrying a pizza riding a greyhound is awesome!

I mean, it’s all about customer experience, is it not? And it’s pretty bad when a company’s website has more personality than the actual staff, to boot. So you’d think I would simply boycott the place, which for the most part I do…

But, wino that I am, I did stop by K&L a few days ago under the pretense of grabbing a b-day present for a buddy. He’s a fan of tequila, and I knew K&L would have Clasé Azul, an ab-fab bottle. Plus, hell while I’m there I may as well grab a bottle or 6 of wine, right?

And guess what? Surprise! If you lift the pewter cap up of Clase Azul about 1/4″, and smack it down with a little flair it rings like a bell. Yipee! Hey, it made for hours of fun after a few glasses of the stuff.

So imagine my surprise as I slinked, (or is it slunk?) in to K&L, in full disguise since I think the staff has ‘shoot on sight’ instructions, and saw…wait for it…TINY CARTS! Yay! You listened, K&L. Atta Boy!

You can actually stock up with these little double-decker carts (great for boosting that average cart value, am I right, K&L CFO?) as well as easily glide through the narrow aisles without turning it into a destruction derby episode (great for almost everyone involved).

So that’s one off the long list of suggested improvements. Keep up the ‘momentum’! And…You’re welcome. Can you call off that ‘shoot on sight’ order now?

OK, plebeians here’s what it’s all about: It’s like lighting fire to 3 hundy-dollar bills, but way more pleasurable. This stuff is classy, sassy and sophisticated all in one. Kinda like the other J. Tiny bubbles…wait, didn’t Don Ho sing that? Crap, I’ll never get that outta my mind now. Let’s try to forget. Soo, the superfine bubbles on this bad boy letcha know it’s a killer bottle. No club soda fizz here! Man, I am sure Mr. Feuillatte is rolling over in his grave about this review.

Anyhoo, let’s continue: This outstanding wine, with it’s teensy tiny bubbles that tantalize your tongue, tastes great too! I enjoyed notes of biscuit, almond paste, subtle vanilla flavors and the fruit…hmm let’s see. Apricot on the front and a little bit of lemon on the finish. No shit! This rode-hard-and-put-away-wet palate still has a few more zingers left in the tank!

So, like I said. Life is short. You’re gonna die. The economy blows. Drink Champagne! It’s the biggest F-You ya can do:)

So what is a Moscow Mule, you ask? For the uninitiated, it’s made with…wait. First a little history of the Mule, which of course was not invented in Russia. Peruse the following, and come away a bit more enlightened:

The mule was born in Manhattan but “stalled” on the West Coast for the duration. The birthplace of “Little Moscow” was in New York’s Chatham Hotel. That was back in 1941 when the first carload of Jack Morgan’s Cock ‘n’ Bull ginger beer was railing over the plains to give New Yorkers a happy surprise… Three friends were in the Chatham bar, one John A. Morgan, known as Jack, president of Cock ‘n’ Bull Products and owner of the Hollywood Cock ‘n’ Bull Restaurant; one was John G. Martin, president of G.F. Heublein Brothers Inc. of Hartford, Conn., and the third was Rudolph Kunett, president of the Pierre Smirnoff, Heublein’s vodka division. As Jack Morgan tells it, “We three were quaffing a slug, nibbling an hors d’oeuvre and shoving toward inventive genius”. Martin and Kunett had their minds on their vodka and wondered what would happen if a two-ounce shot joined with Morgan’s ginger beer and the squeeze of a lime. Ice was ordered, limes procured, mugs ushered in and the concoction put together. Cups were raised, the men counted five and down went the first taste. It was good. It lifted the spirit to adventure. Four or five later the mixture was christened the Moscow Mule…

“OK, enough of the mindless drivel, so WTF is in it?”, is what you really wanna know. Alright, alright here goes:

- 2 parts RUSSIAN vodka. It’s a Moscow mule, people. You don’t wanna piss off the folks at the Kremlin. That said, I think Smirnoff means “You’re gonna feel like shit tomorrow” in Russian. Paragon uses Russian Standard, which is much better. Bottom line: Life is short. Upgrade your Vodka. Ok. back to the recipe…
- 3 parts Ginger beer (no substituting ginger ale)
- 1/2 part fresh lime juice
- exactly 1 skosh of simple syrup
- (optional) a mint sprig

Oh, yeah serve it on the rocks. But unless you’re a moron you knew that (didn’t you, you non-moronic person, you?). And put it in a copper mug. Copper on the OUTSIDE only, non-copper metal on the inside.  Don’t drink pennies.

I really don’t know for sure what the exact proportions are but my highly trained senses tell me the above is pretty close. But that’s why I leave it to the pros like Isiah, Matt, Kate, Spencer, Nils, Ken at Paragon to whip it up for me!

First off, although it’s spelled s-p-r-i-t-z, when you bark out your order for it, say ‘Shpritz’. But say it, don’t shpray it. In Italy that’s all you need to say. Elsewhere, you may need to specify, Aperol Spritz. And at some bars you may need to point out to the bartender where the bottle of Aperol is…usually hidden on the top shelf covered in dust. Fortunately this apertivo doesn’t seem to go bad. Oh yeah: Aperol is an orange-flavored spirit, kinda similar to Campari but WAY less bitter. Campari: Ewww. Aperol: Mmmm.

So, wanna here it? Here it goes:

It’s easy, go about 2 1/2 parts Prosecco or Cava (quite a bit sweeeter than champagne), to 1 part Aperol. See? Hey, even you can manage that! Oh yeah, add a splash, a small splash, of soda, and if you’re feelin’ frisky add a big slice of orange. Bam! Yummy. The bitterness of the Aperol and sweet of the bubbles is awesome. Serve it on the rocks.

Saluté! BTW: Makes a terrific breakfast cocktail!