Tattoo

I don’t believe in tattoos. But that all changed this weekend when my best friend turned 21. 

Perhaps I should backtrack for a moment.

The best way to dine, in my opinion, is tapas style -  getting lots of dishes and just trying a bite or two of each. Some may guess it’s because I spent so long in Spain, but I am certain it’s because I can never get enough. I want to taste and see everything. Normally I can’t afford (literally or figuratively) the opportunity to do this on my own, and typically the portion size in the United States is too large for me to order more than one dish. To make matters worse, the majority of my friends are simply not that adventurous or that hungry to be able to keep up with me.

But for Rachel’s 21^st birthday, she invited 12 of us to Tatu at the Hard Rock Hotel and Casino in Hollywood. Tatu specializes in Asian dishes with Cantonese, Mandarin, Szechwan, Vietnamese and Thai influence, and it provided the ideal occasion to share a whole bunch of different dishes.   

Upon entrance, it’s obvious that Tatu is a dining destination – a mix between a Disney dining experience and that that’s found at upscale South Beach locales. Though the two-story restaurant might seem large, the blue tint and warm lights give it a more intimate feeling and don’t make the sardine-packed tables appear to be on top of one another. Though a bit too noisy from a romantic dinner, Tatu is truly conducive to large groups and special celebrations, with silver beading hanging to section off some tables.

The hostesses were ready to seat our party at 8:30 p.m. (our reservation time) promptly.

To begin with, and in celebrating Rachel’s 21^st, I ordered a lychee-tini made with peach vodka, white cranberry juice and fresh lychee fruit. Rachel ordered a super-sour pomegranate martini with sugar on the outside. And some other friends ordered a scorpion bowl for two, which mixed sweet fruit juices, rum and amaretto served with a flaming Bacardi 151 float in a large pitcher.

Our attentive waiter warned us ahead of time that at Tatu dishes are served when they are ready, not when all the plates are. Normally, I find this disgusting. If I am going to dinner with friends, then I want to eat with my friends, not watch them or have them watch me. As such, I was pleasantly surprised when all our food arrived within 5 minutes of each other.  

For appetizers, our table of 12 ordered firecracker spring rolls with crispy chiken and peanuts, butter lettuce-leaf cups with minced chicken, shitake mushrooms and pine nuts, and tender greens with a miso ginger dressing. All were flavorful and large enough for everyone to have a taste of everything. The best starter, however, and undoubtedly the most fattening, was the crispy crab rangoon. I have always been a fan of crab rangoon, but these were exceptionally wonderful. These cream-cheese-crab-and-scallion-stuffed wontons were small enough to pop into your mouth in one bite. And the warm cream cheese under the fried wontons made the rangoon crunchy, yet soft and surprisingly filling.          

The main dishes ordered included sesame chicken tossed with sesame caramel and chili peppers, charred rare tuna with a vanilla teriyaki glaze and wasabi mashed potatoes, a grilled NY strip steak served with crunchy shoe-string chips and an assortment of fresh sushi. My most favorite dish of all was the one I selected, the Mongolian barbequed duck – perfectly tender and succulent in a tangy sweet plum sauce served to taste (not to drench) with pieces of grilled eggplant and scallion. All the main courses were as large as their price tags and taste did not yield to beautiful presentation. Forks flew as everyone tasted everything.  

The guys and girls alike were stuffed after our eating extravaganza, but I wouldn’t be satisfied until the waiter brought Rach (the Queen!) a piece of dessert with candles and tons of spoons. I secretly selected the chocolate propaganda – with chocolate almond mousse, fudge brownies, chocolate ice cream and fudge sauce – from the dessert menu cleverly entitled “Happy Endings.” The girls gobbled it up.

In keeping with the theme of the restaurant, with the check came gimmicky, yet tasteful press-on tattoos – an adorable concept for children of all ages, not only to remind patrons about the restaurant they just ate at, but also a fun, after-dinner activity. My friends and I took turns using the damp washcloths Tatu provided to wet the Asian-symbol tattoos to our wrists. 

Additionally with the check, our waiter brought over two helium-balloon-sized, sour-apple-flavored cotton candy hunks to complete our feast.

Rachel’s birthday crew then head over to the dueling pianos bar also at the Hard Rock Village to enjoy more drinks and feel-good, sing-along music until the wee hours of the morning.   

All I can say is the yummy food, lively atmosphere and proximity to great nightlife will keep Tatu tattooed on my mind forever. And that’s one tattoo I can handle.  

Love is in the air

Forget about air pollution…I am now fairly certain that love is the only thing “polluting” the air in this city.

Everywhere I go, it seems, someone is reaching in or across the table to steal a kiss from his or her loved one. Smack in the middle of a crosswalk, a long, passionate “hello.” A quick peck good-bye at a metro stop. Or a snuggle on the spongy grass in the park while staring aimlessly into the sky. I have single-handedly decided that the people in this little-big city just can’t get enough of each other.

And it’s not only the people. Love is oozing out of the street vendors’ artwork, the gardens, the food and the museums. Even the sculptures are in love.

See what I mean...even he has his stony arm on her stony shoulder?

Soft focus on The Met – the King Kong of all museums, where Jess and I spent the greater portion of today.

I decided that I am going to meet my future husband in a museum. In the Temple of Dendur surrounded by water, to be more specific. Then we will be married there. And then we will move into our condo made of marble on 5th and 87th – the Upper East Side.
(Tell me this isn't the most beautiful room you have ever seen!)

Earth to KP. Snap back to reality.

Sorry, I don’t know what it is about museums, but they inspire me. You can’t help but feel romantic as you make your way through the surreal galleries

Jess and I were amongst the great. Van Gogh, Monet, Picasso and my personal favorites, Degas and Renoir. In another lifetime, I am going to be Degas’ 14-year-old ballerina clad only in crinoline and spandex. “Do me,” I’ll say to him. “Do me in bronze and gold.”

We ogled visiting exhibits, including Jeff’s Koons’ life-sized, balloon-like art on the roof, modern photography collections and a Pop Art display featuring Andy Warhol’s work, while venturing through renowned museum, which is a piece of art in-and-of itself.





My favorite corridor, though, was the Superheroes: Fashion and Fantasy. Who would have ever thought that comic book characters’ superficiality and nubility are the very things that make them American icons? According to the exhibit, the larger-than-life characters embody perfection. I find it funny how Greeks view the woman body as delicate and covered in flowy materials, yet Americas feel the need to morph it with animal-like characteristics and dress it in dominatrix, form-fitting bodysuits.

Despite all the different types of talent showcased at the museum, it was intriguing to learn how different mediums can be used in art, whether it’s paint or stone or metal or feathers or fabric.

Right about now, I’d say my medium is a cross between magazines and music. But no matter what I seem to do with it, work is still work. At Universal, I am still running lots of errands and doing many mailings. At Us, I am transcribing interviews and photocopying. Luckily, I have met lots of great new people and am learning even more than I expected about both industries. This upcoming week, though, things at the office should be spicing up a bit because on Tuesday, Jess and I are VIP on MTV’s TRL with Taylor Swift, and one of my bosses at Us said I could cover an event…stay posted. Now if only our love lives would spice up too….

Funny thing is, in this city, which is all about love and couples, people seem perfectly content being alone.

Follow spot on my petite French Bistro, Le Pain Quotidien – which serves the most outstanding organic wheat bread at communal tables.

Jess and I opted to sit side-by-side at a long, wooden communal table in the center of the restaurant. After walking for 3 hours through the museum, tartines, or open-faced sandwiches, were just what we were looking for. When we looked around, we realized that most people were eating alone – an undertaking (more like a chore) that Jess and I would never regularly fathom.

Across from us: A European man who cut his sandwich with a knife and fork and then proceeded to eat it with a fork; a totally distraught woman blabbing to the waitress a-mile-a-minute about her life; a beautiful, blonde hopeful (talk about a Rembrandt) eating a muffin and tartine while finishing today’s crossword. And then there’s Matt (no last name) - the first truly decent guy I think I have met out here.

Well, I told a little white lie. Matt wasn’t at the French place. But he was eating alone at the dirt-cheap sushi bar in the East Village that Jess and I ate at last night. His pick up line: “Do you ladies want this magazine ‘cause if not, I am going to throw it away.” Except... it turned out to not be a pick-up line.

We got to talking with him about life and his job and our internships for a good hour. He told us some local joints not to miss in the city. And then when it came time to leave, he didn’t even ask for our numbers or ask to hang out with us for the rest of the night. It was a genuine conversation with a person whom I will probably never meet again in my life, without the hassle of being hit on - like all the guys do here, as if it’s their right, contaminating the city with their “Hey babys” and “Can I get your numbers?”

Maybe that’s the air pollution that people talk about. Though love is in the air here, sleazy men and boys pollute it daily with their unnecessary commentary and sound-effects. But if all the guys were more like Matt, well then let me tell you, I wouldn’t mind the contamination at all.