Olive hate? I can barely conceive of such a thing.
Kicking the olives off a muffaletta negates the point of the muffaletta.
All you martini drinkers
(looks pointedly at Kate and Katerina)
need to join JZ and me at the Persian Aub Zam Zam room immediately.
Erin, a martini with tonic or cranberry is not a martini but some other (no doubt tasty) drink. Still, not a martini.
With Hec on the martini thing (mine's Bombay Sapphire, glass coated with Nolly Pratt dry, squirt of olive juice, shaken over ice with almond stuffed olives).
I love olives passionately (particularly kalamata olives), but I don't understand why anyone would ruin a perfectly good olive by putting it in a glass of nasty gin. Gin is of the devil.
Joining Nutty in the hate olives, love their oil camp.
Question for the hivemind - my work colleague and I are looking for a nice, little, not necessarily fancy hotel in downtown Oakland, walking distance from Preservation Park, for the dates of 9/1 - 9/3. We both go for funky/comfy over schwank. Price under $140 pretax each per night preferred. The conference website recommended the downtown Marriot and Courtyard by Marriot and the Washington Inn. I have an email in to the visitor's center but I trust the hivemind more!
Somewhat topic-y, since I'm hoping to meet up w/ SF-istas on this trip. I should know what evenings I'll be around for dinner soon. I also have the possibility of staying another night, but that may depend on a host as work wouldn't pay for the hotel that night.
Muchas gracias.
Not good gin! Vodka is of the devil.
Gin is of the devil
I had never had gin until one of my friends gave me a sip of his G&T.
It tastes like pine trees. /Ralph Wiggum voice
Mmm, Persian Aub Zam Zam. Dark, mysterious little bar right on Haight Street. I once went there and we made the mistake of sitting in the back to chat privately. Apparently we hurt the bartender's feelings and he felt all lonely and dissed.
Beverages are much more fun when you have a cool martini glass. IJS.
I once went there and we made the mistake of sitting in the back to chat privately. Apparently we hurt the bartender's feelings and he felt all lonely and dissed.
Pfft. Mr. H would've loved you for it.