Breakfast: Kashi-Go Lean cereal w/ oat milk

My favorite cousin, B and I finally got together for lunch last week. This was an amazing feat considering that she has a two year old and started her own company this year. Even pre-child and pre- husband, we had a difficult time meeting up. I won’t ruminate on this fact because I love her very much and will feel like an attention- starved puppy.

There have been a few big sis types in my life who were good role models for the numerous years I didn’t get along with my mother. But there is only one real sis, sister A in NYC! No, she’s not my real sis, either, but she’s the most real. We actually call each other sis in e-mails and such.

One time her real twin sister accidentally read one of my e-mails and was like, “What is this about?” (It was so “Days of Our Lives.”) All of my sisters are roughly ten years my senior, but none of them act their age, though of course they have more life experience.

So, cousin B and I were trying to pick a place to lunch. B suggested Juliano’s Raw. (I mentioned this restaurant in a previous post about “Sex and The City.” Don’t know how to link to it in my archives. You can do a search.) I walk past Raw a lot, but have always been a bit turned-off by it. Images of dirty hippies in Topanga squashing food in their… (see previous entry for details), and strange men insisting on eating at a restaurant where they can bring their dogs and still eat in the “raw” way have gotten in the way. I do like Real Food Daily and generally like healthy restaurants, but being a raw foodie seemed more cult-like than being a vegan.

I have flirted with grabbing a smoothie to go at Raw, but have never followed through. I like to push myself at times and do things I am scared of, as well as try new things. What’s the point of living if you aren’t going to live?

I enthusiastically told B, “I’ve always wanted to eat there.” After I said it, I realized I meant it. It was a date.

I researched the menu online the night before. Honestly it wasn’t a turn-on. I sometimes have a thing about reading menus online. They can get me hot. This one did the opposite. I was going to have nightmares of fake cheeseburgers, fish and chips, ending with a giant, mock salmon sushi roll laughing at me.

We met at 11:15 sharp the next day. I prayed I wouldn’t regret spending my precious money at this freaky place. We walked in and it seemed clean, airy
and utilitarian. The few tables were the color of light wood. There were inviting counter seats near the open kitchen with pretty flowers. Maybe I could come back by myself another time and meet my future husband?

I liked that I didn’t have to ask for room temperature water. (I never request room temp water, cuz if a place doesn’t offer it; you’ll get tap water—disgusting.) Don’t give me one of those looks. I’ve always preferred room temp water.

I was happy for the cloth napkins because I am a napkin fiend. I am a messy eater when I eat with my hands. The napkin was a petite purple and cornflower blue thing, but I managed.

Our waitress was fresh-faced with a lovely disposition. My cousin ordered the “Blood” juice and the Guacamole appetizer. I didn’t like the sound of the blood thing, but once I tasted it, I saw why she was hooked. It was apples, beets, ginger and lime. Yummy. I was trying to not spend a lot of money, so I stuck with water. The appetizer consisted of two tablespoons of guacamole with three flaxseed crackers. It was very good, but not worth $6.95.

My cousin ordered some kind of Thai pasta special, though she had wanted the Tostada special. B didn’t want to spend $18 on a special. Yeah, I can’t see a special at a raw food restaurant being worth eighteen bucks.

I ordered one of my cousin’s recommendations, The Cheezburger with Fries. It was good. It tasted like a Gardenburger with sprouts from John’s Garden in Malibu, but for almost triple the price ($12.95). The fries consisted of three tiny gnarled tree-like things. I couldn’t figure out what vegetable they consisted of. They were OK, but there were literally only three. Technically they should call the dish: Cheezburger with a few funky fries.

Our nice server told me I should fly Spirit or JetBlue to NYC, when she overheard us talking about NYC. Um, I’m a writer so I should be the only one allowed to overhear things. It’s kind of creepy for people to overhear me, but the waitress was cool. The cheapo airlines are never less than American; it’s weird, but good. Delta prices are never low, thank god.

My cousin and I had a lovely time catching up. B wasn’t pleased that her alternative special was the same price as the one she really wanted. I felt her pain.

Verdict: I would go to Raw again if someone else was paying.