yardbird {miami}

definition of heaven: with them, eating that.
nothing. nothing compares to a long, early evening meal with fabulous food, amazing friends, mustard cocktails, and natural lighting...
like the one a few days ago at
{in miami, not to be confused with 
it was one of those meals that was so good, it'd be worth trading my opposable thumbs for. because my friends are so great, they'd make up a brilliant way to make fun of me and then help cut my chicken. i'm so in love.
protocol for toasting during this trip was to say paradiddles instead of cheers, making everything about the trip a "business expense."
and, yes, that is a mustard effing cocktail. 
the porkchop citrus juice + apple cider + benchmark bourbon + dijon + thyme
i considered asking for extra mustard like i do with everything,
but instead i enjoyed it as it was meant to be. 
and it was not-too-sweet and refreshing and yummypants.
sel de mer's fatty miami fried green tomato counterpart was topped with pimento cheese and an unbelievable piece of melt-in-yr-potty-mouth pork belly. usually i write off pork belly as so 36 months ago, but not when it's this good.
veggie pot pie: an extremely respectable veggie option for a place called chicken.
left: rob does what percussionists do when they get wild/crazy.
right: alan laughs at him, or something else. 
it's hard to tell when everyone spends the entire meal laughing.
hearty & firm chicken biscuits with pepper jelly and pickley things.
you are the macaroni to my grayson, virginia cheese.

with my old roomie! and brian {of the tag, brian is numnums}

reason number two for why i'd move to miami is the freshness of the fruit and veggies. i'm no watermelon connoisseur, but i know when i die upon eating something. above are the melons & farm cheese which were unlike anything i'd ever had, texturally. an unoffensive crumbly cheese. and a crisp and juicy watermelon... formed an odd pairing that i am just now, in my tiny new york apartment, craving. which is the wrong place to crave that. but this one took thought and absence.
post dinner: eight grown men rolling around on the floor, violet beauregarde style, and one and a half asian girls nodding violently to the possibility of dessert.
bluebee crumble with corn ice cream.
yes, we want that.
complete success.
i'm even gonna use caps and bold to convey it:
the entire meal was simply nailguns. 
literally, paradise.
the memories of it can go in a little ball jar and sit on my desk now. 
i'll open it every time i need a good smile.