Food is our common ground, a universal experience.
— James Beard
It’s a Saturday night fiesta. Marc and I are two crazy party animals as we’ve decided to indulge in irresponsible behavior of the highest level of gluttony. Beginning with ordering an entire pizza, with a previous appetizer of two chicken gyros, dual tubes of Pringles, and our drink of choice is an entire liter of Coca Cola, not just a large but a liter of cola. Our magnificent loco fiesta as we stuff our faces while watching the comedic genius of Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby, please, don’t judge us for our insane lifestyle, even as we can hear the numerous pounding beats of the nightclubs in town below us. Our contentment in our decision for a quieter movie night with more junk than I have consumed in months reminds me of Saturday night date nights with Andrea as we would order massive amounts of sushi with a bottle of red wine before falling into food comas while a movie is barely half way through. I do miss all the laughs and deep conversations that we have shared since we have known one another for more than most of the years we have been alive; the countless hours spent on the patio of Old Chicago under warm summer nights, the infamous garage sessions that is a staple of the 4020 house which were always full of laughter, treasure hunting trips on Saturday afternoons at some of the most ridiculous thrift stores around Denver, rewarding ourselves for nothing in particular with forty minutes drives to Pink Berry or the nearest source of ice cream (yes, this is my secret shame), her homemade cooking that I failed her when choosing her mother’s pumpkin pie over hers in a blind taste test (oh, Debbie), and all of the other wonderful times I have had with such a wonderful lifelong friend. Miss you boo! I still can never thank her family enough for all that they have given me through their generosity; from the friendship of her brother Jeremy to the mentoring of her dad, and all of the hospitality and love that made me feel as much a part of their family as my own. The Vlads truly are genuine in nature and I miss them all dearly, especially the food comas that I left with each and every time I was graced with a place at their dinner table. Oh, how this single blog entry had to revolve much around food as I sit here with only coffee in my tummy, so with that, I am now on a mission to find something to replace this hunger even though it will never compare to the infamous made-from-scratch meals that cause my taste buds to water each and every time I think of it.