|Getting this aerial shot was a real bitch. I hope you appreciate it.|
Davis has more places to eat per square foot than anywhere I've ever been before. But that suits D. and myself just fine; food is pretty much the basis of our friendship. So, this post is pretty much a list of all the places we ate:
1. The Davis Farmers Market
|Such bounty! Such friendly faces!|
We rolled up on a Wednesday night as the market was closing, but the good people of Davis still practically threw their wares at us: D. and I tried shook some dried fruit out of tupperware and a rather good-looking young Greek man let us sample a dish from his country. I was more interested in a different kind of Greek dish, but D. was still hungry, so she dragged me away to get pad thai.
2. Pad Thai
|I don't even know what this food is. But check out the composition and use of color!|
I am just a stellar photographer. I had no idea.
I haven't had much thai food, but the Spicy Bamboo dish at this place was tasty enough to make me expand my palate beyond thai wraps drenched in peanut sauce. And that's despite the fact that the chicken didn't really sit quite right in m'belly. I guess I'm still not used to eating meat, even though I've been an ex-vegetarian for months now.
D. told me that at night, the tables are cleared away, the hostess stand is converted into a DJ booth, and the up-scale restaurant transforms into a club, complete with colored, flashing lights and a bouncer. I was speechless then and I'm still speechless now.
3. La Crepe
|Isn't it starting to seem like I actually did take all these pictures?|
For breakfast before D's class, we went to La Crepe, where the food was good, but it was really all about the fresh-squeezed orange juice. I also had coffee and a full glass of water, so...there was almost a situation during the hour-and-a-half lecture.
[Side note: Why is the coffee so good in Davis? Apparently the farther up the west coast you go, the better it tastes.]
4. Nugget Sandwiches
|Doesn't it just look like it's smiling?!|
D. told me that these were the best sandwiches in the world, and she wasn't wrong. The Nugget is a Northern California grocery store, and it's delightful. Large, vintage circus letters in the liquor section, fresh flowers in tin buckets by the doors, free samples of fresh bread. Plus, D. has a crush on the guy at the cheese stand, which just tickles me to no end. We wolfed down our sandwiches with fresh asparagus on the side and delicious coffee to finish it all off, but now I'm a little bit sad. I miss that sandwich. If only I had a large beard, I could have saved some for later.
5. de Vere's
|I miss it already.|
Old man pub, she called it.
"You had me at old man!" I cried, and this little place did not disappoint. Some of D's friends met us there, and we had fish 'n' chips and stew and cider, and I felt like I was in the Old Country. Only complaint: Did not see any old men.
We didn't stay here too long, but it was D's friend's birthday, and Sophia's has a wheel you get to spin to decide which free drink you get on your birthday.
|I couldn't find the real picture.|
I bought myself a glow-in-the-dark gin and tonic! Because try as I might to charm and allure, no boys wanted to buy a drink for the twitchy, disheveled girl leering at them from across the bar.
|You don't even go here!|
Miscellaneous: I had my fortune told by D's gay roommate
and was almost run over by bikes at least seventeen times.
|Not even a little bit accurate. Bikers there are ruthless.|
However, before any of these delights, I got a ticket just south of Stockton - 92 in a 70. Usually I scour the road constantly for cops, because they're so sneaky: hiding behind bridges, lurking in the brush on turn-outs, even posing as normal cars. But this time, my sun roof was making a weird noise, and my foot just somehow kept accelerating as I fiddled with the sun roof, so that it wasn't for a minute or two that I even noticed the cop was following me, lights flashing garishly.
Unfortunately, I am not very well-endowed or charming or brave, so I didn't stand a chance of getting out of a ticket - I even tried crying. Still, something might have worked...maybe...if my car weren't still registered in the previous owner's name...and if I hadn't fumbled and handed the cop two different roadside assistance cards instead of proof of insurance...and if only I had gotten around to correcting my license so that it had my California address instead of my old out-of-state mailing address. He did go easy on me and just gave me a warning for the address thing. I think he took pity on me for being such a blubbering moron.
|Why...do you...hate me...officer?|
Later, when I looked at the ticket more closely, I noticed that the city just south of Stockton is called...
Son of a bitch. Would you like some salt on that wound?
Images via City Data, Focus on Davis, Kung Food Panda, Walk in the Dust, Coeur de La, Davis Life Magazine, Bioware, One-Stop Birthday Ideas, The Happy Dash, Eat Food Yum, Sodahead, UC Davis Special Collections, babble, and Road Police. Whew.