Thursday, June 9, 2011
Friends and I got tipsy at Ginger Man down the street and decided to move the party to Vodka Tree. Why? Because I was hungry, dammit. I ordered the mini corn dogs, and others ordered the loaded nachos and garlic Ranch chicken wings. Upon first bite of corn dog, friend James and I exclaimed, "Holy shit, these are almost as good as 219 West's corn dogs!" While I suddenly regretted not having suggested 219 West as a post-tipsy venue, I was happy with my calorie-laden purchase.
Upon seeing "loaded nachos" on the menu, James expected them to contain strippers. Unfortunately, they instead contained peppers. But, hey, when in Austin... Complain-y James complained, "I want the strippers on the nachos! The waitress said they came with everything, dammit!" Actually, the waitress said they came with a "plate of amazingness", and strippers aren't amazing, really. Though, the menu did say the nachos were *loaded*, and most strippers *do* like to drink, so I can understand how James could have made that joking mistake.
And the nachos were pretty amazing. It was difficult to get everything on one nacho chip, though. All the japs were over there, and the sour cream was over here, and the guac was way over yonder (thankfully) so it wasn't a good literal mix. And the chips began to sog, and therefore couldn't handle the weight. Nonetheless, I shoved a few loaded chips in my loaded self. At least the refried beans were spread about nicely.
I'm not normally a fan of flavored chicken wings, but these garlic-Ranch thingamajigs converted me. The crispiest of crispy-ass breading on those mothers, with this fabulous Ranch-y creaminess and garlicky tang, and Ranch and bleu cheese dressings on the side. And then, friends Chris and Mickey dipped popcorn in the bleu cheese. I tell you what, if you've had enough to drink, bleu cheese popcorn is the next big thing. Willing to bet it tastes decent sober, too.
Speaking of popcorn, I probably ate three pitchers-full on my own. I popped so much popcorn in my popper that my jeans' button nearly popped. Popcorn fights broke out, with popcorn ending up down we ladies' shirts. I found a piece of popcorn in my bra when I got home. I ate it and passed out.
To drink, I started out with a Jack and Coke, which is something I never do because I drink diet sodas and don't especially like Jack. However, I wanted several more of Vodka Tree's Jack and Coke drinks. After the first, I tried a sip of James' girly birthday-cake shot. Rimmed with red sugar, I imagine that even Miss Strawberry Shortcake wouldn't taste as sweet if you ate her *cherry pie*. I ordered a girly berfday shot of my own, apologized to my pancreas, and took a sip. Friend Quani jokingly criticized me for sipping, but honestly, it tasted so good I wanted to savor it. I followed this up with a Lone Star and another pitcher-full of buttery popcorn.
That kept me satisfied on the drive to Hideout Pub, until I got pulled over on 6th St for speeding. Luckily for me, friend Thresher once showed me a trick to get out of getting a ticket. And no, it doesn't involve cash or bra-removal, or even popcorn.