Category Archives: Sheepgotoheaven


I lied to you dear readers (that is if there are any of you out there who are reading this because you’re interested in our thoughts as opposed to reading this in a stalker like fashion).  I lied to you on two accounts.  The first will be explained by the second.

Firstly, I promised I would follow-up my last horrible “article” (pictures of hot men) immediately with a review of a restaurant.

Secondly, I promised you it was going to be a “super fabulous” restaurant and sorry every other reviewer in the world, but it just wasn’t.  Which is why I put off writing about it for so very long.

Yes, I’m talking about Zahav.  It’s every Philly food reviewers favorite place to gush over.  It’s been called one of the best places to eat in Philly.  People (for some reason) have been talking about the closing of Le Bec Fin and the rise of Zahav in the same articles frequently.  But I just disagree with the over abundance of praise.

Yes, the food was good.  It had a nice atmosphere.  The staff was pretty nice.  In short, there was nothing wrong with the place.  I would eat there again even.   It just did not blow my mind.

The food at Zahav is exactly what Zahav promises it will be.  It is a mash-up of common Israeli foods and a few new ideas, flavors, and techniques.

It has just been over sold.  My perspective on food and/or life did not change after eating there.  I didn’t learn a lot about a particular culture.  There is no dish that stands out among the others.  There is no dish with a siren call summoning me back there.

I don’t really have a lot else to say about the place.  I’m not saying don’t go there, I’m just saying don’t go there with hopes of having a food epiphany.

Zahav gets a 90 out of 100.

-2 points for being the golden child of the media

-5 points for their high prices

-3 points for their desserts




Pretty Much

Until fairly recently, I did not have a blog.

Also, I never used my social media like a blog (because I was embarrassed by my thoughts.  Imagine that!)

So I’m just going to take a blog post to do the thing that I missed out on doing when I was like… 15 years old.

I’m going to show you pictures of sexy men (all of whom are vastly under appreciated by the average female).

Like Jason Lee (in Almost Famous to be specific).

And Scott Foley (why yes, I am going to spend the next 3 weeks holed-up in my apartment re-watching Felicity and cursing that stupid bitch for picking the wrong guy!  And yes I know they did the whole stupid “time warp” thing and it didn’t work out but man, what a fucking cop-out that was!)

And the creme de la creme, ROB BENEDICT (swoon).  Yes he was also in Felicity, but he had not yet reached “hottie fo sho” status yet when the show ended.  He’s like a fine wine, getting better with age.

I hope you enjoyed as much as I do the sexy trifecta that make up the vast majority of my wet dreams.


P.S. I’m going to eat at a super fabulous place later.  The resulting post will mostly (if not completely) make up for this.


Maoz is (evidently) a smallish chain.  I’d never seen it before I moved to Philly.  Regardless, much like most of the other great things I’ve found in this city I resisted trying it for so long.

Maoz (pronounced “mows”) is a “vegetarian restaurant.”  I was a vegetarian for 6 years.  I hated eating at vegetarian restaurants then and I certainly hate them now.  Is that judgmental?  Absolutely.  The thing is lots of people (even people who own vegetarian restaurants) don’t understand how to make a filling and delicious vegetarian meal. So for the past 6 months I’ve strolled on by the graphic-y building that is Maoz without ever giving it the slightest time of day.

You remember recently how I was lamenting the loss of Moe’s in my life?  Sorry Moe’s, but I shall lament no more.  I’ve found your other half.  If I could marry two fast food places, it would be Moe’s and Maoz.

Anyway, getting on with the story so we can get to the review.  I started my new job yesterday.  My co-worker/trainer decided to go get lunch, but promised she would bring it back to eat so I wouldn’t be running a store I just started working in alone.  What did she bring back?  Maoz.  And it smelled… so good.  So I went home and ordered falafel from my favorite place.  But the craving was still there.

Then today came around, and I was working again.  I decided to get lunch for once and I just had to do it.  I had to have Maoz.

I stepped inside and sorry Maoz, but it’s fucking ugly in there.   It didn’t matter though, all I knew is I had to get my hands on that falafel.  But I was greeted by a condiment/topping buffet.  And a rude, slob of a man.  I told him I’d never been there before and he just started at me with a blank expression.  I know he was thinking “it isn’t that hard,” but ya know what buddy, fuck you.

So being slightly aggravated (probably more because I was hungry then that the guy was actually an ass hole) I just told him I wanted falafel and he sort of became helpful.  Apparently I actually wanted a “maoz sandwich” (which is a pretty stupid name for falafel in pita) and I got mine with fried eggplant and hummus also.  Then I got to top it with whatever I wanted! I put garlic sauce, tomatoes and onions, carrot salad, 4 types of salsa, and some other stuff on there.  I sat down at one of the really awkward tables.  And when I took the first bite my “maoz” jizzed all over my brand new red coat.  But I didn’t even care because I was in slightly spicy, super savory, carbohydrate overload falafel heaven.

Oh, also talk about simplicity (seriously, Maoz would be so perfect for Moe’s).  They have a regular “sandwich”, a small “sandwich”, a combo meal that comes with fries, and a salad (naked) option.

And what did I pay for this glory?  About $6.50.  Boom.

Ultimately, I give Maoz a 90%.  They lose 7% for being ugly and 3% because the guy behind the counter was a jerk (even though he probably wasn’t really).

And I learned another lesson:  Don’t always be afraid of vegetarian restaurants.

That’s all.



P.P.S. Listen to this (because that’s what I’m doing):


I seriously hate Qdoba.  I hate it so much.  If you know me personally you’ve heard that rant at least once.  If not, get ready.

I hate Qdoba, and conversely I love, nay ADORE Moe’s Southwestern Grill.

Upon first inspection it seems like the two are very similar.  But if you’ve eaten at both, you know MOE’S IS WHERE IT IS AT.

Besides the fact that they have funny, witty names for their food, they also say WELCOME TO MOE’S every time you walk in the door.  I know they have to do it or they’ll get fired, but it still makes me smile.

Also, for each category (taco, burrito ect.) there is a meat/tofu option, a meat/tofu option with guacamole, a non-tofu vegetarian option, and a smaller portion option (and in some cases a “naked” option).  Besides that, you can literally get whatever you want on it!  They don’t confine you do a “type” of burrito (like fucking Qdoba).  AND they have better stuff to pick from!! Fresh shopped jalapeno, pickled jalapeno, fresh cilantro, fresh pico and or corn salsa, grilled peppers, onions, and mushrooms.  The list goes on and on!  Also, they have whole wheat tortillas.  AND THEN ON TOP OF THAT YOU GET FREE UNLIMITED CHIPS AND SALSA (with a minimum of 4 types of salsa available every fucking day)

Unfortunately, Philadelphia has no Moe’s.  What they have is Chipotle and Qdoba.

Now why I hate Qdoba.  It is essentially the cheap, ugly younger sibling.  You have to pick a burrito, and they don’t have a lot of toppings to pick from, and they get pissy when you ask for more stuff, and their rice SUCKS, and they SUCK at rolling burritos.  Also, chips and salsa cost money.  No fresh jalapeno.  Shitty guac.  Their sour cream is a liquid (?!).  I’ve never gotten a burrito there that I could actually pick up and eat, I always have to use a knife and fork (which I believe to be sacrilege).  Today, I just walked in and started telling them what I wanted and let them figure out what to call it.  And it was the soggiest grossest burrito I’ve ever had in my whole damned life.  It didn’t even taste good.  IT NEVER TASTES GOOD.  I SERIOUSLY HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE WITH THE SCORN OF 1,000 BURNING SUNS QDOBA.  DON’T USE THAT NAME IN MY PRESENCE EVER. I SHUN IT. FUCK QDOBA.


What? (And Thai Food)

So in the pit of my recent despair, I somehow managed to land a job.  I mean really, after the (no exaggeration) 100’s of jobs I have applied for in my 6 months in this city, and I get one when I walk into an interview dripping wet from rain and with zero confidence.  And it’s an awesome job.

But moving on, A TRIBUTE:

On our old blog, I had recently posted an oh-too-fabulous rant titled “That embarrassing moment when…” followed by a list of embarrassing things stupid people do.  (yep.)

Example: That embarrassing moment when a 2nd quarter culinary student doesn’t know what Asiago cheese is (and pronounces it wrong).

How strange I picked that example… totally at random.


Change the above example to:

That awkward moment when a 2nd quarter culinary student doesn’t know what Asiago, feta, or fresh mozzarella are.
That awkward moment when said culinary student pronounces Asiago wrong, and proceeds to tell you fresh mozzarella “doesn’t taste like anything” and gives you a weird look after you explained its delicious merits for several minutes.

What a shame.

Uh I ate Thai food three times in 36 hours. (Although the last one doesn’t really count because the meal was mostly liquid).

We shall start from the beginning:

Bangkok Thai 9 is a fairly small place.  It’s flanked by a sushi place and a korean BBQ place, which is interesting to me (I’m not going to go into my feels on why that is at this moment)
I don’t hear a lot of nice things about this place to be honest.  No one I’ve ever gone there with has liked it or wanted to go back.  But I like it.
Yep, I like the place.  Sure it isn’t the “most authentic Thai food in Philly,” but that’s like saying the “Main Moon, Red Sun, Rising Sun, Great Wall, No.1 Chinese, Happy Family” place every town invariably has isn’t good because it isn’t authentic.  Who cares, it still tastes good.  It’s one of those places where you have to take it for what it is.

I’ve been here a few times now, and it’s predictable.  This most recent time I got shrimp Panang Curry, which I asked for the kitchen to make spicy (like every other time I’ve ordered anything there) and which was most certainly not spicy (it never is).  Oh well.

Will you have an awakening of food when you eat here?  No.  But will you get an appetizer, soup, and entree, and a drink for less than $10 at lunch.  Yes Sir you will.  And will it taste GOOD? YES SIR IT WILL.

Moving on:
Erawan is a Thai restaurant near my school.  There is also one in China town, but I’ve never been there. I’ve been to this Erawan twice now however.  They also have a nice lunch special (which I got.)  I went for wonton soup (I just love wonton soup so much I get it from anywhere), a salad, and drunken noodle (my favorite Thai dish).  Like Bangkok Thai 9, there will be no grand moment when you eat this food.  You won’t be over come by emotions when you taste the food (unless the last time you ate there was with your now ex-boyfriend, like me.)  Erawan is better than Bangkok though.  The food has more thought behind it and tends to be less greasy.  The dishes tend to be more complex and (I would say) tastier.  And it has a much more visually appealing interior.  You ask for spicy, you get spicy.  It’s a good spot.

My Thai is an incredibly cute little place down on South Street.    I’ve been there twice now, but hardly eaten a thing either time.  My first experience I missed the meal and made in just in time to have some drinks and eat someone else’s left over dinner (which was Pad Thai and it was pretty good!)  The second time was similar.  Myself and a few of my peers popped in for some drinks after our late class.  The kitchen was closed, but the waitress there (who I’ve come to think of as probably the funniest/friendliest waitress in the city) offered to make us something as long as it didn’t require frying or ovens.  We ended up with a trio of steamed dumplings, which were delicious.  And of course, a few of their signature cocktails (which are also really fabulous by the way.)  My Thai is by far my favorite of all three.

I went to none of these places with the intention of reviewing, but since I went to three similar places in two days I figured I should compare and contrast.  I don’t have “grades” for these places, just order:

1. My Thai

2. Erawan

3. Bangkok Thai 9

That’s all.


Those Weeks.

Ever have one of those weeks that just blows?

It’s like you get rejected from 15 jobs, you pull 14 hours at the school (on top of your normal classes) and then another 10 on your day off and you get dumped (or you dumped depending on the story) your 2.5 year relationship, and you’ve been sick for 8 weeks and it just won’t fucking stop? And on top of that you gave up on someone who was really special to you.

And then you wake up and you realize “hey, I’ve pretty much fucked up this whole quarter, there goes my GPA,”  and you get rejected from 10 more jobs, and your house just gets messier and messier and you’re washing your clothes in a bathtub because you don’t have time to get cash to get quarters to do laundry, let alone time to DO LAUNDRY.

And your cat hates you because every spare minute you have, you sleep.  And some random kid told you all about his horrible, horrible life for seemingly no reason, which just almost made you cry because it was so fucking sad and horrible.  And then at that moment you feel so fucking alone in the world you want to die, your laundry that’s drying on the radiator mixes with some magical breeze coming in the window and it smells like your best friends house from when you were in high school.  It smells like a place where you were always safe and always welcome and where you were loved.  So you text your best friend.  And guess what?  She just got dumped too.  And she’s taking it way worse than you.

So you comfort her and push all your shit aside.  And then you realize once again that you’re so fucking alone, but then your other friend calls you and is like “I’m so lost, I have no idea what I’m doing with my life, I have everyone who’s around me,” and instead of saying “I told you so, and btw I feel like shit too,” you act like a good friend and you suck it up again and do the whole comfort thing and push your shit aside.

And then you go to a stupid expensive class that you hate and GUESS WHAT PEOPLE, YOUR OTHER FRIEND JUST FOUND OUT HER LIVE IN SIGNIFICANT OTHER IS CHEATING ON HER.  You’ve never seen this bitch so much as wince, and she looks like she’s going to cry, so you do the whole comfort thing again.  And then you get home and you’re just about to suck down half a bottle of NyQuil and slip into dream land when your phone rings.

Who could it be?  Someone texting you to tell you that you are wonderful and attractive and funny and witty?  Oh hell no, it’s another person texting you to tell you that they are unhappy with life.  Yes, they too would like some joyful words from the person who has a seemingly endless stream of joyful thoughts to spew out into other people’s heads.  So you spew some cheer over there.

And then finally, you realize “wow, a week has gone by” and then you just fucking cry.  You cry your little heart out.  You sob to the left and to the right.  You try out the fetal position for a bit, which is pretty nice.  You blow your nose on your blankets because you’re too fucking pathetic to get up to get a tissue.  Your cat is embarrassed for you, and leaves the room (how kind of him).  And then you stop, get up, smoke a cigarette, drink that NyQuil and move on with your fucking life.

Yep, it’s been one of those weeks.

Oh, and in case you’re wondering, I have been eating like a fucking king.  I ate $30 worth of sushi yesterday (it was all very good, from Mikawa) and then I ate Thai food today, and tomorrow I plan on eating at least 3 chili cheese something or others off of the Broad Street and Sansom food cart. (It’s my favorite, they’re friendly.  They let me put chili on everything).



The Thing About Philadelphia.

The thing about Philadelphia is that I feel like most restaurants here are trying to fuck me over.

Not in the normal way a restaurant fucks a person over either.  The normal way is like a symbiotic fucking over.
It’s like “yeah I’m totally going to over charge your for this, because I have to make a profit.  But at the same time, you’re going to think it’s delicious and you’re going to have a good time eating here.  And I hope you’ll come back in the future when you want to eat food you’re being over charged for.”

In Philadelphia it’s like “yeah, I’m totally going to over charge you for this, and because you’re in Center City I assume you’re a tourist or a knave so I’m SERIOUSLY going to over charge you and also use crap quality ingredients.”

No. No more Philadelphia, I call Bull Shit.

The days of consumers being powerless against you are over.  The days of having to trust a bunch of mostly corrupt food critics to tell you if a place is worth your time or not, done.

I just want you to know, Mr. or Mrs. Scum-Of-The-Earth restaurant owner, I personally have a twitter, a facebook, a grub hub, a seamless, a yelp, an eGullet, two blogs, a city-data account and somewhere (if I dug deep enough) I still have a myspace floating around.  Let me count the ways in which I will haunt your sham of a business… TEN.  It’s TEN ways.  (Or 11 if you count all the people I will tell in person about your shit hole).

I don’t care if every other person in the whole world thinks you deserve “like a billion stars for deliciousness.”  If you piss me off you’ll be burned in my mind forever as not even deserving one star made of poop.

Is this too harsh?  No.  No it isn’t.  I’m not talking about innocent offenses here.  I’m not talking about the delivery guy who’s 5 minutes late, or the place that’s packed on a Friday night and the server is running behind, or even the place where I order an unsweetened ice tea and get sweetened. This isn’t about the place that didn’t realize I hadn’t being waited on yet, or that forget the dinner roll with my pasta, or even the place that disregarded my explicit direction for “dressing on the side.”

I’m not talking about mistakes, or slip-ups, or the occasional bad dish.  I’m talking about big screw ups, the kind of thing where if I were a dumber person I might not realize, but because I do realize I’m pissed.  The kind of things where a place is just clearly lacking in quality of food and service and just does not give a fuck.  Where I can eat only one bite of my dish and they won’t even ask me if something was wrong with it, because they know why you didn’t eat it.  It sucks.  It’s shitty quality and they don’t care because they already got your money and there are a billion other poor saps in the world lined up behind you who know a lot less about food and whose pallets will be blinded by your special on margaritas anyway.

Just remember this for the future, Mr. or Mrs. Scum-Of-The-Earth.  Remember that we live in a media world now, and I am a media girl. Remember that next time you decide to send someone “tabouli” consisting of huge ugly chunks of mealy tomatoes, barley chopped parsley, and no bulgur wheat to speak of (Al Zaytouna). Think about it next time someone order Portobello fajitas and you bring them almost raw, oily sweet peppers and onions with no Portobello in sight (El Zarape).  And you better be thinking about it next time someone orders a chili rellano and you send them a pepper filled with cheese that isn’t even melted and that is breaded with the equivalent of greasy cardboard (The Mexican Post Old City).

I’m watching you, and I’m not afraid to tell the world that you suck and also to suggest to them a much better alternative to your crappy establishment.

If you are one of those alternatives, more power to you.  I’m sure I’ll be writing about you soon enough.

And that’s the thing about Philadelphia.