Results tagged “food”

It's an producers have had their eye on Garces since he took out Bobby Flay as a challenger on the show last year.

Author Jonathan Safran Foer is probably best known for his works of fiction, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, and Everything Is Illuminated. Foer's latest effort, Eating Animals, is a new and, some say, risky non-fiction look at our food industry.

When Phillyist heard Rum Bar (2005 Walnut St.) was adding some new fall-themed martinis to their menu, we sent out our resident pumpkin junkies to investigate. Since we've heaped the love on Rum Bar in the past, Adam Kanter, owner/manager of Rum Bar, hooked us up with some samples so we could report back on how to get your fix of fall flavors in liquid form. (Sometimes chewing is just too much work!) With more than 140 varieties of rum and three levels of rum-flight programs for patrons to conquer (these guys do not mess around), we knew Rum Bar's fall drink offerings would not disappoint.

Performances: Missed Connections, A Craigslist Fantasia (Curio Theatre Company) (Future Performances); Store (Kate Watson-Wallace/Anonymous Bodies) (Future Performances); A Singer's Circus (Jen Fellman) (Future Performances); Kill Me Now (Melanie Stewart Dance Theatre) (No Future Performances); Inside Julia Child (Rebecca Wright and John Jarboe) (No Future Performances)

Phillyist's quick-picks for your evening agenda.

Lately, I've loved going to farmers' markets with my daughter. It helps me get my shopping done, supports local farms, and could keep my baby amazed for hours. The site of a bright red tomato, the smell of pot after pot of basil, an Amish guy's crazy beard—she loves it all. Farmers' markets are hitting their stride, tomatoes and bell peppers are in their prime, and best of all, you can spend the whole day meandering around the tables and never spend more than twenty bucks tops.

Something about a fun invitation—this time in the form of a note tied to the stem of a sunflower—makes me want to cancel all plans and head to the event in question. This invite beckoned me to Girasole, a new(ish) restaurant in the ground floor of Center City's Dranoff-developed Symphony House condominium building that got its start in Atlantic City. The small restaurant, with its gold-upholstered banquettes and black granite tabletops, isn't as bright and cheery as one would expect from a restaurant named for a sunflower, but it's certainly Italian in that "Dude, where's my Godfather theme music?" kind of way. (It's an observation, not a negative. Perhaps negative, though, are the plastic chairs at every table in the dining room. Summer heat + short skirt + plastic = not the most pleasant dining situation.)

Phillyist's quick-picks for your evening agenda.

The best of the internet, squirted out in flavorful neon globules, just for you.

A steaming hot pile of our favorite things from around the internets.

A tall, icy glass of our favorite internet junk, just for you.

So you're tired of Center City Restaurant Week. You think you've already done all the restaurants on the list that are worth the deal. You've sworn off three-course prix fixe menus. Done. Fin. No mas.

The best of the internet, chopped into tiny bits and grilled for your enjoyment.

Fun around town, for $10 or less:

The best of the internet, squirted out in flavorful neon globules, just for you.

The best of the internet, chopped into tiny bits and grilled for your enjoyment.

A tall, icy glass of our favorite internet junk, just for you.

The best of the internet, chopped into tiny bits and grilled for your enjoyment.

A steaming hot pile of our favorite things from around the internets.

A tall, icy glass of our favorite internet junk, just for you.

The shapeless dough of the internet, formed into tasty pellets and baked to perfection, just for you.

The best of the internet, squirted out in flavorful neon globules, just for you.

The shapeless dough of the internet, formed into tasty pellets and baked to perfection, just for you.

Ah, summer is nearly upon us. Time to spend our weekends trudging over the Walt, getting scowled at nastily by South Jerseyans who want nothing more than for us to "go the hell home, ya' damn Shoobie!" Time for us to bake ourselves down the shore and wearily drive home in the same traffic, the same scowling, only to work another week and do it all over again. Some weekend, right?

A tall, icy glass of our favorite internet junk, just for you.

The best of the internet, squirted out in flavorful neon globules, just for you.

The best of the internet, squirted out in flavorful neon globules, just for you.

The shapeless dough of the internet, formed into tasty pellets and baked to perfection, just for you.

The New York Times' Travel section ran a piece today that calls Philadelphia a "destination city"—something we could have told them years ago. We're happy that The Times has finally decided to show the City of Brotherly Love a little affection (instead of that Sixth Borough crap from a few years ago), but we'd like to point out that their recommended schedule is almost as improbable as the route of the Rocky run.