My newest obsession.

I can’t help it. I’ve become one of those complete TOSSERS who carried mini-tabasco bottles with me during the working day. I’m obsessed. It all started back when I started gently losing weight and I’d read that many people can replace the taste of fats with something spicy – which was odd given that I’d been eating fatty spicey food for as long as I can remember. 

 

So I gave it a try way back when and now the rest is history. In fact I actually got into it when I was in Bellevue recently. For those of you who don’t know Bellevue is the wart on the side of Seattle and home to many American corporations. It overlooks the most stunning lake which Bill Gates probably owns as he lives there.

 

Stacy and I were staying in a shocker of a hotel and had to have breakfast off-site the next morning (because the 5 star hotel didn’t have a restaurant). We went to a faux-Mexican joint and I watched in awe as she ordered a breakfast burrito. I didn’t know what one of those was, so I ordered the same. What turned up looked like a rolled up futon covered in blood. Like a scene from Dexter.

 

Stacy then proceeded to drench the futon in Tabasco and even as I type this to you know my mouth is watering and I long for a dash. I did the same. The power of Tabasco is such that it’s a sliding scale up – and from that point on – hooked. Always on eggs. Always on rice, probably in sauses – have you tried it mixed with mayo?

 

Holy cow. I thought Tabasco was just for bloody maries – how wrong I was. This picture taken at the fantastic Tides hotel on Ocean Drive, Miami.

Just in from the useless Gansevoort South

This email:

Thank you for staying with us at the Gansevoort South.   We sincerely hope you enjoyed your visit with us and that we were able to exceed your expectations.   We look forward to serving you again when your travel plans bring you back to the Miami Beach area. Sincerely, Hotel Staff 1-305-6041000 www.gansevoortsouth.com

 

‘Exceed my expectations? Are they kidding me? Does no one check this stuff? And how can you be sincere when you’re unnamed?

I don’t give a Gansevoort.

We stayed at the Gansevoort South for about 90 minutes. I know I’d sung its praises and all. But frankly it’s just shit. Totally unready to open, a building site on the beach, ceiling panels missing, hit a wrong floor on the elevator and you walk out into a building site. Bad service, lousy views and the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard – a refusal to cancel the bill for two stone cold forgotten grilled sandwiches (not forgotten by US) that was ‘I can’t do that as we sub-contract all the catering and you’ll have to speak to the bar that served you’. Funny given that the check I signed was in the name of the hotel. Not ready, not impressive and not clever.

The Tides, on Ocean Drive, on the other hand is a COMPLETELY different story. No just because in a moment that will shock and awe friends (Ben actually found the hotel and rate) but also because I simply couldn’t complain for the whole 5 days we were there. Impeccable rooms, outstanding service, and great cocktails. You couldn’t make it up really.

Ben’s always said that he never unpacks until I do. And in this instance we were both unpacked in moments and down on South Beach.  I’m not one to complain, but I was upset that they had removed all valet parking charges ‘just because’ and continually gave us Voss water (which costs the GDP of a G8 nation in Soho House New York).

Thanks Tides, I think we’ll be back for my birthday. Yes Richard, not ONE complaint.

A good place NOT to eat oysters.

Now, although Leslie and Joe are relatively new friends, and although we are almost always smashed whenever we meet I can’t deny one thing. They are smart, fast, funny and handsome (I know that’s more that one thing, give me a break).

So we met tonight (after a day of split base clienting, which sounds more painful than it is but requires quick thinking to not confuse magazines with ad agencies with online eperiential. To consult is to switch brief at the speed of light – or at least before the subway clatters into Grand Central. And I had an 7pm appointment with Ben and Leslie and Joe at AquaGrill on 6th.

We had a rapid G and T amidst the burble of interior design gossip – Joe whipped out his unit, a brand spanding new Canon G9 I think it is – the very camera I craved just last week and snapped a bit (after telling me I don’t in appear in any pictures EVER. It’s true. You’d think I was Michael J. Fox in BTTF when he starts to fade ‘Earth Angel…’. Anyway that’s all besides the point (or context as my wonderful mother would proffer).

Joe returned to the table and announced that he had witnessed a waiter go to the restroom and not abide by the sign for staff (which is, Wash You Hands, Smile and Don’t Clone Cards’. He was NOT happy. And indeed on departure kind manager said to him, with all the trainer of an Abu Ghraib therapist ‘I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about’ and turned away.

We departed for Mason Dixon. A dive on the LES for carbs and been and whilst Leslie headed up his obviously exhaustion from a hard day at being Captain America, Leslie shot about 14 deer on the video game.

It just goes to prove, you can buy fashion but you can’t buy class. I type this feeling a knot of macaroni and cheese (my diet Lex Luther) balling in my stomach – which does NOT bode well for Miami in the morning.

Checked, packed, boarding pass in hand. We are seriously ready to go. Thank God. We actually really need this. Our last break was at the very birth of this blog (go back and see) some 17 months ago. It’s only Miami, but it will be our Miami and we’ve got a lot of work to do.

I’ll try to check in. But frankly my envy for Joe’s camera now means I want to destroy mine and buy that one immediately. Thankfully I find this image of the balcony I expect, and frankly deserve quite restorative. We might check in over the next few.

There will be hell to pay if it’s not identical or superior. I know what soft-opening means. It means be soft on the consumer whilst you’re working out your kinks. I’ll be watching.

If I was any more excited I’d make a mess.

It’s true. 5 days in Miami beckon, in the brand spanking ‘not-quite-open’ Gansevoort South hotel on South Beach. For clarity, I would rather stick a red hot poker in my eye than stay in the Meat-packing variety, but for the 700 square foot room with a balcon, I’ll permit my standards to slip.

 

This hotel is SO new it’s got less than 10 reviews on TripAdvisor (the Oracle of travel). It’s so new that apparently Lance Bass had his 29th birthday party there (we’ll gloss over that bit). It’s so new, I’m hoping, that the Miami Shiterrati won’t have landed.

 

So much so that I pushed myself so hard in the gym today I had to have a cup of tea and a nice lay down.

 

As will Ben when he sees this car waiting for him to drive us at the airport: