people that YELP are scumbags

http://losangeles.grubstreet.com/2012/07/sang-yoon-carrot-cake-gate.html

Awesome, i want to eat at that guy's restaurant now.

the pure, uncut entitledness in the comments section there is heady

kindof dirty but the staff is friendly

i want to bury both of them in a pile of plastic monkeys

Barrel. Plastic monkeys come in barrels.

man... i know it was a week ago but I just re-read that comment thread. this really explains a lot...

I completely understand how Yelpers can be annoying (I am one!) but that is why we are on critiquing side and not the owning or creating side. Sure, it must suck to hear someone complain about the free food that you are giving them but it was a valid complaint

hahaha

http://i.imgur.com/efg25.jpg

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QEdXhH97Z7E

hahaha

WOW. Just wow. That is amazing. Can we get those people in on this thread? So many great items have already been culled.

hee hee I love it!

Massive lol

lmao

i dont think im going to eat there anymore

It was raining a bit, drizzle making asphalt black in small ovals before fading grey in Baltimore humidity. I was on the phone as I drove up to Meet 27 and saw Michelle waiting for me to arrive. She waved, I awkwardly held my phone and made a motion with my chin like a salutation. It's hard to say hello to more than one person at the same time, if not damn impossible except for a fat man with bearded chins in the plural.

I parked after making an illegal U turn, and got out of the car to give Michelle a hug. The restaurant beckoned. The door, opened like a funeral procession, made that soft and heavy sound of the door to a bar. We walked into a well lit dining room, and what appeared to be a bar...without any alcohol. Apparently there had been trouble with a liquor license, and as such the restaurant was BYOB. The last place I had been to that was BYOB besides a house party, was Small's jazz club in NYC. That night I chewed on a piece of gum and then played a few bars on someone else's saxophone to straight no chaser. I think I drank a seabreeze or a champale gold. Sometimes life is dripping to the stitches with irony.

The owner or manager of the restaurant greeted us and sat us down upstairs, with a great view of the bar area. I couldn't help but think it was such a waste - that if a bar were present, the restaurant could really take off. Potential when viewed from above is like a moving target, tempting but ultimately dismissed. I surveyed the menu instead.

...and what a menu it was. The appetizers looked delicious and catered to vegan and vegetarian palates. The entrees all looked delicious, but I was immediately drawn to the vindaloo. Michelle chose the Paneer in a chili sauce with the kind of narrowed, hawk-eyed gaze that generally signals a kill or at least a tall, skinny platinum blonde.

The appetizers were ok, but nothing particularly special. The entrees though...Michelle's chili paneer tasted strangely familiar, like something my mother would make. There was a bit of Korean spice to it and it was absolutely fantastic. I would go back to Meet 27 just for the paneer. The vindaloo was on an entirely different plane - steamed or slow cooked pork that probably fell off the bone only minutes ago, thin straws of ginger that delicately poked through the hazy heat of the vindaloo spices, and perfectly cooked rice covered in steamed vegetables that appeared to have a slight bruising of tumeric.

The vindaloo was hot. It was damn hot, L.A. in the summer hot. The heat stuck to the top of my throat, it coated my mouth, it rolled in tongues of flame around my own with the kind of ferocity generally reserved for a high school makeout session, and I bore with it. I ate, and drank water, and watched sweat bead on my forearms from the heat, the damn heat. It was intense, and glorious, and perfect. What is the point of vindaloo, if not to make one sweat bullets? What is the point indeed?

At the end of the meal there was a mostly forgettable vegan mousse(covered in michelle's review), but there was also peace. The rain had stopped. The sky bore the marks of birth, a storm recumbent upon the horizon. The vindaloo in my system kept me warm on as I headed home, towards the water, always towards the water when the rain ends and the evening begins.

i almost...ALMOST... signed up for yelp to write a review of a hotel i stayed in recently. there were nits in the towels. little black crawling bugs. fucking disgusting.

I've written one yelp review; the hotel we stayed at in DC had received some notably bad reviews on yelp. I hadn't read them til after I booked the hotel and they made me legit paranoid that I'd chosen badly. But the hotel was great and the complaints turned out to be suuuuper lame; since I enjoyed our stay there I wrote a review that said 'don't listen to those crybabies, this hotel is fine'

vegan mousse (covered in michelle's review)

Jeeeeeeeeeeesus that last one harbl posted has got to be a parody. Or the opening section of a work of erotic fiction.

I parked after making an illegal U turn

michelle (covered in vegan mousse) am I right fellas

that dude's got some choice reviews. and weirdly creepy! (name in first tale not redacted in original review):

I have many fond memories of this library. I used to come here after school to study before my mom picked me up, and as it was a popular pick up spot for various other high schoolers, I have a few stories that just came to mind. Let's see:

1)E---y G---d(currently writing for gawker, can be seen being made a fool of by Jimmy Kimmel on youtube) getting fingerblasted in the stairwell, cheating on her boyfriend(who was one of my friends) with this 13 year old swimmer dude.

2)Meeting this girl I had a super huge crush on, after she woke me up while I was napping in a library chair. With a vintage playboy covering my face. While I was drooling. Needless to say, I did not get anywhere with said girl, although she is still famously hot to the point where girls that went to other MoCo schools still know who she is when I say her name.

3)Some dude showing me some child porn in the stacks. He was like "Yo, check out these naked kids" and I was like "why are you showing me this" and he was like "it's art", which I found dubious.

4)This dude who is now a famous DJ in DC and NYC used to work there as a teenager. At one point he asked me to loan him 100 bucks so he could run away to new york. I was like "how would I get the 100 back?" His response was "I'll become a teenage male hooker. I can make a lot of money like that". I did not give him the 100 bucks.

Also this library has a good collection of movies and books and whatnot, plus the attendants are quite nice and polite, and helpful. If you are going to go to a library, why not here?

http://s3-media2.ak.yelpcdn.com/photo/OQFcbgNldIaJPSqkIH88Fg/l.jpg

pork vindaloo? do indians eat pork?

ahahahaa that video!
and the purple prose sub-noir review!
ah, the internet

I ate, and drank water, and watched sweat bead on my forearms from the heat, the damn heat.

water doesn't help. you need milk -- drink a lassi or mix some raita in with the vindaloo.

Around 10PM I pulled into a gas station with the pulled taffy buzz of alcohol like a warm coat around me. I'm sitting at a pump waiting to go meet back up with my buddies, whom I left at the club charles with 3 cute girls. I get a text from them as I am idling at the pump, telling me that the girls are leaving. Well fuck me then, that's horrible. I turn to the guy in the backseat of my car who is measuring substances on a small, personal scale. I tell him that the girls left, and he shrugs, in the noncommittal way of people that honestly could not give a shit about what you are saying. I ponder on that and agree with him. I don't even fucking care about what I am saying. I get another text. "We are going to the ottobar". Oh word? I tell the guy, currently wrapping my purchase for me in a bit of plastic. He gives me another shrug, and we shake hands as acquaintances do. By the time I look up after stashing my get, he has vanished into the night, a white-tailed deer, the stag of a wild hunt led shrieking by the baying of fleet foxes.

I am at the ottobar and my bloodstream is getting contaminated by the feel of cigarette smoke, parliament lights like middle class mavericks, girls in black and short shorts with combat boots, bleached blonde hair and the unmistakable desperation of hipsterdom. We are dancing and tearing it up, no drinks, just energy and music and in my case, a little bit of something out of nothing. The air thickens more than the plot, and it feels as if we are all breathing in just carbon dioxide, the detritus left and gone missing after every good laugh is sucked out of a room. It burns and we like it. This is what we should be doing, exactly what we should be doing, right now.

I run into various girls I know, some of them I met at a bar(those girls are awkward, pale gawky movements like ballerinas on mescaline), some I know from just living here. Baltimore is smalltimore, and the incestuous nature of the social scene here is to be ignored if you want to actually do anything, or go out at all. There is an ex-girlfriend standing almost right next to me and we ignore each other with mutual disaffection. I rather think I should hate her. Instead I walk back inside to dance some more with 18 year old girls, bearing the black cross of judas on their hands. Baphomet would read catullus to me if he could.

The night is over, black sky a curtainfall, and we are walking back towards the car. The drugs in my system are wearing off but it occurs to me that I did not even need them - not when I can just go to the ottobar and fill that sinecure for nothing even like a cover charge.

Oh word? I tell the guy, currently wrapping my purchase for me in a bit of plastic. Oh word? I tell the guy, currently wrapping my purchase for me in a bit of plastic. Oh word? I tell the guy, currently wrapping my purchase for me in a bit of plastic. Oh word? I tell the guy, currently wrapping my purchase for me in a bit of plastic. Oh word? I tell the guy, currently wrapping my purchase for me in a bit of plastic. Oh word? I tell the guy, currently wrapping my purchase for me in a bit of plastic. Oh word? I tell the guy, currently wrapping my purchase for me in a bit of plastic. Oh word? I tell the guy, currently wrapping my purchase for me in a bit of plastic. Oh word? I tell the guy, currently wrapping my purchase for me in a bit of plastic. Oh word? I tell the guy, currently wrapping my purchase for me in a bit of plastic. Oh word? I tell the guy, currently wrapping my purchase for me in a bit of plastic.

"Please leave me a good review on Yelp" he says vanishing into the night, a white-tailed deer, the stag of a wild hunt led shrieking by the baying of fleet foxes.

Oh word?

omfg

http://oi46.tinypic.com/2610xfn.jpg

would actually read dashiell hammet's yelp reviews fwiw

vegan mousse (covered in michelle's review)

tag-teaming yelper couples must be exterminated

did that dude just yelp his dealer

i want to find this guy irl

wooooooow

o shit

I love that video so much.

oh my god

http://www.yelp.com/user_details?userid=cJnkFnjupZtgYpe0nFg_Ew

they're all like that

My Blog Or Website
hahaha no, the internet is gay

this cannot possibly be a real person

What isn't funny about getting as hammered as is humanly possible without dying or at least without looking like you are dying and wait a second there's a blonde with eyes like a coal miner's headlamp

So.... right in the middle of her forehead, then?

The food was all excellent, and I will break it down thusly:

1)My wahoo filet? Gorgeous. Risotto was fantastic, creamy without being overpowering in flavor.
2)My dad's prime rib + lobster tail was divine - excellent flavor, and the cut of meat was perfect.
3)My mom's crab dish was perfect as well - light, served with fresh bok choy and other vegetables.
4)My brother's steak was perfect. A truly perfect steak.
5)My brother's wife's lobster was also perfect, broiled to perfection and served simply with drawn butter.
6)Foie gras. I wish it was served more simply, perhaps with just some toasted brioche, but it was still delicious.

What else do you need? Oh, a lovely 1998 margaux margaux for only 140 dollars? Check. A perfect beajoulais for the main entrees, fruity and light, complementary instead of complimentary? Yeah, we had that too. Service that was attentive without being obtrusive? Yeah, we got that too.

The price was...within reason. Of course, I don't really care what the price was because my dad had a goddamn blast, and when it's your dad's 65th birthday, no amount of money can pay for the kind of experience that makes him glad that he's alive, and that his prodigal son is not a complete jackass. I'd give 5 stars but the prices were a bit high on the appetizers.

THUSLY

haha wait "who cares about price when the experience is so great (one star off for pricy apps)"

ye shalt yelp thusly

My brother's wife's lobster

no amount of money can pay for the kind of experience that makes him glad that he's alive, and that his prodigal son is not a complete jackass

He's got a point, you know. No amount of money will ever convince anybody of this.

haha wait "who cares about price when the experience is so great (one star off for pricy apps)"

― keeping things contextual (DJP), Friday, August 3, 2012 10:48 AM (13 minutes ago) Bookmark Flag Post Permalink

this is YELP