On Monday evening, Mike & Christi had wanted to join us for frozen yogurt at Mel’s shop “Yogurt Fantasy” on Castro, but couldn’t because they had St. Patrick’s Day dinner plans with Christi’s dad, who she was surprised to find is a great chef. He made his own Irish dish of corned beef and cabbage from scratch! So we volunteered to do yogurt a second time on Tuesday evening after everyone got off work.

As everyone else worked, Mr. W and I had a decent gym session, a late breakfast, and returned to Diana’s to shower and get ready for going out again. Diana was seated at her dining table in the exact same spot where we’d left her early in the morning, working away on her laptop. The work was about to pay off, however, as the deadline was later that night. She suggested that since the weather has continued to be beautiful, warm and sunny, that it was a great day to visit the campus of Stanford University, about 10 miles away (as everything is). She drew us a quick map and off we went, leaving her to her selling her soul work.

On the way, we thought we’d try to hit up another food joint made famous by my NorCal blogger pals, Pizz’a Chicago. Dardy and Mike’s favorite pizza on their menu is the Great Chicago Fire, comprised of spicy Italian sausage, sport peppers (like peppercinis), fresh garlic, cilantro on a thick Chicago deep-dish crust. Oh…my…gawd. It was spicy enough, I never would’ve thought of adding cilantro to pizza to give spicy ingredients a refreshing twist, and the crust was crispy on the outside while the soft cottony inside melted on the palate. DELICIOUS. It is nothing like the greasy bottomed, soggy uppered BJ’s Pizzas, which chain also claims to be Chicago deep-dish. Mr. W especially enjoyed the menu and the wall decorations, as he’s from Chicago and gets all the inside jokes. For me it was like, “Huh? Fire? Mrs. O’leary? Cow? What?” His rocker brother even played at the Cubby Bar or whatever that one pizza was named after. He took a to-go menu to share with the family. I also loved the flexible ordering; we could’ve gotten half-pizzas if we couldn’t decide what we wanted but didn’t want to order 2! They also let us half any appetizer order for half-price.

Stomachs happily digesting, we drove out to Stanford University, parked in front of the Alumni Building, and took a nice long walk on campus. The center quad is grandiose, with its many rows of archways and columns. We found the church in the center and walked in. The intricately detailed stained glass lining the wings, the giant wall of brass pipes to project the 2nd story pipe organ, the soaring arched ceilings all dropped my jaw. I tugged on Mr. W’s sleeve. “Can we get married here if I convert to Catholicism for a day?” I asked. We noted while walking in the sunshine, smelling the trees and flowers, seeing all the green around us, that the campus is very aware of natural aesthetic beauty and plays up all the gardens and trees in its giant stone architecture. I wondered aloud whether Dardy appreciates how beautiful this campus is, but doubted it as he’s a graduate. We never appreciate what we’re used to, right?

On our way to Castro St. yet again, I called Dardy. “Guess where I called you from earlier! Your alma mater!” I told him excitedly.
“What?”
“We were on campus at Stanford!”
“…why?!” he said, totally unimpressed. I went on and on about how beautiful I thought the buildings were, and he said flatly that yeah, they’re Spanish. I protested that I didn’t think they were Spanish. “They’re not? They look Spanish to me. It’s like a giant Taco Bell.” What? (Later, while relaying this conversation to a laughing Diana, she said she thinks it’s Spanish-Renaissance, not Taco-Bell-Spanish.)

We were supposed to meet up with Mike, Christi and Dardy at Yogurt Fantasy, but even tho we got to Castro St. first, we got to the yogurt place last as Mr. W found a Chinese loose leaf tea shop and stayed there for awhile to indulge his fobby side. He tried to buy a $17 ginseng oolong, but ended up walking out with a $45 high-energy oolong tea that’s supposedly sold nowhere else except at that store, according to the storeowner’s claims that he dispensed for half an hour to an enraptured Mr. W. Walking out with his leafy loot, Mr. W wondered aloud if he may have been swindled. I kept my lips shut.

I got a strawberry fro-yo mixed with chocolate this time, and it was delicious. I found strawberry strings and seeds in there, so it’s definitely made with real fruit! How I wish I had some right now, but not even the NorCal folks can have some; we caught Mel’s shop just hours before they were going to shut down for a week for major remodeling.

After Yogurt Fantasy, we drove out to a new Japanese restaurant that Christi and Mike had been wanting to try, called The Red Crane. It’s an artisan sushi place, and served some fancy stuff. Jen joined us there. Mr. W and I had gotten there first and I gave the host my card ahead of time, explaining I was to pay no matter what and to please keep it discreet. He said he understood. Unfortunately, he got off work before we were done eating and handed the card with directions to our server, who was totally oblivious. The bill came and was placed at the other end of the table so I didn’t even know it was there until after people had already looked at it and tallied up what they owed. Mr. W got up and talked to the waitress, who pulled my card out of her apron and said she’d forgotten about it. “Now we’ve got people fighting over the bill, which is what we were trying to avoid,” he told her. I’d wanted to treat everyone to a last dinner to thank them for coming out and hanging with us, even tho every one of them had work. NONE of them would let me. The cash sat on the table until I finally had take it after it was pushed back to me two or three times. *sigh*

We told them that the next time they’re in our neck of the woods, it’s going to be our treat.