The String Cheese Incident And My Trip To The Big City.

I have mentioned my City Girl sister before.  But have never really talked about Matt, her husband.  Well, Matt’s time is due, because he generously footed the bill for what he thought we deserved…a Sister’s Weekend.

Translation:  No kids.  No chores.  No computers.  No one else. 

Just us.  Sisters.

And, it’s not like we left out our brother.  Don’t feel sorry for him.  We don’t have one.

It’s just us.  And since we got married and had kids, and even more so now that The Animal Whisperer and I run our farm, we haven’t spent any just sisters time together in way too long.

Well, thanks to Matt, that changed.  He sent us to a beautiful hotel, to a spa for massages, out for a delicious dinner, and generally away from our daily lives so we could just be together. 

Now, enough gushing.  I’ll get down to the nitty-gritty.

And, I’ll begin when the earth cooled.  Then came the dinosaurs.  Oh, too much history?  Well, get comfy, if I can write this anything like the weekend turned out, it should be pretty funny and should take a good while.

Suffice it to say, I don’t get out much.  So me going to Denver to is like Pa going to Mancato in the horse-drawn wagon.  It don’t happen too often.  After picking up my sister, we headed straight to where the Big City folks line up out the door.  Literally.  These were gracious members of said line, who, when tempted with the potential fame associated with being on thegoatcheeselady.com, allowed me to take their picture.  In the turquoise top is my sister.  I have no idea who any of the others are.  Line buddies.  That’s what we’ll call them.

Soon after this picture, and inside the shop, my sister, the girl in front of us, the girl in back of us, and I, started a brief conversation about the one in front wanting to raise a pig…the one in back wanting to bring her kids to see it…the one in front saying, sure! you can bring them to the bar-b-que…the one in back saying, oh! that would make my kids so sad…me saying, well, that’s where food comes from.  And, right there I decided not to get into a coffee shop lecture about where food comes from and my opinions about it, but left that (unknowingly) to my sister.  Next thing I know, I hear her behind me telling the one in back that I took my kids to the mobile slaughter demonstration and that they saw the cow slaughtered and butchered, and that they weren’t damaged for life. 

Thus began our city-girl, farm-girl experience in the Big City.

That’s me on the right.  No.  Not the far right, thank you very much.

And, by the way Dad, thanks for the eye bags.  That’s the gift that keeps on giving.

We didn’t plan to dress as twins, but that’s sisters for you.

From the coffee shop, we headed to Boulder.  We took a beautiful hike through Chautauqua Park, then…lunch time.  I was sure I had heard of a delicious restaurant in Boulder and was sure I had heard about it from 1 of 3 people.  I called #1 to find out where it was.  She had never heard of it and had no idea what I was talking about.  My sister called #2, she also had never heard of it and had no idea what I was talking about.  But, before calling #3, #2 told us we HAD to go to the Dushanbe Teahouse.  It was her FAVORITE!  She would call the Tea House to let them know we were coming (workout clothes were pre-authorized) and she would be giving them her credit card number to treat us to lunch.  After my sister’s attempt at a firm denial, #2 strongly rebutted “but you’d be denying me of happiness!”  (That’s a quote I will use from here on out.)

We gave in.  Humbly.

And went here.

Take note of the 4-year-old dressed as Michael Jackson.  I’m not kidding.  It’s just that my phone camera was too slow.  I left the real camera home with The Animal Whisperer in case he had some even more important photo ops.  To spot Michael, check out the white spot at the base of the left door handle.  That’s MJ’s sparkly silvery-white glove.  The little spot of red below that lady’s green purse is MJ’s red coat, complete with trademark zippers.  What’s missing from this action shot is his red parachute pants hidden by the bush (my sister had a pair when she was little, not red, but they were parachute.  I took this as an obvious opportunity to make fun of her) and his black (wig) afro.

Also take note of the intricately detailed hand carvings on the front of the building.  They cover the walls and ceilings inside and are awe-inspiring, jaw dropping and were our bit of Eastern Culture for the weekend.  (read further to learn of our bit of Western culture.)

We ate this.

They had four appetizers on the menu.  We ordered all four.  And some tea.  (When in a tea house, one must order tea.  It’s a rule.)

The white glob in the middle of the green sauce is what I KNEW I had to order.  Seared Housemade Panir.  Panir is a type of soft cow’s cheese, simple to make quickly in the kitchen.  Now that I’m The Goat Cheese Lady, I’m acting like a professional cheese connoisseur.  I just had to taste it.

Pfleck-pffluuuey, plllhhheck.  Cough.  Choke.  Spit. 

Sick.  It tasted like unsalted drywall compound.  When I added salt, which it direly needed, it tasted more like salted drywall compound.

Other than that, and No, that was not The String Cheese Incident, that’s still to come, the food and the tea were DELICIOUS!  I highly recommend that you go there when in Boulder.

From there, we checked into the luxurious hotel and prepared for our much awaited for massages.  And, rode the elevator with some pretty odd looking (and smelling) twenty-somethings.

And THAT, ladies and gentlemen, was the beginning of our encounter with The String Cheese Incident.

And that’s also where I wish I’d have had the presence of mind to take a picture.  At least of the shirtless man in the pink furry go-go boots and matching purple and pink tutu. 

And here’s where I’ll insert a little history.  10 or so years ago, when my sister was in college, she knew that The String Cheese Incident, a band, was arrested for smoking marijuana on their tour bus while in the parking lot of her university preparing for or just having finished a concert.

Now, this many years later, it turns out that the throngs of people taking up residence in the Omni Hotel, were there for the three nights of concerts by The String Cheese Incident.  Pardon me if you are reading this and are one of the clean cut String Cheesers, as we took to calling them, but everyone we saw had some combination of dreadlocks, medieval attire, bag lady attire, over abundant facial hair, aura of the non-showered, and/or oversized pupils. 

Note:  I want to make it clear that I am not against any of these things.  I just want you to get a good picture of who we were spending the night with.  All very nice people, I’m sure.  We just happened to catch them on the Final Night of the 3 day hoopla, and it was dress up night. 

That explained the guy dressed up as a skunk.  And, the aforementioned Tutu Man.

He’s the one I really wish I had a picture of.  A picture speaks a thousand words, but instead, I’ll have to speak them:

Tutu Man had shortish blond hair, free of dreads, pasty white skin and, when I got close enough to see them, blue eyes.  He was wearing knee-high go-go boots with 2 inch long hot pink fur covering their every square inch.  Above those were his hairy white legs which disappeared into the bottom of his 10 inch long pink and purple tutu.  Above that, his naked, hairy chest showed through the wide open jacket he was wearing and was topped off with a beaded necklace.

After one huge (the only one) glass of wine, I felt inspired to, smack in the middle of the lobby, ask Tutu Man why on earth he was dressed like that.  Getting close enough to hear his answer, I noticed his pupils were as big as his eyeballs.  His response:  “We’re all supposed to dress up tonight.  It’s the last night.  It’s awwwesssome man, there’s guys on stilts walking around and it’s totally awwwesssome man.”

Next time we saw him, he had on dark black sunglasses as well.  Must have been to bright in the hotel for his dilated pupil condition.

Well, OK then.  At least, we figured, when the concert was over some time in the middle of the night, it wouldn’t be a bunch of loud drunks coming back to the hotel, it would be a bunch of totally stoned String Cheesers who would continue to repeat with huge pupils in a zoned out voice how awwwesssome it was. 

Then, we went to dinner.

To Benihana’s.  A Japanese cook-on-the-table restaurant.  We quickly befriended the family at our table, but it wasn’t till the last minute that I revealed that I’m The Goat Cheese Lady, and that they can ride on my coat tails to Good Morning America and the Today Show (Matt Lauer hasn’t called yet) if they would let me take a picture with them. 

Well, Dave, Barbara, Lisa, Mataya, TJ and JoVanni, we sure enjoyed our dinner with you!

And, do you notice that behind us, there are only empty chairs?  Yes, that’s what happens when the earliest reservation you can get is at 8:30 pm.  But, heck, we were in the Big City, that’s what you do in the Big City, right?  Go out late?  Both my sister and I agreed that had we not been at dinner, we would have been in bed.

And, eventually, we were. 

We slept, for the first time in a long time for both of us….All Night Long.  No one and Nothing woke us up.  Not even the String Cheesers.  AAaaaaaahhhh.  Wonderful.

But, to be perfectly honest, when I awoke in the morning in my soft, enveloping hotel bed, I missed my husband.  I missed my coffee.  I missed having coffee with my husband.  I missed my kids.

Sister’s Weekend was awwwesssome, but as time away from my family (which is rare) does, it made me appreciate them and miss them and love them even more.

Thanks for listening.  And, if you’re ever around when The String Cheese Incident is, especially on dress up day, look for Tutu Man.  And, get his picture.

– The Goat Cheese Lady

P.S.  Thanks again, Matt!  We’re available next month for a Sister’s Weekend too.

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About The Goat Cheese Lady

I am Lindsey. At first I was a city girl. Then I was an urban farmgirl, attempting to balance city and farm life. Now, after moving to the country, I have embarked on life as a rural farmgirl, complete with my husband, the Animal Whisperer, man of exceptional knowledge and patience, two boys who are louder than my sister and I ever were, a herd of milking goats, and a flock of egg-laying chickens. Coyotes, mice, country dogs and prairie dogs are frequent visitors. Just 45 minutes north is Colorado Springs, the setting for our first six years in the goat world. Our family. Our city friends. Our introduction to cheesemaking. But we...and our growing farm and soon-to-be creamery...have set up shop down off of Highway 115 in Penrose, Colorado.
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2 Responses to The String Cheese Incident And My Trip To The Big City.

  1. Libby says:

    I have, until today, been a silent reader and worshiper of this blog (and a much longer-time HUGE fan of the Goat Cheese Lady, the Animal Whisperer and their 2 darling bits of perfection they call sons)…But a few things about today’s post made me want/need to respond: Item 1. I know who friend #2 is. And although the recommendation of the Duschanbe Tea House almost gave it away, and the request to pay got me closer, the quote was the thing that clenched it. That’s all for item one. I am just proud and had to share it with the Goat Cheese Lady clan. Item 2. As I was reading the String Cheese Incident description and the clean cut String Cheesers I couldn’t help but think that those people are clearly the squeaky clean cheese curders, right? I’m disappointed, GCL, that you didn’t think of that first. 🙂 Item 3. Is this Panir in the family of the “paneer” in Indian food? If so, please reconsider your rejection of said cheese and try to make it at home and then share it with me so I can make saag paneer (or attempt) at home. 🙂 That is all. THANK YOU for always bringing a smile to my face with your clever, funny, educational blog! Love you always!

    • Well, Libby, the worshipping goes both ways. I have no idea what the panir was, but I’ll look into making saag paneer just because it’s you. And, being clean cut yourself, does that mean you even know about The String Cheese Incident? Love you too…Lindsey

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