If I were dedicated to writing up my Kansas City adventures in strictly chronological order, I’d be duty-bound to follow my first posts with the story of Amber and Matt’s wedding. However, it doesn’t feel right to describe the excitement, gorgeousness, fun, tastiness, beauty, and swooping love-love-love of the wedding before Amber has done so herself. So let’s skip forward a few days, shall we?
Ah-ha! It seems our flagrant rejection of the space-time continuum skipped us directly to the door of a hot sauce factory. At Original Juan, Amber and I explored an array of spiced nuts, “100% Pain” hot sauce (which I not only purchased but managed to get in my eye; dear me the title is apt), cheesecake-in-a-jar, and mysterious unlabeled bottles of curry sauce that could’ve contained lemur fur, for all we knew.
All lemur fur fears were forgotten upon catching sight of an anatomically-correct wild boar in the street, though. Why, Kansas City, why?
And why does your fountain contain a man force-feeding peanut butter to a rearing horse with a long-handled spoon? (That’s my interpretation of the statue and I’m sticking to it.)
After driving around oohing and aahing at the gorgeous architecture of Kansas City’s houses (cottages and mansions, more like), Amber and I stumbled across Annedore’s Fine Chocolates. This chocolate shop’s candy-coated chocolate covered almonds and hazelnuts were crispy-sweet and moreish…
…and their Halloween-themed confections rather adorable.
Seeing as the chocolate primed my soul for sweetness, Amber graciously took me to Glacé, the chocolatier Christopher Elbow’s new artisan ice cream store. Extensive sampling led me to decide that the goat cheese and cherry flavour tasted of naught but syrupy cherries, but the salted pretzel, lemon curd, macadamia nut, and toasted coconut flavours were quite pleasant.
My pick of the Glacé flavours was Farmer Bob’s Sweet Corn ice cream, as it truly tasted like fresh, sweet, juicy corn. Alas, I made the rookie mistake of pairing this flavour with another that I hadn’t sampled first, and thus I found myself staring dejectedly at a melting lump of kiwi sorbet that tasted predominately of sugar.
A friend as wonderful as Amber would never let a day end on such a disappointing note, and so she and Matt whisked me off to Genghis Khan for dinner. Technically called a Mongolian BBQ restaurant, I prefer to think of Genghis Khan as a magical wonderland of whim and fancy.
You take a bowl, load up on your choice of fresh vegetables, tofu, meat, seafood, noodles, and sauces (soy sauce! pad thai sauce! ginger water! garlic water! sacha oil! sweet chilli sauce! curry powder! chilli paste! wine! onion oil! tequila lime powder! sesame oil! roasted peanuts! chipotle powder!) and then hand your creation to the grilling men who, within minutes, turn your ingredients into a plate of piping hot fun.
Also included in the meal at Genghis Khan were several types of soup, crab rangoon, sweet fried sesame dough thingamabobs (I’ve got twenty!), fresh fruit, and sticky-sweet-gooey lemon bars that tasted more like St Louis gooey butter cake in bar form.
Personally, though, my tastes tend more towards extravagant leftover wedding cupcakes.
Living with newlyweds is awesome.