A Date, Some Burgers, and Pistazie (The restaurant): Chronicle of a Craving Fulfilled
First of all, this wasn’t planned. We just went out for a casual drive and somehow ended up at Pistazie—a spot I’d been eyeing for months. It’s a relatively new place in my little hometown, San Diego (Venezuela, not California!), and every time I passed by, its glowing frame and modern vibe screamed, “Come in, treat yourself.” But between bills and being a full-time mom, it just didn’t seem like the right time—until it was.
Then suddenly, the stars aligned. My boyfriend—who’s on a mission to take us to every restaurant within and beyond city limits—suggested we stop by. Just us. No plans, no child, no idea what to expect. We climbed up to a cozy rooftop spot lit with warm bulbs, leafy decor, and a neon burger sign that felt like a wink from the universe.
On top of that, the food? A total win. That burger was everything: crispy chicken, fresh lettuce and onions, stacked high on a soft bun, with fries on the side and a cold Coke to chase it down. Healthy? Not at all. Worth it? Every bite. It didn’t feel like junk food—it felt like a break from adulthood. Like we were just two people, dating again, no responsibilities on our backs for one sweet night.
Lastly, what really stayed with me wasn’t just the food or the vibe. It was the surprise. Some dates are planned and go well. But the ones that sneak up on you? The spontaneous ones? They hit different. Pistazie wasn’t just dinner—it was a reminder that joy sometimes shows up unannounced, dressed in neon lights and wrapped in a sesame bun. And yeah, I’d go back in a heartbeat.
And beyond that, there's something quietly beautiful about discovering places like this with someone who insists on making room for joy. While I tend to overthink—bills, schedules, school lunches—he reminds me to look up, try the new place, say yes to the burger. Pistazie wasn’t just a spot on a map; it became a moment. One of those little milestones in a relationship that isn’t flashy or loud but lingers. The kind you remember not for how fancy it was, but for how unexpectedly full it made you feel—of food, yes, but mostly of life.