Monday, September 12, 2011

I'm a tiny bit offended


Things I took away from the new movie, Contagion:

1.  Like everything else about her, Gwyneth Paltrow's business trips look like a lot more fun than mine.  Except that hers are fatal, which is bad.
2.  One of the biggest problems that will face society during a global virus epidemic is the lack of trash collection in San Francisco.
3.  Doorknobs = harbingers of doom
4.  "Blogging isn't writing.  It's graffiti with punctuation."

Really? In the midst of a crisis affecting all humankind we need to demonize bloggers? 

Saturday, September 10, 2011

Foodie Girls Lunch Brigade - Episode 26

In the halcyon days before the SWAT team arrived, before I was overtaken by a birthday, before the start of new schools and new jobs and the very September-ness of it all, it was still summer.  A time when a FG's heart yearned for the shore.   Not because she longed to actually go to the beach*, although it was indeed very hot in the Valley, and an ocean breeze would do her good.   No, she was looking to go west for the sandwiches**.

Episode 26 - The Bay Cities Rollers

Bay Cities is famous for its sandwiches, in particular, the Godmother, which the reviewers on Yelp justifiably worship.  A staple of my office mates when I used to work on the west side, these and other specials are pilgrimage-worthy creations. The venerable Santa Monica Italian deli and market is inundated every day at lunch by mobs of people willing to wait patiently for their chance to step up to the deli case and order from one of the many guys in white aprons behind the spread of speciality cold cuts and salads.   On a late August afternoon, the FGs joined them.


Screens above the crowd rotate through the menu options, list the array of meats and cheeses available, explain what is included with "The Works"***, and generally keep everyone mesmerized as they stand around drooling.



Or shopping.  The aisles are filled with all kinds of imported goodies...anchovies and balsamic vinegars, biscotti and capers and pasta from Italy.  There are chilled drinks of all kinds, an array of gourmet cheeses, including fresh buffala mozzarella, cookwares, and bins of their amazing crusty bread, hot from the oven and a steal at less than $2 per loaf.  I have personally gone miles out of my way for this bread, and counted my lucky stars on the drive home. The four of us FGs on this particular outing left with 6 loaves between us, plus some blood orange olive oil, cookies, organic applesauce, and a salami.

Despite the notoriety and accessibility of the Godmother (the store now stocks them fresh and ready made for those who don't want to wait in line -- nice!!!), on this trip we all gravitated to the hot food case.  Not only is the line significantly shorter, the options here were all worth checking out.

FG4, visiting from DC, texted her vote for the meatball sub from the crazy-crowded parking lot as she hunted for a space****.   I went for hot pastrami and Swiss. FG6 chose the Eggplant Parmesan, and FG17 had the barbecue beef. My niece, honorary Jr. FG, had the mac and cheese, fruit salad and a lemon bar. She's a bit of a lemon bar connoisseur at the age of 7.

After navigating the snaking checkout lines (hint! Bring cash!) and placating the disapproving security guy who told me in no uncertain terms to stop taking pictures in the store, we gathered at a table outside and unwrapped our loot.


All of the sandwiches were delicious, but some were truly outstanding.


The beef in the barbecue sandwich was melt-in-your-mouth tender and well seasoned, and the sauce was tasty, but  it suffered in comparison to the other options on the table.  Note that for this and the other multi-napkin sandwiches we ordered, you can see in the photos how well the bread works.  The crunchy roll stands up beautifully, making each bite a great combination of crisp, slightly sour bread, mixed with the soft warmth and flavor from the filling.   The sturdy crust did make it challenging for us to split each one into four with the flimsy plastic knives they offer, but we persevered.


The eggplant Parmesan was our first taste of the Bay Cities red sauce, which would make any Italian grandmother proud.  Robust, rich, and finger-licking good, it almost overwhelmed the eggplant in this one.   The eggplant itself was almost too soft for my taste, and the Parmesan, if it was in there, seemed a bit lost.


Mamma mia!  Get a load of this cross-sectional view of the meatball sub!  That red sauce had met a worthy match.  The meatballs were soft yet chewy, not at all dry, and dense in a good way.   They tasted homemade and fresh, and the balance in the sandwich was nearly perfect.   A tiny bit more sauce would have made this truly amazing.


The hands down winner was the hot pastrami.  Perhaps because this was the only hot sandwich to include the magical cocktail of condiments known as "The Works", perhaps because the generously portioned pastrami was lean, juicy and smoky and a little bit peppery, perhaps it was that creamy, slightly melted Swiss cheese...whatever it was, this sandwich rocked*****!

The mac and cheese was pronounced excellent, the pesto side salad less so.  And when we asked the expert about that lemon bar, she had this to say:

"It was better than nothing, but it wasn't great."

There you have it.


Before heading back to our cars, FG4 passed out Perugina chocolate kisses to the group.  She'd discovered the hazelnut treats on her trip to Italy, and was delighted to find them here.  Each one contains not just the heavenly chocolate, but a fortune to go with it.


Our fortune was in Italian, but I'm pretty sure it translated to:  Order the pastrami at Bay Cities.  And go early to get a parking space!

FG Final Verdict?  Bay Cities is ON the list!
Pricing info:  Sandwiches $6-9, sides about $4.  Exceptional loaf of bread:  $1.79.
FG value rating:  A steal for the quality and the amount of food you get.

* There had been far too many peach crisps, plum tarts and strawberry shortcakes this summer for that to be an option.
** Before onset of post-labor day traffic in LA, when going to Santa Monica for lunch would just be stupid.
*** Mayo, mustard, onions, pickles, tomatoes, lettuce, scrumptious Italian dressing, and chopped hot or mild peppers.
**** One of the most frustrating parts of coming here.   That, and the shortage of available tables outside.  Check out the line of cars waiting to get into the lot.
**** Like the namesake band from the 70s!!!

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

CSI: My House

The lake is sparkling below me, through the branches of the tall pines next to the deck of the lodge.  Sounds of kids squealing over the latest crawdad catch and release episode mingle with the hiss of sunscreen being applied to the hikers.  I am digesting my made-to-order omelet*.  I am at camp, one of my favorite places on earth.  As the t-shirts say, "Life is good."

I decide to check my email before arts and crafts.  Need to send my sister some embarrassing photos of Disco Bingo.

From: myneighboraroundthecorner@aol.com
To: sharonrelaxingatamp@gmail.com

Are you harboring fugitives on your roof?  Ha ha ha. Seems like there was a lot of drama over there last night!
xxoo

Hmm.  That's strange.  I email back.

From: sharonnowalittlecuriousatcamp@gmail.com
To: myneighboraroundthecorner@aol.com

Good lord!  I have no idea.  We're up at family camp at Lake Tahoe.  Maybe our cat was up to no good! ;)
xxoo

A few minutes later, a new message appears.

From: myneighboraroundthecorner@aol.com
To: sharonwhohasalmostforgottenaboutthis@gmail.com

They caught a guy responsible for a double murder in Chatsworth at the corner of your street.   Enjoy the lake!
xxoo

What??? Wait, I have another mail.

From: myotherneighboraroundthecorner@yahoo.com
To: sharonnowmorealarmedthancurious@gmail.com

Hi!
Heard all the commotion last night was right near your house. Hope all is well and you're not too freaked out!

Before I can even react, there's a notification of a message from a Facebook friend:

RU OK?

I reply:
Um, I think so?

OK.  I'm kind of freaked out now.

I tell my husband (who is also digesting his omelet) about the emails.  That's pretty exciting, we agree.  We speculate for a while about the whole thing, and I check a link to a local news article about the incident**.  He asks, can you tell which house it was?  No, I say, but there is a video of a news guy standing on the corner by the place the dog always goes poop.


Huh, he says.  Glad we missed it.  He goes back to the paper.  Just then, his phone chimes, indicating he has a voicemail.   Cell service up here is pretty much non-existant, but sometimes you get lucky.  He holds the phone up to his ear, smiling as he eats the last piece of cinnamon roll on the plate.

He stops smiling.  He stands up, holding his other ear to try to hear better.  His brow wrinkles and he mouths at me:

"The police called."

My eyes widen and my heart skips at beat.  I mouth back:

"Holy S*&%!"

After a 7 hour police operation, involving over 100 officers, a perimeter lock down, house to house searches, air support, a news blackout, and the canine unit breaking down a fence in pursuit, the LAPD swat team*** cornered an armed and dangerous fugitive, and shot him in the hip at 4:30 in the morning.



At our house.

The officer my husband spoke to was very sweet, opening the conversation on a friendly note:

"Oh, you're camping?  I love camping.  Whereabouts are you?"

After giving a blow-by-blow account of the night, including the fact that the highly trained officers were unable to read our helpful and well-lit front gate exiting instructions and therefore had to use a battering ram to gain entry, he offered reassurances:

"I'm kind of a boy scout on these things.  Try to leave a place better than I found it.  Your house is in good shape.  No blood or anything.  And I noticed you left the windows down on your vehicle.  Saw some bird droppings on one of the seats, but not anything to worry about."

Well, thank god for that.  And finally:

"You know, you have a very nice house there, sir."

We're sitting there in shock, absorbing the news, when our kids walk up and ask why we look so strange. We explain, briefly.

My daughter's face lights up and she begins jumping up and down, screaming with glee.

"Oh my GOD!!! There was a MURDERER in our HOUSE!!! That's so COOL!!!! Did they kill him?  Is he dead?  Did he hurt my fish?  He better not have hurt my fish.  I have to go tell EVERYBODY!! HEY YOU GUYS!  GUESS WHAT?!"

We don't see her again for a while****.

I'm shaking as I look up at my husband.  He's got a strange expression on his face.  The lake is still shimmering and the peals of laughter echo down below. We're both thinking the same thing:

Oh my god. There was a murderer in our house.


The only thing that got hurt was our fence*****.

Camping?  I love camping.

*  This year's selections included the McOmelet, featuring 2 all beef patties, sauteed with special sauce, pickles and onions, garnished with lettuce and sesame seeds.  Also the kabob-let, which involved skewers.
** I later find another link with a video that clearly shows our backyard and the gun (and a police investigator) on our roof.



*** To add more drama to the story, my daughter's soccer coach is a SWAT officer who was involved in tailing the suspect while he was at large.  If he'd been on duty that night, it's likely Coach would have been the sharp shooter who took the guy out.
**** We also spend the next few days having people walk up to us and say, "Wow. We heard about what happened at your house!  That's amazing!"  She literally told every single person she met.
***** Pretty sure the bird poop incident was unrelated.

Sunday, September 4, 2011

72 years ago today

72 years ago today, my mom was born.
168 days ago, she died.

I wish I was emotionally mature enough to have faced this with gratitude.  To have given myself over to  quiet appreciation.  Counted my blessings and been thankful for the gift of her, for my being because of her, for the depths of wisdom and strength that I gained through her, for the humor and joy and grace, for the stream of love and concern and faith and belief that flowed from her like a river of gold.  To have celebrated today this woman, my mother.

But I couldn't. Instead I was swallowed up by the hole that she left. By my grief and resentment and despair. I put the covers over my head and was mad today.

This morning, a dear friend was married. She was radiant.  Her new husband was a riot. The whole wedding was beautiful.
I was furious.

This afternoon, my daughter played a brilliant game of soccer.  She had grass in her hair and stains on her elbows, a bump on the head and a grin a mile wide on her face as she and her teammates devoured an entire box of popsicles.
I was livid.

She should be here.  She should know all of this. That's all there is to it.

"January Wedding" played on the CD in my car.  My anger morphed into something that literally seemed to pierce my insides.

"She keeps it simple
And I am thankful for her kind of lovin'
'Cause it's simple."

No it's not.
It's so damn complicated.
Nothing's simple.
My eyes brimmed and the road blurred in front of me.

"She's talking to me with her voice
Down so low I barely hear her
But I know what she's saying
I understand because my heart and hers are the same."

I don't understand.  Because my heart is broken.  And hers is to blame.

"And I was sick with heartache..."

I had to stop myself from sobbing out loud.

My husband squeezed my hand, and I blinked several times and drove on. We pulled up to the curb and joined a group of old friends for dinner outside in their backyard.   The food was delicious and the company was just right, but I was almost at the end of my rope.

Hey, look, someone said.
How did that happen?
We turned to see a shining rainbow filling the darkening summer sky.


"I hope that I don't sound too insane when I say
There is darkness all around us
I don't feel weak but I do need sometimes for her to protect me
And reconnect me
To the beauty that I'm missing..."

Maybe it is simple.  Or maybe it will be, years from today.

Photo by Rock Lane
Lyrics from "January Wedding", a beautiful song that has nothing to to with mothers but everything to do with love, by The Avett Brothers.

Sunday, August 21, 2011

And now, a few words from my former biscuit

"Hey. What are you lookin' at?"

"Never seen a talking biscuit before? What's with the salivating?"

"Back off."

"Seriously.  Step the "F*** back!"

"Really? Really? Well, guess what, lady?"

"You can just EAT ME!" 
(sticks out tongue for effect). 
 I do exactly as he says.  
End of conversation. 


Wednesday, August 17, 2011

My packages are better than their packages

The UPS guy and I get seriously close at Christmas time, thanks to Amazon Prime and my sister.   Then I lose touch with him in the spring, and we become almost estranged during the summer months, except for the occasional delivery of vacuum cleaner bags here and there. But lately, the flow of packages has picked up again, and the thrill of that "thunk" on the doorstep has returned.


As always, some of these deliveries were big hits. Others, less so.
Play the audio and see for yourself.


School uniforms (hers)



Textbooks (his and hers)



1200 piece Lego Space Shuttle kit (my husband's...the guy seriously needs to get back to work*)



Printed corporate checks (the new company's)


A jar of homemade blueberry jam and a handwritten postcard saying the following:

"We hope that your LA summer is going well.  The family M hopes to close escrow on our house next week.  It is a very slow process here.  To bide our time we make jam.  And here is how it is made.  First, grab your bike and then ride 7.25 miles along Lake Ontario until you see U-Pick!  The berries are so ripe they nearly jump into your bucket.  Back on the bike to stop for ice cream.  This has nothing to do with jam, but it is so yummy.  Next, cook the jam and send to dear friends! We miss you."


(mine)
I win.


Not to mention what was in my other package.

This**.  


double win***.

* It is pretty cool, actually.  Retractable Lego landing gear and swinging robot arm!
** Plus some hilarious and clever kitchen gear from Fred and not one, but two, lovely thank you notes, an unexpected and completely perfect gift from a friend who shouldn't have.
*** Except that it took me forever to figure out how to add these silly sound effects to the post, so I double lost some sleep.

Thursday, August 11, 2011

The best part of the kiddie table



There was one good thing about being at the kiddie table at our Thanksgiving dinners when I was little:

The sparkling apple cider.

It came in real grown up wine glasses.  We'd make snooty faces and toast each other while holding up our little pinkies, then sip at the delicious bubbly stuff and giggle.  It was fancy in a glass.  So of course, I carried the tradition on for our holidays.  We don't have a kiddie table, at least not officially, but we do have the crystal stemware filled with what my kids reverently call the sparkly apple cider.

I like that name even better.  Very festive.

Now, when it's August, and there are no official, formal, holidays to celebrate, you can still get that special occasion feeling.   All you need is sparkly apple cider.  And an ice cream machine.


Sparkly Cider Sorbet
This qualifies for Shortcut Week in two ways.  First, you basically just need a bottle opener and an ice cream machine (OK, not everybody has that, but if you do...).  No cooking!  And second, you get to skip a bunch of months and go right to Thanksgiving, just for a minute.  The sorbet is sweet and tangy and absolutely refreshing, still a tiny bit carbonated, and brings the fall flavor of apples to a dessert made for hot summer nights. 

1 bottle sparkling apple cider, chilled
1/2 c. simple syrup*
juice of 1 large lemon 
a splash of Calvados liquor, optional
pinch of salt

Combine all ingredients, then process in an ice cream maker as directed. If you serve right away**, the sorbet will be soft and the tiniest bit slushy.  We like ours like that.  We also like this with all the varieties of sparkly ciders***.   


Click to print this recipe!

* Equal parts water and sugar, boiled together for a few minutes and then cooled.  If this sentence is giving you deja vu, it should.  I used it in the footnote to the post on the remarkably similar and equally festive Sangria Sorbet.  Of the two, my kids vastly prefer this one.
** You should definitely get out some pretty glasses, and add on a mint sprig, if you have one. That's the fancy way to go.
*** Apple-Grape, anyone?


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