It's that merry time of year again, and you know what that means: Holiday Parties. Whether it's a company party, a girls only cookie party, a small white elephant gathering, a family dinner, your girlfriend's fancy soiree, or the New Years Eve house party rager - I've got it covered.
COMPANY PARTY
This year my company was too cheap to have a lavish party, so we all gathered in the VIP room of one of our theaters, sans plus ones. Thankfully there were some high end cheeses and an open bar, because honestly how can you get through hanging out with your many co-workers after hours without an open bar? Given the open bar, it is important to remember not to get SHWASTED at these things because you're going to have to see all these people again the next day, whether it's in the conference room for your morning meeting or the staff meeting your CEO has called to discuss the company's dating policy - it's going to be awkward if the last image everyone has of you in their head is you standing on the plush velvet bench singing along to your favorite GLEE song. So just have fun, relax, have a couple cocktails (no more than 4 over the course of 2 hours) and make some small talk with your boss. Whatever you do, don't mention the fact that you'll miss these gatherings when you step up and leave your company.
COOKIE PARTY
For as long as I can remember my mom and her friends have had annual cookie exchange parties. When I was young I didn't care what happened at the party, I only wanted the delectable assortment of cookies that came home at the end of the night. But fortunately I had the opportunity to attend one of these notorious events a couple years ago, priming me for my own cookie exchange. Each person brings 30 or more cookies, you have some holiday cocktails, talk about how annoying your husbands or boyfriends are, smoke a joint, then you take your cookies and decide who is sober enough to drive home. It's pretty much the same agenda no matter how old you are and how many of these you have been to. Most exchanges will provide some small bites, (finger sandwiches, fruits and veggies, cheese plates) but in case they don't it's a good idea to eat a small meal before you go so you don't fill up on cookies and get fat. The most important thing to keep in mind when attending a cookie exchange is don't forget the fucking cookies.
WHITE ELEPHANT
Does everyone know what a White Elephant is? Do you need clarification? Because I did. Apparently you get some really silly gift that is nearly pointless and wrap it up in a nondescript box so nobody can tell what it is. Then you bring it to the party and put it under a tree, or in a pile if there is no tree. Then everyone draws a number out of a hat. That number determines the order in which they get to pick a present. If they pick a present and they don't like it, they can force anyone who picked before them to trade. This goes on until the last person, who can take any person's present, whether or not that person has already traded. Sounds complicated right? It's not really. But in my opinion, white elephants are more fun when people bring gifts that are completely random yet have some level or desire associated with them. For instance: a thong, a head lamp, stationary, a classic movie on DVD, or this.
FAMILY DINNER
There are two types of family dinners: 1) meals with your actual family that you share genes with, 2) meals with your house family that you share germs with. If you're attending the former, you've probably been to enough family dinners to navigate on your own. But I will give you a tip: drink a lot, and I mean a lot. These people aren't your coworkers. If you black out and puke on the dog, they'll forgive you because they're your family. Getting drunk with your family is one of the more entertaining things you will do in your alcoholic career. Stories that you didn't even know existed will come out and you will walk away from the experience feeling that you know everyone just a little bit better. And listen to your dad when he tells you to alternate wine with glasses of water so you can avoid the hangover in the morning and join your family for brunch at the country club. If you're attending the latter, this is most likely a potluck party. That means bring something. If your smart, you'll divide the duties so that they're aren't two turkeys or and three vegetarians. There should be several side dishes (meat and vegetable), a main dish, desserts, adult beverages, and if there are a lot of you then plastic utensils and paper plates might be a good idea. Festive drinks like mulled wine or eggnog are always fun. And you don't have to worry about designated drivers if you keep it in the hood! Looking for a fun activity to partake in while the cooking is happening? Decorate some glass ornaments with sharpie markers and glitter spray. Just make sure to spray it outside so you don't contaminate the spread.
FANCY SOIREE
This year I threw my best holiday party to date. It was Black & White themed, formal attire, in a hotel penthouse that I won a free stay in for the weekend. Aside from the fact that I wrote "formal black and white attire" and "white Christmas and black tie event" on the invite, confusing all the men as to whether or not they should wear a tux, it went off without a hitch! People always complain about dressing up to go to these kind of events - especially with a limit on color - but when all is said and done everyone shows up looking handsome and gorgeous and the photos come out wonderfully. For the men: black slacks, white shirt, black jacket (if you have it). If you can get more creative, great! One of my friends was lacking in the black department so he came dressed as Santa, which was more than appropriate. Ladies, your LBD with a couple of accents will do just fine. And if you're hosting this lavish event, make sure you look the best out of everyone there - even if it means throwing down the dough for a new dress. Don't waste money on things like glassware, formal food, or fancy drinks. Ask your guests to bring a bottle of wine, vodka, or champagne, and you can provide the mixers, limes and ice. It's also nice to provide at least half a case of champagne so you have something for people to drink when they first get there, in case the Grey Goose guy hasn't arrived yet. With my BevMo discount I was able to purchase 8 bottles of $6.50 Domaine St. Michelle Brut champagne. Along with other libations that people brought, it lasted most of the night until I had to send a friend down to the corner store with a money bag so he could get a couple handles of vodka to go with the pile of mixers arranged on the table. All in all, the party was a huge success and people started clearing out around 1am, just in time for my boyfriend and I to enjoy our last night in the penthouse.
NYE RAGER
I don't know about you, but the LAST thing I want to do on New Years Eve is drop $100+ on a ticket to a sweaty night club with "open bar" (you can't even get to the bar because it's so crowded) and "mimosa breakfast" (honestly, who isn't passed out by 3am?). Option 2: have a good old fashioned house party or convince your friend to. No frills, no expectations. Just dress up, drink up, hook up, and hopefully don't throw up. You really can't go wrong. And if you find yourself standing under the mistletoe while you're talking to that awkward guy or girl your friend left you with so he or she could flirt with YOUR crush, just tell them that you cut your foot earlier and your shoe is filling up with blood. Then limp off and get another drink. If it's a successful house party, there will be enough other people around that you can probably avoid the person the rest of the night.
There you have it folks. May your days be merry and bright, and may all your holiday parties be right.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Monday, December 7, 2009
Film Review: Fantastic Mr. Fox
"Everthing about this is crazy. Especially him. But that doesn't make it any more fantastic." This is the most simple, yet compelling line of the stop-motion feature film directed by Wes Anderson. Delivered by Mrs. Fox - voiced by Meryl Streep - is the poignant line that sums up the theme of the film. None of it really makes sense (in fact there are several geographical flaws, but we won't get into the nitty gritty stuff), but does there need to be sense in order to convey fantasy? Quite the opposite, actually.
Wes Anderson was really the only person who could direct this film, filling it with voices from his usual cast of comedians and a few actors he hasn't worked with: Bill Murray (Beaver), Owen Wilson (Coach Skip), Jason Schwartzman (Ash Fox), George Clooney (Mr. Fox), Willem Dafoe (Rat) and of course Ms. Meryl Streep (Mrs. Fox). Clooney and Schwartzman artfully delve into their characters to exude not only fox-like qualities, but also capture the mind of a masterful thief and an eager-to-please, but "different" son.
Rated PG for action, smoking and slang humor, this film is certainly appropriate for children but I think adults will enjoy it more for its complex animation and simple storyline (and under 90 minute length). In short, Mr. Fox has retired from thievery and chosen to be a family man. Tired of living in a hole, he says to Mrs. Fox, "Honey, I am seven fox years old. My father died at seven and a half. I don't want to live in a hole anymore, and I'm going to do something about it." So he finds a beautiful tree to move his family too, which also happens to be on the property of the three largest farms in the town, housing chickens, hens and a very strong alcoholic cider. How can he resist one last triple heist (sounds a little familiar to another one of Clooney's hit films, eh)?
In true Wes Anderson fashion, the level of comedy is subtle yet creative. He gives "fox years" and human years - or weeks - when he is distinguishing a passage of time. He inserts the word "cuss" or some form of it when alluding to profanities that the characters speak in. One of my favorite scenes is when Mr. Fox is trying to convince his lawyer friend, Beaver to buy the tree:
Badger: In summation, I think you just got to not do it, man. That's all.
Mr. Fox: I understand what you're saying, and your comments are valuable, but I'm gonna ignore your advice.
Badger: The cuss you are.
Mr. Fox: The cuss am I? Are you cussing with me?
Badger: No, you cussing with me?
Mr. Fox: Don't cussing point at me!
Badger: If you're gonna cuss, you're not gonna cuss with me, you little cuss!
Badger: You're not gonna cuss with me!
[Both start snarling at each other, and then settle down]
Mr. Fox: Just buy the tree.
Badger: Okay.
If you don't see this film, you'll be cussing sorry.
Wes Anderson was really the only person who could direct this film, filling it with voices from his usual cast of comedians and a few actors he hasn't worked with: Bill Murray (Beaver), Owen Wilson (Coach Skip), Jason Schwartzman (Ash Fox), George Clooney (Mr. Fox), Willem Dafoe (Rat) and of course Ms. Meryl Streep (Mrs. Fox). Clooney and Schwartzman artfully delve into their characters to exude not only fox-like qualities, but also capture the mind of a masterful thief and an eager-to-please, but "different" son.
Rated PG for action, smoking and slang humor, this film is certainly appropriate for children but I think adults will enjoy it more for its complex animation and simple storyline (and under 90 minute length). In short, Mr. Fox has retired from thievery and chosen to be a family man. Tired of living in a hole, he says to Mrs. Fox, "Honey, I am seven fox years old. My father died at seven and a half. I don't want to live in a hole anymore, and I'm going to do something about it." So he finds a beautiful tree to move his family too, which also happens to be on the property of the three largest farms in the town, housing chickens, hens and a very strong alcoholic cider. How can he resist one last triple heist (sounds a little familiar to another one of Clooney's hit films, eh)?
In true Wes Anderson fashion, the level of comedy is subtle yet creative. He gives "fox years" and human years - or weeks - when he is distinguishing a passage of time. He inserts the word "cuss" or some form of it when alluding to profanities that the characters speak in. One of my favorite scenes is when Mr. Fox is trying to convince his lawyer friend, Beaver to buy the tree:
Badger: In summation, I think you just got to not do it, man. That's all.
Mr. Fox: I understand what you're saying, and your comments are valuable, but I'm gonna ignore your advice.
Badger: The cuss you are.
Mr. Fox: The cuss am I? Are you cussing with me?
Badger: No, you cussing with me?
Mr. Fox: Don't cussing point at me!
Badger: If you're gonna cuss, you're not gonna cuss with me, you little cuss!
Badger: You're not gonna cuss with me!
[Both start snarling at each other, and then settle down]
Mr. Fox: Just buy the tree.
Badger: Okay.
If you don't see this film, you'll be cussing sorry.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Yummies: Volume 5
Last night was the first of many Yellow Vic family dinners. An old roommate of mine, Sarah, has moved back into town after leaving for over half a year to travel through South America and spend some QT at home with her parents in Cincy (i.e. saving money to move back here). Though we were sad to see Sarah leave our beautiful Yellow Victorian home near the Alamo Square district of San Francisco (where the Full House houses are), it's wonderful to have her back in our old neighborhood, across the square and up the hill. Sarah graciously hosted me and my current roommates for a delicious, collaborative meal comprised of winter salad, butternut squash soup and Tahini coated cauliflower... the perfect vegetarian combination for any group of 6-8 people. These recipes can also be used for your upcoming Thanksgiving meal!
WINTER SALAD
I used to make this salad with baby pears, but I find the persimmons add more sweetness and color. Make sure to use butter lettuce over any other kind.
-2 heads of green leaf butter lettuce
-1 large pomegranate
-3 small, hard persimmons
-2 cups of walnuts, chopped
-a pint-size container of crumbled blue cheese
-olive oil
-champagne vinegar
-teaspoon of white pepper
For dressing:
Add a 1/3 cup Champagne vinegar to jar. Add teaspoon of white pepper. Add 1/4 cup olive oil. Shake well.
-Heat a large skillet with 2 teaspoons of olive oil. Toss walnuts at medium temp for about 5 minutes, or until toasted. Add salt to taste. Let cool.
-Chop and wash butter lettuce. Place in large bowl.
-Cut open pomegranate and remove seeds into salad bowl.
-Slice persimmons into bite size pieces (make sure you get the smaller, hard persimmons and not the soft ones)
-Add walnuts and blue cheese, toss with dressing and serve.
BUTTERNUT SQUASH SOUP
This was loosely based on this recipe from Vegetarian Times. I'm pretty sure we left out the first four ingredients. We used coconut milk instead of Butternut bisque, substituted leeks for onions, and used fresh thyme for garnish. We also used a blender to puree everything. I really wasn't part of this portion of the meal so I'm sorry I can't be more helpful.
TAHINI COATED CAULIFLOWER
This was concocted by my creative roommate, Maddie, who has her own food blog. She would like to give credit to her friend, Leif Hedendal who showed her the dish.
For the tahini dressing:
-Combine tahini with a couple tablespoons of olive oil and fresh lemon juice. This is also great for dipping sauce (we polished off a loaf of bread with it).
-Arrange cauliflower and sliced yellow pepper in a glass casserole dish, and coat with tahini dressing. Bake in the oven at 400 degrees for 30 minutes (I think...)
-The yellow peppers were experimental in this dish, but everything came out delicious! You will never think of cauliflower the same way after eating this.
WINTER SALAD
I used to make this salad with baby pears, but I find the persimmons add more sweetness and color. Make sure to use butter lettuce over any other kind.
-2 heads of green leaf butter lettuce
-1 large pomegranate
-3 small, hard persimmons
-2 cups of walnuts, chopped
-a pint-size container of crumbled blue cheese
-olive oil
-champagne vinegar
-teaspoon of white pepper
For dressing:
Add a 1/3 cup Champagne vinegar to jar. Add teaspoon of white pepper. Add 1/4 cup olive oil. Shake well.
-Heat a large skillet with 2 teaspoons of olive oil. Toss walnuts at medium temp for about 5 minutes, or until toasted. Add salt to taste. Let cool.
-Chop and wash butter lettuce. Place in large bowl.
-Cut open pomegranate and remove seeds into salad bowl.
-Slice persimmons into bite size pieces (make sure you get the smaller, hard persimmons and not the soft ones)
-Add walnuts and blue cheese, toss with dressing and serve.
BUTTERNUT SQUASH SOUP
This was loosely based on this recipe from Vegetarian Times. I'm pretty sure we left out the first four ingredients. We used coconut milk instead of Butternut bisque, substituted leeks for onions, and used fresh thyme for garnish. We also used a blender to puree everything. I really wasn't part of this portion of the meal so I'm sorry I can't be more helpful.
TAHINI COATED CAULIFLOWER
This was concocted by my creative roommate, Maddie, who has her own food blog. She would like to give credit to her friend, Leif Hedendal who showed her the dish.
For the tahini dressing:
-Combine tahini with a couple tablespoons of olive oil and fresh lemon juice. This is also great for dipping sauce (we polished off a loaf of bread with it).
-Arrange cauliflower and sliced yellow pepper in a glass casserole dish, and coat with tahini dressing. Bake in the oven at 400 degrees for 30 minutes (I think...)
-The yellow peppers were experimental in this dish, but everything came out delicious! You will never think of cauliflower the same way after eating this.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
OMFG: Menage a Trois
This post may be a little risque for some of you, but it's been something that has been coming up in my life recently - in social discussions that is - and last nights episode of Gossip Girl proved that their is an abundance of intrigue surrounding the sexual mystery of threesomes.
Personally, I think Gossip Girl could have pushed the envelope a little bit more. The OC already made waves when they had Marissa and Alex's girl on girl kiss in season three, which was well-received without a stir of controversy - probably because most of the viewers were college girls and their overly excited male friends, not the middle and high school students that watch Gossip Girl. But when the buzz started forming around the upcoming Gossip Girl threesome, parents associations were in uproar. Is that why creator Josh Schwartz (also the man behind my beloved OC) decided to tone it down a bit for prime time?
Here's how it goes down: after Dan admits he has never had a threesome, and his superstar girlfriend Olivia (played by none other than our all grown up Lizzie McGuire: Hillary Duff) coyly admits she's dabbled, Vanessa too says that she hasn't had the pleasure. Olivia proceeds to kiss Dan, then Vanessa, and then Vanessa and Dan kiss. That's it. Oh, and there is a flash of all three of them in Dan's bed in the closing musical montage. If Olivia wasn't being played by a former Disney star then would things have been a little more Hot and Heavy? Because when I hear the word "threesome" I think of three people having sex with each other, not the kind of girl on girl kissing that happens in a frat house after one too many cups of jungle juice.
From what I understand, most successful ADULT threesomes (not involving freshman in college on a fictional TV show) go down a little differently. There is consent, sex toys, and safety words. Alcohol and drugs are common, but not necessary. No sleepovers, no secret crushes, no lifelong childhood friends making out with each other. That's awkward. One thing Gossip Girl did get right is the gender combination: two girls and a guy. Straight men shudder at the idea of crossing swords, while curious females are more likely to try a threesome with a guy and another girl. Blame it on sexual evolution. Or porn.
To be fair, we don't know what happened after the kissing because Schwartz chose to leave it up to our imagination. Now I don't know about you, but I find it hard to imagine that it actually did go much beyond that. On the one hand, they're only eighteen. On the other hand, they're New Yorkers (one of whom is a celeb) so they "mature" faster than most teenagers. I guess I'll have to wait until next week's episode to suss out the level of awkward aftermath.
Personally, I think Gossip Girl could have pushed the envelope a little bit more. The OC already made waves when they had Marissa and Alex's girl on girl kiss in season three, which was well-received without a stir of controversy - probably because most of the viewers were college girls and their overly excited male friends, not the middle and high school students that watch Gossip Girl. But when the buzz started forming around the upcoming Gossip Girl threesome, parents associations were in uproar. Is that why creator Josh Schwartz (also the man behind my beloved OC) decided to tone it down a bit for prime time?
Here's how it goes down: after Dan admits he has never had a threesome, and his superstar girlfriend Olivia (played by none other than our all grown up Lizzie McGuire: Hillary Duff) coyly admits she's dabbled, Vanessa too says that she hasn't had the pleasure. Olivia proceeds to kiss Dan, then Vanessa, and then Vanessa and Dan kiss. That's it. Oh, and there is a flash of all three of them in Dan's bed in the closing musical montage. If Olivia wasn't being played by a former Disney star then would things have been a little more Hot and Heavy? Because when I hear the word "threesome" I think of three people having sex with each other, not the kind of girl on girl kissing that happens in a frat house after one too many cups of jungle juice.
From what I understand, most successful ADULT threesomes (not involving freshman in college on a fictional TV show) go down a little differently. There is consent, sex toys, and safety words. Alcohol and drugs are common, but not necessary. No sleepovers, no secret crushes, no lifelong childhood friends making out with each other. That's awkward. One thing Gossip Girl did get right is the gender combination: two girls and a guy. Straight men shudder at the idea of crossing swords, while curious females are more likely to try a threesome with a guy and another girl. Blame it on sexual evolution. Or porn.
To be fair, we don't know what happened after the kissing because Schwartz chose to leave it up to our imagination. Now I don't know about you, but I find it hard to imagine that it actually did go much beyond that. On the one hand, they're only eighteen. On the other hand, they're New Yorkers (one of whom is a celeb) so they "mature" faster than most teenagers. I guess I'll have to wait until next week's episode to suss out the level of awkward aftermath.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
The Thrift Shop Recession
The following post is a contribution from my dear friend, Brion Spensieri. Thank you, Brion for enlightening me (and everyone who reads this) on the cause of our current economic downfall.
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I’d like to take a minute or two to delve into a serious issue which affects all of us young people residing in large cities. You’ve seen them at the parks and the bars, in the streets and the coffee shops, perusing through garage sales and record stores—and you may have noticed that their numbers are surging at an alarming rate. That’s right: I’m talking about Hipsters.
The Hipster is a fascinating and perplexing creature. From their socioeconomic origins, to their Bohemian-Punk hybrid mantras, there is a lot of material to pore through. Let us begin by exploring common traits among the species. The following is a list of obvious identifying markings:
· A fixed-gear bicycle: Usually minimalist in design and solid in color, with bonus points for a brakeless setup, a hipster’s bike is his most prized and expensive possession. Their aluminum stallions are usually purchased from a resale shop and maintained through a series of Sunday Part-Swap bartering expos in the park. You can be sure that you’ve entered a Hipster Nest if the ratio of bikes to residents is greater than 1.35.
· Facepaint: Unless you’re at a circus, a rave, a Halloween celebration, or a foreign religious ceremony, there are very few reasons for the average person to wear facepaint. This does not hold true for The Hipster. Among this community, any weekend is fair game to paint on some day-glo tribal markings, affix a few long and colorful feathers to their headband (most wear headbands), and get wasted during the daytime. This is directly caused, of course, by the fact that Hipsters are for the most part…
· Leeches on Society: The Hipster is capable of working for a living. For the most part, Hipsters come from upper-middle class families and grew up in the suburbs of the cities in which they now reside. Hipsters usually at least begin their college education, and between 20-25% of them typically complete it in five years or less. This does not, of course, affect their aggregate decision to work (if they work at all) almost exclusively as bartenders, waiters, baristas, bookstore cashiers, and Democratic Canvassers. The Hipster has no use for a career, as it is concerned only with what is happening right here and now. Rather than being a shameful characteristic, this near-complete lack of disposable income is a badge of pride for The Hipster. During the downright exciting era of Demonization of Capitalism happening within our country, The Hipster thrives. They move like locusts, from neighborhood to neighborhood, consuming all natural resources before inevitably resorting to the safety net society has set up to protect the truly destitute—welfare. This goes a long way towards explaining The Hipster’s de facto escape mechanisms, which are…
· PBR, Hand-rolled Cigarettes and Cheap Whiskey: For The Hipster, life is largely a celebration of poverty/frugality. I suppose it’s obvious, then, that when The Hipster wishes to imbibe, It turns to the lowest common alcoholic denominator. Cans of PBR and bottle swigs of Early Times are to Hipsters what human flesh is like to Zombies—utterly irresistible. Temperature, degree of skunkitude, and lack of chasers are complete non-issues to the Hipster on a mission to get fucked up at 2 pm on a Tuesday.
· Bedbugs: Hipsters rarely bathe or groom themselves, and acquire many of their worldly possessions off the street or from the moldering basements of thrift stores. For this reason, most Hipsters appear unkempt or disheveled, and are highly likely to welcome bedbugs into their Nests. Much like with vampires or werewolves, when one willingly enters the domain of The Hipster and sleeps with one of their kind, he or she will never be the same. The bedbug bites are only the beginning—the worst is yet to come.
· Waifish, birdlike bone structure: Often accentuated by a threadbare, neon green tank top, the Male Hipster’s body type is astonishingly similar to that of Kate Moss circa 2003. Exposed midriffs, complete lack of muscle definition, and the strong proclivity to fracture a collarbone during a routine sneeze are hallmarks of the almost-androgynous Male Hipster. This departure from masculinity is wholly embraced by the Female Hipster, which only solidifies the process.
· Fedoras (if not European)
· Overalls (if not Farmer)
· Skinny jeans cut off at the knees (if male)
· Large, colorful sunglasses (if not Australian)
So, what is the point of being able to classify and identify the Hipster Species? Well, I’m not entirely sure yet. My research hasn’t taken me to the point where I’ve discovered their weaknesses (besides obvious physical weakness). But I do know this: the Hipster ranks are growing rapidly. As layoffs increase, the job market continues to stagnate, and we continue down this road towards a magical place where everybody is entitled to their Fair Share, regardless of contribution to society or the economy, the Hipster thrives. For more information on the sheer ridiculousness of Hipster appearances, please see Look at This Fucking Hipster.com.
Now don’t get me wrong — The Hipster is usually mild-mannered and easy to get along with. Few are aggressive, even when provoked, and this passive demeanor allows them to spread throughout our cities without too many eyebrows being raised. But mark my words — The Age of the Hipster is a dark one indeed. Productivity will decrease. The 80’s are getting even more popular. A new Lost Generation is forming... disenfranchised young people clinging to any semblance of childhood they can. These foreign-film-loving, music-discussing, dispassionately opinionated individuals are coming to a city near you—dive bars beware. Chicago, New York City, San Francisco, Portland, DC and LA have already been infested, but there may still be time for your city to barricade itself. Remember to watch for telltale signs of anybody you love experimenting with Hipster behaviors, and NEVER attack a group of Hipsters in their natural habitat—they have great strength in numbers, especially when employing the Whining Tactic.
Finally, with Halloween coming up, I share with you this article and urge you to stand up against the slippery slope that is facepaint.
Whatever you do, though, don’t tell The Hipsters.
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I’d like to take a minute or two to delve into a serious issue which affects all of us young people residing in large cities. You’ve seen them at the parks and the bars, in the streets and the coffee shops, perusing through garage sales and record stores—and you may have noticed that their numbers are surging at an alarming rate. That’s right: I’m talking about Hipsters.
The Hipster is a fascinating and perplexing creature. From their socioeconomic origins, to their Bohemian-Punk hybrid mantras, there is a lot of material to pore through. Let us begin by exploring common traits among the species. The following is a list of obvious identifying markings:
· A fixed-gear bicycle: Usually minimalist in design and solid in color, with bonus points for a brakeless setup, a hipster’s bike is his most prized and expensive possession. Their aluminum stallions are usually purchased from a resale shop and maintained through a series of Sunday Part-Swap bartering expos in the park. You can be sure that you’ve entered a Hipster Nest if the ratio of bikes to residents is greater than 1.35.
· Facepaint: Unless you’re at a circus, a rave, a Halloween celebration, or a foreign religious ceremony, there are very few reasons for the average person to wear facepaint. This does not hold true for The Hipster. Among this community, any weekend is fair game to paint on some day-glo tribal markings, affix a few long and colorful feathers to their headband (most wear headbands), and get wasted during the daytime. This is directly caused, of course, by the fact that Hipsters are for the most part…
· Leeches on Society: The Hipster is capable of working for a living. For the most part, Hipsters come from upper-middle class families and grew up in the suburbs of the cities in which they now reside. Hipsters usually at least begin their college education, and between 20-25% of them typically complete it in five years or less. This does not, of course, affect their aggregate decision to work (if they work at all) almost exclusively as bartenders, waiters, baristas, bookstore cashiers, and Democratic Canvassers. The Hipster has no use for a career, as it is concerned only with what is happening right here and now. Rather than being a shameful characteristic, this near-complete lack of disposable income is a badge of pride for The Hipster. During the downright exciting era of Demonization of Capitalism happening within our country, The Hipster thrives. They move like locusts, from neighborhood to neighborhood, consuming all natural resources before inevitably resorting to the safety net society has set up to protect the truly destitute—welfare. This goes a long way towards explaining The Hipster’s de facto escape mechanisms, which are…
· PBR, Hand-rolled Cigarettes and Cheap Whiskey: For The Hipster, life is largely a celebration of poverty/frugality. I suppose it’s obvious, then, that when The Hipster wishes to imbibe, It turns to the lowest common alcoholic denominator. Cans of PBR and bottle swigs of Early Times are to Hipsters what human flesh is like to Zombies—utterly irresistible. Temperature, degree of skunkitude, and lack of chasers are complete non-issues to the Hipster on a mission to get fucked up at 2 pm on a Tuesday.
· Bedbugs: Hipsters rarely bathe or groom themselves, and acquire many of their worldly possessions off the street or from the moldering basements of thrift stores. For this reason, most Hipsters appear unkempt or disheveled, and are highly likely to welcome bedbugs into their Nests. Much like with vampires or werewolves, when one willingly enters the domain of The Hipster and sleeps with one of their kind, he or she will never be the same. The bedbug bites are only the beginning—the worst is yet to come.
· Waifish, birdlike bone structure: Often accentuated by a threadbare, neon green tank top, the Male Hipster’s body type is astonishingly similar to that of Kate Moss circa 2003. Exposed midriffs, complete lack of muscle definition, and the strong proclivity to fracture a collarbone during a routine sneeze are hallmarks of the almost-androgynous Male Hipster. This departure from masculinity is wholly embraced by the Female Hipster, which only solidifies the process.
· Fedoras (if not European)
· Overalls (if not Farmer)
· Skinny jeans cut off at the knees (if male)
· Large, colorful sunglasses (if not Australian)
So, what is the point of being able to classify and identify the Hipster Species? Well, I’m not entirely sure yet. My research hasn’t taken me to the point where I’ve discovered their weaknesses (besides obvious physical weakness). But I do know this: the Hipster ranks are growing rapidly. As layoffs increase, the job market continues to stagnate, and we continue down this road towards a magical place where everybody is entitled to their Fair Share, regardless of contribution to society or the economy, the Hipster thrives. For more information on the sheer ridiculousness of Hipster appearances, please see Look at This Fucking Hipster.com.
Now don’t get me wrong — The Hipster is usually mild-mannered and easy to get along with. Few are aggressive, even when provoked, and this passive demeanor allows them to spread throughout our cities without too many eyebrows being raised. But mark my words — The Age of the Hipster is a dark one indeed. Productivity will decrease. The 80’s are getting even more popular. A new Lost Generation is forming... disenfranchised young people clinging to any semblance of childhood they can. These foreign-film-loving, music-discussing, dispassionately opinionated individuals are coming to a city near you—dive bars beware. Chicago, New York City, San Francisco, Portland, DC and LA have already been infested, but there may still be time for your city to barricade itself. Remember to watch for telltale signs of anybody you love experimenting with Hipster behaviors, and NEVER attack a group of Hipsters in their natural habitat—they have great strength in numbers, especially when employing the Whining Tactic.
Finally, with Halloween coming up, I share with you this article and urge you to stand up against the slippery slope that is facepaint.
Whatever you do, though, don’t tell The Hipsters.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Saturday in Suburbia
I was fortunate enough to take a day trip to the suburbs of The Peninsula this past weekend. Not only was it nice to get out of the city for the day, but driving down the unlit, two-lane Alpine Road lined with yellow and orange trees evoked a feeling of autumn in New York, which is one of three things I miss about living there; the other two being pizza and bagels.
Growing up in a small town like Rye, NY I am very familiar with the suburbs. However I never expected to encounter a town that reminded me so much of Rye right in the backyard of my beloved San Francisco. The local watering hole, the soccer field, the gourmet grocery store, the country club, the city center, the farm stand... all these things are characteristic to the suburban lifestyle and are ever so present in Portola Valley (aka PV), my weekend destination. The bike lane is filled with business men on their weekend rides, or families in a tandem cycle heading to their afternoon soccer match. Parents and their little ones fill the pumpkin patch with wagons collecting their Halloween gourds, with one mother yelling to her son "Remember, the rule is you have to be able to carry it, not roll it!"
And as you drive up Skyline Blvd, outside the PV borders, you'll find men on motorcycles stopping for a beer at Alice's Restaurant before heading up the curvy road to Windy Hill, the most beautiful summit in The Peninsula. From Windy Hill you can see the valley of suburban towns below you, the industrial East Bay beyond you, the Pacific Ocean behind you (if you can see past the fog - unlikely) and if you squint your eyes you can even see Angel Island and Golden Gate Bridge in the far distance. A prime spot for any photographer, hiker, or picnickers.
Beyond small towns like PV, Atherton and Ladera (which apparently isn't even a real town it's so small) is the more well-known Palo Alto, home of the top-notch Stanford University. It was game day at Stanford so the traffic was pretty high, but driving through the campus a bit gives you a glimpse at the palm tree-lined medical buildings and student dorms. If crowded stadiums aren't your forte, head to the Dutch Goose in Menlo Park for some local brew and deviled eggs - their specialty! Here we found young adults adorned in college sweatshirts rooting for their Alma mater, as well as a diverse family or two getting their Saturday night burger fix. The tables in the booths are etched with initials and even some scandalous messages to fellow diners. Definitely the perfect place to cap off a day in the 'burbs - to remind you that it's not all country clubs and pumpkin patches.
I guess I'll always have a little place in my heart for suburban simplicity.
Growing up in a small town like Rye, NY I am very familiar with the suburbs. However I never expected to encounter a town that reminded me so much of Rye right in the backyard of my beloved San Francisco. The local watering hole, the soccer field, the gourmet grocery store, the country club, the city center, the farm stand... all these things are characteristic to the suburban lifestyle and are ever so present in Portola Valley (aka PV), my weekend destination. The bike lane is filled with business men on their weekend rides, or families in a tandem cycle heading to their afternoon soccer match. Parents and their little ones fill the pumpkin patch with wagons collecting their Halloween gourds, with one mother yelling to her son "Remember, the rule is you have to be able to carry it, not roll it!"
And as you drive up Skyline Blvd, outside the PV borders, you'll find men on motorcycles stopping for a beer at Alice's Restaurant before heading up the curvy road to Windy Hill, the most beautiful summit in The Peninsula. From Windy Hill you can see the valley of suburban towns below you, the industrial East Bay beyond you, the Pacific Ocean behind you (if you can see past the fog - unlikely) and if you squint your eyes you can even see Angel Island and Golden Gate Bridge in the far distance. A prime spot for any photographer, hiker, or picnickers.
Beyond small towns like PV, Atherton and Ladera (which apparently isn't even a real town it's so small) is the more well-known Palo Alto, home of the top-notch Stanford University. It was game day at Stanford so the traffic was pretty high, but driving through the campus a bit gives you a glimpse at the palm tree-lined medical buildings and student dorms. If crowded stadiums aren't your forte, head to the Dutch Goose in Menlo Park for some local brew and deviled eggs - their specialty! Here we found young adults adorned in college sweatshirts rooting for their Alma mater, as well as a diverse family or two getting their Saturday night burger fix. The tables in the booths are etched with initials and even some scandalous messages to fellow diners. Definitely the perfect place to cap off a day in the 'burbs - to remind you that it's not all country clubs and pumpkin patches.
I guess I'll always have a little place in my heart for suburban simplicity.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
How 'bout them Yanks?
It's October, and to all you baseball fans that means one thing: postseason. I've always loved baseball, from the time I was playing wiffle ball with my brother in the back yard, to my senior year when I scored the only run of the season on my high school softball team. I'm usually a local fan; I rooted for the Cardinals when I was living in STL, and I rooted for the Giants most of this season. I even root for the Padres every now and then since they don't have any fans. But when the Yankees dominate over postseason, it's time to bring out my NY hat (and accent).
It's hard being a Yankee fan because 90% of the baseball fan population hates your team. I don't blame them, they're just jealous. Some may say we "buy our team" and I say: so fucking what. Obviously every baseball player has dreamed of being a Yankee since they were a tot watching Babe Ruth round the bases at Yankee stadium. Even Johnny Damon, a former Red Sox player who said he would never in his life play for the Yankees, is low and behold a Yankee himself and one of the top hitters! So what if we have the highest paid players in baseball history - they deserve it! They take so much crap from all those haters, then they go out there and beat the balls off their opponents. They also have the hottest girlfriends so they need money to keep them looking good.
The greatest thing about being a Yankee fan is the pride. Every New Yorker glows with pride when the Yankees are doing well. Fans unite to revel in Yankee success, and even people who claim to hate NY and say they will never move back there (ahem, me) seem to forget about all that and temporarily take pleasure in gloating with New York pride.
A-Rod. Jeter. Matsui. Posada. These are some of the most recognized names in baseball today, and probably will be for years and years after they retire (which will hopefully be never). If you've been watching this postseason, and you're a Yankee fan, then you're probably as frantically excited as me. We haven't won a series since 2000 (let it be known that we also won in 1996, 1998, and 1999 - as well as 22 other world series wins beginning in 1923), and it's about time. After winning three years in a row, we sort of tapered off for a while. We bowed our heads and gave some other teams a chance: the Red Sox, the White Sox, the Cardinals, the Phillies... the others aren't worth mentioning. In 1996 I won a Halloween window painting contest for painting a pumpkin with a Yankee hat on and a headline that read "Happy Yankeeween!" First place. That's right.
It's hard being a Yankee fan because 90% of the baseball fan population hates your team. I don't blame them, they're just jealous. Some may say we "buy our team" and I say: so fucking what. Obviously every baseball player has dreamed of being a Yankee since they were a tot watching Babe Ruth round the bases at Yankee stadium. Even Johnny Damon, a former Red Sox player who said he would never in his life play for the Yankees, is low and behold a Yankee himself and one of the top hitters! So what if we have the highest paid players in baseball history - they deserve it! They take so much crap from all those haters, then they go out there and beat the balls off their opponents. They also have the hottest girlfriends so they need money to keep them looking good.
The greatest thing about being a Yankee fan is the pride. Every New Yorker glows with pride when the Yankees are doing well. Fans unite to revel in Yankee success, and even people who claim to hate NY and say they will never move back there (ahem, me) seem to forget about all that and temporarily take pleasure in gloating with New York pride.
A-Rod. Jeter. Matsui. Posada. These are some of the most recognized names in baseball today, and probably will be for years and years after they retire (which will hopefully be never). If you've been watching this postseason, and you're a Yankee fan, then you're probably as frantically excited as me. We haven't won a series since 2000 (let it be known that we also won in 1996, 1998, and 1999 - as well as 22 other world series wins beginning in 1923), and it's about time. After winning three years in a row, we sort of tapered off for a while. We bowed our heads and gave some other teams a chance: the Red Sox, the White Sox, the Cardinals, the Phillies... the others aren't worth mentioning. In 1996 I won a Halloween window painting contest for painting a pumpkin with a Yankee hat on and a headline that read "Happy Yankeeween!" First place. That's right.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
EAPA
Shortly before I moved to my beloved Divisadero neighborhood, a trendy name took on the area that has since been picked up on by all outsiders of the neighborhood (and some snobby insiders as well). That name is "NOPA". It stands for North of the Panhandle, a la New York's SOHO (South of Houston). They even named a restaurant after NOPA, on Divsadero and Hayes - which BTW is in no way considered North of the Panhandle by any directional means.
To those of you who don't live in San Francisco, the Panhandle is the narrow patch of green that leads to Golden Gate park. It's a popular spot to bike through, throw a Frisbee, play bocce ball or just lay out in the sun. It's also the crash point for the infamous Bay to Breakers event. It runs between Oak and Fell, from Baker to Stanyan. Therefore, anyone who lives East of Baker does not in fact live in "NOPA."
I live East of Baker on Mcallister and Divisadero. Technically the Western Addition borders on Golden Gate Ave, which is one block from Mcallister. You could say I live in Alamo Square, the closest corner to my house being two blocks away on Scott and Fulton, but since I can't actually see the park with the famous painted ladies from my house than I'm not sure it's fair to claim I live there. I certainly don't live close enough to Haight street to be considered in the Lower Haight neighborhood, and likewise to Pacific Heights or Lower Fillmore. So I am in no man's land, or what I like to refer to as EAPA.
This whole "NOPA" name came along when the neighborhood started to become more gentrified (which is not what I am complaining about). Faletti's gourmet grocery store entered the neighborhood, along with a few other $$$ restaurants including Poleng, Tsunami, Candy Bar, and most recently Bar Crudo. I can see why pricey restaurants would be attracted to the neighborhood. One, because there isn't a lot of competition. Two, the rent is less expensive than most neighborhoods in the city. Three, the neighborhood is becoming a popular hot spot for young professionals like myself. NOPA (the restaurant) is one of the only places in the city where you can go for a fancy dinner at 1am. It's filled with industry folk getting off from their own restaurant jobs. The food is great, and the drinks even better - if you don't mind throwing down $60+ a head. But it also attracts the Marina posh heads who stare out the wall size windows giving neighborhood passer-byers dirty looks for wearing sweat pants to the local video store. "I guess I didn't get the memo." (Thanks Miley)
Thanks to the restaurant, Yelp and 7x7 Magazine the term "NOPA" has stuck, and there's no telling how long it plans to stay. So I say, we take action now. I call on all of you Divisadero dwellers, Alamo Square inhabitants and Lower Haight hipsters: Revolt Against this shi shi word that our eclectic neighborhood has come to! And I urge you to come up with something new. My friend, Morgan suggested renaming the neighborhood "The Wig Out" since it's the end point of the famed bicycle wiggle. I like that term a lot, but for now I'm sticking with EAPA.
To those of you who don't live in San Francisco, the Panhandle is the narrow patch of green that leads to Golden Gate park. It's a popular spot to bike through, throw a Frisbee, play bocce ball or just lay out in the sun. It's also the crash point for the infamous Bay to Breakers event. It runs between Oak and Fell, from Baker to Stanyan. Therefore, anyone who lives East of Baker does not in fact live in "NOPA."
I live East of Baker on Mcallister and Divisadero. Technically the Western Addition borders on Golden Gate Ave, which is one block from Mcallister. You could say I live in Alamo Square, the closest corner to my house being two blocks away on Scott and Fulton, but since I can't actually see the park with the famous painted ladies from my house than I'm not sure it's fair to claim I live there. I certainly don't live close enough to Haight street to be considered in the Lower Haight neighborhood, and likewise to Pacific Heights or Lower Fillmore. So I am in no man's land, or what I like to refer to as EAPA.
This whole "NOPA" name came along when the neighborhood started to become more gentrified (which is not what I am complaining about). Faletti's gourmet grocery store entered the neighborhood, along with a few other $$$ restaurants including Poleng, Tsunami, Candy Bar, and most recently Bar Crudo. I can see why pricey restaurants would be attracted to the neighborhood. One, because there isn't a lot of competition. Two, the rent is less expensive than most neighborhoods in the city. Three, the neighborhood is becoming a popular hot spot for young professionals like myself. NOPA (the restaurant) is one of the only places in the city where you can go for a fancy dinner at 1am. It's filled with industry folk getting off from their own restaurant jobs. The food is great, and the drinks even better - if you don't mind throwing down $60+ a head. But it also attracts the Marina posh heads who stare out the wall size windows giving neighborhood passer-byers dirty looks for wearing sweat pants to the local video store. "I guess I didn't get the memo." (Thanks Miley)
Thanks to the restaurant, Yelp and 7x7 Magazine the term "NOPA" has stuck, and there's no telling how long it plans to stay. So I say, we take action now. I call on all of you Divisadero dwellers, Alamo Square inhabitants and Lower Haight hipsters: Revolt Against this shi shi word that our eclectic neighborhood has come to! And I urge you to come up with something new. My friend, Morgan suggested renaming the neighborhood "The Wig Out" since it's the end point of the famed bicycle wiggle. I like that term a lot, but for now I'm sticking with EAPA.
Yummies: Volume 4
To those of you who are fortunate enough to live in the Divisadero neighborhood, you know who I am talking about when I refer to "The Ravioli Lady."
For the past year or so a small, inexpensive farmers market has formed on Grove and Divisadero every Sunday from 10am to 2pm. This works perfectly for me because between Wednesdays at the Civic Center and Sundays around the block from me, I can get all the produce I need for the week. However, there is one stand at the Divisadero Farmer's Market that the Civic Center doesn't have: fresh Italian ravioli, delicious gourmet dips and sauces, and an array stuffed olives - they'll even let you sample all of it before you buy! Three items for only $15!
This past Sunday I was the first to arrive at the ravioli stand, so they gave me a special deal where I got two sauces and 3 boxes of ravioli for $20. I chose their deluxe ravioli (with beef), their classic ricotta, and their spinach pesto ricotta. I was told that the classic ricotta was a nice choice because I could make a more heavy sauce for it. I've recently started making my own pasta sauces, so I found this particular ravioli to be an excellent choice for experimentation.
This is what I came up with:
-Grab whatever ripe vegetables you have laying around from last week's farmers market. Some suggestions include mushrooms, zucchini, peppers, onion, squash, eggplant... anything that you might normally see in a hearty tomato sauce.
-Saute some garlic and onions with olive oil in a big frying pan for about 2 minutes. You don't want the garlic to burn, but if it does it's not a big deal.
-Add peppers first, then after three minutes add other vegetables and stir for 2 more minutes
-Add about half a cup of red table wine (anything you have lying around that is under $10)
-Let it simmer for a few minutes, then add two or three tablespoons of a red pesto sauce. I use the one from the ravioli stand that is red pepper pesto; it has a nice consistency and some really good spicy flavors. Continue to let it simmer for a minute or two.
-Lastly, add about 2/3 cup of tomato sauce - nothing fancy, the kind that comes out of the can.
-Stir under low heat for about a minute, then pour over drained pasta (goes best with ravioli but can also be used with any thicker pasta such as rigatoni, fusilli, linguine, parpadalle).
-Eat hot with a little Parmesan cheese and enjoy!
For the past year or so a small, inexpensive farmers market has formed on Grove and Divisadero every Sunday from 10am to 2pm. This works perfectly for me because between Wednesdays at the Civic Center and Sundays around the block from me, I can get all the produce I need for the week. However, there is one stand at the Divisadero Farmer's Market that the Civic Center doesn't have: fresh Italian ravioli, delicious gourmet dips and sauces, and an array stuffed olives - they'll even let you sample all of it before you buy! Three items for only $15!
This past Sunday I was the first to arrive at the ravioli stand, so they gave me a special deal where I got two sauces and 3 boxes of ravioli for $20. I chose their deluxe ravioli (with beef), their classic ricotta, and their spinach pesto ricotta. I was told that the classic ricotta was a nice choice because I could make a more heavy sauce for it. I've recently started making my own pasta sauces, so I found this particular ravioli to be an excellent choice for experimentation.
This is what I came up with:
-Grab whatever ripe vegetables you have laying around from last week's farmers market. Some suggestions include mushrooms, zucchini, peppers, onion, squash, eggplant... anything that you might normally see in a hearty tomato sauce.
-Saute some garlic and onions with olive oil in a big frying pan for about 2 minutes. You don't want the garlic to burn, but if it does it's not a big deal.
-Add peppers first, then after three minutes add other vegetables and stir for 2 more minutes
-Add about half a cup of red table wine (anything you have lying around that is under $10)
-Let it simmer for a few minutes, then add two or three tablespoons of a red pesto sauce. I use the one from the ravioli stand that is red pepper pesto; it has a nice consistency and some really good spicy flavors. Continue to let it simmer for a minute or two.
-Lastly, add about 2/3 cup of tomato sauce - nothing fancy, the kind that comes out of the can.
-Stir under low heat for about a minute, then pour over drained pasta (goes best with ravioli but can also be used with any thicker pasta such as rigatoni, fusilli, linguine, parpadalle).
-Eat hot with a little Parmesan cheese and enjoy!
Monday, October 5, 2009
Green, Red, Blue and Beer.
This past weekend is known to Bay Area dwellers as one of the most eventful weekends of the Indian Summer, and perhaps the year. Between Oktoberfest, the West Coast Green conference, Hardly Strictly Bluegrass festival and Lovevolution, there is certainly something for everyone.
These are the days when it starts to get cold. You wake up freezing and clinging to your covers because your apartment doesn't get proper insulation, and in fact it's probably colder inside than it is outside. But the sun is shining and there are plenty of outdoor activities calling your name...
Feeling like you want to learn a little more about sustainability and what we can do to protect our planet? Ride your bike down to Fort Mason Center and walk the convention floor of the annual West Coast Green conference. The conference kicks off on Thursday and closes with an after party on Saturday night. This year I didn't make it to the conference, but I managed to score a ticket to the after party at the Cal Academy of Sciences. My friend and I took in the warm air of the rain forest after our cold walk to the museum, then watched a really fascinating planetarium film on the size of our earth compared to the vast universe around us. And we managed to get a couple cocktails in there too!
If green isn't your thing, maybe you should check out SF's Oktoberfest at Pier 49. Modeled after the notorious German festival, Oktoberfest lets you sample brews and schnitzers from all over Germany, without leaving the country (or the city for that matter)! If you like drinking beer and hooking up with drunk Bridge and Tunnel people, look no further than Oktoberfest. Don't forget your beer goggles!
This weekend SF borrows from another popular German event, Berlin's Love Parade, to create our very own Lovevolution. Every year San Francisco's music gurus parade down Market Street on floats blasting various forms of dance music. Half naked men and women adorn these floats, dressed in tutus, bikinis, and some of the most extravagant outfits you will see outside of Bay to Breakers. Almost everyone is on some kind of illegal drug, including but not limited to ecstasy, Molly, acid, mushrooms, special K, Oxycontin, and pretty much anything you can get your hands on to make you feel the love, ecstasy being the most popular. And if underage girls are your thing, then you'll find plenty of them here. You might want to ask for id before you find yourself sticking your tongue down some fourteen-year-olds throat - or some other appendage, for that matter. But in all seriousness, it's a pretty fantastic event if you find yourself in the right mood to partake in it. And it takes place in our very own Civic Center, where gay couples were once able to get married!
The most favored event of this weekend, catering to all types of San Franciscan's, would have to be the annual three day Hardly Strictly Bluegrass festival in Golden Gate Park. Maybe it's the twang of banjo echoing off the eucalyptus trees, or the array of hippies and hobos selling cans of C-level beer along the outskirts of the park, or perhaps it's the fact that the entire event is free thanks to the monetary support of founder F. Warren Hellman, chairman and co-founder of Hellman & Friedman LLC (and avid bluegrass listener). Whatever it is that draws you to this unique music festival, you'll find yourself immersed in every aspect of San Francisco culture: dread head hippie dance circles kicking up dirt, Red Sox capped Marina frat boys wheeling coolers of Budweiser, families picnicking with their earplug-wearing toddlers, and even some stragglers from the Lovevolution crowd who are trying to nurse their drug hangovers while laying in the sun (a true recipe for dehydration)- some of whom have forgotten to change out of their barely-there outfits, but nobody notices or cares because they're just in it for the music! And it's not just bluegrass (as you'll notice in the clever title of the event), but funk, country, jazz and rock-n-roll too!
And if none of these events spark your interest (which I find hard to believe), there's always Taste of Fillmore, Castro Street Fair, Jack London Square Cupcake festival, and about a million other things going on in this eclectic and exciting City by the Bay.
*Next year I'll try to get this out before the weekend is over already....
These are the days when it starts to get cold. You wake up freezing and clinging to your covers because your apartment doesn't get proper insulation, and in fact it's probably colder inside than it is outside. But the sun is shining and there are plenty of outdoor activities calling your name...
Feeling like you want to learn a little more about sustainability and what we can do to protect our planet? Ride your bike down to Fort Mason Center and walk the convention floor of the annual West Coast Green conference. The conference kicks off on Thursday and closes with an after party on Saturday night. This year I didn't make it to the conference, but I managed to score a ticket to the after party at the Cal Academy of Sciences. My friend and I took in the warm air of the rain forest after our cold walk to the museum, then watched a really fascinating planetarium film on the size of our earth compared to the vast universe around us. And we managed to get a couple cocktails in there too!
If green isn't your thing, maybe you should check out SF's Oktoberfest at Pier 49. Modeled after the notorious German festival, Oktoberfest lets you sample brews and schnitzers from all over Germany, without leaving the country (or the city for that matter)! If you like drinking beer and hooking up with drunk Bridge and Tunnel people, look no further than Oktoberfest. Don't forget your beer goggles!
This weekend SF borrows from another popular German event, Berlin's Love Parade, to create our very own Lovevolution. Every year San Francisco's music gurus parade down Market Street on floats blasting various forms of dance music. Half naked men and women adorn these floats, dressed in tutus, bikinis, and some of the most extravagant outfits you will see outside of Bay to Breakers. Almost everyone is on some kind of illegal drug, including but not limited to ecstasy, Molly, acid, mushrooms, special K, Oxycontin, and pretty much anything you can get your hands on to make you feel the love, ecstasy being the most popular. And if underage girls are your thing, then you'll find plenty of them here. You might want to ask for id before you find yourself sticking your tongue down some fourteen-year-olds throat - or some other appendage, for that matter. But in all seriousness, it's a pretty fantastic event if you find yourself in the right mood to partake in it. And it takes place in our very own Civic Center, where gay couples were once able to get married!
The most favored event of this weekend, catering to all types of San Franciscan's, would have to be the annual three day Hardly Strictly Bluegrass festival in Golden Gate Park. Maybe it's the twang of banjo echoing off the eucalyptus trees, or the array of hippies and hobos selling cans of C-level beer along the outskirts of the park, or perhaps it's the fact that the entire event is free thanks to the monetary support of founder F. Warren Hellman, chairman and co-founder of Hellman & Friedman LLC (and avid bluegrass listener). Whatever it is that draws you to this unique music festival, you'll find yourself immersed in every aspect of San Francisco culture: dread head hippie dance circles kicking up dirt, Red Sox capped Marina frat boys wheeling coolers of Budweiser, families picnicking with their earplug-wearing toddlers, and even some stragglers from the Lovevolution crowd who are trying to nurse their drug hangovers while laying in the sun (a true recipe for dehydration)- some of whom have forgotten to change out of their barely-there outfits, but nobody notices or cares because they're just in it for the music! And it's not just bluegrass (as you'll notice in the clever title of the event), but funk, country, jazz and rock-n-roll too!
And if none of these events spark your interest (which I find hard to believe), there's always Taste of Fillmore, Castro Street Fair, Jack London Square Cupcake festival, and about a million other things going on in this eclectic and exciting City by the Bay.
*Next year I'll try to get this out before the weekend is over already....
Thursday, September 24, 2009
S.L.A.M.E.
Every month I meet with some of my girlfriends for drinks and dinner and gossip. It's always a lot of fun and we always talk about how we have to get together more often. On our first meeting, I even made up a name for us: S.L.A.M.E. - Sushi Lovers And Man Eaters. (The S has been swapped for Solstice - the name of a restaurant - and Sangria when we're not eating Sushi.) And even though most of us have wonderful boyfriends at this point, we're all still Man Eaters at heart.
Last night we went to a tapas restaurant in the Mission that people rave about, especially with respect to their Sangria. Upon ordering a pitcher of Sangria, we were all carded, which I suppose is expected (and flattering considering we're all 23 and 24). Our friend who arrived later forgot her wallet at school, so she was sans identification. We poured her a glass of Sangria anyway, thinking it would be fine since we were obviously all of age.
About five minutes later, our waitress walks up to our table and says to our friend "I need to see your id" to which my friend replies "I forgot my wallet, so I don't have it." The waitress says, with a brazen attitude, "then you can't drink" and as she says this she picks up my friends glass and pours her already sipped Sangria back into the pitcher.
At this point we're all a little annoyed and completely shocked. She senses our annoyance (slash hears us bitching about her) and comes back to see if we want a different pitcher. We were in such shock that I don't think any of us even said anything and she just walked away. For the rest of the night we continued to intermittently talk about how terrible of a waitress she is. And when the bill comes and we give her three cards to split it on, she says (in the same bitchy attitude) "we can only charge two cards." My friend who used to be a waitress at a five star restaurant immediately retorts "Can we see a manger?"
Ugh. The manager also happens to be the bartender, and he is shabby-looking and greasy. He also starts giving us attitude when we try to tell him how rude our waitress was to us. He says he told her to do it, and that she offered us a new pitcher if wanted it. We explain to him that we understand their liability, but her rude attitude and tactless behavior was completely unnecessary. Yet, he still finds the need to argue with us.
We certainly didn't let this debacle ruin our night, but I must say I will not be back to this restaurant any time soon because the food was only okay, the staff was miserable, and I'm sure I can find just as good sangria somewhere where they don't promote spreading germs.
The company was great, as usual :)
Read my Yelp Review!
Last night we went to a tapas restaurant in the Mission that people rave about, especially with respect to their Sangria. Upon ordering a pitcher of Sangria, we were all carded, which I suppose is expected (and flattering considering we're all 23 and 24). Our friend who arrived later forgot her wallet at school, so she was sans identification. We poured her a glass of Sangria anyway, thinking it would be fine since we were obviously all of age.
About five minutes later, our waitress walks up to our table and says to our friend "I need to see your id" to which my friend replies "I forgot my wallet, so I don't have it." The waitress says, with a brazen attitude, "then you can't drink" and as she says this she picks up my friends glass and pours her already sipped Sangria back into the pitcher.
At this point we're all a little annoyed and completely shocked. She senses our annoyance (slash hears us bitching about her) and comes back to see if we want a different pitcher. We were in such shock that I don't think any of us even said anything and she just walked away. For the rest of the night we continued to intermittently talk about how terrible of a waitress she is. And when the bill comes and we give her three cards to split it on, she says (in the same bitchy attitude) "we can only charge two cards." My friend who used to be a waitress at a five star restaurant immediately retorts "Can we see a manger?"
Ugh. The manager also happens to be the bartender, and he is shabby-looking and greasy. He also starts giving us attitude when we try to tell him how rude our waitress was to us. He says he told her to do it, and that she offered us a new pitcher if wanted it. We explain to him that we understand their liability, but her rude attitude and tactless behavior was completely unnecessary. Yet, he still finds the need to argue with us.
We certainly didn't let this debacle ruin our night, but I must say I will not be back to this restaurant any time soon because the food was only okay, the staff was miserable, and I'm sure I can find just as good sangria somewhere where they don't promote spreading germs.
The company was great, as usual :)
Read my Yelp Review!
Friday, September 11, 2009
I hate Fridays (in the office)
This is my first Friday at the office since August 15th. I was on vacation for a week, then my I broke my nose and had to stay home from work so I wouldn't scare my co-workers with my battered face, then I left early for Labor Day vacation, and now here I am. And it sucks. Big time.
I have to admit, I woke up slightly hungover this morning (though, my hangovers don't usually last longer than 15 minutes - if I even get one). My coworker and I had a little too much to drink last night, and I woke up at 7:30am when my roommate started grinding her coffee beans and the kettle whistle went off (which, by the way, sounds like a siren). Nothing to do but shower off the alcohol that was seeping from my pores.
My day started off pretty well when I had to do an hour long errand to one of our theatres and our electrician bought me a bottle of Perrier. And I did manage to take a nice lunch break to catch up with one of my co-workers over some $9 sandwiches. But since then, nothing. I'm sure I could find plenty of things to do if I really tried, but talking to my friends on gchat and playing lexulous moves on Facebook interspersed with stalking random acquaintances is so much more entertaining!
And then my friend shows me this. Not only did this give me a good laugh, but I find it completely true. It also took me a few minutes to go through, which in itself is a distraction. Writing this blog is also a distraction. In fact, everything I have done today has been a distraction so that I didn't have to get any actual work done. Who's idea was it to have work on Fridays anyway? Four day weeks would be so much more productive, because Friday just negates all the productivity that I accomplished every other week day.
Back to "work"... (i.e. Facebook).
I have to admit, I woke up slightly hungover this morning (though, my hangovers don't usually last longer than 15 minutes - if I even get one). My coworker and I had a little too much to drink last night, and I woke up at 7:30am when my roommate started grinding her coffee beans and the kettle whistle went off (which, by the way, sounds like a siren). Nothing to do but shower off the alcohol that was seeping from my pores.
My day started off pretty well when I had to do an hour long errand to one of our theatres and our electrician bought me a bottle of Perrier. And I did manage to take a nice lunch break to catch up with one of my co-workers over some $9 sandwiches. But since then, nothing. I'm sure I could find plenty of things to do if I really tried, but talking to my friends on gchat and playing lexulous moves on Facebook interspersed with stalking random acquaintances is so much more entertaining!
And then my friend shows me this. Not only did this give me a good laugh, but I find it completely true. It also took me a few minutes to go through, which in itself is a distraction. Writing this blog is also a distraction. In fact, everything I have done today has been a distraction so that I didn't have to get any actual work done. Who's idea was it to have work on Fridays anyway? Four day weeks would be so much more productive, because Friday just negates all the productivity that I accomplished every other week day.
Back to "work"... (i.e. Facebook).
Thursday, August 27, 2009
My trip to the ER
I'm on a co-ed softball team. A lot of the guys on the softball team played high school or college baseball (read: great arms). I play catcher, with no equipment. Two weeks ago I could have died from a near blow to the head with a baseball bat (fortunately, he missed). This week, my luck got the best of me when I missed a catch from my third basemen and the ball hit me smack in the middle of the face, right on my nose between my eyes.
After about sixty seconds of intense and massive bleeding, I was carried to the bench where I was to put pressure on my nose and hold a towel to it to soak up the blood. The blood finally slowed down, but my teammates and the EMT guy on the other team urged me to go to the hospital to get checked out. I really didn't want to go. I wanted to see the end of the game! Even as I was holding the towel over my nose, I was yelling orders to my teammates about where the fielding switch ups where and how to fix the batting order once I was out of it. I also complained how my nose used to be perfect, and I would like to keep it that way.
I was taken to the hospital by my friend, Mike. We were so eager to get to the closest CPMC emergency room, that we didn't realize we were going to the Pediatrics ER until we got to the door. The waiting room was filled with puzzles and books and toys, and Dora the Explorer was on the TV hanging above the room. I was taken into a nurse's room and got all my vitals checked. She was wearing scrubs with bright yellow suns and rainbows on them. Reminded me of the Zoe character from Nurse Jackie.
When I got to the next room, I met Nurse Katie. "Hi Kelsey, my name is Katie and I'm going to be your nurse. The doctor will be in very soon, but we want to take some pictures of your nose, okay?" My first thought was that she was going to take out a camera and use me as an example of what happens when domestic abuse goes too far. Then I realized she was referring to x-rays.
Upon entering the x-ray room, I was asked (for the second time that night) if there was any way I could be pregnant. Hell no, thank you. Snap. Snap. X-rays done. Is my nose broken? The doctor will tell you.
Me: Doc, is my nose broken?
Doc: It's fractured.
Me: Oh, that's good, right?
Mike: Kelsey, that means it's broken.
Me: Fuck. I bet you don't hear that from the little kids.
Katie: You'd be surprised what comes out of those little buggers' mouths.
After the doctor put my stitches in and showed me my x-rays, he gave me a prescription for Vicodin (hells yes, this injury was so worth it) and some antibiotics. He also referred me to an ENT to look at my nose break. They told me where the nearest 24 hr pharmacy was and Mike and I went there to get my pain killers and some other necessities (tissues, band aids, frozen peas).
Considering I had a light dinner, started drinking beer at 8, was on the playing field by 10, and bleeding profusely by 10:30, finished with the stitches at midnight, and in bed by 1:30 passing out and acting all loopy; I guess you could say it was just another night out.
After about sixty seconds of intense and massive bleeding, I was carried to the bench where I was to put pressure on my nose and hold a towel to it to soak up the blood. The blood finally slowed down, but my teammates and the EMT guy on the other team urged me to go to the hospital to get checked out. I really didn't want to go. I wanted to see the end of the game! Even as I was holding the towel over my nose, I was yelling orders to my teammates about where the fielding switch ups where and how to fix the batting order once I was out of it. I also complained how my nose used to be perfect, and I would like to keep it that way.
I was taken to the hospital by my friend, Mike. We were so eager to get to the closest CPMC emergency room, that we didn't realize we were going to the Pediatrics ER until we got to the door. The waiting room was filled with puzzles and books and toys, and Dora the Explorer was on the TV hanging above the room. I was taken into a nurse's room and got all my vitals checked. She was wearing scrubs with bright yellow suns and rainbows on them. Reminded me of the Zoe character from Nurse Jackie.
When I got to the next room, I met Nurse Katie. "Hi Kelsey, my name is Katie and I'm going to be your nurse. The doctor will be in very soon, but we want to take some pictures of your nose, okay?" My first thought was that she was going to take out a camera and use me as an example of what happens when domestic abuse goes too far. Then I realized she was referring to x-rays.
Upon entering the x-ray room, I was asked (for the second time that night) if there was any way I could be pregnant. Hell no, thank you. Snap. Snap. X-rays done. Is my nose broken? The doctor will tell you.
Me: Doc, is my nose broken?
Doc: It's fractured.
Me: Oh, that's good, right?
Mike: Kelsey, that means it's broken.
Me: Fuck. I bet you don't hear that from the little kids.
Katie: You'd be surprised what comes out of those little buggers' mouths.
After the doctor put my stitches in and showed me my x-rays, he gave me a prescription for Vicodin (hells yes, this injury was so worth it) and some antibiotics. He also referred me to an ENT to look at my nose break. They told me where the nearest 24 hr pharmacy was and Mike and I went there to get my pain killers and some other necessities (tissues, band aids, frozen peas).
Considering I had a light dinner, started drinking beer at 8, was on the playing field by 10, and bleeding profusely by 10:30, finished with the stitches at midnight, and in bed by 1:30 passing out and acting all loopy; I guess you could say it was just another night out.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
The Ramapo Tomato
My grandfather, making his third appearance in my blog, is known for his tomatoes - amongst other things. Last year he was given some more fame for a tomato he discovered many, many years ago: The Ramapo.
The Associated Press
Sunday, January 13, 2008
The quest for the perfect tomato began in New Jersey nearly 50 years ago and ended, for now, in a field south of Tel Aviv, Israel.
After eight years of taste tests from chefs and tomato lovers, agricultural scientists at Rutgers University say they have resurrected one of the most delicious Jersey tomatoes ever. The elusive "Ramapo" tomato seed has been reproduced in Israel and 572,000 certified organic seeds were shipped this month to New Brunswick.
The Ramapo tomato, named after a New Jersey Indian tribe and developed at Rutgers in 1968, will be back for this summer's growing season after an absence of more than 20 years. In New Jersey, considered to produce some of America's best tomatoes, that is big news.
"People all across the land are frustrated with hard, cardboardy-tasting tomatoes," said Jack Rabin, associate director of the New Jersey agricultural experiment station at Rutgers. "Ramapo gives them something that's an alternative ... that captures that famous Jersey tomato taste."
Seed companies stopped producing the Ramapo decades ago because commercial farmers sought varieties that grew well in other regions, and the Ramapo did well mostly along the East Coast, Rabin said.
The first major release of more than 8,000 seed packets will be sold by Rutgers in a few weeks, initially to home gardeners like Edmund Ryan of Irasburg, Vermont, who remembers first tasting the variety as a teenager from a neighbor in Red Bank.
"It was just the perfect Jersey tomato," said Ryan, 54, who recalled eating the tomatoes in a sandwich after football practice. "It's nice and tart and sweet but also just had a little extra that I can't explain."
Rutgers scientists have been busy pursuing that "holy grail" of productivity, good yield and taste in greenhouses and fields, experimenting with 154 varieties, with flavor as the most important characteristic.
Tomatoes have been an important crop in New Jersey for more than 100 years. Until the 1950s, many were grown for use in tomato products, including soup at the Campbell Soup Co., based in Camden, Rabin said.
After World War II, most of the large-scale commercial farms moved to warmer climates like Florida and California. What remains in New Jersey today are tomatoes for fresh use, at supermarkets, restaurants and farm stands.
In the 1960s, as transportation improved, breeders introduced new varieties to withstand the rigors of shipping from farm to supermarkets, often at the expense of flavor, Rabin said. "These firm, shipping varieties that predominate today, even vine-ripened, they leave us wanting in terms of flavor," he said.
A new process also helped shipping: picking the tomatoes green and exposing them to ethylene gas to ripen and turn red to allow for longer transportation and shelf life, said Martha A. Mutschler, a professor of plant breeding and genetics at Cornell.
She said the problem in taste comes when the tomatoes are picked immature green, and they can't fully ripen. "One reason tomatoes don't taste good is because they are picked too soon," she said. "Another reason is that people refrigerate them."
Of course, it's a matter of palate as well. Tomato lovers are passionate and often go without them during the winter, when they're not in season. "The flavor is the most important thing, you know," said chef Andre Soltner, who sold his legendary New York restaurant, Lutece, and teaches at the French Culinary Institute in New York. "When I cannot get good tomatoes with flavor, I don't use them."
For Lucky Lee, co-owner of Lucky's Real Tomatoes in Brooklyn, New York, which trucks ripe tomatoes during the winter from Florida back to New York in a day's turnaround, good tomatoes are also a source of nostalgia. "It reminds you of a different time, a more natural way of living before additives and chemicals were put in everything we eat to make it last longer," she said. "It's a simpler life, a nicer life."
The Ramapo tomato has elicited that nostalgia on tomato message boards from gardeners clamoring for the seeds.
It will grow well in New Jersey, but in other Mid-Atlantic states too, said its developer, Bernard Pollack. He started working on it in 1960 and is now a retired professor of plant breeding and genetics living in California.
Because the variety is an "F-1" hybrid, gardeners cannot save the seeds and replant them, expecting to recapture the same Ramapo with sweet-acid flavor. Instead, seeds must be pollinated by hand, usually by a seed company which does the labor-intensive work of crossing the two parent lines, Pollack said. The original "parents" were still at Rutgers.
The "Jersey Tomato working group" at Rutgers, made up of economists, breeders, horticulturists and plant pathologists and first convened in 2000, will present its findings about the Ramapo Tuesday in Atlantic City.
Once they decided to reintroduce the Ramapo, they found a seed company in Israel, which has a winter growing season, to replicate them at a good price, Rabin said. They will be distributed to home gardeners and later to some commercial farmers to test them. "As word gets out about the particular Ramapo tomato, there's going to be a huge demand for it across the country," said Paul Wigsten, farm liaison and produce buyer for the Culinary Institute of America in Hyde Park, New York.
Wigsten has never tasted a Ramapo, but has heard about the lore. "This will be a big day for tomato lovers. It's real gratifying to see Rutgers concentrating more on flavor than on any other characteristic of the tomato," he said.
___
After visiting my grandparents last year in San Diego, my grandfather sent me back to San Francisco with some Ramapo seeds to give to my friend, Luke, at the farmers market. I brought back the seeds for Luke, and more than a year later I have finally tasted the Ramapo tomato, grown by Luke and designed by my grandfather. It is by far the best tomato I have ever tasted. So good, that Luke himself isn't even selling them at his stand. He is hoarding them for himself, his friends, and me. I ate one for lunch today with a bit of salt and pepper, and just had another with a salad at dinner. I want more! I can't wait until next week when he brings me more Ramapos.
Thanks Luke, and even more thanks to you, Pop pop!
The Associated Press
Sunday, January 13, 2008
The quest for the perfect tomato began in New Jersey nearly 50 years ago and ended, for now, in a field south of Tel Aviv, Israel.
After eight years of taste tests from chefs and tomato lovers, agricultural scientists at Rutgers University say they have resurrected one of the most delicious Jersey tomatoes ever. The elusive "Ramapo" tomato seed has been reproduced in Israel and 572,000 certified organic seeds were shipped this month to New Brunswick.
The Ramapo tomato, named after a New Jersey Indian tribe and developed at Rutgers in 1968, will be back for this summer's growing season after an absence of more than 20 years. In New Jersey, considered to produce some of America's best tomatoes, that is big news.
"People all across the land are frustrated with hard, cardboardy-tasting tomatoes," said Jack Rabin, associate director of the New Jersey agricultural experiment station at Rutgers. "Ramapo gives them something that's an alternative ... that captures that famous Jersey tomato taste."
Seed companies stopped producing the Ramapo decades ago because commercial farmers sought varieties that grew well in other regions, and the Ramapo did well mostly along the East Coast, Rabin said.
The first major release of more than 8,000 seed packets will be sold by Rutgers in a few weeks, initially to home gardeners like Edmund Ryan of Irasburg, Vermont, who remembers first tasting the variety as a teenager from a neighbor in Red Bank.
"It was just the perfect Jersey tomato," said Ryan, 54, who recalled eating the tomatoes in a sandwich after football practice. "It's nice and tart and sweet but also just had a little extra that I can't explain."
Rutgers scientists have been busy pursuing that "holy grail" of productivity, good yield and taste in greenhouses and fields, experimenting with 154 varieties, with flavor as the most important characteristic.
Tomatoes have been an important crop in New Jersey for more than 100 years. Until the 1950s, many were grown for use in tomato products, including soup at the Campbell Soup Co., based in Camden, Rabin said.
After World War II, most of the large-scale commercial farms moved to warmer climates like Florida and California. What remains in New Jersey today are tomatoes for fresh use, at supermarkets, restaurants and farm stands.
In the 1960s, as transportation improved, breeders introduced new varieties to withstand the rigors of shipping from farm to supermarkets, often at the expense of flavor, Rabin said. "These firm, shipping varieties that predominate today, even vine-ripened, they leave us wanting in terms of flavor," he said.
A new process also helped shipping: picking the tomatoes green and exposing them to ethylene gas to ripen and turn red to allow for longer transportation and shelf life, said Martha A. Mutschler, a professor of plant breeding and genetics at Cornell.
She said the problem in taste comes when the tomatoes are picked immature green, and they can't fully ripen. "One reason tomatoes don't taste good is because they are picked too soon," she said. "Another reason is that people refrigerate them."
Of course, it's a matter of palate as well. Tomato lovers are passionate and often go without them during the winter, when they're not in season. "The flavor is the most important thing, you know," said chef Andre Soltner, who sold his legendary New York restaurant, Lutece, and teaches at the French Culinary Institute in New York. "When I cannot get good tomatoes with flavor, I don't use them."
For Lucky Lee, co-owner of Lucky's Real Tomatoes in Brooklyn, New York, which trucks ripe tomatoes during the winter from Florida back to New York in a day's turnaround, good tomatoes are also a source of nostalgia. "It reminds you of a different time, a more natural way of living before additives and chemicals were put in everything we eat to make it last longer," she said. "It's a simpler life, a nicer life."
The Ramapo tomato has elicited that nostalgia on tomato message boards from gardeners clamoring for the seeds.
It will grow well in New Jersey, but in other Mid-Atlantic states too, said its developer, Bernard Pollack. He started working on it in 1960 and is now a retired professor of plant breeding and genetics living in California.
Because the variety is an "F-1" hybrid, gardeners cannot save the seeds and replant them, expecting to recapture the same Ramapo with sweet-acid flavor. Instead, seeds must be pollinated by hand, usually by a seed company which does the labor-intensive work of crossing the two parent lines, Pollack said. The original "parents" were still at Rutgers.
The "Jersey Tomato working group" at Rutgers, made up of economists, breeders, horticulturists and plant pathologists and first convened in 2000, will present its findings about the Ramapo Tuesday in Atlantic City.
Once they decided to reintroduce the Ramapo, they found a seed company in Israel, which has a winter growing season, to replicate them at a good price, Rabin said. They will be distributed to home gardeners and later to some commercial farmers to test them. "As word gets out about the particular Ramapo tomato, there's going to be a huge demand for it across the country," said Paul Wigsten, farm liaison and produce buyer for the Culinary Institute of America in Hyde Park, New York.
Wigsten has never tasted a Ramapo, but has heard about the lore. "This will be a big day for tomato lovers. It's real gratifying to see Rutgers concentrating more on flavor than on any other characteristic of the tomato," he said.
___
After visiting my grandparents last year in San Diego, my grandfather sent me back to San Francisco with some Ramapo seeds to give to my friend, Luke, at the farmers market. I brought back the seeds for Luke, and more than a year later I have finally tasted the Ramapo tomato, grown by Luke and designed by my grandfather. It is by far the best tomato I have ever tasted. So good, that Luke himself isn't even selling them at his stand. He is hoarding them for himself, his friends, and me. I ate one for lunch today with a bit of salt and pepper, and just had another with a salad at dinner. I want more! I can't wait until next week when he brings me more Ramapos.
Thanks Luke, and even more thanks to you, Pop pop!
Thursday, August 20, 2009
90 Years of Wedded Bliss
Last night my family and I celebrated the anniversaries of my parents and grandparents - 30 years for mom and dad, 60 years for Mema and Pop pop (my grandparents). That's a total of 90 years, which is a pretty huge accomplishment if you ask me.
We went out to dinner at this wonderful Italian Restaurant in the middle of the Oceanside fields, called Rosina's. The owner, Rosina, and my grandparents have become very fond of each other, and it's been a favorite of theirs for the past year. The cuisine is authentic Italian food, with recipes inspired from generations upon generations of Rosina's family. Though she wasn't there last night (I had the pleasure of meeting her when I went there with my grandparents back in May), she made sure to make the evening special by giving us a complimentary anti-pasta made of fresh squash, eggplant, mushrooms, and red peppers. We also shared stuffed banana peppers with mozzarella and sausage. Our entrees were a spread of delicious Saltimbocca, the Escarole fish special, four cheese fettuccine with Italian sausage (the best and heaviest dish), and chicken Parmesan. Overall, the dinner was fantastic and the company even better.
I gave my grandparents a first edition paperback of Gone With the Wind, which I purchased at the bazaar outside my office on Thursday for only $6.00. My grandmother loved the gift, and praised me for my thoughtfulness. But in all honesty, they deserve much more than a book to celebrate their sixty years of marriage. My grandparents met at Penn State after my grandfather returned from the war. They were married after knowing each other less than a year, and even though they joke all the time about how they don't like each other, it's clear that they have been happy ever since.
My parents also met in college in Baltimore. They were married after about 4 years of courtship, and they drove across country to San Diego from Baltimore after their wedding. I was born a few years later, and my brother three years after me. As I've grown older, my parents are more open about stories of how they met and things that happened while they were dating. Last night my dad told me how my mom cried on their first night out at dinner when they moved from Del Mar to Encinitas because they weren't eating at her favorite restaurant anymore. They've since made it through 5 other moves, several different jobs, two college tuition's, 5 pets, and some pretty horrendous family vacations - I'm not even going to get into the disaster that was Key West December '04.
What's the secret to a happy marriage? From watching my parents and my grandparents, I'd say it's a few things: 1) the ability to laugh together and to have fun, and not to take each other too seriously. 2) the ability to make decisions together, even if it means letting go of your stubborn views. 3) The ability to be honest with each other, and especially with your children.
Here's to you guys! Happy Anniversary, and may you have 50 more combined years of wedded bliss!
We went out to dinner at this wonderful Italian Restaurant in the middle of the Oceanside fields, called Rosina's. The owner, Rosina, and my grandparents have become very fond of each other, and it's been a favorite of theirs for the past year. The cuisine is authentic Italian food, with recipes inspired from generations upon generations of Rosina's family. Though she wasn't there last night (I had the pleasure of meeting her when I went there with my grandparents back in May), she made sure to make the evening special by giving us a complimentary anti-pasta made of fresh squash, eggplant, mushrooms, and red peppers. We also shared stuffed banana peppers with mozzarella and sausage. Our entrees were a spread of delicious Saltimbocca, the Escarole fish special, four cheese fettuccine with Italian sausage (the best and heaviest dish), and chicken Parmesan. Overall, the dinner was fantastic and the company even better.
I gave my grandparents a first edition paperback of Gone With the Wind, which I purchased at the bazaar outside my office on Thursday for only $6.00. My grandmother loved the gift, and praised me for my thoughtfulness. But in all honesty, they deserve much more than a book to celebrate their sixty years of marriage. My grandparents met at Penn State after my grandfather returned from the war. They were married after knowing each other less than a year, and even though they joke all the time about how they don't like each other, it's clear that they have been happy ever since.
My parents also met in college in Baltimore. They were married after about 4 years of courtship, and they drove across country to San Diego from Baltimore after their wedding. I was born a few years later, and my brother three years after me. As I've grown older, my parents are more open about stories of how they met and things that happened while they were dating. Last night my dad told me how my mom cried on their first night out at dinner when they moved from Del Mar to Encinitas because they weren't eating at her favorite restaurant anymore. They've since made it through 5 other moves, several different jobs, two college tuition's, 5 pets, and some pretty horrendous family vacations - I'm not even going to get into the disaster that was Key West December '04.
What's the secret to a happy marriage? From watching my parents and my grandparents, I'd say it's a few things: 1) the ability to laugh together and to have fun, and not to take each other too seriously. 2) the ability to make decisions together, even if it means letting go of your stubborn views. 3) The ability to be honest with each other, and especially with your children.
Here's to you guys! Happy Anniversary, and may you have 50 more combined years of wedded bliss!
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
The Core of Wine Madness
One of the highlights of the San Diego Morrison Family Vacation is always the annual "Wine Madness" evening. Every summer we get together for a big dinner party, complete with at least 12 different bottles of wine (not necessarily all finished by the end of the night). All wines are contributions of those in attendance; the original members of the elite La Jolla Bragging and Tasting Club (it's elite because nobody knows about it). This is the most intelligent, eclectic group of men I have ever met:
Siggins: 72 years old, surfer, neuroscientist, Harvard grad and musician (and it goes without saying, wine connoisseur). Always brings great dessert wines. Has three children, from two different generations. Currently unmarried. Claim to fame: taught Bob Dylan how to ride a motorcycle, and dated Linda Rondstadt.
Tibor: 60ish years old, mechanical engineer with a PhD in Psychology. Incredible collection of wines from the 70's and 80's. Never married, no children, but the Godfather to my brother. Once stopped wearing shoes for more than an entire year. Phenomenal cook (if you don't mind eating dinner at 10pm). Not-so-secret talent: can fall asleep sitting up, without any backing (i.e. on a piano bench)
Greg: 53 years old, molecular biologist, wine maker, architecture guru, gym buff, lady killer. Has a taste for bret wines, but loves a good Spanish wine (and Spanish lady). Unmarried, no children. Soon to be a member to La Jolla Bragging and Tasting Club. Coolest body ink: double helix tattoos on each bicep, designed by Odile Crick - wife of Francis Crick.
Jeff: 50ish years old, Only non-neuroscientist with degrees from Cal Tech. Wine genius. Loves a good Zin or an old Cab. Married, two children. Not an official member of the LBTC, but certainly an honorary member. Little known fact: got an 1600 on his SATs, way before they were out of 2400.
C-Lai: 50ish years old, Hawaiian, neuroscientist who recently relocated to Indiana (we missed him this year). Known for bringing blind tastings, and can usually trick every taster. Unmarried, no children, international slut slash Buddhist. Survivor: fully recovered from Lymphoma Cancer.
John: 57 years old, neuroscientist, med school dean, Yankee fan, fisher, world's greatest dad. Known for pouring wine down the drain if it's "no good." Married, two intelligent and lovely children. Collection facts: has been collecting since age 25, and currently holds about 1,000 bottles.
There you have it. The essential Wine Madness crew. These men have taught me 75% of everything I know about tasting wine (the other 25% coming from classes). Last night was a special night for me because I brought the blind wine! And I am pleased to report that it slipped by all who tasted, though they came pretty close by guessing the grape and general region. Kudos, gentlemen.
Siggins: 72 years old, surfer, neuroscientist, Harvard grad and musician (and it goes without saying, wine connoisseur). Always brings great dessert wines. Has three children, from two different generations. Currently unmarried. Claim to fame: taught Bob Dylan how to ride a motorcycle, and dated Linda Rondstadt.
Tibor: 60ish years old, mechanical engineer with a PhD in Psychology. Incredible collection of wines from the 70's and 80's. Never married, no children, but the Godfather to my brother. Once stopped wearing shoes for more than an entire year. Phenomenal cook (if you don't mind eating dinner at 10pm). Not-so-secret talent: can fall asleep sitting up, without any backing (i.e. on a piano bench)
Greg: 53 years old, molecular biologist, wine maker, architecture guru, gym buff, lady killer. Has a taste for bret wines, but loves a good Spanish wine (and Spanish lady). Unmarried, no children. Soon to be a member to La Jolla Bragging and Tasting Club. Coolest body ink: double helix tattoos on each bicep, designed by Odile Crick - wife of Francis Crick.
Jeff: 50ish years old, Only non-neuroscientist with degrees from Cal Tech. Wine genius. Loves a good Zin or an old Cab. Married, two children. Not an official member of the LBTC, but certainly an honorary member. Little known fact: got an 1600 on his SATs, way before they were out of 2400.
C-Lai: 50ish years old, Hawaiian, neuroscientist who recently relocated to Indiana (we missed him this year). Known for bringing blind tastings, and can usually trick every taster. Unmarried, no children, international slut slash Buddhist. Survivor: fully recovered from Lymphoma Cancer.
John: 57 years old, neuroscientist, med school dean, Yankee fan, fisher, world's greatest dad. Known for pouring wine down the drain if it's "no good." Married, two intelligent and lovely children. Collection facts: has been collecting since age 25, and currently holds about 1,000 bottles.
There you have it. The essential Wine Madness crew. These men have taught me 75% of everything I know about tasting wine (the other 25% coming from classes). Last night was a special night for me because I brought the blind wine! And I am pleased to report that it slipped by all who tasted, though they came pretty close by guessing the grape and general region. Kudos, gentlemen.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Morrison Family Summer Vacation
It's my favorite time of summer again! Every August, I spend a week with my parents and brother on the beach in Carlsbad, California (North Coast of San Diego). We've been staying in the same two-story condo on the beach for the past 15 years, and every year it gets better and better.
While they fly six hours from New York to get here, it takes me less than an hour and a half to fly from San Francisco. Every year my dad says "Now, we have to go to sleep at 9 tonight so that we're not jet lagged this week." Fortunately, this statement no longer applies to me (though, I still end up going to bed early and waking up early because that's how vacation works). Normally a mere comment like this would send my brother into his groaning eye-roll, but he agrees with my dad this time and mentions that it would be nice to wake up early and take advantage of the day.
Before settling into our condo, we stop for a nice lunch in Del Mar Heights. We sit atop the roof patio, sipping on a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc and talking about how well our parents brought us up with such an open communication about drugs and alcohol. After our lunch arrives, we decide to order another bottle because, after all, we ARE Morrisons.
The rest of our afternoon consists of Mommy and me, Daddy and he activities: manicures and pedicures and some window shopping, and a trip to BevMo to stock up on booze (which will honestly probably only last the first two nights, if that) and a stop by the 24-Hour gym to sign up for the week - God forbid my brother goes a week without pumping iron. My dad pays a whopping $15 for the three of us to use the gym for the week, and he doesn't shut up about this deal, and he probably won't for the rest of the vacation.
We order take-out from our favorite California-Italian restaurant up the street, and watch the sunset - a family tradition for the first night of every summer vacation. My dad goes Ape-shit if he doesn't get to see the sunset at least four out of the six nights we're here. "That's what we're paying for! Sunset on the beach and the sound of the ocean in our bedrooms!" It never gets old.
After two bottles of white, and one of red, my mom suggests it's time to open another bottle of red. The four of us finish off the last of the four bottles of wine, sitting in front of my brothers laptop watching the Yankee game, streaming live from mlb.com. While my brother and my parents are DIE HARD Yankees fans, it only comes out in me when I am with them. Or if they're playing the Red Sox. In any case, the four of us sit together on the couch watching the game, making jokes and laughing about how ridiculous we would look to any other normal person.
At the ages of 24 and 20, I suppose my younger brother and I are old enough now to actually enjoy time spent with each other and with our parents. My parents have become more like friends to me, and I hope that my brother gets to that point soon. I can tell he is still annoyed by our constant presence around him, but hopefully he will be able to make it through the rest of the week without cringing.
While they fly six hours from New York to get here, it takes me less than an hour and a half to fly from San Francisco. Every year my dad says "Now, we have to go to sleep at 9 tonight so that we're not jet lagged this week." Fortunately, this statement no longer applies to me (though, I still end up going to bed early and waking up early because that's how vacation works). Normally a mere comment like this would send my brother into his groaning eye-roll, but he agrees with my dad this time and mentions that it would be nice to wake up early and take advantage of the day.
Before settling into our condo, we stop for a nice lunch in Del Mar Heights. We sit atop the roof patio, sipping on a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc and talking about how well our parents brought us up with such an open communication about drugs and alcohol. After our lunch arrives, we decide to order another bottle because, after all, we ARE Morrisons.
The rest of our afternoon consists of Mommy and me, Daddy and he activities: manicures and pedicures and some window shopping, and a trip to BevMo to stock up on booze (which will honestly probably only last the first two nights, if that) and a stop by the 24-Hour gym to sign up for the week - God forbid my brother goes a week without pumping iron. My dad pays a whopping $15 for the three of us to use the gym for the week, and he doesn't shut up about this deal, and he probably won't for the rest of the vacation.
We order take-out from our favorite California-Italian restaurant up the street, and watch the sunset - a family tradition for the first night of every summer vacation. My dad goes Ape-shit if he doesn't get to see the sunset at least four out of the six nights we're here. "That's what we're paying for! Sunset on the beach and the sound of the ocean in our bedrooms!" It never gets old.
After two bottles of white, and one of red, my mom suggests it's time to open another bottle of red. The four of us finish off the last of the four bottles of wine, sitting in front of my brothers laptop watching the Yankee game, streaming live from mlb.com. While my brother and my parents are DIE HARD Yankees fans, it only comes out in me when I am with them. Or if they're playing the Red Sox. In any case, the four of us sit together on the couch watching the game, making jokes and laughing about how ridiculous we would look to any other normal person.
At the ages of 24 and 20, I suppose my younger brother and I are old enough now to actually enjoy time spent with each other and with our parents. My parents have become more like friends to me, and I hope that my brother gets to that point soon. I can tell he is still annoyed by our constant presence around him, but hopefully he will be able to make it through the rest of the week without cringing.
Monday, August 3, 2009
Carneros Knows Best
As many of you readers know, I enjoy frequent rendezvous in Wine Country from time to time. Yesterday, I traveled to the Carneros region between Napa and Sonoma for some wine tasting with my brother, Alex, and friend, Brion. Not only were we able to implement a relaxing, "go with the flow" schedule, but we ventured to four wineries that I had never been to, all within 5 miles of each other.
Jacuzzi: Recommended by a friend, we decided to make this our first stop. You can hardly miss it if you're heading up to wine country via the 101, to the 37, to the 121. It's only been around for a couple of years, but the wine is great, and complimentary tastings to boot! We tasted a great Sangiovese and a fantastic Barbera, but it was the Nero D'Avola that stole my heart and I just had to buy a bottle. We also tasted a reserve Valeriano, which is a unique blend of 41% Cabernet Sauvignon, 31% Merlot, 18% Cabernet Franc, 9% Malbec, 1% Petite Verdot. Highly recommended! And don't forget to visit the olive oil tasting bar on your way out!
Domaine Carneros: If you've ever driven down Route 12 towards Napa, then you've seen this beautiful mansion perched atop a hill. Owned by the Tattinger family and known for their sparkling wines, it's a great place to sit outside and sip on some bubbly while admiring the scenery (both land and people - Alex and Brion were especially taken with a bevy of beautiful barely clothed women that strolled by our table). We decided to buy a $26 bottle of their 2005 Vintage Brut because it was the most cost-efficient-get-you-a-little-boozy option. Both the bubbles and service were excellent! I managed to spill two glasses of champagne all over myself with one fell swoop of my hand (Brion saved the glasses and most of the sparking wine), and the server came by to fill up our glasses with the contents of what we had lost in the casualty. Kudos!
Bouchaine: Best stop of the day. Not too far from Domaine Carneros, Bouchaine is tucked back on a private road off of Los Amigos, and it straddles the Napa Valley-Carneros border. We brought some sandwiches with us, and they graciously let us picnic in the back (even though it's usually reserved for members only) before starting out tasting. Once finishes, we moved up to the outdoor tasting deck and sampled several fantastic wines. We started with a non-buttery Chene d'Argent Chardonnay that was delicious (we had to buy a bottle), and then we were poured the Pinot Gris which was also pretty tasty. My favorite white was the Gewurztraminer, which I put in a special request for after I noticed they only produced 240 bottles. The nose was sweet and floral, like nectar and daisies, and the palette was smooth and tangy - not like the typical sweet Gewurz that you get in Napa. We also sampled some great reds, including a Pinot Noir, Pinot Meunier and a Syrah. The atmosphere was so pleasant, and the servers were a delight. Definitely a must for anyone who is tasting in the area. They close at 4pm though, so don't delay!
Gundlach Bundschu: Had we known most of the wineries in Carneros close at 4pm on Sundays, we may have moved more quickly. Fortunately we discovered that Gundlach Bundschu (in Southern Sonoma) stays open until 4:30pm! So we rushed over there for our last tasting, and it was well worth it! For $5 per person, we tasted 4 wines each from a list of 8 or 9 vintages. I started with a nice Gewurz, and moved on to a delicious Temperanillo (which we ended up buying), followed by a spicy Zin and a smooth Cab - all good choices and three of them are only available at the winery. The winery has lots of property, and they even host concerts and other benefits in the picnic grounds above the tasting room. Definitely a fun place to check out if you're looking for one last stop before heading back to Fog City.
All in all, tasting in Carneros is a lovely experience, and pretty unique as far as tasting outside Napa goes. It was nice to avoid the crowds and snobs in Napa that a gorgeous day like yesterday tends to bring in. It should also be noted that we were only charged for one tasting! Granted, we bought bottles at every other spot, but the prices were good so what can I say?
Jacuzzi: Recommended by a friend, we decided to make this our first stop. You can hardly miss it if you're heading up to wine country via the 101, to the 37, to the 121. It's only been around for a couple of years, but the wine is great, and complimentary tastings to boot! We tasted a great Sangiovese and a fantastic Barbera, but it was the Nero D'Avola that stole my heart and I just had to buy a bottle. We also tasted a reserve Valeriano, which is a unique blend of 41% Cabernet Sauvignon, 31% Merlot, 18% Cabernet Franc, 9% Malbec, 1% Petite Verdot. Highly recommended! And don't forget to visit the olive oil tasting bar on your way out!
Domaine Carneros: If you've ever driven down Route 12 towards Napa, then you've seen this beautiful mansion perched atop a hill. Owned by the Tattinger family and known for their sparkling wines, it's a great place to sit outside and sip on some bubbly while admiring the scenery (both land and people - Alex and Brion were especially taken with a bevy of beautiful barely clothed women that strolled by our table). We decided to buy a $26 bottle of their 2005 Vintage Brut because it was the most cost-efficient-get-you-a-little-boozy option. Both the bubbles and service were excellent! I managed to spill two glasses of champagne all over myself with one fell swoop of my hand (Brion saved the glasses and most of the sparking wine), and the server came by to fill up our glasses with the contents of what we had lost in the casualty. Kudos!
Bouchaine: Best stop of the day. Not too far from Domaine Carneros, Bouchaine is tucked back on a private road off of Los Amigos, and it straddles the Napa Valley-Carneros border. We brought some sandwiches with us, and they graciously let us picnic in the back (even though it's usually reserved for members only) before starting out tasting. Once finishes, we moved up to the outdoor tasting deck and sampled several fantastic wines. We started with a non-buttery Chene d'Argent Chardonnay that was delicious (we had to buy a bottle), and then we were poured the Pinot Gris which was also pretty tasty. My favorite white was the Gewurztraminer, which I put in a special request for after I noticed they only produced 240 bottles. The nose was sweet and floral, like nectar and daisies, and the palette was smooth and tangy - not like the typical sweet Gewurz that you get in Napa. We also sampled some great reds, including a Pinot Noir, Pinot Meunier and a Syrah. The atmosphere was so pleasant, and the servers were a delight. Definitely a must for anyone who is tasting in the area. They close at 4pm though, so don't delay!
Gundlach Bundschu: Had we known most of the wineries in Carneros close at 4pm on Sundays, we may have moved more quickly. Fortunately we discovered that Gundlach Bundschu (in Southern Sonoma) stays open until 4:30pm! So we rushed over there for our last tasting, and it was well worth it! For $5 per person, we tasted 4 wines each from a list of 8 or 9 vintages. I started with a nice Gewurz, and moved on to a delicious Temperanillo (which we ended up buying), followed by a spicy Zin and a smooth Cab - all good choices and three of them are only available at the winery. The winery has lots of property, and they even host concerts and other benefits in the picnic grounds above the tasting room. Definitely a fun place to check out if you're looking for one last stop before heading back to Fog City.
All in all, tasting in Carneros is a lovely experience, and pretty unique as far as tasting outside Napa goes. It was nice to avoid the crowds and snobs in Napa that a gorgeous day like yesterday tends to bring in. It should also be noted that we were only charged for one tasting! Granted, we bought bottles at every other spot, but the prices were good so what can I say?
Monday, July 20, 2009
Yummies: Volume 3
This past weekend my friend and I hosted a small, casual dinner party for six with wine pairings. It was a great group of people and a lot of fun, with some excellent summer plates including a tomato salad, green beans with basil, creamed sweet corn, and spicy pork tenderloin. One of my friends even made an apricot and raspberry pie to finish off the meal. We had a bottle of 2008 and 2007 Dry Riesling from my favorite winery in Napa Valley, Trefethen (most of us preferred the 2007 which was slightly sweeter and a little more carbonated). With dinner we had a Pinot Noir from a small winery in Mendocino called Toulouse, which I highly recommend visiting if you're ever in that area. We finished off the night with some Gruet Champagne, which my friend picked out, and it was fantastic!
The tomato salad I made was a concoction I came up with after dining on something similar at a luncheon a few weeks ago. It was a huge hit with everyone, and so easy to make. If you have access to a local farmers market, I would recommend getting your tomatoes there. The other ingredients can be purchased at a supermarket, but if you have them at your Farmer's Market then you can save some money that way.
Ingredients (serves 6 as a nice first course)
-2 large red tomatoes
-3 small green tomatoes
-2 large purple heirloom tomatoes
-1 small watermelon (of orange or yellow variety is good, but red is fine too)
-fennel
-spring salad mix
-1/3 cup pine nuts
-1/2 cup crumbled feta cheese
Red Wine Vinaigrette Dressing:
-1/4 cup red wine vinegar
-3/4 cup olive oil
-1/2 teaspoon Dijon mustard
-salt and pepper to taste
-pinch of sugar
-pour all ingredients in a jar and shake vigorously
Directions:
-cut off the heart of the fennel and slice it into small slivers. Probably want about a cup or so.
-chop tomatoes into chunks
-chop watermelon into smaller chunks
-combine all ingredients (including pine nuts and feta) in bowl. Cover and chill for one hour before serving
To plate:
-put spring salad mix into bottom of bowls or on plates
-add tomato salad
-pour about a 2 Tablespoons or less of the dressing over it
Serve and enjoy!
The tomato salad I made was a concoction I came up with after dining on something similar at a luncheon a few weeks ago. It was a huge hit with everyone, and so easy to make. If you have access to a local farmers market, I would recommend getting your tomatoes there. The other ingredients can be purchased at a supermarket, but if you have them at your Farmer's Market then you can save some money that way.
Ingredients (serves 6 as a nice first course)
-2 large red tomatoes
-3 small green tomatoes
-2 large purple heirloom tomatoes
-1 small watermelon (of orange or yellow variety is good, but red is fine too)
-fennel
-spring salad mix
-1/3 cup pine nuts
-1/2 cup crumbled feta cheese
Red Wine Vinaigrette Dressing:
-1/4 cup red wine vinegar
-3/4 cup olive oil
-1/2 teaspoon Dijon mustard
-salt and pepper to taste
-pinch of sugar
-pour all ingredients in a jar and shake vigorously
Directions:
-cut off the heart of the fennel and slice it into small slivers. Probably want about a cup or so.
-chop tomatoes into chunks
-chop watermelon into smaller chunks
-combine all ingredients (including pine nuts and feta) in bowl. Cover and chill for one hour before serving
To plate:
-put spring salad mix into bottom of bowls or on plates
-add tomato salad
-pour about a 2 Tablespoons or less of the dressing over it
Serve and enjoy!
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Breves Cultch
breves: n. the language in which one speaks in shortened words and phrases. i.e. "She's a mast[er] at breves." also: breving, breved
I mentioned in my very first post that I would be using a lot of abbreviations. I've since realized I have strayed from my promise so I thought I would devote an entire post the the art of abbreviation.
I thought that I was a frequent brever, using words like "obvi" and "totes" and "perf" in casual conversation. Then I spent this past weekend with some people who use "breving" as a common language, and I realized I am way behind in this linguistic culture. Some examples you may not know about:
-cultch --> culture
-ovs --> over (i.e. "come ovs")
-fantast --> fantastic
-sched --> schedule
-effish --> efficient (i.e. "breving is way more effish")
-offish --> official
-d-mech --> defense mechanism
-conversash --> conversation
-awky --> awkward
You get the point.
Here are some rules to follow:
1. Any word ending in -ion can be breved to the root word (i.e. reune = reunion)
2. If its 2+ syllables you can cut off the end and add an s (i.e. totes = totally)
3. If you want to be really annoying, you can add an ies or y to a breve (i.e. whenevsies = whenever or flexy --> flexible).
4. Some are better left said than typed because they just start to look unness (unnecessary). For example, I was told that the breve for obnoxious is spelled "obnoxch" but that looks so bizzaro on paper. Wouldn't you just spell it onbox? Apparently when it ends in -ious you have to add a ch. This is one rule I don't quite agree with but I thought I should include it in this offish breakdown of breving.
5. When in doubt, just cut off the last part of the word and breve it how ever it sounds best.
You can also choose to breve with the end of the word instead of the beginning. For example: "spansh". Spansh is the breved version of expansion (dropping the -ion, of course).
Spansh is also a word that is used to describe another type of breving: when you add an expansion to the word that makes it more fun to say. Here are some examples:
-flexies --> flexible
-perfies --> perfect
-wasticles --> wasted
-tomatsies --> tomatoes
-obnoxical --> obnoxious, like this post.
The important thing to remember is that if you're confused by a breve, pay close attention to the context of the sentence and you should be able to figure out what the person is trying to say. And if that still doesn't work then just punch them in the mouth and say "sorrsies!"
I mentioned in my very first post that I would be using a lot of abbreviations. I've since realized I have strayed from my promise so I thought I would devote an entire post the the art of abbreviation.
I thought that I was a frequent brever, using words like "obvi" and "totes" and "perf" in casual conversation. Then I spent this past weekend with some people who use "breving" as a common language, and I realized I am way behind in this linguistic culture. Some examples you may not know about:
-cultch --> culture
-ovs --> over (i.e. "come ovs")
-fantast --> fantastic
-sched --> schedule
-effish --> efficient (i.e. "breving is way more effish")
-offish --> official
-d-mech --> defense mechanism
-conversash --> conversation
-awky --> awkward
You get the point.
Here are some rules to follow:
1. Any word ending in -ion can be breved to the root word (i.e. reune = reunion)
2. If its 2+ syllables you can cut off the end and add an s (i.e. totes = totally)
3. If you want to be really annoying, you can add an ies or y to a breve (i.e. whenevsies = whenever or flexy --> flexible).
4. Some are better left said than typed because they just start to look unness (unnecessary). For example, I was told that the breve for obnoxious is spelled "obnoxch" but that looks so bizzaro on paper. Wouldn't you just spell it onbox? Apparently when it ends in -ious you have to add a ch. This is one rule I don't quite agree with but I thought I should include it in this offish breakdown of breving.
5. When in doubt, just cut off the last part of the word and breve it how ever it sounds best.
You can also choose to breve with the end of the word instead of the beginning. For example: "spansh". Spansh is the breved version of expansion (dropping the -ion, of course).
Spansh is also a word that is used to describe another type of breving: when you add an expansion to the word that makes it more fun to say. Here are some examples:
-flexies --> flexible
-perfies --> perfect
-wasticles --> wasted
-tomatsies --> tomatoes
-obnoxical --> obnoxious, like this post.
The important thing to remember is that if you're confused by a breve, pay close attention to the context of the sentence and you should be able to figure out what the person is trying to say. And if that still doesn't work then just punch them in the mouth and say "sorrsies!"
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Bicoasting
I spent 4th of July Weekend visiting my friends and family in New York. Thought I spent the majority of the weekend in the pristine suburbs of Rye in Westchester County, I did manage to escape to Manhattan and Brooklyn on my first night visiting. It's about a 45 minute train ride from the burbs to Grand Central station, so it's a pretty easy trek. Upon arriving at Grand Central, I hopped on the subway and made my way on two lines to get to Brooklyn. I have to admit, I definitely felt like a tourist when I couldn't figure out which direction was the right way. But I soon caught my bearings and got to my destination, sorority tote bag in hand, with the letters on the inside so no hipster Brooklynites would pass judgement. I began walking the streets of Brooklyn and caught sight of a Buffalo Exchange store, a popular thrift shop that also has a chain in San Francisco! This made me feel right at home.
As some of you may know, I'm not exactly fond of New York City. Maybe it's the competitive attitudes, or the lack of friendliness, or the sheer expense of living there - but something about living there is really unsettling for me. However, visiting for a night is the perfect taste of the city that never sleeps.
I started off the evening sharing some margaritas with my two friends who just moved into a loft in Brooklyn. Their view is spectacular, with panoramic 360 degree views of the entire city. Considering the incredible view from the back of my apartment in San Francisco, it really made me wish I had access to our roof top.
Following happy hour, I took the subway back into the East Village to meet one of my best friends from home for dinner. We ate at The Smith (some of you may recognize it from the hit MTV show The City) on Third Ave and 10th St. We dined on delicious Brooklyn style calamari (they pour spicy marinara sauce on top), Bipbimbap, and a steak salad, washed down with a delicious Martini and half a carafe of Rioja; coming to a grand total of $50 each. I was shocked. Only $50 for a two course meal in the city complete with drinks? I would definitely recommend this place to any small group, but it was a bit too noisy for a crowd of more than four.
After snapping some pics in the old-fashioned photo booth downstairs, my friend and I said our adieus and I headed off to my next destination: my friends apartment in Astor place for a few cocktails before heading out to the bars. This is where it gets a little blurry. I know we went to a bar, where I met up with another friend in the city, exchanged some text messages with another friend I was trying to catch up with, and had quite a few vodka sodas. Suddenly the black out faded and the next thing I knew we were hopping on a Latino party bus to Times Square. After a few teases on the stripper pole and a couple of lap dances, we said our goodbyes to our new friends and began our hunt for 3am New York pizza (I couldn't possibly leave without it).
By the time we get back to Brooklyn, it's nearly 5:30 and we're watching the sun rise on my friends beautiful rooftop. I come to the conclusion that I might as well take the early train back to the burbs and sleep in my own bed, rather than tossing and turning on their couch for an hour. So after scarfing down a New York bagel with cream cheese (also something I couldn't leave without having), I make my way back to Grand Central and board a train for Harrison. Naturally, I fall asleep on the train and end up in Greenwich, where I have to wait another 40 minutes to catch a local train in the opposite direction that will bring me to my car, which is parked at the Harrison train station. At least I've sobered up enough to drive at this point. What a night.
The rest of the weekend was filled with BBQs, boat rides, family, friends, and fireworks; every thing I expected in a weekend in the suburbs. But my all night rendez-vous in Manhattan was certainly a delightful surprise, and I would do it all over again in a second if I could.
Some things Manhattan does better than SF: pizza, bagels, late night bars.
Some things SF does better than NYC: recycling, smiling, and bedtime.
Thanks to everyone for a great trip!
As some of you may know, I'm not exactly fond of New York City. Maybe it's the competitive attitudes, or the lack of friendliness, or the sheer expense of living there - but something about living there is really unsettling for me. However, visiting for a night is the perfect taste of the city that never sleeps.
I started off the evening sharing some margaritas with my two friends who just moved into a loft in Brooklyn. Their view is spectacular, with panoramic 360 degree views of the entire city. Considering the incredible view from the back of my apartment in San Francisco, it really made me wish I had access to our roof top.
Following happy hour, I took the subway back into the East Village to meet one of my best friends from home for dinner. We ate at The Smith (some of you may recognize it from the hit MTV show The City) on Third Ave and 10th St. We dined on delicious Brooklyn style calamari (they pour spicy marinara sauce on top), Bipbimbap, and a steak salad, washed down with a delicious Martini and half a carafe of Rioja; coming to a grand total of $50 each. I was shocked. Only $50 for a two course meal in the city complete with drinks? I would definitely recommend this place to any small group, but it was a bit too noisy for a crowd of more than four.
After snapping some pics in the old-fashioned photo booth downstairs, my friend and I said our adieus and I headed off to my next destination: my friends apartment in Astor place for a few cocktails before heading out to the bars. This is where it gets a little blurry. I know we went to a bar, where I met up with another friend in the city, exchanged some text messages with another friend I was trying to catch up with, and had quite a few vodka sodas. Suddenly the black out faded and the next thing I knew we were hopping on a Latino party bus to Times Square. After a few teases on the stripper pole and a couple of lap dances, we said our goodbyes to our new friends and began our hunt for 3am New York pizza (I couldn't possibly leave without it).
By the time we get back to Brooklyn, it's nearly 5:30 and we're watching the sun rise on my friends beautiful rooftop. I come to the conclusion that I might as well take the early train back to the burbs and sleep in my own bed, rather than tossing and turning on their couch for an hour. So after scarfing down a New York bagel with cream cheese (also something I couldn't leave without having), I make my way back to Grand Central and board a train for Harrison. Naturally, I fall asleep on the train and end up in Greenwich, where I have to wait another 40 minutes to catch a local train in the opposite direction that will bring me to my car, which is parked at the Harrison train station. At least I've sobered up enough to drive at this point. What a night.
The rest of the weekend was filled with BBQs, boat rides, family, friends, and fireworks; every thing I expected in a weekend in the suburbs. But my all night rendez-vous in Manhattan was certainly a delightful surprise, and I would do it all over again in a second if I could.
Some things Manhattan does better than SF: pizza, bagels, late night bars.
Some things SF does better than NYC: recycling, smiling, and bedtime.
Thanks to everyone for a great trip!
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Life Planner Available!
Do you find yourself bored and lacking quality entertainment and culture in your life?
Are you sick of going to the same old smelly bar for happy hour?
Are you clueless when it comes to things like fine dining and wine tasting, but you want to learn more about it?
Are you looking to adjust your style and attitude to catch that special guy or girl?
Do you want to plan a weekend out of the city, but don't know where to go or how to get there?
DO YOU NEED A LIFE PLANNER?
If you answered yes to any or all of these questions, I'm the lady for you! Not only do I have ample experience in event planning and trip organizing, but I can also give you some every day tips to make your life less boring! From happy hour to outdoor exercise to hidden parks, I've got your afternoon planned! Want to have a great home-cooked meal but don't know how to make toast? I've got the personal chef for you! And if you're the type that likes to be waited on, I am your own personal yelp system. And in a city like this, be sure not to miss out on trips to the theater, concerts, and museums! Or get out of the city and take a ride up to wine country or the mountains and lakes! Let's not forget about the simple luxuries like shopping and spas; glam yourself up to get the attention of your crush! Even the simple act of using exclamation marks in your every day writing adds a little excitement to your life!
I know what you're thinking, money is an issue. And in this day's economy, you're probably right. But who cares about cost when fun is priceless! Want to know why rich people are so bored with themselves all the time? Because they need a life planner to spend their money the right way! If this sounds like you, contact me and we'll set up your first consultation. Sit back, relax, hand over your credit card and let me do the work.
Seriously though, I don't like working with a budget and I charge a steep commission so don't contact me if you're broke.
Are you sick of going to the same old smelly bar for happy hour?
Are you clueless when it comes to things like fine dining and wine tasting, but you want to learn more about it?
Are you looking to adjust your style and attitude to catch that special guy or girl?
Do you want to plan a weekend out of the city, but don't know where to go or how to get there?
DO YOU NEED A LIFE PLANNER?
If you answered yes to any or all of these questions, I'm the lady for you! Not only do I have ample experience in event planning and trip organizing, but I can also give you some every day tips to make your life less boring! From happy hour to outdoor exercise to hidden parks, I've got your afternoon planned! Want to have a great home-cooked meal but don't know how to make toast? I've got the personal chef for you! And if you're the type that likes to be waited on, I am your own personal yelp system. And in a city like this, be sure not to miss out on trips to the theater, concerts, and museums! Or get out of the city and take a ride up to wine country or the mountains and lakes! Let's not forget about the simple luxuries like shopping and spas; glam yourself up to get the attention of your crush! Even the simple act of using exclamation marks in your every day writing adds a little excitement to your life!
I know what you're thinking, money is an issue. And in this day's economy, you're probably right. But who cares about cost when fun is priceless! Want to know why rich people are so bored with themselves all the time? Because they need a life planner to spend their money the right way! If this sounds like you, contact me and we'll set up your first consultation. Sit back, relax, hand over your credit card and let me do the work.
Seriously though, I don't like working with a budget and I charge a steep commission so don't contact me if you're broke.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
What ever happened to Friday?
As my weekend agenda has began to unfold, I'm starting to realize that I rarely ever make Friday night plans anymore. By the time Thursday rolls around, I am nearly crawling the walls with anxiousness for the weekend to begin, that I forget that I have to work the next day.
The last three Thursdays, I've gone out drinking into the wee hours of the night, only to wake up with a full day of painfully boring work ahead of me. Not to mention an excruciating hangover that can be somewhat remedied by a greasy breakfast, which only makes me feel worse a few hours later. I end up having to cancel my Friday Happy Hour plans because the thought of alcohol at 5pm makes me wretch, and all I want is to get home and indulge in a stoned nap. If I'm lucky, I get myself out of bed by 8, shower, and out of the house by 9. But I usually don't even make it passed midnight, when my level of intoxication combats with my desire to fall asleep at the bar. But by Saturday I manage to sleep until 10am (if I'm not awaken earlier by my lively roommates or my internal alarm clock), squeeze a yoga class in, then head to the park for some weekend relaxation. As soon as 6pm hits, I'm ready to rage again (that is, if I haven't already had an early start at the park or at a neighborhood BBQ). Most Saturday's I can make it until at least 2am, which is when the bars close in San Francisco (I know all you New Yorkers and Chicagoans are smirking right now). The best nights are when I'm strolling home and all the bodegas are already closed and the street is so empty that you would think I'm in the middle of a scene from 28 Days Later. Then I know I've accomplished a good night out.
I suppose it works out rather well this way, because I get a day in between each night of drunken stupor to regain my energy. If only I could find some way to balance it all out; if only I only had to go to work every other day. Then the world would be a perfect place.
The last three Thursdays, I've gone out drinking into the wee hours of the night, only to wake up with a full day of painfully boring work ahead of me. Not to mention an excruciating hangover that can be somewhat remedied by a greasy breakfast, which only makes me feel worse a few hours later. I end up having to cancel my Friday Happy Hour plans because the thought of alcohol at 5pm makes me wretch, and all I want is to get home and indulge in a stoned nap. If I'm lucky, I get myself out of bed by 8, shower, and out of the house by 9. But I usually don't even make it passed midnight, when my level of intoxication combats with my desire to fall asleep at the bar. But by Saturday I manage to sleep until 10am (if I'm not awaken earlier by my lively roommates or my internal alarm clock), squeeze a yoga class in, then head to the park for some weekend relaxation. As soon as 6pm hits, I'm ready to rage again (that is, if I haven't already had an early start at the park or at a neighborhood BBQ). Most Saturday's I can make it until at least 2am, which is when the bars close in San Francisco (I know all you New Yorkers and Chicagoans are smirking right now). The best nights are when I'm strolling home and all the bodegas are already closed and the street is so empty that you would think I'm in the middle of a scene from 28 Days Later. Then I know I've accomplished a good night out.
I suppose it works out rather well this way, because I get a day in between each night of drunken stupor to regain my energy. If only I could find some way to balance it all out; if only I only had to go to work every other day. Then the world would be a perfect place.
Monday, June 15, 2009
Camping in style
This past weekend I went with two of my girlfriends on a little 3.5 hour road trip up to Mendocino, a beautiful area with Redwoods, campground, hiking, beaches, and of course wine tasting. Really can't get any better than that.
I booked a great camp site months ago (Site #25 - I recommend it) in the Russian Gulch State Park, off of Route 1 about 15 miles from Hwy 128. Our site was located on the bend of this stream that lined the campground, right between the toilets and the showers. The space to put our tents was right next to the stream, shaded by a big tree which offered mucho privacy (especially nice for couple camping). The ground came with a fire pit, lock box, picnic table, and parking spot - pretty standard for most car camping sites. We stayed for two nights and woke up each morning to the sounds of birds chirping, water rippling, and the occasional laughing or screaming child (apparently this came ground is also great for families with small children).
On Saturday, after having some breakfast and a couple early morning Bud Lights, we put on our sundresses and hopped in the car to drive a half hour south for some wine tasting. All the wine tasting in Navarro county is free, with the exception of 4 or 5 places (whom charge $10 max). This not only makes for a cheap day, but it gives you a much more relaxed mentality that you certainly won't get in Napa or St. Helena. Our first stop was Roderer, where we sampled some sparking wine and got the evil eye a couple times from the pourer. Needless to say, the wine was decent but the service lacked. Next we drove about 30 feet to Husch, which was one of the very first wineries established in the county. They operate out of a little cabin with some tables out back, and they offer many wines that are only available in the tasting room, including their T-Bud Dry Cuvee Gewurztraminer and Old Vine Zinfandel (both of which I couldn't resist purchasing). They also have a fantastic Chardonnay and some very nice Pinot Noirs (FYI: the entire valley is known for producing sweet whites like Riesling and Gewurztraminer, but also for their bold and fruity Pinot Noirs. This mainly has to do with the cooler climate that is caused by their proximity to the ocean, but for more information click here). We also stopped at Navarro Vineyards, which features a list of 14+ wines to choose from, and you can even taste all of them if you want, FOR FREE! They also have a nice little picnic area to bring some cheese and bread to munch on. Our next stop was a little young winery called Toulouse. It rests on top of the hill, with great views of the mountains and valley, and some excellent wines to taste, including a delicious Rose Pinot Noir, and a 2006 Pinot Noir that makes licorice taste like chocolate when you consume them together. Our last stop was Goldeneye, which is a "fancy" little spot by the same team the produces Duckhorn and Paraduxx in Napa Valley. We sat on their outdoor patio and grazed with some cheese and currants, before taking a walk through the vineyard. The sun was shining and the wine was flowing! Though Goldeneye charges for their tastings, it's totally worth it.
After chowing down on some sandwiches to soak up the day's alcohol intake, we rode back to the campground for some more relaxation. I was in charge of the fire pit for the weekend, and I did a pretty damn good job. I learned how to build a fire from my ex-boyfriend on my last camping trip and I must say it definitely came in handy for this one. My fire rocked! We cooked up some ground turkey and veggie burritos and some grilled veggies and had a little outdoor feast, complete with whiskey and apple juice - my favorite camping beverage. After some card games, star gazing and chit chat, we headed to our tents for another night of slumber in the great outdoors.
After cleaning up the site the next morning, we went on a long hike through the back of the camp grounds. We hiked to the top of a mountain, filled with century-old Redwood trees, purple flowers, and some narrow pathways. Once we reached the top, we descended into a beautiful waterfall, where we took a rest and fed some Cheez-its to a fatty chipmunk. All-in-all, a great hike to cap off a fantastic sunny weekend. If you have an interest in wine, or you just like to camp and be in a serene environment - definitely make the trip to Mendocino this summer.
I booked a great camp site months ago (Site #25 - I recommend it) in the Russian Gulch State Park, off of Route 1 about 15 miles from Hwy 128. Our site was located on the bend of this stream that lined the campground, right between the toilets and the showers. The space to put our tents was right next to the stream, shaded by a big tree which offered mucho privacy (especially nice for couple camping). The ground came with a fire pit, lock box, picnic table, and parking spot - pretty standard for most car camping sites. We stayed for two nights and woke up each morning to the sounds of birds chirping, water rippling, and the occasional laughing or screaming child (apparently this came ground is also great for families with small children).
On Saturday, after having some breakfast and a couple early morning Bud Lights, we put on our sundresses and hopped in the car to drive a half hour south for some wine tasting. All the wine tasting in Navarro county is free, with the exception of 4 or 5 places (whom charge $10 max). This not only makes for a cheap day, but it gives you a much more relaxed mentality that you certainly won't get in Napa or St. Helena. Our first stop was Roderer, where we sampled some sparking wine and got the evil eye a couple times from the pourer. Needless to say, the wine was decent but the service lacked. Next we drove about 30 feet to Husch, which was one of the very first wineries established in the county. They operate out of a little cabin with some tables out back, and they offer many wines that are only available in the tasting room, including their T-Bud Dry Cuvee Gewurztraminer and Old Vine Zinfandel (both of which I couldn't resist purchasing). They also have a fantastic Chardonnay and some very nice Pinot Noirs (FYI: the entire valley is known for producing sweet whites like Riesling and Gewurztraminer, but also for their bold and fruity Pinot Noirs. This mainly has to do with the cooler climate that is caused by their proximity to the ocean, but for more information click here). We also stopped at Navarro Vineyards, which features a list of 14+ wines to choose from, and you can even taste all of them if you want, FOR FREE! They also have a nice little picnic area to bring some cheese and bread to munch on. Our next stop was a little young winery called Toulouse. It rests on top of the hill, with great views of the mountains and valley, and some excellent wines to taste, including a delicious Rose Pinot Noir, and a 2006 Pinot Noir that makes licorice taste like chocolate when you consume them together. Our last stop was Goldeneye, which is a "fancy" little spot by the same team the produces Duckhorn and Paraduxx in Napa Valley. We sat on their outdoor patio and grazed with some cheese and currants, before taking a walk through the vineyard. The sun was shining and the wine was flowing! Though Goldeneye charges for their tastings, it's totally worth it.
After chowing down on some sandwiches to soak up the day's alcohol intake, we rode back to the campground for some more relaxation. I was in charge of the fire pit for the weekend, and I did a pretty damn good job. I learned how to build a fire from my ex-boyfriend on my last camping trip and I must say it definitely came in handy for this one. My fire rocked! We cooked up some ground turkey and veggie burritos and some grilled veggies and had a little outdoor feast, complete with whiskey and apple juice - my favorite camping beverage. After some card games, star gazing and chit chat, we headed to our tents for another night of slumber in the great outdoors.
After cleaning up the site the next morning, we went on a long hike through the back of the camp grounds. We hiked to the top of a mountain, filled with century-old Redwood trees, purple flowers, and some narrow pathways. Once we reached the top, we descended into a beautiful waterfall, where we took a rest and fed some Cheez-its to a fatty chipmunk. All-in-all, a great hike to cap off a fantastic sunny weekend. If you have an interest in wine, or you just like to camp and be in a serene environment - definitely make the trip to Mendocino this summer.
Friday, June 5, 2009
Gems
Most Gemini creatures are pretty extreme in their astrological qualities. And if you don't fall in line with the zodiac sign, then I feel sorry for you. What makes the Gemini sign so cool is that it's the sign of the Twin, which means we have an astrological excuse to switch into bitch-mode whenever we want to.
I'm a super Gemini. So much so, that I tattooed this symbol on my the back of my left shoulder right around my 21st Birthday when I was studying in Brighton, England. Just to name a few positive qualities; popularity, wit, sharp humor, great thinkers, playfulness, determination, sincerity. Gemini's also pick up on other people's qualities very easily, and can quickly wrap our head around an idea that others may find perplexing.
However, with these excellent attributes come several pitfalls. We're easily distracted, and can get bored quickly with an idea after it is no longer new. We are also competitive with the same sex, and can be manipulative when it comes to maneuvering relationships with the opposite sex. But really, who doesn't play games?
With my birthday coming up next week, I find that this is my peak Gemini time. All of my qualities come through in even stronger ways than usual, and all the signs are aligned for good things to happen.
If you're a fellow Gemini, than you know what I'm talking about. And if you're of a different zodiac sign, than you're probably just insanely jealous right now. Did I mention that Gemini's also have a problem with being modest? ;-)
I'm a super Gemini. So much so, that I tattooed this symbol on my the back of my left shoulder right around my 21st Birthday when I was studying in Brighton, England. Just to name a few positive qualities; popularity, wit, sharp humor, great thinkers, playfulness, determination, sincerity. Gemini's also pick up on other people's qualities very easily, and can quickly wrap our head around an idea that others may find perplexing.
However, with these excellent attributes come several pitfalls. We're easily distracted, and can get bored quickly with an idea after it is no longer new. We are also competitive with the same sex, and can be manipulative when it comes to maneuvering relationships with the opposite sex. But really, who doesn't play games?
With my birthday coming up next week, I find that this is my peak Gemini time. All of my qualities come through in even stronger ways than usual, and all the signs are aligned for good things to happen.
If you're a fellow Gemini, than you know what I'm talking about. And if you're of a different zodiac sign, than you're probably just insanely jealous right now. Did I mention that Gemini's also have a problem with being modest? ;-)
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Detox 101
This week I am doing some detox for the sake of my liver. I'm pretty sure I have been doing some non-stop partying since Cinco de Mayo (though my college friend insists it's been since September 2003), and it's time I gave myself a little break.
I've done the lemon cleanse a couple of times - you know, the one where you drink nothing but three 32 ounce bottles of water mixed with lemons, grade B Maple syrup, and cayenne pepper all day long. Well if you don't know, let me tell you it's simply delicious and so much fun (heavy sarcasm). Actually, it does kind of taste like Gatorade after a while, but I don't know if that's a good thing. Anyway, you're supposed to drink this stuff for 10 days, but I've only ever made it to four and then the desire to chew something really kicks in and I have to quit. It does make you feel great though, so I would recommend trying it if you feel the need to cleanse yourself. It works especially well if you're starting a new diet.
If you don't feel like starving yourself, you can do a fruit and veggies fast for a couple of days. This works especially well if you have a juicer or blender so that you can make some tasty beverages. Just leave out the booze because unfortunately liquor is not included in any sort of detoxification process. Same goes for nicotine, marijuana, sleeping pills, and any other thing you have stashed in your special drawer.
It's also good to throw in some exercise to keep your energy levels up. I would recommend working out in the morning before work, so your energy lasts throughout the day and you have the rest of the afternoon to relax and get to bed early. Lots of sleep is really important when you're detoxing, and probably just in life in general. And drinking lots and lots and lots of water is good because it makes you pee a lot which flushes out all the toxins.
Most of you probably know all of this already because a lot of it is common sense. And if this is the first time you've even thought about the idea of detoxing, well you probably need more professional help than anything you're going to get from me...
I've done the lemon cleanse a couple of times - you know, the one where you drink nothing but three 32 ounce bottles of water mixed with lemons, grade B Maple syrup, and cayenne pepper all day long. Well if you don't know, let me tell you it's simply delicious and so much fun (heavy sarcasm). Actually, it does kind of taste like Gatorade after a while, but I don't know if that's a good thing. Anyway, you're supposed to drink this stuff for 10 days, but I've only ever made it to four and then the desire to chew something really kicks in and I have to quit. It does make you feel great though, so I would recommend trying it if you feel the need to cleanse yourself. It works especially well if you're starting a new diet.
If you don't feel like starving yourself, you can do a fruit and veggies fast for a couple of days. This works especially well if you have a juicer or blender so that you can make some tasty beverages. Just leave out the booze because unfortunately liquor is not included in any sort of detoxification process. Same goes for nicotine, marijuana, sleeping pills, and any other thing you have stashed in your special drawer.
It's also good to throw in some exercise to keep your energy levels up. I would recommend working out in the morning before work, so your energy lasts throughout the day and you have the rest of the afternoon to relax and get to bed early. Lots of sleep is really important when you're detoxing, and probably just in life in general. And drinking lots and lots and lots of water is good because it makes you pee a lot which flushes out all the toxins.
Most of you probably know all of this already because a lot of it is common sense. And if this is the first time you've even thought about the idea of detoxing, well you probably need more professional help than anything you're going to get from me...
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Our Nation's Capital
I spent Memorial Day weekend visiting some college friends in Washington, D.C. It was only the second time I have visited the city as a young adult, but the first time was short and I spent most of it hanging out at my friends house. Of course, I did the whole tourist thing with my family when I was about ten, but that trip didn't turn out so well. In fact, I think we had an early departure after some tramp in the hotel gym accused my dad of sexually assaulting her when he was checking out the gym equipment and unconsciously scratched his balls (which as we all know, men do without thinking the same way women drop "like" in the middle of every sentence). Needless to say, my dad didn't take it so well and I'm pretty sure there were a few F-bombs dropped to the hotel manager after he found out that this woman wasn't even an actual hotel guest, OR member of the gym.
In any case, this weekend was a much more pleasant experience, filled with my favorite glorious B's: boozing, basking, and brunching. The weather was in the high 80's and sunny (with some scattered thunderstorm showers), and since it was a long holiday weekend there were plenty of celebratory BBQ's and pool parties. I saw lots of friends from college, some I didn't even know they lived in DC. I also managed to see some people that were also visiting for the weekend, including my favorite pair of twins who were celebrating their 24th birthday with a pool party and a keg.
I drank only beer all day on Sunday, played about 7 games of beirut, and probably could have been cajoled to do a keg stand. It was definitely a college flash back. In fact, I don't even remember the last time I spent a day drinking only beer. Probably because I don't actually like beer all that much, and drinking it all day can give you the worst beer belly hangover for about two days straight. Fortunately we were able to temporarily cure our hangovers with some make-your-own-mimosas at Memorial Day brunch, and I found out I like mango juice mimosas much more than orange juice.
Apparently, Memorial Day weekend is also the weekend that motorcycling vets ride through the Mall (the one with the important buildings, not a shopping mall) with American flags attached to their bikes. Speaking of which, D.C. is so freakin' AMERICAN! Everywhere you look, there is red, white and blue; images of Obama plastered on the sides of buildings, t-shirts, pins, storefronts, sidewalks... I thought I was going to open my burger to put ketchup on it and there would be some Obama-shaped head inside it. It's nice to see that the city has so much pride for our country's president, but I have to admit I was a littler overwhelmed by all the overt patriotism.
It was so much fun spending the weekend with my friends in an unfamiliar city, but it's nice to get back to my mosquito-less, organic, hipster-ridden San Francisco.
In any case, this weekend was a much more pleasant experience, filled with my favorite glorious B's: boozing, basking, and brunching. The weather was in the high 80's and sunny (with some scattered thunderstorm showers), and since it was a long holiday weekend there were plenty of celebratory BBQ's and pool parties. I saw lots of friends from college, some I didn't even know they lived in DC. I also managed to see some people that were also visiting for the weekend, including my favorite pair of twins who were celebrating their 24th birthday with a pool party and a keg.
I drank only beer all day on Sunday, played about 7 games of beirut, and probably could have been cajoled to do a keg stand. It was definitely a college flash back. In fact, I don't even remember the last time I spent a day drinking only beer. Probably because I don't actually like beer all that much, and drinking it all day can give you the worst beer belly hangover for about two days straight. Fortunately we were able to temporarily cure our hangovers with some make-your-own-mimosas at Memorial Day brunch, and I found out I like mango juice mimosas much more than orange juice.
Apparently, Memorial Day weekend is also the weekend that motorcycling vets ride through the Mall (the one with the important buildings, not a shopping mall) with American flags attached to their bikes. Speaking of which, D.C. is so freakin' AMERICAN! Everywhere you look, there is red, white and blue; images of Obama plastered on the sides of buildings, t-shirts, pins, storefronts, sidewalks... I thought I was going to open my burger to put ketchup on it and there would be some Obama-shaped head inside it. It's nice to see that the city has so much pride for our country's president, but I have to admit I was a littler overwhelmed by all the overt patriotism.
It was so much fun spending the weekend with my friends in an unfamiliar city, but it's nice to get back to my mosquito-less, organic, hipster-ridden San Francisco.
Monday, May 18, 2009
B2B: San Francisco's favorite city-wide holiday!
The third Sunday in May marks a glorious occasion for all San Franciscans: the annual foot race from the San Francisco Bay to the Pacific Ocean, also known as "Bay to Breakers" or the biggest shit show of the year.
Though it is often compared to New Orleans' Mardi Gras, B2B is something entirely unique and incomparable to any other city event. The actual racers take off on their 7-mile jaunt to the beach at about 8am, some in costumes that are just doing it for fun, and others in runners gear who are actually competing to make it to the shore. But for the most part, it's the band of thousands and thousands of people that follow the runners that make the day famously known for nude runners, floats adorned with kegs and women in bikinis, absurd costumes, and of course public intoxication.
This year marked the 98th Annual Bay to Breakers, and it almost didn't happen. Well, it wouldn't have been canceled per se, but there was a threat to ban alcohol and nudity, which would have taken away everything that defines Bay to Breakers. Fortunately, some city officials stepped up to support the tradition of B2B and our precious event was saved.
This was only my second Bay to Breakers, and I must admit that last year seemed a little more crazy than this year. Maybe because last year I started downtown with the rest of the drunken buffoons, or maybe because we had a bigger group and a more organized theme (Mario Kart), or maybe just because I was more drunk last year and I couldn't even make it past the half-way mark, the Panhandle. (For those of you who have never been to SF, the Panhandle is the little green strip of park that leads to Golden Gate park.) The Panhandle is really the make-or-break point of Bay to Breakers; it separates the binge drinkers from the black outers. If you can make it past the ridiculousness that is the Panhandle, than your chances of making it to the beach increase by 50%.
This year I dressed as "pink slips" with some friends of mine - we wore pink nightgowns and pinned post-its on us with messages like "downsizing" and "we're going to have to let you go." As we walked through the Panhandle this year, I was stopped by a group of cops standing around a huge pile of empty beer cans. One cop pulled on my arm and asked me to finish by beer or throw it out. I had quite a lot left, so I tried to chug it, and another cop grabbed my arm, turning the can upside down and causing the beer to spill on my toes. Annoyed, I huffed and puffed and moved along down the street, determined to make it out of the booze-trap that the Panhandle had turned into.
Before I knew it we had made it to the deYoung Museum in Golden Gate Park, only mere miles from our final destination, Ocean Beach, where we planned to run into the ocean and cool off from the 4 mile walk (we started at Alamo Square) in the unusually hot 85 degree weather. By the time we got to the beach, I was sunburned on my chest, and limping from a blister on the bottom of my foot that was the size of a quarter. But that didn't stop me from dashing to the water and falling asleep for about an hour on the hot sand.
This year did seem more tame than the last, and maybe it was because of the regulations the cops tried to enforce. Either way, I hope that it has shown the city that they can (try to) take our beer, but they can't take our freedom!
Though it is often compared to New Orleans' Mardi Gras, B2B is something entirely unique and incomparable to any other city event. The actual racers take off on their 7-mile jaunt to the beach at about 8am, some in costumes that are just doing it for fun, and others in runners gear who are actually competing to make it to the shore. But for the most part, it's the band of thousands and thousands of people that follow the runners that make the day famously known for nude runners, floats adorned with kegs and women in bikinis, absurd costumes, and of course public intoxication.
This year marked the 98th Annual Bay to Breakers, and it almost didn't happen. Well, it wouldn't have been canceled per se, but there was a threat to ban alcohol and nudity, which would have taken away everything that defines Bay to Breakers. Fortunately, some city officials stepped up to support the tradition of B2B and our precious event was saved.
This was only my second Bay to Breakers, and I must admit that last year seemed a little more crazy than this year. Maybe because last year I started downtown with the rest of the drunken buffoons, or maybe because we had a bigger group and a more organized theme (Mario Kart), or maybe just because I was more drunk last year and I couldn't even make it past the half-way mark, the Panhandle. (For those of you who have never been to SF, the Panhandle is the little green strip of park that leads to Golden Gate park.) The Panhandle is really the make-or-break point of Bay to Breakers; it separates the binge drinkers from the black outers. If you can make it past the ridiculousness that is the Panhandle, than your chances of making it to the beach increase by 50%.
This year I dressed as "pink slips" with some friends of mine - we wore pink nightgowns and pinned post-its on us with messages like "downsizing" and "we're going to have to let you go." As we walked through the Panhandle this year, I was stopped by a group of cops standing around a huge pile of empty beer cans. One cop pulled on my arm and asked me to finish by beer or throw it out. I had quite a lot left, so I tried to chug it, and another cop grabbed my arm, turning the can upside down and causing the beer to spill on my toes. Annoyed, I huffed and puffed and moved along down the street, determined to make it out of the booze-trap that the Panhandle had turned into.
Before I knew it we had made it to the deYoung Museum in Golden Gate Park, only mere miles from our final destination, Ocean Beach, where we planned to run into the ocean and cool off from the 4 mile walk (we started at Alamo Square) in the unusually hot 85 degree weather. By the time we got to the beach, I was sunburned on my chest, and limping from a blister on the bottom of my foot that was the size of a quarter. But that didn't stop me from dashing to the water and falling asleep for about an hour on the hot sand.
This year did seem more tame than the last, and maybe it was because of the regulations the cops tried to enforce. Either way, I hope that it has shown the city that they can (try to) take our beer, but they can't take our freedom!
Thursday, May 7, 2009
"Sexy" French Films
So, I love French culture. I love the language, the food, the art, the wine, the country of course, and the films. Between taking French in middle school and high school, and a French film course in college and just a general interest in French cinema, I've probably seen about 50+ French films in my life. It has only recently occurred to me that most or all of these films have sexual undertones, mostly related to incestuous relationships, molestation, familial nudity, and just a lot of boning.
I was recently lucky enough to see two French films at the San Francisco International Film Festival. The first film I saw is called Home. It's about a carefree family whose lives are disrupted when a four-lane highway opens up in their front yard. There is familial nudity in about every 4 scenes, and some inappropriate "scratching" between mother and sun. That being said, I fucking loved the movie and everyone should see it. (I didn't love it because of the nudity, but it was certainly a plus).
The second film I saw is called 35 Shots of Rum. I'm not really sure what it's about. A segmented family that lives in the same apartment building in three separate apartments? Maybe. I guess it's not really about anything. But I do know that the scenes where the mother and father were inappropriately hugging and touching each other, and saying things like "I love being here with you" - that stuff made me feel really awkward. My friend who I saw it with said, "I think that's just how French people are; really close to their family." Maybe so, but does that mean you have to dance closely with your dad while groping his back? I think not.
When I think about all the French films I saw in school, I realize this is a common theme. La Boum is about this girl who is in love with her best friends father, and she even tries to lose her virginity to him at one point (whilst she has a boyfriend of her own age). Another film I saw is called Baise-Moi which roughly translates to a) "Love Me," b) "Fuck Me," and c) "Eat Me. The film is about this cannibalistic guy who literally eats women... down there. You get it.
I could go on and on with examples, but the truth is you have to give major props to the French for being so sexy and getting away with such provocative themes. If an American film maker made a film about a guy eating womens' private parts for breakfast, lunch and dinner, I don't think it would go over very well with the critics. Maybe in Cannes, but certainly not at Sundance.
I was recently lucky enough to see two French films at the San Francisco International Film Festival. The first film I saw is called Home. It's about a carefree family whose lives are disrupted when a four-lane highway opens up in their front yard. There is familial nudity in about every 4 scenes, and some inappropriate "scratching" between mother and sun. That being said, I fucking loved the movie and everyone should see it. (I didn't love it because of the nudity, but it was certainly a plus).
The second film I saw is called 35 Shots of Rum. I'm not really sure what it's about. A segmented family that lives in the same apartment building in three separate apartments? Maybe. I guess it's not really about anything. But I do know that the scenes where the mother and father were inappropriately hugging and touching each other, and saying things like "I love being here with you" - that stuff made me feel really awkward. My friend who I saw it with said, "I think that's just how French people are; really close to their family." Maybe so, but does that mean you have to dance closely with your dad while groping his back? I think not.
When I think about all the French films I saw in school, I realize this is a common theme. La Boum is about this girl who is in love with her best friends father, and she even tries to lose her virginity to him at one point (whilst she has a boyfriend of her own age). Another film I saw is called Baise-Moi which roughly translates to a) "Love Me," b) "Fuck Me," and c) "Eat Me. The film is about this cannibalistic guy who literally eats women... down there. You get it.
I could go on and on with examples, but the truth is you have to give major props to the French for being so sexy and getting away with such provocative themes. If an American film maker made a film about a guy eating womens' private parts for breakfast, lunch and dinner, I don't think it would go over very well with the critics. Maybe in Cannes, but certainly not at Sundance.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Yummies: Volume 2
Last night my friend and I spontaneously decided to make some artichoke dip. We decided to wing it with the recipe and it actually came out pretty tasty, and was easy to make.
The key is to have fresh artichokes, not the canned or jarred kind (even though most recipes call for that). California has great artichokes this time of year, and my friend hand-picked these from Alameny Farm in the Outer Mission area of San Francisco.
Start off by boiling 2-3 artichokes for about 30 minutes to soften them up. Once boiled, cook them in the oven at 350 degrees for another 30 minutes. Take them out to see if they're cooked (heart should be soft) then let them cool for a bit.
In the mean time, mix:
-1/2 cup room temperature non-flavored soy milk
-1/2 cup finely grated Parmesan cheese
-one small tub container of cream cheese, softened
-two chopped scallions, or green onion (does anybody know the real difference?)
-10 garlic cloves - chop 3 or 4 of them and leave the rest whole
-2 or 3 Tablespoons of butter (creamy butter, like Smart Butter is recommended)
-1 teaspoon of Cayenne pepper or Paprika
Once the artichokes are done, chop up the heart and add it to the mixture. Mix well, and transfer to an oven safe container. Then place into the oven (uncovered) and heat at 350 degrees for about 20 minutes or until the top is slightly browned.
Serve with sourdough bread or crackers and enjoy!
The key is to have fresh artichokes, not the canned or jarred kind (even though most recipes call for that). California has great artichokes this time of year, and my friend hand-picked these from Alameny Farm in the Outer Mission area of San Francisco.
Start off by boiling 2-3 artichokes for about 30 minutes to soften them up. Once boiled, cook them in the oven at 350 degrees for another 30 minutes. Take them out to see if they're cooked (heart should be soft) then let them cool for a bit.
In the mean time, mix:
-1/2 cup room temperature non-flavored soy milk
-1/2 cup finely grated Parmesan cheese
-one small tub container of cream cheese, softened
-two chopped scallions, or green onion (does anybody know the real difference?)
-10 garlic cloves - chop 3 or 4 of them and leave the rest whole
-2 or 3 Tablespoons of butter (creamy butter, like Smart Butter is recommended)
-1 teaspoon of Cayenne pepper or Paprika
Once the artichokes are done, chop up the heart and add it to the mixture. Mix well, and transfer to an oven safe container. Then place into the oven (uncovered) and heat at 350 degrees for about 20 minutes or until the top is slightly browned.
Serve with sourdough bread or crackers and enjoy!
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