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.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
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.
-------------
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!
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