alan sandler's letter was remarkable ... i knew dr. sandler when we were in college and he married my close friend. He was terrific then and he has gone on to disover similarities among humans. bravo, dr. sandler!
more stories, please!
janet goodman gilmore
phiadelhia
____________
i can't eat wheat or dairy, but i almost bought the great grilled cheese book just cause it was in the corner of the homepage and it looked so delicious.
How beautiful! I especially like the one that seems as if it's been taken from the viewpoint of a bee about to land in the middle of the apple (?) blossoms, although the one of the whole tree in full bloom is quite staggering, and I also love the two of the statuesque unadorned trees...
Jamie
____________________
Amy,
The tienda catalog has chocolate covered figs, if you or Alan order again get the big box...
trust me on this one, wow!!!!
You know how sometimes you come across something that reminds you that you used to do things right? I saw the magazine Cooking Light , a magazine I used to have a subscription to and I remembered that I used to make more of an effort. And now, here it is, summer, the time when everyone wants to take off the pounds so they can fit into their bathing suits (not me, of course, because I wouldn’t dream of letting anyone see how my fat has decided to distribute itself these days) and I’m contemplating all the wonderful American food I can make and eat for the 4th of July. Macaroni and Cheese. Hot Dogs. Hamburgers. Potato Salad.
There was a time when I wouldn’t have considered eating some of them and if so, I would search for a palatable recipe that was a lighter version of that particular traditional indulgence. Then, I rebelled. “Diet food? I don’t need no steenkin’ diet food!” My big complaint about light products is some replacement ingredients tend to be sweet. Light mayonnaise is sweet, light salad dressing is sweet…these products are supposed to be savory, damnit!
Light hot dogs are hard and they don’t have the mouth feel that a casing stuffed with the right balance of meat and fat has. Baked potato chips? Please. Now? When potato chips have become practically artisan? Aw, hell no!
Cinespia screenings on the side of the mausoleum at the Hollywood Forever Cemetery have been staples of Los Angeles summertime since their first screening in 2000. Still, I was too afraid to attend until last summer. I thought watching icon filled movies amidst the sleeping corpses of the icons themselves would be too tempting to their ghosts. Would not an actor or director or musician—narcissistic by trade—want to take a final curtain call? Wouldn’t the music of applause be enough to wretch their resting spirits from eternal slumber? So I left the screenings to burgeoning hipsters and longtime cinephiles and chose to rent classic movies at Vidiots instead.
ST. PAUL, Minn. (AP) -- The Minnesota Supreme Court has ordered that
Democrat Al Franken be certified as the winner of the state's
long-running Senate race.
The high court rejected a legal
challenge from Republican Norm Coleman, whose options for regaining the
Senate seat are dwindling.
Justices said Franken is entitled to
the election certificate he needs to assume office. With Franken and
the usual backing of two independents, Democrats will have a big enough
majority to overcome Republican filibuster.
Coleman hasn't ruled out seeking federal court intervention.
My mother phoned from Tjøme, the little island in the Oslo fjord that
she calls home every June and July. She told me that the house was not
too dusty, that the garden was overgrown but that a nice man was coming
over to cut the lawn and trim the hedge so that she could see the ocean
over it from her breakfast table. Of course, no-one had filled her
fridge, so she had no milk, or tea, or bread, or jam. My aunt doesn't
think of these things and I find it quite strange. I wonder if it is a
cultural thing, or whether she doesn't think or whether she is just
selfish. I wonder if my sister had made the long trip by boat and car
all the way from England to spend six weeks with me on the island we
grew up spending summers on since we were children, I could even
imagine not greeting her with a full fridge and a vase of flowers on
the table, a cup of tea, a glass of wine, a simple supper?
My mother can't walk very well but soldiers forth with her stick into
the unknown and complains relatively little although I know she is
often in pain. It is particularly cruel that someone so athletic would
lose the proper use of her legs. She brings delicacies in her suitcases
– food from Waitrose, eggs from the hens, wine, British tea bags –
packed into her car for the long journey. More often than not she opens
the house herself, unbolting all the windows so that the air can whirl
around freely, makes the beds, dusts the bookshelves and the curtains,
beats the cushions outside on the rock. She climbs up the granite rock
to raise the flag, signifying that she is home.
We're in Australia where the highlight has been a trip to Cairnes on the
tropical north shore and the nearby Daintree Rain Forest. We stayed at
the Cape Tribulation Resort & Spa located where the world's oldest
rain forest meets gorgeous, white sand beach. Just a short distance
offshore is a pristine part of the Great Barrier Reef. We snorkeled and
saw an astonishing diversity of coral and sea life, unlike anything I'd
ever seen before (sharks, sea turtles, rays, sea horses, brilliantly
colored fish, enormous clams, gigantic leopard-spotted sea slugs; coral
that was pink, purple, electric blue, lime green and yellow). Sampled
kangaroo, ostrich, the colorfully named Moreton Bay bug (a cross between
lobster and crab), dined on grilled baramundi (cod) and sea bream
poached with Jerusalem artichokes, all served with lovely Australian
wines. For breakfast we gorged on fresh passion fruit (passed on the
Vegemite). — Hallie Ephron
We are currently at the Babington House and Spa near Bath, England. We had
an incredible meal and will be back tomorrow. We had salmon with
samphire and Babington nettle pasta; roasted local crayfish and
artichokes in lemon confit. We bought drinks for everyone working in
the kitchen including Chef Ronnie thanking them for such a tremendous
experience so I expect we will be treated even better tomorror evening...if
that is possible. The accommodations themselves are the best we've
ever been in. Truly an unbelievable place. — Bruce Cormicle
Having a good time in Boston. Spending a couple of days with Bob and
his wife Leanne. Bob made a restaurant quality meal of mahi-mahi,
salmon, sea bass, a large scallop and a jumbo shrimp with
julienne vegetables and another side of spinach and garlic. Small
portions of everything made for a full plate. The bottle of Cloudy Bay
Sauvignon Blanc was a winner. All around an excellent meal. Went to
Scampo in the Liberty Hotel last night, saw the Alibi bar too. — Jeff
Weicher
Close your eyes and imagine yourself walking into a humongous vat of
cinnamon taffy. That's what went through my mind as we entered this
weird, dreamlike world of swirling colors and psychedelic patterns.
Maybe it was the desert heat, but it all looked like gooey taffy,
stretched over huge mounds and 50-foot canyon walls. The surrounding
buttes were heaps of melting rocky road ice cream. The Wave is like an enormous Olympic-size swimming pool, with swooning, undulating walls lined with burnt sienna, pink, gray, turquoise and pale green. The bands mostly run horizontally, but at spots they zigzag
and shimmy before falling back into their previous pattern. — Hugo Martín, The L.A. Times
Our contracted company Snow & Fun surely lived up to their name: Snow on June 22 in the middle of summer - where else could you find that! Fun was after we trotted through permanent snow above tree line in Alps and rode down to warmer altitudes. Trails and landscape were nothing but spectacular and varied. Up high, trails were rugged, but rideable, and lower they ran through dense pine forest to the sound of clanging cow bells. The sound of Alp Music, I take it. Hotels throughout the four day ride were all above expectation and some of them were downright gorgeous in their interior decoration. The service throughout the tour was first class. Guide was outstanding. Thomas Eberli taught us all new techniques and made us better riders. He has a great sense of humor and is really pleasant to be around. He also was quick at figuring out our mountain bike skills and plan the trail rides accordingly. Setting is spectacular, ride is as tough and daring as you want it to be. A great experience. — Dan Erland Andersen
U.S. Pullout From Iraqi Cities Marked by Holiday
by Alissa J. Rubin
from the New York Times
BAGHDAD — Iraq declared a public holiday Tuesday to celebrate the official withdrawal of American troops from the country’s cities and towns, emptying the streets as many people stayed home because they feared violence.
As if on cue, a car bomb exploded in a crowded outdoor market in the northern city of Kirkuk late Tuesday, killing at least 24 people, in a deadly reminder that the violence here will continue through the pullback of American troops, The Associated Press reported.
Despite the continuing bloodshed, Prime Minister Nuri al-Maliki assured Iraqis that government forces taking control of urban areas were more than capable of ensuring security.
“Those who think that Iraqis are not able to protect their country and that the withdrawal of foreign forces will create a security vacuum are committing a big mistake,” he said in a nationally televised address, The A.P. reported.
Also Tuesday, the American military also announced the death of four soldiers on Monday from combat operations in Baghdad, underscoring their vulnerability as they wrap up operations in the field. It did not provide further details of the circumstances pending notification of the soldiers’ families.
Los Angeles has been at the cutting edge of architecture since the
beginning of the 20th century (Stiles O.
Clements, Frank Gehry, Frank Lloyd Wright, Neutra), but the city and its residents haven't
always appreciated the landmarks that contribute to its varied
landscape. As a self-proclaimed history buff, I am ashamed that I have
failed to get to know my adopted city better. Not many transplants do.
Maybe the constant sunshine– or the lure of Hollywood – blinds us to
the treasures to be found around every corner. One of my recent finds
was the Hollyhock House, one of four homes the prolific and infamous
Frank Lloyd Wright constructed in the 1920s, using modular concrete
blocks as the main form of construction. I've known of the existence of
these structures– which also include the Ennis-Brown House, the Storer
House (once owned by producer Joel Silver) and the Freeman House (owned
by USC)– for quite some time and you'd think, since the Man and I are
"fans" of Mr. Wright's work, we'd have made some effort to get a look
at them over the years. We've been to his studio in Oak Park, Chicago
and I've taken the tour at Taliesen West in Scottsdale, AZ (the Man
golfed instead) and yet we failed to take advantage of his works in our
own backyard.
Well, you can only imagine my delight when I learned that my new
favorite wine shop – Silverlake Wine – had joined forces with the
Barnsdall Art Park, where the Hollyhock House is located, for Friday
night tours and wine tasting on the front lawn of this historic home.
It's taken me a long time to get my ass into this wine shop, because
it's not remotely in my neighborhood, but after attending several of
their events, including this one, I'm completely hooked.
California has always seemed idyllic, cutting edge, a source of endless
natural resources and opportunities. But our Golden State has been so
mismanaged that it’s, now, threatening to crash under its own weight.
As the deadline to plug the 24 billion (yes, that’s right 24 billion)
dollar deficit in California passes and our renegade Governor
Schwarzenegger proposes deeper and deeper cuts, education including
school closures and shorter semesters, health cuts to MediCal and the
Childrens’ Health Insurance Program, an increased gas tax (that should
encourage tourism), four day work weeks (too bad if you needed the
money), increased taxes, and a proposal to SHUT one of our greatest
treasures, 224 of California’s most beautiful and historic State Parks,
including that one where the giant redwoods grow.
As a native and a conservationist, the idea that our California State
Parks may not remain open past summer, has sent me off on a wild fury
of exploration (not to mention a tirade at our Governor who we’re
sincerely glad will NOT BE BACK).
The polo matches at Will Rogers’ State Park and the historic (now
empty) stables have taken on new meaning, the myriad of trails and
hidden pathways at Griffith Park (not to mention the caves featured in
“Rebel Without a Cause”) seem almost magical, the quiet oasis of
Solstice Canyon Park in Malibu which is finally open again following
damage in the 2007 fire seems to beckon us each week-end.
The “old timers” in Maine always eat salmon and peas for their
fourth of July family feast. This tradition was started a long time ago
when salmon still came “up river to spawn” and people still rushed in
the Spring to plant their peas so they would have the first peas of the
year, hopefully by the 4th, if the weather was good. (I still have
customers that plant their peas in the fall so they sprout when they
are ready come Spring.)
The old tradition is to bake a center cut chunk of salmon at 350
degrees till it is less than moist, (so all the relatives like it) than
nap it with a white sauce, better known as a béchamel sauce to which
you add in chopped hard cooked eggs. And peas, lot of peas cooked with
butter, salt, pepper and a little water. The rule of thumb was to cook
them till when you blew on a spoonful they wrinkled.
This meal always includes Tupperware filled bowls of salads that guests
brought with them – potato salads, macaroni salads, and their “best”
homemade pickles. Dessert was always cookies, whoopie pies and the
standard strawberry shortcake made with biscuit dough and billowing
mounds of freshly whipped cream.
Cecilia was a ‘10’ on a scale of one to two. She had unmitigated primal
passion. Her sexual appetite was unparalleled and horizontal. It was
vertical and diagonal. When I suggested to Cecilia that we spend the
Fourth of July in Hawaii, she responded by giving me a fireworks show
in the bedroom that went on till daybreak.
After Cecilia made my night, I made travel plans. We would first go to
Hanalei Bay on the North Shore of Kauai. Then to Maui – Kaanapali Beach
and Hana.
As I was packing for the trip, the phone rang. It was Cecilia. She
stammered and fumfered and did everything audibly possible without
actually forming words.
“What’re you trying to tell me?” I asked repeatedly.
I love dessert but who can wait till the end of the day to have it? Not me. I refuse to live that way.
That's
why I love having this shake for breakfast. It tastes like you are
having dessert and I am all about that kind of livin'. I love tricking
myself into thinking I am getting a treat before 9 am. With this
shake, it's not far from the truth.
As we were high-tailing it
out of town on Sunday I made these to celebrate the beginning of our
vacation. Of course it delayed us from leaving for about three hours
but who cares right?
These Buttermilk Citrus Shakes are
a wonderful combination of fresh orange and lemon juice. The
buttermilk not only gives this shake a zippy-tangy flavor but it makes
it low in fat. What could be more perfect. The citrus zing really
gives you the get up and go you need in the wee morning hours.
We've lived in Pacific Palisades for many years, treasuring its small town qualities as a respite
from the congestion of the Los Angeles megalopolis. The 4th of July
brings out the best in our community. We celebrate Independence Day by
getting together with our neighbors, family, and friends. The
celebrations begin in the morning with the 5k/10k run, the parade down
Sunset at mid-day, an early evening picnic, and conclude with the
night-time fireworks at the high school.
To prepare for the picnic,
we shop at the local farmers' market, buying as many fresh vegetables
and fruits as we can carry. On the 4th
we spend the day cooking for the pot-luck picnic we organize with a
dozen of our friends. So we'll have a good spot to watch the fireworks,
we meet at 6:30pm at the park opposite the high school. We look forward
to the picnic because we can catch up with our friends. Even though
the picnic is pot-luck, we make extra just in case... Some of our
friends who like to cook bring their specialties, like Lesli's mixed
berries, while others make a run to Bay Cities or Gelson's and bring containers of deli treats and rich desserts.
Ina Garten, better known as the Barefoot Contessa
has spent her culinary career emphasizing simple meals and quality
ingredients. Today, as Americans debate whether local or organic is
better, the Obamas planted a vegetable garden on the White House lawn,
and Slow Food is gaining popularity, Garten's philosophy seems prescient. Recently,
she took time from her busy schedule to discuss how she evolved from
spending a week preparing for a dinner party to making edible
centerpieces.
LM: I read that your mother always insisted you focus on
schoolwork rather than have you help in the kitchen. Do you remember
cooking anything in particular before your inspirational four-month
camping trip with your husband around France.
IG: When I got married, I hadn't cooked a thing.
The camping trip was a few years after we got married but I do remember
when I started cooking I wanted to make very complicated things. If a
recipe didn't have 2 ingredients that were recipes themselves, I wasn't
interested. I loved making my own challah just to prove that I could! I
had dinner parties that took a week to make—and I was in heaven.
For several years now I'd been hearing about the taco trucks of
Fruitvale, a section of Oakland known for having a large Latino
population. After reading endless reports on Yelp, Chowhound and an article in the East Bay Express
by John Birdsall, I was ready to hit the road, or rather, International
Boulevard, where there's a high concentration of taco trucks. I didn't
spend a month investigating like Birdsall did (thanks John!) but I did
put together a hit list, based on recommendations and testimonials. A
word about pricing, you'll spend more on bridge toll than you will at
most spots along the corridor. Tacos ranged in price from $1 to $1.25
and the agua fresca I ordered was $1.
First stop was the Sinaloa
complex, located in a parking lot at 2138 International Blvd. You can't
miss this stop and frankly, it's one of the best. Here there are two
trucks to visit--one has the standard kinds of tacos, while the other
is devoted to seafood. The fish taco was good, but the shrimp tostada
was outstanding. A crisp tortilla was topped not just with sweet, plump
and juicy shrimp, but also chunks of cucumber, tomato, onion, slivers
of avocado and fresh cilantro. Not to be missed!
Across the parking lot, my partner in crime
and I tried both the lengua or tongue taco and the chorizo taco. Both
were very good. The chorizo has subtle sweet and sweet spicing and was
not greasy. I skipped the champurrado, a type of Mexican hot chocolate
but did have a very refreshing and not too sweet agua fresca made with
fresh strawberries.
The old men in skullcaps hiked up the cobblestone steps in the last bruised light of dusk. They passed Gypsy merchants draped in rugs that were for sale, engineering students
on post-cafe strolls and children chattering in an acrobatic blend of
Greek, Turkish and the Slavic language of the Pomaks. They didn’t
notice I was following them until they sat outside the mosque to wash
their feet.
I had been in Xanthi, the centerpiece city in the northeastern Greek
region of Thrace, for only a few hours, admiring the
neo-Classical-style buildings and restored tobacco warehouses of the
old town. I spotted the minaret shortly after I heard a muezzin’s cry
separating from the church bells and the cafes blasting Rihanna.
I’d never seen a mosque open for prayer in Greece. Almost all Greeks are Orthodox Christians, many of them fiercely attached to their cultural identity, and the church is as powerful as any political party. In Athens, where I had lived for four years, many Muslims are relative newcomers who must worship in rented basements until a mosque — approved by the
Greek Parliament in 2006 — is built.
If you love outdoor cooking, there's nothing like taming a tough cut of
meat through the mastery of a low and slow fire, or deftly handling a
lean cut quickly over a hot grill. But often it's that signature touch
– a thoughtfully honed sauce – that separates barbecue masters from
weekend warriors.
At once sweet, sour and spicy, the best sauces achieve a controlled
balance of what might initially seem like contradictory flavors. These
aren't run-of-the-mill sauces, mass-produced and available at any
market. These sauces are special, and you tailor them to fit whatever
you're cooking at the time.
Start with a foundation. Most traditional barbecue sauces are
tomato-based, drawing on tomato sauce, fresh or canned tomatoes,
ketchup or a combination of these. There are also vinegar-, mustard-,
broth- and even mayonnaise-based barbecue sauces.
From there, add ingredients one or two at a time and taste carefully;
you're looking for balance. Sweeten the sauce with sugar, or other
options such as maple syrup, brown sugar or even molasses. (Because
sugar burns easily, most barbecue sauces should be applied at the last
minute to avoid scorching.)
I don’t get it, I really don’t. Some people still think that London has lousy food. London has fabulous food. The city has seen an intense food revolution in the last 15 years or so, and cooks like Nigella Lawson, Jamie Oliver and Gordon Ramsay are stars here because of what they’ve accomplished there. You can now find superb food of every tradition, nationality, and ethnicity in London; food that reflects every new trend, political movement, and neurotic eccentricity; food at any and every price…for breakfast, lunch and dinner. So I was stunned the other day when I said to my friend Craig that I was going write a column on the best sandwiches in London, and he said, “There are no good sandwiches in London.” This from a man who grew up there and has only lived here for 12 years!!!
So here is the first part of my rebuttal to Craig, a man who’s clearly eaten one too many meals from a movie catering truck. And yet he might feel at home…given that you must order all of these standing outside on a line.
My father has a way of making everything unforgettable. He’s loud,
temperamental, incredibly passionate, and a romantic to the core. So
it seemed completely natural to me when he took me to Paris for my 14th
birthday so that I “would see Paris for the first time with a man who
truly loved me”. He showed me the sights, took me out to fantastic
meals, and I left Paris with two promises to myself – that I would find
pain au chocolat (chocolate croissant) as delicious as the ones we
devoured for breakfast every morning in Paris and that I would one day
return to Paris with the person I was madly in love with. My father was
absolutely right about Paris being a city to only share with those you
love.
It took me 16 years and many pain au chocolat experiences to finally
discover what I’d encountered on my birthday trip to Paris. In the
midst of Manhattan, in the Upper East Side at Payard’s, a charming
French patisserie and bistro, was the perfect buttery flaky croissant
filled with rich chocolate. Who was making such delectable pain au
chocolat? Only a French man, of course!
I didn’t miss him all winter. Everytime I spoke to our mutual friends, who I guess he got custody over as I was limited to phone time with them, they would tell me he was being cold, sort of erratic, he was being exceedingly difficult. In some form or another he was costing them all money. He was not as exciting as he used to be.
But now that it’s summer, I noticed a change in their voices. They’re all clearly laughing with him again, enjoying his company, discovering new aspects of his personality. I am not jealous, per se.
I do have someone else, someone way more suited to my personality. Someone who’s made me a little bit blonder, and a little bit tanner, and a hell of a lot healthier, but there’s still a separate heartbeat consistent for my first true love, and sometime in the middle of the night, when I know he cannot hear me, I’ll tell him: “New York, I miss you."
You know how sometimes you come across something that reminds you that you used to do things right? I saw the magazine 
ST. PAUL, Minn. (AP) -- The Minnesota Supreme Court has ordered that
Democrat Al Franken be certified as the winner of the state's
long-running Senate race.
My mother phoned from Tjøme, the little island in the Oslo fjord that
she calls home every June and July. She told me that the house was not
too dusty, that the garden was overgrown but that a nice man was coming
over to cut the lawn and trim the hedge so that she could see the ocean
over it from her breakfast table. Of course, no-one had filled her
fridge, so she had no milk, or tea, or bread, or jam. My aunt doesn't
think of these things and I find it quite strange. I wonder if it is a
cultural thing, or whether she doesn't think or whether she is just
selfish. I wonder if my sister had made the long trip by boat and car
all the way from England to spend six weeks with me on the island we
grew up spending summers on since we were children, I could even
imagine not greeting her with a full fridge and a vase of flowers on
the table, a cup of tea, a glass of wine, a simple supper?
We are currently at the Babington House and Spa near Bath, England. We had
an incredible meal and will be back tomorrow. We had salmon with
samphire and Babington nettle pasta; roasted local crayfish and
artichokes in lemon confit. We bought drinks for everyone working in
the kitchen including Chef Ronnie thanking them for such a tremendous
experience so I expect we will be treated even better tomorror evening...if
that is possible. The accommodations themselves are the best we've
ever been in. Truly an unbelievable place. — Bruce Cormicle
BAGHDAD — Iraq declared a public holiday Tuesday to celebrate the official withdrawal of American troops from the country’s cities and towns, emptying the streets as many people stayed home because they feared violence.
Los Angeles has been at the cutting edge of architecture since the
beginning of the 20th century (Stiles O.
Clements, Frank Gehry, Frank Lloyd Wright, Neutra), but the city and its residents haven't
always appreciated the landmarks that contribute to its varied
landscape. As a self-proclaimed history buff, I am ashamed that I have
failed to get to know my adopted city better. Not many transplants do.
Maybe the constant sunshine– or the lure of Hollywood – blinds us to
the treasures to be found around every corner. One of my recent finds
was the Hollyhock House, one of four homes the prolific and infamous
Frank Lloyd Wright constructed in the 1920s, using modular concrete
blocks as the main form of construction. I've known of the existence of
these structures– which also include the Ennis-Brown House, the Storer
House (once owned by producer Joel Silver) and the Freeman House (owned
by USC)– for quite some time and you'd think, since the Man and I are
"fans" of Mr. Wright's work, we'd have made some effort to get a look
at them over the years. We've been to his studio in Oak Park, Chicago
and I've taken the tour at Taliesen West in Scottsdale, AZ (the Man
golfed instead) and yet we failed to take advantage of his works in our
own backyard.
California has always seemed idyllic, cutting edge, a source of endless
natural resources and opportunities. But our Golden State has been so
mismanaged that it’s, now, threatening to crash under its own weight.
As the deadline to plug the 24 billion (yes, that’s right 24 billion)
dollar deficit in California passes and our renegade Governor
Schwarzenegger proposes deeper and deeper cuts, education including
school closures and shorter semesters, health cuts to MediCal and the
Childrens’ Health Insurance Program, an increased gas tax (that should
encourage tourism), four day work weeks (too bad if you needed the
money), increased taxes, and a proposal to SHUT one of our greatest
treasures, 224 of California’s most beautiful and historic State Parks,
including that one where the giant redwoods grow.
The “old timers” in Maine always eat salmon and peas for their
fourth of July family feast. This tradition was started a long time ago
when salmon still came “up river to spawn” and people still rushed in
the Spring to plant their peas so they would have the first peas of the
year, hopefully by the 4th, if the weather was good. (I still have
customers that plant their peas in the fall so they sprout when they
are ready come Spring.)
Cecilia was a ‘10’ on a scale of one to two. She had unmitigated primal
passion. Her sexual appetite was unparalleled and horizontal. It was
vertical and diagonal. When I suggested to Cecilia that we spend the
Fourth of July in Hawaii, she responded by giving me a fireworks show
in the bedroom that went on till daybreak.
I love dessert but who can wait till the end of the day to have it? Not me. I refuse to live that way.
We've lived in Pacific Palisades for many years, treasuring its small town qualities as a respite
from the congestion of the Los Angeles megalopolis. The 4th of July
brings out the best in our community. We celebrate Independence Day by
getting together with our neighbors, family, and friends. The
celebrations begin in the morning with the 5k/10k run, the parade down
Sunset at mid-day, an early evening picnic, and conclude with the
night-time fireworks at the high school.
Ina Garten, better known as the 
For several years now I'd been hearing about the taco trucks of
Fruitvale, a section of Oakland known for having a large Latino
population. After reading endless reports on 
If you love outdoor cooking, there's nothing like taming a tough cut of
meat through the mastery of a low and slow fire, or deftly handling a
lean cut quickly over a hot grill. But often it's that signature touch
– a thoughtfully honed sauce – that separates barbecue masters from
weekend warriors.
I don’t get it, I really don’t. Some people still think that London has lousy food. London has fabulous food. The city has seen an intense food revolution in the last 15 years or so, and cooks like Nigella Lawson, Jamie Oliver and Gordon Ramsay are stars here because of what they’ve accomplished there. You can now find superb food of every tradition, nationality, and ethnicity in London; food that reflects every new trend, political movement, and neurotic eccentricity; food at any and every price…for breakfast, lunch and dinner. So I was stunned the other day when I said to my friend Craig that I was going write a column on the best sandwiches in London, and he said, “There are no good sandwiches in London.” This from a man who grew up there and has only lived here for 12 years!!!
My father has a way of making everything unforgettable. He’s loud,
temperamental, incredibly passionate, and a romantic to the core. So
it seemed completely natural to me when he took me to Paris for my 14th
birthday so that I “would see Paris for the first time with a man who
truly loved me”. He showed me the sights, took me out to fantastic
meals, and I left Paris with two promises to myself – that I would find
pain au chocolat (chocolate croissant) as delicious as the ones we
devoured for breakfast every morning in Paris and that I would one day
return to Paris with the person I was madly in love with. My father was
absolutely right about Paris being a city to only share with those you
love.
I didn’t miss him all winter. Everytime I spoke to our mutual friends, who I guess he got custody over as I was limited to phone time with them, they would tell me he was being cold, sort of erratic, he was being exceedingly difficult. In some form or another he was costing them all money. He was not as exciting as he used to be.
