Two years ago I fell madly in love with a fella named Bentley. His
piercing emerald green eyes and perfect shade of thick brown hair melted
my heart those first few moments we met. He makes me laugh everyday,
loves to travel, swim in the ocean with me and he'll go anywhere on a
whim. My perfect day is to stay home, lying on the sofa
with him, cooking him three perfect meals a day. We share a pillow at
night and sometimes I find myself staring at him while he sleeps.
Nothing and no one has ever halted my love to travel as much as him. I
find myself completely homesick when I leave him. When I packed my bags
to go to Juneau, Alaska last week I promised him I would bring home as
many salmon treats that would fit in my bag. But until the airlines
come up with a new rule that dogs can sit in a passenger seat, Bentley
will have to be left behind at the farm with my Mother.
Love
Love
Kampuchea
Alex and I have been dating for almost four months now. We have
shared several meals and conversations together beyond Casa Mono. As
our relationship has settled into a ‘monogamous’ place, we have both
expressed fears about reaching a ‘monotonous’ place, – when your
boyfriend lives in the same neighborhood, in my case the West side
(Chelsea/West Village), every date begins to take place within a twelve
block radius – emphasizing the potential for “monotony” (not be
confused with monogamy). And, while the dining options are both vast
and enticing, you start to feel like you are placing your relationship
under quarantine.
On a recent Wednesday night, we ventured out. We took what to us was a somewhat lengthy cab ride to a restaurant on the Lower East Side (Allen and Rivington) and as soon as we stepped out of the cab, there was a breath of relief. I thought to myself, “We’re not old or boring…we just underestimate taxis.”
Brooklyn, for I Like You
We’d finally made it all the way to Park Slope, it was less than warm, and I’m pretty sure I had mascara on my forehead from frantically trying to fix my make-up on the subway. You can imagine my dismay when the only boy I really wanted to see on my trip to New York wasn’t even home. But we couldn’t just call him! It would be much better if we ‘just happened to be in the neighborhood’. “They can’t be far. Their car is here!” But how were we gonna kill an hour in the middle of residential nowhere in 20 degree weather? That’s when we found it. BAR TANO. A little haven of happiness with pressed tin walls and a zinc bar.
FFF: Foodie Friends Forever
You gotta love a guy like my friend Howard. On Memorial Day Monday at 10:30 a.m., I called him in Santa Monica from my bed in Sherman Oaks and said, “Whatcha doing today?”
“Don’t have anything until 4 o’clock,” he said.
“I don’t have anything till 6 – wanna go to Artesia and check out some of the Indian restaurants?”
“Oh yeah,” he said, “meet ya at the corner of Artesia and Pioneer Boulevards at noon.”
“Fab, see you there.” Jumped out of bed and hit the shower.
Next to the joy of eating a long, festive meal at a giant table surrounded by family and friends, my favorite culinary ritual is the food safari, an expedition off the beaten track in search of something new and delicious. My sister Jo will drive to the four corners of the earth with me to try a new pizza joint that we’ve heard is good. There was the 2-hour car trip up to Hartford with the old boyfriend, because we’d read great things about an old diner. And my very busy bud Peter managed to keep a lunch open last week so that we could go sample the hot dogs (five different ones!) at the new Papaya King in Hollywood.
Me and My Keurig
I have a complicated relationship with my Keurig. It was given to us at Christmas by my husband’s children. It was an amazing gift, thoughtful, inventive, and big. It is big. It is also streamlined and beautiful. I’d never seen anything like it before, which made them laugh hysterically (as it did half my friends). Confession: I don’t work in an office and when I do go to offices, they don’t usually invite me into the kitchen. The fact that I’d never seen anything like it before made me feel a little bit like Abe Simpson.
I also felt a little bit the way someone probably felt in the ‘50s when they got their first blender. “Wow, I can actually make a margarita at home. I can make a milkshake. I wonder if I can make gazpacho?” The Waring blender was probably invented in the ‘30s and someone is probably about to correct me. Yep. I just looked it up, the blender was invented in the ‘30s and the waring blender was named after Fred Waring, a musician who financed the fine tuning of the Hamilton Beach invention. (Don’t ask me about the patent rights.) But I wonder if my Grandmother wanted to buy stock in the Waring company. (My Grandmother bought stock in Campbells’ Soup when they invented Campbell’s Cream of Tomato Soup – I don’t know how she did with that, but there was no way you could get her to sell that stock.)
I have a friend who wanted to buy stock in Keurig and is mad at her husband because they didn’t. Apparently it was a good stock buy. I’m not sure I would want to buy stock in Keurig because I’m not sure it’s ecological and I have an issue with that. Also, I missed the boat. The time to buy the stock was when the Keurig came out, not when it arrived in my kitchen last December.
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