Stories

ImageShe was old but sharp and I knew she identified me yards before I even noticed her standing there. With a sweet smile and grey hair, she was the kind of woman just nutty enough to have 3 or 7 cats but sweet enough to make apologies for her behavior. She held her clipboard like it meant the world to her.

“Excuse me sir, do you speak Spanish?” she asked. “Not very well,” I replied, causing her to slow down on her list of pre-anticipated responses. Her pencil fumbled to find a new section, and once she did she began all over again as if I hit a secret reset button.

“Do you like hot dogs?”

In 30-something years I don’t think I’ve ever missed the opportunity for a smirk or off-colored response to that question; with this woman it didn’t seem appropriate. I said “But of course. Why? Are you inviting me over?”

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grapefruit_white.jpgMany, many years ago there was an older man who came to our store pretty much weekly for about nine or ten years. He wasn't all that talkative, he came with a plan and left with all the things on his list and always 12 small white grapefruit. Not much conversation, not even any dialoge about the weather, even if it had rained every day in June. Things never changed. He always smelled of mothballs and pipe tobacco. Monk wore old Hathaway wool shirts, real cotton khaki trousers, leather and rubber L.L. Bean boots half laced up and we never saw him without a pipe in his mouth filled with unburned tobacco.  He drove a large old pale yellow Ford Squire station wagon that looked retired from his other home in Connecticut. He came on the same day every week at roughly the same time.

We never saw him with anyone, but some weeks his grocery basket was heavier than other weeks and he would be downright grouchy, usually around the beginning of August. We could tell by his cantankerous attitude that he had family coming to visit.  There is no stopping anyone from visiting friends or family in Maine the first couple weeks of August even if they aren't that fond of each other. My sister and I were sure to have the freshest grapefruit awaiting him because he wasn't shy about telling you the following week that "they were getting a little dry" and his tone could be quite unpleasant.

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beesuit.jpgA hive has been part of my menagerie for almost a year now. Our bees were transferred from a friend’s chimney (where the bees had been pretty happy for a while) to a couple of bee boxes under an olive tree. Kirk Anderson, a.k.a Kirk O’bee, did the job, and has been our bee guide ever-since. Kirk leads the the Backwards Beekeepers, a group of Los Angeles area bee enthusiasts. Monthly meetings are open to the public and they’re quite informative. The last few meetings have been held at Farmlab, and that’s a place that is cool to see.

Since positioning the hive on the hill, we have basically let the bees be. We figured whatever honey the bees had made, we would let them keep it for their winter food supply (which is what honey is). Commercial bee keepers often harvest honey in the fall, and then feed their bees sugar water though the winter. We sort of ignored ours all winter, just checking for activity (flying in and out) occasionally. Ever since it got warmer there has been so much action! Busy, busy bees.

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People always think I’m an expert on everything. Which I guess makes sense because I am sort of perfect. But seriously, I get questions all the time. Where should I eat sushi in New York? Where should I take a yoga-obsessed Venice girl out on a date? What’s a good coffee shop that’s hip but quiet enough to write in? Do you know of a fun gallery in Berlin?  I’ve never even been to Berlin!! Don’t you people have Google?? I mean, don’t get me wrong. I’m flattered that people think I’m a fountain of information. And I sort of get it. I mean, as my boyfriend can vouch, I might be the pickiest person in the world. Although, I prefer the term “refined”.  And the combination of having refined taste and being economically cautious (though some people would call it cheap) does sort of make me, by necessity, a fountain of information. So consider yourselves lucky to be in on my Best Of list, in no particular order:

icebarphoto.jpgBest Hotel Bar: The Whiskey Bar at the Sunset Marquis
1200 Alta Loma Road West Hollywood, CA 90069

Best Ice Bar: Absolut IceBar London
31-33 Heddon Street, Mayfair, London, W1B 4BN
United Kingdom +44 20 7287 9192

Best People Watching: Campari gallery events
Sign up at www.campariusa.com for invites   

Best Sushi: Matsuhisa
(Just tell them Chaparang sent you.)
129 N. La Cienega Blvd., Beverly Hills, CA 90211 (310) 659-9639

Best Place to Go with No Plans: Paris

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oscar.jpgThe Oscars are less than a week a way, and most people have already weighed in on their top choice for the year. So now it’s time to match your top choice with the perfect Oscar Entrée.

1. The Artist (Michel Hazanvicius) has been taking people’s breaths away—and voices. To match the brilliant silent picture, how about some cotton candy, which is a bit old school, light and full of air—the perfect, tasty, silent addition.

2. Join War Horse’s (Steven Spielberg) horse and feel free to treat yourself to a bowl of uncooked spaghetti, so you can join the main character (the horse), as he gnaws on straw.

3. Head out to the ballpark with Moneyball (Bennett Miller), and bite into a jumbo hotdog and extra large fries.

4. Laugh along with Minny (Octavia Spencer) in The Help (Tate Taylor), and indulge in double chocolate pie—leaving her SECRET ingredient out. Please. And thank you.

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