There's a ridiculously good restaurant on Maui – Lahaina's Star Noodle, which sits up on the mountain over looking the town. I'm afraid we went there three times (and would have gone more had we not restrained ourselves); once after arriving at the airport, once for dinner and once on the way home.
Imagine something like London's Wagamama or New York's Momofuku on a smaller scale – a deliciously modern, light space, filled with knowledgeable, kind people (props to Justin and Zane) and some of the best Asian food we've ever tasted.
The menu ranges from ramen to local saiman (local noodles with spam, fish cake and green onion in a delicious broth) to Vietnamese pancakes to spicy pickled vegetables (namasu) to yuzu sorbet to tiny donuts on sticks (malasadas) with three dipping sauces.
I'm spending a few days in what I'm told is the Mid-West of America (albeit the Northern Mid-West), a place I've never been to before. It's a land of lakes and fir trees and glittering silver birches, and flying in I was startled (and a little homesick) by the landscape's resemblance to Norway. Of course everyone who lives here is either Norwegian or Swedish.
My favorite thing about book club is that I get to hang out with some of my favorite women in the world. It has become a highlight of the month. We're a diverse lot: both Brits & Americans; a full-time student, a pilates instructor who's writing her first novel, a painter, a former big-time film exec, a pr maven, an ex-pat marketing exec who now raises chickens (and is most generous with her eggs), an actor turned set decorator, a talent manager and me.
This is how grumpy I am: I refuse to make up a pseudonym to make the people at Starbuck's happy. My problem is this: My name is Bumble. Yes, Bumble. And please, don't ask me "Is that your REAL name" because that's just rude. No, it's not my REAL name. I wasn't christened Bumble, but I have never been called anything other than Bumble for my whole life and hence, I am Bumble. However, as fabulous and memorable and jolly as my name may be, it has its downside. First of all, most people repeat it back when they hear it. They say "Bumble?" in a questioning manner, as if saying "Excuse Me?" in the Southern Californian/Gossip Girl cadence. Or they say "Barbara?" with their voice swinging upwards at the end. They say Barbara so much that my husband calls me Barbara in public, which amuses him, and him alone, enormously.
Los Angeles is shedding its winter coat, the birds are singing; Spring has boinged in like Zebedee. The farmers markets are jam-packed with citrus, strawberries, golden beets and asparagus.