A few weeks ago, during dinner with family members and a co-worker and his spouse, the topic of the colleagues' brother-in-law, who happens to be 30-something, single and a San Francisco dweller came up. My family members, ever sensitive folks that they are (hint: happily married couple who met each other by the age of 25, and thus, weren't that single) immediately suggested that a friend of theirs, who is single, female and also lives in the city, might be a good match.
I was dumbfounded, and said something to the effect of "hey, I'm sitting here and I'm single and I live near the city", which caused absolutely no reaction, except to once again suggest the friend.
So, of course, I've spent some time pondering their reaction, or lack of, and wondering why???
I admit, I spent almost my entire 20-something years single. Some of those years were spent single willingly, others were spent dating, and others single in protest (I live in Silicon Valley, which goes a ways towards explaining the last one).
Have those years of singleton (thanks, bridget) somehow branded me, in their eyes, as forever being single? Am I a type of pariah because I'm 31 and not married and don't trot home a significant other for every holiday? Is there an assumption that because I spent so long as a singleton, I will always be single and that there is now hope?
The one time that I did introduce someone to family whom I actually considered to be serious potential ended disasterously. I'm not sure exactly what happened, but I think part of it was an inability by some to really perceive that I was with an individual that I cared about and at the time, appeared to care about me, a real, flesh and blood, breathing member of the opposite sex. Family members had always, always seen me alone (roommates don't count) and just seemed to not know what to do.
Is this a trend that will continue? Will I always be seen and treated as forever single, or will the perception ever change? Can various members of my family migrate me from the "single relative" classification to one of "single member of society that doesn't want to die alone and be gnawed upon by a wild pack of dogs"?
I hope so...but for some reason, am seriously beginning to think not...
Wednesday, January 28, 2004
Sunday, January 25, 2004
Eggplant Parmesan
The newest edition of Cooks Illustrated contains a recipe for egglant parmesan, a dish which I've never really been much into, for reasons unknown. I think my mom might have made it when I was a kid a few times, but the details are a bit fuzzy (I seem to recall a Halloween in which we were forced to eat a "slimey" dish if we wanted to trick or treat - why couldn't we ever have pizza for dinner on Halloween?)
I also recall that I was about the only person who would willingly eat the eggplant parmesan when I lived in the dorms my first two years of college. The reality of Foothill's eggplant parmesan was fried something accompanied by copious amounts of cheese and sauce. So really, I don't think I've had proper eggplant parmesan ever.
So last night, we tackled eggplant parmesan. It was time consuming; the recipe said that this was an easier method...which makes me think that I don't EVER want to make eggplant parmesan in the traditional way involving lots of frying.
The steps are: salt and drain sliced eggplant. Dredge in flour, egg and breadcrumbs. Bake the eggplant on pre-heated cookie sheets covered in oil until crispy brown (not quite fried, but giving the appearance of being fried). Make a simple tomato sauce (we added extra garlic, red pepper flakes and basil, cause we're from california and like spice) and then layer the sauce, cheeses (parmesan and mozarella), bake and then scatter with basil and serve. So very good.
Nilay made a spinach salad with mushrooms, red onions, toasted pine nuts and feta cheese. I liked it - my salads are always the same and sort of boring.
And, for some reason, before he came over, I started to think about dessert. One trip to the store later...and chocolate mousse was created.
We started the meal with cosmos (Nilay makes a great cosmo), and had a 1999 Rosenblum Zin (Annette's Reserve Rhodes Vineyard) and 2000 Monte Volpi Sangiovese (Mendocino). The Zin started off with a weird taste: Nilay said it was really spicy, I swear I tasted bacon in the finish. But in the end, it opened up very nicely.
I also recall that I was about the only person who would willingly eat the eggplant parmesan when I lived in the dorms my first two years of college. The reality of Foothill's eggplant parmesan was fried something accompanied by copious amounts of cheese and sauce. So really, I don't think I've had proper eggplant parmesan ever.
So last night, we tackled eggplant parmesan. It was time consuming; the recipe said that this was an easier method...which makes me think that I don't EVER want to make eggplant parmesan in the traditional way involving lots of frying.
The steps are: salt and drain sliced eggplant. Dredge in flour, egg and breadcrumbs. Bake the eggplant on pre-heated cookie sheets covered in oil until crispy brown (not quite fried, but giving the appearance of being fried). Make a simple tomato sauce (we added extra garlic, red pepper flakes and basil, cause we're from california and like spice) and then layer the sauce, cheeses (parmesan and mozarella), bake and then scatter with basil and serve. So very good.
Nilay made a spinach salad with mushrooms, red onions, toasted pine nuts and feta cheese. I liked it - my salads are always the same and sort of boring.
And, for some reason, before he came over, I started to think about dessert. One trip to the store later...and chocolate mousse was created.
We started the meal with cosmos (Nilay makes a great cosmo), and had a 1999 Rosenblum Zin (Annette's Reserve Rhodes Vineyard) and 2000 Monte Volpi Sangiovese (Mendocino). The Zin started off with a weird taste: Nilay said it was really spicy, I swear I tasted bacon in the finish. But in the end, it opened up very nicely.
Tokyo Go Go
Ate at Tokyo Go Go in the Mission the other night with Gabe and his bf Jason. Lots of food, very cool and eclectic atmosphere, excellent sushi and interesting combination of japanese + other stuff on the menu as well. I really enjoyed the seaweed salad and spider roll. I had never had a spider roll that required as much dismantling per piece as this roll did. Definitely want to go back again...and as well, the company was great (thanks guys!)
Wednesday, January 21, 2004
First Class Food
As a general rule, airline food sucks, especially if you're confined to the economy class as I am most of the time. Every once in a while, a dish surprises, as if the minimum wage chef had a dose of inspiration, or most likely (and if I'm to believe Anthony Bourdain), was probably coked out of his mind. Once, on a US Air flight, I had some some incredibly tasty lasagna. I was ready to ask for seconds...but alas, airlines don't do family style dining.
The other night, I upgraded into business class on a flight from JFK to SFO. The airlines foolishly let my friend Gabe and I sit together - I still feel bad for the family sitting in front of us if they did hear any of our conversation, since a good portion of it was not quite family appropriate material. Luckily, flights are noisy.
The food in business class is definitely better than the stuff they serve those in coach. Real plates, real silverware (except for plastic knives cleverly colored silver to give the appearance of realness), better (and free) wines. On land, the quality of food would be ok...but in the sky, it was fairly good.
Appetizers consisted of a salad with nicoise olives and shaved parmesan, smoked salmon and shrimp with creme freche. I chose the halibut encrusted with something, basmati rice and asparagus. Not too bad. And skipped dessert (some sort of peach cake, the sound of which is enough to make me want to gag). Luckily, Gabe had bought chocolate...which he shared with the flight attendants (they told me what a nice hubby i had - ha!) and me.
The other night, I upgraded into business class on a flight from JFK to SFO. The airlines foolishly let my friend Gabe and I sit together - I still feel bad for the family sitting in front of us if they did hear any of our conversation, since a good portion of it was not quite family appropriate material. Luckily, flights are noisy.
The food in business class is definitely better than the stuff they serve those in coach. Real plates, real silverware (except for plastic knives cleverly colored silver to give the appearance of realness), better (and free) wines. On land, the quality of food would be ok...but in the sky, it was fairly good.
Appetizers consisted of a salad with nicoise olives and shaved parmesan, smoked salmon and shrimp with creme freche. I chose the halibut encrusted with something, basmati rice and asparagus. Not too bad. And skipped dessert (some sort of peach cake, the sound of which is enough to make me want to gag). Luckily, Gabe had bought chocolate...which he shared with the flight attendants (they told me what a nice hubby i had - ha!) and me.
Saturday, January 17, 2004
More Cold Boston
We ate dinner at Fugakyu in Brookline (on beacon and harvard) last night. Fairly good Japanese food. I had my usual chirashi bowl, perfect if you're the single one dining with two couples.
For the first time ever, I sent back a drink at a bar Friday night. Some place called Dillon's - I heard a really cheesey ad on the radio, which should have been our first sign NOT to go. The cosmo tasted like the bartender didn't know what he/she was doing. The replacement was better, but definitely not even close to being even considered "good". Cosmos aren't that difficult to make: 2 parts vodka, 1 part triple sec or cointreau, a squeeze of lime and a splash of cranberry juice.
For the first time ever, I sent back a drink at a bar Friday night. Some place called Dillon's - I heard a really cheesey ad on the radio, which should have been our first sign NOT to go. The cosmo tasted like the bartender didn't know what he/she was doing. The replacement was better, but definitely not even close to being even considered "good". Cosmos aren't that difficult to make: 2 parts vodka, 1 part triple sec or cointreau, a squeeze of lime and a splash of cranberry juice.
Friday, January 16, 2004
Cold Boston
in Boston for business. Brought my brother a loaf of ACME sourdough bread. Slicing into it last night, he kept repeating, "this is real french bread!"
It's REALLY cold here.
Or to quote my grandma Luttrell, "It's colder than a witches tit".
It's REALLY cold here.
Or to quote my grandma Luttrell, "It's colder than a witches tit".
Sunday, January 11, 2004
Buca de Beppo
Suzette, Carrie and I had dinner at Buca in Palo Alto last night. Basically, several hours of eating, drinking and talking...I feel a bit sorry for those sitting nearby that had to listen to our somewhat obnoxious and perhaps, appetite suppressing conversations.
Buca is really best experienced with at least four people. The family-style portions are amazingly huge. Even with another person, we would have had leftovers. The theme is kind of in the spirit of the American-style interpretation of Italian food, which while not "authentic", I still find that I enjoy. It's always a fun place to go.
We started with chianti and deep fried calamari, served with a spicy tomato sauce. Next a ceasar salad. Linguine with generous amounts of butter, olive oil and a bit of hot pepper was wrapped in foil and baked with shrimp, clams, calamari and mussels arrived as the main course. Wisely, we skipped dessert.
Buca is really best experienced with at least four people. The family-style portions are amazingly huge. Even with another person, we would have had leftovers. The theme is kind of in the spirit of the American-style interpretation of Italian food, which while not "authentic", I still find that I enjoy. It's always a fun place to go.
We started with chianti and deep fried calamari, served with a spicy tomato sauce. Next a ceasar salad. Linguine with generous amounts of butter, olive oil and a bit of hot pepper was wrapped in foil and baked with shrimp, clams, calamari and mussels arrived as the main course. Wisely, we skipped dessert.
CES, continued
Trade shows are always a culinary adventure. Within an 8-hour time span, dining transforms from a power bar and bottle of water while sitting on a floor to dinner at a 4-star restaurant. It's all random and weird...and an accepted fact of life at trade shows.
Highlights of CES cuisine include:
Crafsteak with IGN/GameSpy. Served family style, I loved almost every single item. Spinach salad, tuna tartare, charcuterie plate (sopresseta, prosciutto, etc.), special mustards. Flat-iron kobe beef steak, a rib-eye, lamb shank, polenta, sauteed spinach, Jersusalem artichokes (simply amazing, must have again) and probably a few other things I'm forgetting. Dessert was overwhelming: chocolate souffle with sauce, creme brulee, an assortment of sorbes and ice creams, monkey bread with a bourbon sauce. I'm probably getting a few details confused. And of course, wine. With each course. Pre-dinner, Ray (business colleague) and I were adventurous, trying an Austrian red whose name I can't remember and which I had never heard of before. Quite good. Sadly, I had to leave about the time my hosts opened up what looked like an excellent bottle of champagne.
Ghost Bar party. (In case you don't know, Britney hangs out there when she's in Vegas, and she started off at Ghost Bar before heading off to get married; I avoided the white chapel after the Ghost Bar). Caviar and creme fraiche on criss-cross potato chips. Lamb chops with a cucumber mint sauce. Excellent shrimp. Not so great sushi (I think i might have gotten a slight case of food poisoning). Lots of champagne.
IDC Breakfast Briefing. The food looked fabulous - I felt so crappy due to the slight case of food poisoning and lack of sleep that as a result that I could only choke down some fruit and a mini muffin. Others loaded up their plates...and looked pretty happy.
Coyote Cafe. Excellent chips with salsa and guac. Could have been because we were completely starving.
Studio Cafe. I had to stop eating when i realized that I couldn't identity which was chicken and which was cheese in my quesadilla.
Highlights of CES cuisine include:
Crafsteak with IGN/GameSpy. Served family style, I loved almost every single item. Spinach salad, tuna tartare, charcuterie plate (sopresseta, prosciutto, etc.), special mustards. Flat-iron kobe beef steak, a rib-eye, lamb shank, polenta, sauteed spinach, Jersusalem artichokes (simply amazing, must have again) and probably a few other things I'm forgetting. Dessert was overwhelming: chocolate souffle with sauce, creme brulee, an assortment of sorbes and ice creams, monkey bread with a bourbon sauce. I'm probably getting a few details confused. And of course, wine. With each course. Pre-dinner, Ray (business colleague) and I were adventurous, trying an Austrian red whose name I can't remember and which I had never heard of before. Quite good. Sadly, I had to leave about the time my hosts opened up what looked like an excellent bottle of champagne.
Ghost Bar party. (In case you don't know, Britney hangs out there when she's in Vegas, and she started off at Ghost Bar before heading off to get married; I avoided the white chapel after the Ghost Bar). Caviar and creme fraiche on criss-cross potato chips. Lamb chops with a cucumber mint sauce. Excellent shrimp. Not so great sushi (I think i might have gotten a slight case of food poisoning). Lots of champagne.
IDC Breakfast Briefing. The food looked fabulous - I felt so crappy due to the slight case of food poisoning and lack of sleep that as a result that I could only choke down some fruit and a mini muffin. Others loaded up their plates...and looked pretty happy.
Coyote Cafe. Excellent chips with salsa and guac. Could have been because we were completely starving.
Studio Cafe. I had to stop eating when i realized that I couldn't identity which was chicken and which was cheese in my quesadilla.
Tuesday, January 06, 2004
Business in Vegas
I'm currently in Vegas for business (yeah, CES!), staying at the MGM Grand. Weirdness, my trying to be cool and Hollywood modern hotel room is decorated with three giant pictures of movie stars. Not sure who the females are, but the male is definitely Patric Stewart, not at all looking like Captain Picard or Professor Xavier. Probably one of his better, non-science fiction roles ;)
I ate dinner at Emeril's New Orleans Fish House, in the cafe. The oysters on the half shell were good, although I do prefer the French-style light shallot-based champagne dressing rather than cocktail sauce with a healthy dollop of horseradish. The horseradish tends to obscure the fresh taste of the oysters, imo. Still good...I sucked down a chef's half dozen (7!).
Main course was striped bass - had never had it before, but wanting to try ever since I saw the Fab Five organize a striped bass dinner for one of the inept straight males. The fish on its own was good, on the meaty side but oily enough to keep it from tasting like steak.
It was served with some type of rice pilaf with a heavy, spicy tomato sauce. I'm not convinced that the rice/sauce dish really went that well with the fish. But it was good, nonetheless.
BAM!!!
I ate dinner at Emeril's New Orleans Fish House, in the cafe. The oysters on the half shell were good, although I do prefer the French-style light shallot-based champagne dressing rather than cocktail sauce with a healthy dollop of horseradish. The horseradish tends to obscure the fresh taste of the oysters, imo. Still good...I sucked down a chef's half dozen (7!).
Main course was striped bass - had never had it before, but wanting to try ever since I saw the Fab Five organize a striped bass dinner for one of the inept straight males. The fish on its own was good, on the meaty side but oily enough to keep it from tasting like steak.
It was served with some type of rice pilaf with a heavy, spicy tomato sauce. I'm not convinced that the rice/sauce dish really went that well with the fish. But it was good, nonetheless.
BAM!!!
Sunday, January 04, 2004
Soup & the Earthquake
On the saturday of Labor Day Weekend 2000, I made split sea soup with rosemary and bacon from the September 2000 issue of Bon Appetit. Only, I substituted pancetta for the bacon in a fit of culinary experimentation. (www.epicurious.com)
Around 1:30AM that morning, I felt the bed jolt. I knew it was an earthquake, but having grown up in "earthquake country" (i.e., California, which has been threatening to fall into the ocean ever since the 1950s), rolled over and dozed. About 2AM, my phone rang. By the time I got to the phone, it had gone into voice mail, and my dad left a message wondering if I was ok. Whatever...I thought, trudging back to bed.
Five minutes later, the phone rang again. This time, it didn't roll to voice mail. My hysterical mom was on the phone - the big one had hit Napa. And since at the time, they didn't know that the house they'd own for 25 years was located about 3 miles from a fault (no one in Napa really knew), they assumed the real "big one" had hit and my apartment in Sunnyvale was in as much a shambles as their home.
I ended up driving to Napa the next day, not to help my parents clean up the mess that their house had become in the space of about 10 seconds, but to help out Pam, a good family friend. Her daughter Aimee, one of my best friends since we were 4 years old had moved to Florida, her son Andy, like all good sons, a bit useless in the face of emergency.
As I threw a few things together - not sure if I'd have to stay or if I could get back in time for a dinner party with friends that night - I wondered what Pam was thinking. And I realized that in all of the chaos and commotion, Pam probably hadn't eaten anything. So, split pea soup in a tupperware went to Napa with me.
I arrived at Pam's house around noon. She was sitting in her living room sipping on a glass of wine. I knew that she hadn't eaten anything. While she would never admit it, I think that secretly, she was glad that I'd brought something. I don't know if I made her eat sthe oup before we cleaned up her kitchen or after. But I remember that she ate it...with the glass of wine alongside.
Since then, I've always viewed the Bon Appetit split pea soup as restorative. I'm not really sure how much it helped Pam, but I want to say that it did. Soup is always viewed as a nourshing food, something to eat when you're sick or down or in the throws of winter, when sunlight combined with warmth is a thing of memories. Sometimes, certain recipes remain forever in your mind, inextricably wrapped around a memory, and other times, the taste disappears as soon as the pot is washed. The split pea soup is the former, not the latter.
Still grudgingly recovering from whatever illness drove me to think I was going to die, I made the split pea soup this weekend. The last time, I was in between relationships, trying to figure out what do to. The time before, I had moved to a new place and was trying to win favors in what proved to be a difficult roommate relationship. Another time, I was trying to make myself think I wouldn't have to move, when I really knew I would.
The split pea is like magical soup - it's always made me feel better. The memories of the first time I made it probably have much to do with that view. It's one of my comfort foods.
The earthquake did a lot of damage to Pam's house. I'd like to think that the soup helped her in a time of need. Maybe the fact that we got her kitchen - arguably, one of the most important rooms in the house - back in order helped. Who knows
Around 1:30AM that morning, I felt the bed jolt. I knew it was an earthquake, but having grown up in "earthquake country" (i.e., California, which has been threatening to fall into the ocean ever since the 1950s), rolled over and dozed. About 2AM, my phone rang. By the time I got to the phone, it had gone into voice mail, and my dad left a message wondering if I was ok. Whatever...I thought, trudging back to bed.
Five minutes later, the phone rang again. This time, it didn't roll to voice mail. My hysterical mom was on the phone - the big one had hit Napa. And since at the time, they didn't know that the house they'd own for 25 years was located about 3 miles from a fault (no one in Napa really knew), they assumed the real "big one" had hit and my apartment in Sunnyvale was in as much a shambles as their home.
I ended up driving to Napa the next day, not to help my parents clean up the mess that their house had become in the space of about 10 seconds, but to help out Pam, a good family friend. Her daughter Aimee, one of my best friends since we were 4 years old had moved to Florida, her son Andy, like all good sons, a bit useless in the face of emergency.
As I threw a few things together - not sure if I'd have to stay or if I could get back in time for a dinner party with friends that night - I wondered what Pam was thinking. And I realized that in all of the chaos and commotion, Pam probably hadn't eaten anything. So, split pea soup in a tupperware went to Napa with me.
I arrived at Pam's house around noon. She was sitting in her living room sipping on a glass of wine. I knew that she hadn't eaten anything. While she would never admit it, I think that secretly, she was glad that I'd brought something. I don't know if I made her eat sthe oup before we cleaned up her kitchen or after. But I remember that she ate it...with the glass of wine alongside.
Since then, I've always viewed the Bon Appetit split pea soup as restorative. I'm not really sure how much it helped Pam, but I want to say that it did. Soup is always viewed as a nourshing food, something to eat when you're sick or down or in the throws of winter, when sunlight combined with warmth is a thing of memories. Sometimes, certain recipes remain forever in your mind, inextricably wrapped around a memory, and other times, the taste disappears as soon as the pot is washed. The split pea soup is the former, not the latter.
Still grudgingly recovering from whatever illness drove me to think I was going to die, I made the split pea soup this weekend. The last time, I was in between relationships, trying to figure out what do to. The time before, I had moved to a new place and was trying to win favors in what proved to be a difficult roommate relationship. Another time, I was trying to make myself think I wouldn't have to move, when I really knew I would.
The split pea is like magical soup - it's always made me feel better. The memories of the first time I made it probably have much to do with that view. It's one of my comfort foods.
The earthquake did a lot of damage to Pam's house. I'd like to think that the soup helped her in a time of need. Maybe the fact that we got her kitchen - arguably, one of the most important rooms in the house - back in order helped. Who knows
Thursday, January 01, 2004
Illness
In revenge for the excesses of Christmas and the weekend, I have been crippled over the past several days with either a nasty case of food poisoning or the stomach flu. Whichever it was, I can honestly say that at certain moments of violent illness, death was a welcome option.
I really hate being sick. Dealing with the pure physicality of the pain and weakened state is only one aspect. The other is forcing myself to actually depend on others for help. With a few notable exceptions, I've always had a tendency to be independent and ask for little help. Being ill forced me to reach out - and it was really hard. But I had no choice; it was swallow my pride or suffer even more than I already was.
Sometimes, life forces you to make tough decisions.
I really hate being sick. Dealing with the pure physicality of the pain and weakened state is only one aspect. The other is forcing myself to actually depend on others for help. With a few notable exceptions, I've always had a tendency to be independent and ask for little help. Being ill forced me to reach out - and it was really hard. But I had no choice; it was swallow my pride or suffer even more than I already was.
Sometimes, life forces you to make tough decisions.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)