Thursday, May 10, 2007
Friday, April 27, 2007
fiddlehead ferns and fideos
Eats:
Warning: this city is not shy about salt. "Savory" is my euphemism for "bloat", and I have been savoring this city with reckless abandon. My pilates instructor will be appalled. Read and salivate at your own risk.
fiddlehead ferns, as my dear noa describes them, "taste like the forest after it rains". she's a blogger extraordinaire and fabulous foodie, so i expect no less of her...but it's still a fresh and crispy delight to be amongst NYC food lovers and not LA food haters. at long last, i can stand tall, recently only a shadow of my San Francisco foodie self. Casa Mono set the stage last night. N and I shared quite the romantic little table here, and nibbled on Patatas Bravas and Pimiento Ramps so spicy that not even New York's Finest could cool the tongue. I reveled in losing myself to this mysterious menu despite my knowedge of the Spanish language. El Bulli, here I come!
Endive salad and a-maz-ing grape leaves from Citronella. And the polenta napoleon is a great hangover helper! ERose aka Golden Tw** and I rationalized our consumption of percorino romano.
Brussel Spoouts and Cauliflower in broth at Employees Only, and the "gluten nemesis" cocktail the charming host mixed especially for me. I went here twice and on the second time contemplated spending some time with the fortune teller, which indicates my state of mind at the time....
Dumplings at Chinatow Braserie. While I know that these are over-priced as compared to any Chinatown varierty, the whole mystery meat risk is removed, which makes these dumplings infinitely more palatable. They are so lovely and translucent-- almost like the pulsating dome of some exquisite jellyfish. The mushroom dumplings fell apart in my mouth. MMMMM. And the watercress ones-- amazing. The turnip cake is heavy, but makes a nice base for an evening of cocktails and whatnots.
Marvelous Moroccan olives and golden raisins danced throughout my butter lettuce salad with sesame-tahini dressing at CookShop. I enjoyed it with a sauvignon blanc at the behest of my work friend and college friend-of-a-friend, B. Reunions are divine, especially at noon in Chelsea.
Samy's Noodle shop-- I couldn't spend more than $20 on dim sum dinner for two here if I tried! The New Year's Cake is what I had known as a Shanghai rice cake-- chewy discs of rice noodle stir fried with boy choy and brown sauce. The dim sum was ok, and ya can't beat the price!
Beverage:
House Cabernet at Soho House roofdeck. As my friend D, a founding member of SoHo house in NYC, see it, this is an exclusive place for escaping the hustle bustle of the scene. SH is a constant-- a place where people can relax and be their fabulous selves and not waste their good luck on the general public. Not sure whether I am buying in on his view.
Grammercy Park Hotel: mango martini-- overkill on the sugar and spice. I think there are still fragments of clove in my left molars.
Discovered at Union Bar-- Patron with a splash of soda and Rose's Lime, served on the rocks. I will never look back!
Warning: this city is not shy about salt. "Savory" is my euphemism for "bloat", and I have been savoring this city with reckless abandon. My pilates instructor will be appalled. Read and salivate at your own risk.
fiddlehead ferns, as my dear noa describes them, "taste like the forest after it rains". she's a blogger extraordinaire and fabulous foodie, so i expect no less of her...but it's still a fresh and crispy delight to be amongst NYC food lovers and not LA food haters. at long last, i can stand tall, recently only a shadow of my San Francisco foodie self. Casa Mono set the stage last night. N and I shared quite the romantic little table here, and nibbled on Patatas Bravas and Pimiento Ramps so spicy that not even New York's Finest could cool the tongue. I reveled in losing myself to this mysterious menu despite my knowedge of the Spanish language. El Bulli, here I come!
Endive salad and a-maz-ing grape leaves from Citronella. And the polenta napoleon is a great hangover helper! ERose aka Golden Tw** and I rationalized our consumption of percorino romano.
Brussel Spoouts and Cauliflower in broth at Employees Only, and the "gluten nemesis" cocktail the charming host mixed especially for me. I went here twice and on the second time contemplated spending some time with the fortune teller, which indicates my state of mind at the time....
Dumplings at Chinatow Braserie. While I know that these are over-priced as compared to any Chinatown varierty, the whole mystery meat risk is removed, which makes these dumplings infinitely more palatable. They are so lovely and translucent-- almost like the pulsating dome of some exquisite jellyfish. The mushroom dumplings fell apart in my mouth. MMMMM. And the watercress ones-- amazing. The turnip cake is heavy, but makes a nice base for an evening of cocktails and whatnots.
Marvelous Moroccan olives and golden raisins danced throughout my butter lettuce salad with sesame-tahini dressing at CookShop. I enjoyed it with a sauvignon blanc at the behest of my work friend and college friend-of-a-friend, B. Reunions are divine, especially at noon in Chelsea.
Samy's Noodle shop-- I couldn't spend more than $20 on dim sum dinner for two here if I tried! The New Year's Cake is what I had known as a Shanghai rice cake-- chewy discs of rice noodle stir fried with boy choy and brown sauce. The dim sum was ok, and ya can't beat the price!
Beverage:
House Cabernet at Soho House roofdeck. As my friend D, a founding member of SoHo house in NYC, see it, this is an exclusive place for escaping the hustle bustle of the scene. SH is a constant-- a place where people can relax and be their fabulous selves and not waste their good luck on the general public. Not sure whether I am buying in on his view.
Grammercy Park Hotel: mango martini-- overkill on the sugar and spice. I think there are still fragments of clove in my left molars.
Discovered at Union Bar-- Patron with a splash of soda and Rose's Lime, served on the rocks. I will never look back!
Sunday, April 8, 2007
brunch is arisen
all of beautiful post-coital LA was condensed into BLD this morning. a few couples had beautiful babies, and i found myself wondering whether they had been conceived before brunch at BLD. but that would be nearly impossible, as BLD is newish. s and i debated on whether it was "ok" for me to stare and smile and coo at babies for more than a few polite minutes. he thinks parents appreciate my attention to their genetic pairing, but i think i must be annoying, like the people who always want to pet your french bulldog on the street and ask obvious questions.
i had a wild mushroom fritatta with spinash, shallots and aged goat cheese! s had the turkey burger. as for the sides, we played our usual game. he asked me to order the fries, to liberate me from my health nut thing; he, in turn, ordered a side salad, so that i couldn't admonish him for ordering the fries. sound complicated? this meant only that we were to switch in minutes.
the coffee was amazing at bld. gotta find out whether it was illy.
so we are heading to oasis in the ghetto in echo park for a brunch/mimosa fest by the pool. this is *the* party house for the summer, and this is *the* party to kick off teej's departure to bulgaria to film some sci-fi thriller. au revoir, teej! can we housesit?
earlier in the morning, things were not so auspicious. i felt it my duty to go to easter service so that i could honestly tell my mom i did. s went to parochial school and is anti-religion but agnostic...he's lapsed. i was raised lutheran but have studied histories of religions and am of an open mind...with the loftiest ideals and basest temptations. i am disgusted by the bigotry of the church, but easter is supposed to be about renewal, about some hope. so...i convinced him. we despise all this new-agey rock session stuff, so opted for what looked like a traditional lutheran place in our hood. martin luther would have nailed HIMSELF to door the church at worms with 99 reasons not to go to this church. instead, 400 years later, I got scarred.
count down from 99:
99. "viva las vegas" page in bulletin
98. scary pastor in muscle shirt with no vocal inflections
97. chinese gangster directly in front of us in over-tailored suit has a problem cracking his ringed knuckles and bobbing his head in affirmation...in sync
96. that rock-pop idol-gospel horrific hymnal music
95. the gladiator audio clips. wtf?
we snuck out and ran down the street!!
needless to say, i will be practicing my "spiritual devotional" (read: augustine) sola for a long time to come. i don't appreciate anyone insulting my intelligence. i will not be evangelazing and touting my own hypocrisy. ugh! revolting!
i had a wild mushroom fritatta with spinash, shallots and aged goat cheese! s had the turkey burger. as for the sides, we played our usual game. he asked me to order the fries, to liberate me from my health nut thing; he, in turn, ordered a side salad, so that i couldn't admonish him for ordering the fries. sound complicated? this meant only that we were to switch in minutes.
the coffee was amazing at bld. gotta find out whether it was illy.
so we are heading to oasis in the ghetto in echo park for a brunch/mimosa fest by the pool. this is *the* party house for the summer, and this is *the* party to kick off teej's departure to bulgaria to film some sci-fi thriller. au revoir, teej! can we housesit?
earlier in the morning, things were not so auspicious. i felt it my duty to go to easter service so that i could honestly tell my mom i did. s went to parochial school and is anti-religion but agnostic...he's lapsed. i was raised lutheran but have studied histories of religions and am of an open mind...with the loftiest ideals and basest temptations. i am disgusted by the bigotry of the church, but easter is supposed to be about renewal, about some hope. so...i convinced him. we despise all this new-agey rock session stuff, so opted for what looked like a traditional lutheran place in our hood. martin luther would have nailed HIMSELF to door the church at worms with 99 reasons not to go to this church. instead, 400 years later, I got scarred.
count down from 99:
99. "viva las vegas" page in bulletin
98. scary pastor in muscle shirt with no vocal inflections
97. chinese gangster directly in front of us in over-tailored suit has a problem cracking his ringed knuckles and bobbing his head in affirmation...in sync
96. that rock-pop idol-gospel horrific hymnal music
95. the gladiator audio clips. wtf?
we snuck out and ran down the street!!
needless to say, i will be practicing my "spiritual devotional" (read: augustine) sola for a long time to come. i don't appreciate anyone insulting my intelligence. i will not be evangelazing and touting my own hypocrisy. ugh! revolting!
Thursday, April 5, 2007
wickety-wack at the MizzOCA
this feminist exhibition has been really poorly reviewed, but i found it very provocative. isn't that the point?
http://www.moca.org/wack/
ana mendieta's "almas en fuego", a series of outdoor photographs with mediums from earth to ice shaped as human bodies, laced with gun powder, was really compelling. it reminder me of those baking soda volcanoes we made as kids. except the "blowin' up" was metaphorical. but really, it was beautiful.
there was lots of pantalones en fuego in this exhibit, too.
i like judy chicago. her work makes me cry, because itevokes such strong empathy, from elation to humiliation.
with the exception of chicago, i was surprised that the feminists were for the most part beautiful,
attractively put-together women. i expected them to be rather crude and unfinished.
if you're in LA, check it out at the Geffen Contemporary. but don't go upstairs. there's nothing good up there unless you can suppress a gag.
http://www.moca.org/wack/
ana mendieta's "almas en fuego", a series of outdoor photographs with mediums from earth to ice shaped as human bodies, laced with gun powder, was really compelling. it reminder me of those baking soda volcanoes we made as kids. except the "blowin' up" was metaphorical. but really, it was beautiful.
there was lots of pantalones en fuego in this exhibit, too.
i like judy chicago. her work makes me cry, because itevokes such strong empathy, from elation to humiliation.
with the exception of chicago, i was surprised that the feminists were for the most part beautiful,
attractively put-together women. i expected them to be rather crude and unfinished.
if you're in LA, check it out at the Geffen Contemporary. but don't go upstairs. there's nothing good up there unless you can suppress a gag.
Monday, April 2, 2007
progressive/passe of the day
OUT: wearing pearls to the gym
IN: wearing white gold to pilates
OUT: malls and parking garages
IN: Farmers Markets
OUT: The smell of pennies
IN: Paypal bank
OUT: Lazy weekends (exception noted for mimosa brunches in Malibu)
IN: Mishe Mokwe trail
OUT: Senses of entitlement
IN: My sense of entitlement
OUT: Those below honor
IN: Righteous indignation
OUT: Pinkberry
IN: M Café strawberry speltcakes
IN: wearing white gold to pilates
OUT: malls and parking garages
IN: Farmers Markets
OUT: The smell of pennies
IN: Paypal bank
OUT: Lazy weekends (exception noted for mimosa brunches in Malibu)
IN: Mishe Mokwe trail
OUT: Senses of entitlement
IN: My sense of entitlement
OUT: Those below honor
IN: Righteous indignation
OUT: Pinkberry
IN: M Café strawberry speltcakes
Saturday, March 17, 2007
ada, or ardor, or perfect prose
le sigh!
this Nabokov tome was recommended by my best friend, aka "golden t***"' nee E.roses' beau, whom i held already in high regard. the book's subject matter is, at first glance, lecherous and degoutante. but one finds oneself lulled in the lilting narrative. it's very Proustian. very recherchez de temps perdu, but more interdit. i love details. descriptions of skin. things that don't openly ask to be perceived as beautiful. unexpected, skilled observances, vivid memories.
i really was surprised to have enjoyed it, as i did not like Lolita. at all. but given Nabokov's intellectually transcendant, oratorally sublime discertations on James Joyce' Ulysses, i had to give him another chance. Nabokov's lectures got a run for their money with Joseph Heller's (Catch 22) Skeleton's Guide to Finnegan's Wake.
Anyhoo, this poor library book was dog-eared as if it had been my own. hopefully it imparts MY affection.
this Nabokov tome was recommended by my best friend, aka "golden t***"' nee E.roses' beau, whom i held already in high regard. the book's subject matter is, at first glance, lecherous and degoutante. but one finds oneself lulled in the lilting narrative. it's very Proustian. very recherchez de temps perdu, but more interdit. i love details. descriptions of skin. things that don't openly ask to be perceived as beautiful. unexpected, skilled observances, vivid memories.
i really was surprised to have enjoyed it, as i did not like Lolita. at all. but given Nabokov's intellectually transcendant, oratorally sublime discertations on James Joyce' Ulysses, i had to give him another chance. Nabokov's lectures got a run for their money with Joseph Heller's (Catch 22) Skeleton's Guide to Finnegan's Wake.
Anyhoo, this poor library book was dog-eared as if it had been my own. hopefully it imparts MY affection.
sisters, real and not so real
the bad news first: i made a little girl cry today. i feel terribly about it. i took my volunteer BBBS little sister to Mountain High today-- we drove 2 hours through the desert only to arrive upon dirt patches modestly annointed with sludge. am i just a vail snob now, or did the necessity of powder occur to the people who advertise spring skiing there? so, pair the bare runs with me lifting the kid under the arms the whole way down the mountain, fruitlessly screaming "snow-plow", and there you have my day. i was raised with the "sink or swim method" and swear by it. no training wheels here. just a strong push from dad on my first bike in an empty parking lot and the words, "if you keep pedaling, you can't fall-- if you stop, you will." to make matters worse, she *insisted* upon (horror of horrors) In-and-out, where i was ogled by a man wearing denim farmer overalls with nothing undernearth while i watched traffic build, bumper-to-bumper, on the 10.
the GOOD NEWS: my youngest sister has been accepted to the UC schools to which she applied! SCORE for the westside! Hooray, my little N-dinka!
the GOOD NEWS: my youngest sister has been accepted to the UC schools to which she applied! SCORE for the westside! Hooray, my little N-dinka!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)