So Much to Read, So Little Time

New York Times 10 Best Books of 2007

MAN GONE DOWN
By Michael Thomas. Black Cat/Grove/Atlantic, paper, $14. This first novel explores the fragmented personal histories behind four desperate days in a black writer’s life.

OUT STEALING HORSES
By Per Petterson. Translated by Anne Born. Graywolf Press, $22. In this short yet spacious Norwegian novel, an Oslo professional hopes to cure his loneliness with a plunge into solitude.

THE SAVAGE DETECTIVES
By Roberto Bolaño. Translated by Natasha Wimmer. Farrar, Straus & Giroux, $27. A craftily autobiographical novel about a band of literary guerrillas.

THEN WE CAME TO THE END
By Joshua Ferris. Little, Brown & Company, $23.99. Layoff notices fly in Ferris’s acidly funny first novel, set in a white-collar office in the wake of the dot-com debacle.

TREE OF SMOKE
By Denis Johnson. Farrar, Straus & Giroux, $27. The author of “Jesus’ Son” offers a soulful novel about the travails of a large cast of characters during the Vietnam War.

Nonfiction

IMPERIAL LIFE IN THE EMERALD CITY: Inside Iraq's Green Zone.
By Rajiv Chandrasekaran. Alfred A. Knopf, $25.95; Vintage, paper, $14.95. The author, a Washington Post journalist, catalogs the arrogance and ineptitude that marked America’s governance of Iraq.

LITTLE HEATHENS: Hard Times and High Spirits on an Iowa Farm During the Great Depression.
By Mildred Armstrong Kalish. Bantam Books, $22. Kalish’s soaring love for her childhood memories saturates this memoir, which coaxes the reader into joy, wonder and even envy.

THE NINE: Inside the Secret World of the Supreme Court.
By Jeffrey Toobin. Doubleday, $27.95. An erudite outsider’s account of the cloistered court’s inner workings.

THE ORDEAL OF ELIZABETH MARSH: A Woman in World History.
By Linda Colley. Pantheon Books, $27.50. Colley tracks the “compulsively itinerant” Marsh across the 18th century and several continents.

THE REST IS NOISE: Listening to the Twentieth Century.
By Alex Ross. Farrar, Straus & Giroux, $30. In his own feat of orchestration, The New Yorker’s music critic presents a history of the last century as refracted through its classical music.

I don't think I am done with 2006 yet! Time to get busy...

A Moveable Feast

Hard to believe that last week at this time we were in London, getting ready for Thanksgiving dinner prepared by friends. What a great time that was - a gathering of people from all over the world, brought together by an American tradition. It was different than being seated next to your aunt or grandparents, watching generations try to understand each other and get along, all in the name of turkey and stuffing. I definitely did not miss the nuances of family time - the ones who talk to much, drink too much, criticize too much. But what I love about Thanksgiving was very present - the smell of good food all over the house, the sound of laughter and clinking glasses, and an overall feeling of contentedness for the bounty that we are fortunate to have in our lives.


It is interesting to watch a meal that is meant to celebrate America being celebrated by people in another country - and one could easily feel that our holiday is being commercialized, and that the meaning is being diluted. But again, looking around the table, I thought of the Pilgrims and Indians, so different in their backgrounds, but (for the time being, anyway), brought together to share the land and combat the hardships of life in the New World. It makes me think of today's world - so frantic, over-scheduled, hurried. Our stresses are different than those of our forefathers, but we are nonetheless suffering: from anxiety, depression, and illnesses brought on by stress and poor diet. So when a group of people finds themselves in a "new world", i.e. an Australian in London, or a French person in Asia, it is no wonder that they have the urge to create new alliances and supportive groups of friends. In that way, we are very much like the Pilgrims, having escaped from our former confines (our hometowns and families), and making a new life elsewhere. In today's world, friends really are the new family.

Baddies We Love to Hate

English movies have some of the best/worst bad guys in film today. Think of Lock, Stock and 2 Smoking Barrels, Trainspotting, Layer Cake - the modern English gangster is a force to be reckoned with.

On the flight to London, we watched a movie called Sugarhouse, a story about a crack addict, a drug lord, and a desperate man in the wrong place at the wrong time. Who is the hero in this story, and who is the villain? That is unclear - certainly, all of them have unscrupulous motives. But each character has enough humanity that you care what is going to happen to them, and from one action-packed moment to the next, the outcome is uncertain.

The film shows a gritty and desperate side of London - a world that tourists would never know existed. Most people would probably identify with Tom - an upper-middle class man suddenly finding himself trapped in a world where there is no such thing as a fair fight, and where retribution is immediate and bloody. But he has a purpose there, too, as the film reveals.

The character of Hoodwink, the baddest baddie, is very well done. Played by Andy Serkis (most famous for playing Gollum in "Lord of the Rings"), he mixes rage with enough humanity to make him more of a person and less of a caricature. The opening scenes of him getting ready for his day are beautifully filmed and poetic.

I have to thank Virgin Atlantic for not editing their films. The violence and language are essential to the story. I read recently that American Airlines is following this trend, and I think it's good.

Yogurt Cupcakes with Black Sesame Chocolate Frosting and Cranberry Creamcheese Frosting

Yay! A birthday party! An excuse to make cupcakes and there will be people eating them! What to do! What to do! I was told to make something simple. But... but... I want to try something new - something exciting!

First - new cake recipe - Yogurt Cake from Chocolate & Zucchini. It was extremely simple to make with all the ingredients I already have. I made one and a half times the recipe and got 28 cupcakes. They came out just ok by themselves - a little leathery and bland compared to the vanilla cupcake recipe that I always use. Maybe I over mixed the batter. Oh well - it gave me more incentive to make fancy frosting.


Black Sesame Chocolate Frosting - Doesn't look pretty but was delicious.

Black Sesame Chocolate Frosting

• 1/2 stick butter - room temperature


• 1 cup confectioner sugar


• 2 tablespoons cocoa powder


• 4 tablespoons black sesame seeds - ground (I ground mine in a coffee grinder.)


• 1/2 teaspoon sesame oil


• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract


• About 1 tablespoon milk

Directions

1. With an electric mixer, whip butter until fluffy. Slowly add sugar. Beat with low setting first and slowly increase the setting. At the same time sprinkle milk over as needed to get the right consistency.


2. Add cocoa powder, ground black sesame, sesame oil and vanilla extract. Beat until blended with medium high setting. Add more milk if needed.

Fresh Cranberry Creamcheese Frosting - The perfect blend of tart - sweet - and creamy.

Cranberry Creamcheese Frosting
I got the idea from the Apple Cranberry Crisp. I prepared cranberries exactly like the crisp recipe but then added cooled cranberries into whipped creamcheese and I got delicious cranberry creamcheese frosting.

• 1 cup fresh cranberries


• 1/4 cup 100% pomegranate juice


• 1/4 cup sugar


• 1 package of 8 oz. creamcheese - room temperature


• 1/2 stick butter - room temperature


• 1 cup confectioner sugar

Directions

1. Over medium heat, boil pomegranate juice and 1/2 cup sugar in a small saucepan. Stir frequently until sugar melts. Add cranberries. Cover during the first few minutes so that bursting cranberries won't make anymore mess. Stir occasionally. Simmer until the liquid reduces. Let cool completely.


2. Beat creamcheese and butter with electric mixer until light and fluffy. Add sugar. Beat until combined. Add cranberry mixture. Beat at medium setting until blended.

Chicken Panang Curry (Panag Gai)

Panang Curry looks and tastes very similar to red curry except that it's a little sweeter, milder and not as liquid-ie. I have seen restaurants in New York made this curry with peanuts. But from what I remember eating in Thailand, there's no peanuts in it.

The main spice (at least the visible one) in Panang Curry is kaffir lime leaves. The leaves give this sharp lime-y, refreshing scent to the curry. I bought bags of these leaves whenever I saw them in Chinatown. They freeze well.



Ingredients

• 1 tablespoon cooking oil


• 1 can coconut milk


• 1/2 cup panang curry paste


• 4 cloves garlic


• 6 shallots


• 2 inches fresh ginger


• 2 inches galangal


• 1 stalk lemongrass


• 2 pounds chicken breast - cubed


• 1 tablespoon dark brown sugar


• 20 kaffir lime leaves - thinly sliced width-wise


• Water


• Fish sauce

Directions

1. Chop garlic, shallots, ginger, galangal, and lemongrass really finely. (I use my food processor fitted with a mini cup and mini blade to chop everything up. This step used to be the longest and hardest process to make curry for me. Now it takes 10 seconds!)


2. In a large saucepan, fry curry paste in oil over medium heat. Add the chopped spice. Stir vigorously. Be careful not to burn. Add half the can of coconut milk. Let cook until fragrant and coconut milk is bubbly.


3. Add chicken and the rest of coconut milk. Stir frequently until the chicken is cooked. Add water if the curry becomes too dry (but not too much water.)


4. Season with sugar and fish sauce. The curry should be mild, and just a tiny bit sweet.


5. Simmer until the chopped spices become tender (about an hour) or until ready to serve.


6. Right before serving, sprinkle chopped kaffir lime leaves over the curry.


7. Serve over steamed rice. I served mine over blanched asparagus and collard green.

The World's Easiest Pie Crust

This Sweet Potato Pecan Pie recipe was so good I had to make it again. The last time I used store bought crust. This time I'm making my own crust. This is from Have Your Cake and Eat It Too by Susan Purdy. I was very skeptical about oil pie crust but this one came out crusty - flaky - nutty - and delicious. Best of all - there are no dishes to clean up.



Ingredients

• 1 1/4 cups all purpose flour


• 1/2 teaspoon sugar


• 1/2 teaspoon salt


• 1/3 cup extra light tasting olive oil (or canola oil)


• 1 1/2 tablespoons soy milk

Directions

1. Combine flour, sugar and salt in a 9-inch pie dish.


2. Add oil and milk. With your fingers, gently rub the mixture together and gather into a ball.


3. Press the mixture into the pie dish


4. Refrigerate for at least 1 hour.


5. My pie recipe requires a pre-baked crust, so I line the pie crust with aluminum foil. Weight the pie with a pound of dry red beans and bake at 400 degrees for 10 minutes. And then reduce the oven to 350 degrees and bake for 10 more minutes.

Apple Cranberry Crisp

In the spirit of Thanksgiving, I bought a bag of fresh cranberry meaning to make Cranberry-Ribbon Apple Pie. But my one and only pie dish was occupied by sweet potato pecan pie. So I made crisp - with apples and cranberries prepared according to the pie recipe. It will be healthier anyway - I can eat leftover for breakfast.

I used pomegranate juice instead of cranberry juice because in my supermarket they only have big huge bottles of 100% cranberry juice. I needed only 1 cup. What would I do with the rest? I hate drinking juice. So I bought the littlest bottle of 100% pomegranate juice I could find. I reduced the amount of sugar in the recipe and used a tablespoon of psyllium husk instead of 2 tablespoons of all-purpose flour to absorb liquid from baked fruit.



Ingredients

• 1 cup 100% pomegranate juice


• 1 bag 12 oz. fresh cranberry


• 1/2 cup sugar



• 2 pounds granny smith apples - peeled, cored, and thinly sliced (I quartered the apple, and then quarter each quarter.)


• 3 large golden delicious apples - peeled, cored, and thinly sliced


• 1/2 cup sugar


• Juice from 1 lemon


• 1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon


• 1 tablespoon ground psyllium husk (or 2 tablespoons all purpose flour)



• 1 cup quick cooking oatmeal


• 1/2 cup almond flour (or all purpose flour)


• 1/4 cup chopped walnuts


• 1/4 cup chilled butter

Directions

In a small saucepan, heat pomegranate juice with 1/2 cup sugar over low heat. Stir until sugar melted. Add cranberries. Let simmer and stir frequently until the juice reduced and absorbed by cranberries. At the beginning some of the cranberries may burst. You might want to cover the saucepan during the first few minutes. Let cool.

1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees.


2. Toss apples, 1/2 cup sugar, lemon juice, ground cinnamon and psyllium husk together. Pour into 9x13 baking pan.


3. Pour cranberry mixture over the apples.


4. In a clean bowl, rub oatmeal, almond flour, chopped walnuts and butter together by hand until there are no chunks of butter left. Sprinkle over the fruit.


5. Bake for 45 minutes. Serve warm with vanilla ice cream for dessert or with vanilla yogurt for breakfast.

Old Soul

He walks away,
The sun goes down,
He takes the day but I'm grown,
And in your grey, in this blue shade
My tears dry on their own

Wow. That's what I have to say about the Amy Winehouse concert we saw last night at Brixton Academy.


What a contrast to my day spent amidst the idyllic and posh surroundings of North London. Brixton is in the heart of South London - rough, working-class, agressive. And as is the case with many struggling communities throughout the world, music is continually born there and rises above its humble roots to fill the space with passion and feeling.

Along with having been the home to a select number of artists, most recently the Streets, Brixton is the birthplace of both David Bowie and Mick Jones. Talk about street cred!

The theater iself is great, both acoustically and spacially. The first floor slopes downward, so that anywhere you stand offers an unobstructed view of the stage.

The crowd waited anxiously for Amy to come onstage, remembering other concerts where she has kept the audience waiting and then refused to play. Estimated on-stage time: 9:15pm, actual arrival time: 10:00pm.

She looked much prettier than I expected. She wore her signature beehive and exaggerated eye liner, with a micro-mini dress that showed off her impressive gams. It didn't seem extreme - it worked for her. Contrary to her media image, she was neither emaciated nor intoxicated, and gave a fantastic performance. Her band and back-up singers were full of energy and the music was awesome!! The show incorporated elements of soul, r & b, ska and Amy's own personal style. Her voice is incredible, defying race, age or era. Every song was arranged and performed perfectly.


All in all, one of the best shows I have seen in this year.

UPDATE 11/27: I just read that Ms. Winehouse has cancelled the rest of her tour, due to health reasons and under doctor's orders. It was a miracle that we got to see her!

As Above, So Below

After coming to Highgate for the past 20 years, I finally had the chance to visit the Highgate Cemetery yesterday. My aunt Emilie and Uncle Godfrey decided to go with me, as it was the first sunny day in a week and they wanted to get out and enjoy it.

Dating from the 1850's, the cemetery is a wonderful wooded place with gravestones covering most of the land, some so overgrown that they are barely recognizable. The most visited (and in my opinion, least impressive) grave site is that of Karl Marx. The second most famous is that of George Eliot - and there is a host of other writers and political figures at rest there.

There are main paths leading around and down the hill, but what is most fun is to take the side paths among the gravestones and go exploring. Wet leaves squish underfoot and if you are quiet, you can spot the resident species of wildlife enjoying their wooded haven. We saw 2 little foxes running down a path, as well as a badger (we think), and many squirrels. Emilie told me that England used to have only red squirrels, but then the American brown squirrel was brought over and they destroyed the red squirrels. I am sure there is a political commentary in there somewhere.

Less visible, but not necessarily more elusive, residents are the ghosts that haunt the site. We didn't see any yesterday, but it is easy to imagine a spectre appearing among the shadows of the trees or resting comfortably on a moss-covered headstone. There is definitely an eerie stillness to the place and I would not want to be caught there after dark. In the 1970's there was a sighting and witch hunt for a vampire ghost, and the subject is still under discussion amongst the local witchcraft-practicing folk.

Legends aside, graveyards have never been scary places for me. I find them peaceful and calming, the epitaphs a testimony to the love that each person was given in life. There are sad ones to be sure (children, men killed in service), but they are a reminder of the fragility and unpredictability of life.

Afterwards we went to lunch at the Cafe Mozart, back to the routine feeding our bodies and going about our days. For me, it was with a renewed appreciation for this time we have above ground, and the simple gift of a beautiful autumn day spent with loved ones.

Yesterday being Thanksgiving day in America, I felt that my heart and thoughts were in the right place, even from across the pond.

When Woe Fades Away

Bereavement a poem
by Percy Bysshe Shelley

How stern are the woes of the desolate mourner
As he bends in still grief o'er the hallowed bier,
As enanguished he turns from the laugh of the scorner,
And drops to perfection's remembrance a tear;
When floods of despair down his pale cheeks are streaming,
When no blissful hope on his bosom is beaming,
Or, if lulled for a while, soon he starts from his dreaming,
And finds torn the soft ties to affection so dear.
Ah, when shall day dawn on the night of the grave,
Or summer succeed to the winter of death?
Rest awhle, hapless victim! and Heaven will save
The spirit that hath faded away with the breath.
Eternity points, in its amaranth bower
Where no clouds of fate o'er the sweet prospect lour,
Unspeakable pleasure, of goodness the dower,
When woe fades away like the mist of the heath

You Don't Drink, You Don't Smoke...What Do You Do?

We saw the band "Good Shoes" last night at the Astoria. Just the type of venue that I like - old, beer-soaked, medium-sized and no frills. The guitars were grinding, beer was being tossed and the crowd was in great spirits.

I may leave the "Sex, Drugs and Rock and Roll" days to the 20-somethings, but I still love rocking out to a great band.

South Ken and the V and A

Spending time in Knightsbridge and Chelsea makes me feel like Holly Golightly with my nose pressed up to the glass in front of Tiffany's. I love it there, and have no trouble envisioning a life in one of the well-appointed townhouses filled with antiques and shopping bags full of shoes from Emma Hope and French Sole. Exiting the South Kensington tube station, everything seems brighter and more polished than before, and even the air in the Tube around there seems less riddled with soot than elsewhere.

The place to go for the most fashion with the least strain to the pocketbook is the wonderful Victoria & Albert Museum. Some of the best exhibits I have seen in recent years have been there. Last year's exhibit on Modernism was truly amazing, and a great example of the amount of thought and work that go into curating one of their exhibits.


Aside from their permanent fasion gallery (a nice-sized although poorly lit room with a good range of displays from may eras), this season the featured exhibit is "The Golden Age of Couture", showcasing fashion from Paris and London from the 40's and 50's. Nowhere but here has it been more evident to me that I was born in the wrong generation, with the wrong social status. The couture creations are breathtaking, from the tiny wasp-waists of Dior to the meticulous tailoring of Balenciaga, to the lavishly detailed Balmain. Scattered throughout the exhibit are videos, large and small, of couture fashion shows, so that you are able to see the real magesty of the garments by their fit on the body. And then you are permitted to get up close (well, close enough) and see the tiny stitches, beadwork, and lustre of the fabrics, from duchesse satin to wool to drapy sheer silk. It is enough to make you want to chuck out your entire mass-produced wardrobe and save up to buy only couture, one outfit at a time. The middle third of the exhibit focuses on fashion sketching and photography, which I adore as much as I do the clothes. The theatricality of pale skin, blood-red lips, a black dress and a perfectly shaped hat cannot be matched. It was one of the few times in fashion that illustration and photography have been so much in sync.


After a giddy hour and a half with couture, I then spent another hour walking through the adjoining exhibit, "The Art of Lee Miller". She has always fascinated me, both as a person and for her photography. This exhibit does a nice job of pulling together the fragments of her multi-faceted life. It shows her modeling days and early years as Man Ray's muse and lover, and then moves into her world travels and photojournalism. The famous photograph of her in Hitler's bathtub is striking, as are the ones of post-Blitz London. In the end she married for a third time, and enjoyed a rural farm life, filled with famous visitors that she put to work. What a life to have led - hard to imagine one of today's fashion models moving so far beyond the runway.


One day I am going to have to take some time to explore the Asian art, silver galleries, and portraits in this enormous museum. But as long as they keep having great exhibits like these, the permanent collections may just have to wait.

Raising the Bar

Aside from the numerous pubs we find ourselves frequenting when in London-town, the city also has a high-end drinking culture that is a visual relief from the polished wood and worn tapestries of the various "Arms" and "Heads" found on every street corner.

Some of the best places are hidden down unmarked staircases, practically requiring a treasure map and secret password to get in. A favorite of mine, introduced to me by my cousin a few years ago, is the Crazy Bear bar in Fitzrovia. Walking down Whitfield Street, you could easily miss it except for a subtle welcome mat and a staff member casually standing by the door in front of a velvet rope. Once you step inside, the impeccable service begins, and you can't help feeling a little bit VIP. The bar, located below ground, is dark and sexy, with cowhide chairs and red leather booths,and things that sparkle seductively in the night. The people are as pretty as the surroundings, and a silky smooth waitress is always on hand to bring you cocktail after cocktail. While not cheap (average £8-10, which translates to about $20 per drink for us) the cocktails are delicious, and you can order nibbles from the Thai restaurant upstairs to offset the inevitable buzz that sneaks up on you.

But the real test of a great night-spot is the bathroom, and the Crazy Bear does not disappoint. My advice would be to get up well before you absolutely have to go. The doors are completely hidden against a mirrored wall and you have to rely on your intuition (or a customer exiting) to find the right one. You will feel the eyes staring at you from the bar as your confusion identifies you as a first-timer. Once inside, all surfaces are covered by mirrored tiles, and the sink is a shared wall between the men's and women's rooms, so that your hands might find themselves sharing the space with those of a stranger.

After you have had your fill of spendy libations, dinner is easily found on nearby Charlotte Street. I like Dim T, a lively Asian-mix restaurant which has a upscale, modern setting but doesn't cost a fortune. You can create your own noodle dish, enjoy steaming baskets of dim sum, or have a traditional hot dish like duck curry.

Other bars on my list to visit are the Player (a very cool place in Soho which we stumbled upon years ago but have not been back), and Sketch.

Femininity, Sexuality and Isolation

Yesterday I visited the Tate Modern with Mike and James. We met at the Blackfriars Tube station, crossed the Millenium Bridge, grabbed a quick bite at the Founders' Arms, and then spent a few hours looking at art.

The Tate Modern, housed in a former power station, was designed by Herzon and de Meuron. This Swiss architecture firm is the same one that did the deYoung Museum in San Francisco. The building is huge and impressive, especially when going over the bridge. Even though the building has only been reclaimed as the museum since 2000, its current form is already a recognized part of the skyline along the Thames.

Here is something that I wish we did in America: museums are free. Not just on certain days or for certain age groups - every day. There is a donation box (suggested £3), but there is no feeling of shame if you do not have the means to give that day. What this means is that museums are for everyone, to be visited on a regular basis. For special exhibits, there is a charge (usually around £10), but you could easily spend the day wandering through the permanent collections and have your art hunger totally satiated.

I had read about the Louise Bourgeois exhibit, although I didn't know much about the sculptor before seeing her work yesterday. It was a large installation, exploring her views in relation to her family, sexuality, and her place in the world, through various mediums: painting, sculpture, and huge "rooms" with found objects inside. The sculptures were the most impressive to me - especially the marble and bronze. It's always amazing to me that something as hard as marble can be manipulated into looking like a fluid piece of fabric or supple skin, or polished to a perfect sphere, sometimes in the same piece. The overall feeling of the exhibit was dark and heavy (one of the final installations was a couple, made of stuffed fabric, fornicating in a Victorian box that was not dissimilar to a coffin), but at the same time I felt a bit disconnected from the artist. It was definitely a glimpse into the depth of her psyche, but like the Victorian box, I felt that there was something kept between us, the viewers, and her.

At 3:30pm it gets dark. As many times as I have experienced this in London, it is still a bit of a shocker. Because of this, night feels endless - we were sitting in the Nag's Head pub in Covent Garden at 4:00pm and it felt like 8:00pm. It is no wonder that the pubs and coffee bars are constantly full - you have to do something to continually warm your insides while the outside creates an environment that is best suited to a day spent in bed.

It Was a Dark and Stormy Night

London in November - short days, rain, musty old pubs. Wool sweaters, umbrellas, and Wellies. In other words, perfect.

We had a relatively uneventful flight on Virgin Atlantic. I watched Michael Moore's "Sicko" which practically convinced me to move to the UK, or at the very least, Canada. It's hard to watch the rest of the world laugh at our work ethics (2nd only to Asia), worthless dollar, and rediculous health-care system.

We took the Tube from Heathrow and met my cousin Viv in Leicester Square and had lunch at Wagamama. So good, so fast - real food always tastes best after a long flight. Then we took a black cab back to her flat in Highgate. I love black cabs. These are nothing like the taxis in the U.S. - the drivers actually learn the trade of driving and knowing the city. Their training, called "The Knowledge", can take several years, and it is extremely intensive as far as knowing where everything is, especially in Central London. Our driver was great and we caught up on current events (football, government) on the way.

Last night we had dinner with my cousins Robbie & Viv in Islington at a pub called "The Winchester". Cumberland sausages, mashed potatoes, and a creamy pint of Guinness - delicious. Then we met friends (from SF and London) at another pub and had a great time just hanging out and catching up. Being a Londoner means that you spend a good portion of your time out and about - pubs are smoke-free now which makes it so much more tolerable.

Chickpea Curry

This isn't my usual Thai curry. It doesn't have coconut milk and it's vegetarian. In an attempt to imitate chickpea curry from Minar - my favourite Indian lunch spot (with lamb and goat curries under Vegetable Curries category...), I found this recipe from AllRecipes.com.

I have all the required spices, although in different forms e.g. ground cinnamon instead of crushed cinnamon stick and ground cloves instead of whole cloves. The recipe calls for canned chickpeas but I'm using dry ones.

It took forever to prepare but it was really simple to make once I have all the ingredients (had to buy ginger and cilantro - the rest came from my wonderful "pantry".) The dish came out delicious - mildly spiced and flavorful.



Ingredients

• 1 pound bag of dry chickpeas - soaked in cold water overnight



• 1 tablespoon olive oil


• 2 onions - chopped


• 1 head garlic - chopped


• 2 inches of fresh ginger - peeled and chopped



• 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon


• 1/2 teaspoon ground clove


• 2 teaspoon ground cumin


• 2 teaspoon cayenne pepper


• 1 teaspoon ground turmeric


• 1 teaspoon ground coriander seeds


• 2 teaspoon salt



• 1 bunch of fresh cilantro - chopped

Directions

1. In a big stock pot, heat oil over medium heat. Sitr in onion. Cook for a few minutes until tender. Add garlic and ginger. Stir.


2. Add chickpeas and about 3 cups of water.


3. Add all the dry spices.


4. Simmer until chickpeas become soft - about an hour or more.


5. Turn off the heat and stir in fresh cilantro just before serving.


6. Make 4-8 servings depending on how much you eat. (I ate this for 3 meals altready and still have about half left.)

Ta-Ta!

And, we're off! I can hardly believe it - third trip to Europe in 5 months?!! How spoiled am I? We are almost (read: barely) packed and getting on a plane in a few short hours. London weather promises to be chilly, damp and dark. The beer promises to be cold, thick, and plentiful. In fact, Mike & James are already there and face-deep in a pint as we speak!

And lest you feel the tiniest bit sorry for me (right), we will not be missing out on Thanksgiving. One of the American girls that Charles & co. met at Burning Man will be hosting a full-on turkey dinner at her flat on Friday night.

Oh, and did I mention that my cousin Viv is taking Olga and me to see Amy Winehouse (that is, if she can stay out of trouble long enough)? Yes, yes, let the envy begin...

All right then, Happy Thanksgiving to all, and to all a good night!

Pancakes

Generation "Why?"

Oh, I just love this book "Hipster Haiku". Jessica gave it to me the other night, and it is such a perfect, clever, snarky commentary on the Hipsters that we have in abundance in San Francisco. Just spend an afternoon at Ritual Coffee in the Mission and you will see what I mean. Tatoos, pale skin, Skinny Jeans, piercings, colored hair and MacBooks abound. As well as a heaviness in the air caused by the overflow of ennui. (the coffee is out of this world, though).

Here are some of my favorites:

Crafty on the BART
En route to 24th Street
Knitting legwarmers

For the love of God
Please, please read the memo:
No more trucker caps

Online personal:
Seventeen bands I like and
Where I went to school

My fancy gay friend
Is secretly intrigued by
My Stitch n Bitch night

Proudly we unveil
A cocktail whose time has come:
Schlitz and Prosecco

Shut Your Pie-Hole

...only after you fill it with a heaping forkful of this delicious new pie I have discovered! And then you can open it back up to thank me for leading to you to the best frozen pie that you can buy.

I was at our corner store last night picking up stuff for dinner last night, when Charles called and said "What's for dessert?" Now mind you, I was not at the grocery store - I was at a small market with a limited, although excellent, selection.

I spotted this pie from Vermont Mystic Pie Company in the frozen section, and I just had a feeling about it. That feeling came when I read the phrase "100% pure butter crust", with no trans-fats. And it came in one flavor only, Blueberry.

So I took one home ($12.99 later), and when I got it out to bake it, I was impressed that it was in such good shape out of the box (no broken edges - I hate that, are you listening Mrs. Smith's???), and the upper crust was a huge dome, promising tons of fruit inside.

While it was in the oven making magic, I checked out the website and was very impressed. The artwork has a Ben-and-Jerry's meets Moosewood Cookbook feel for a reason - the founder of the company is a veteran of socially minded companies such as B & J's and Celestial Seasonings Teas. I love the fact that they use King Arthur Flour and Cabot Butter (which is my great-Aunt Martha's family - hi, Aunt Martha!), as well as hand-picked locally-grown fruit.

And they only make 2 kinds of pie - Apple and Blueberry. None of this Dutch Apple and French Silk shit - just classic fruit pies.

And the result? Oh, man. The closest I have tasted to a homemade pie out of the box by a long shot. The filling is absolutely perfect - juicy fruit, not too sweet, and no gel. This is why it is absolutely essential to let the pie rest for at least 45 min after it comes out of the oven - the fruit and juice have to settle, otherwise it will be a soupy mess. The crust is flaky and tasty and not oily, and holds up to the fruit. They sell the crusts separately, which I am thrilled about as I hate being stuck buying the Pilsbury ones.

They are sold at Whole Foods, Rainbow Grocery and other gourmet food emporiums throughout the country - the map on the website is very well done and easy to use.

I'm saying it here: Pie is the new Cupcake.

What a perfect treat on a cold night in front of the fire watching the season opener of Project Runway.

Is That Your Final Answer?

We've all heard the word "organic" thrown about willy-nilly over the last decade, and everyone is pretty well versed on what it means.

The 2nd runner-up in foodie lexicon is "sustainable". Often, they go hand-in-hand on menus.

But what does sustainable really mean? I was asked this question recently during dinner at Aziza (by my dad no less, who knows perfectly well what it means), and when I opened my mouth, this is what came out:

"uuuhhhhhh....aduh...supporting the land.....hmmmm, uhhhhh.....not bringing in additional...resources?....uhhhh...aduh....farmers....huh."

Well. That's crystal clear.

I was so embarrassed that I looked it up on Wikipedia immediately when I got home. Here is a very concise definition:

Sustainable development:
...development that 'meets the needs of the present generation without compromising the ability of future generations to meet their own needs.

Sustainable agriculture:
Sustainable agriculture refers to the ability of a farm to produce food indefinitely, without causing irreversible damage to ecosystem health. Two key issues are biophysical (the long-term effects of various practices on soil properties and processes essential for crop productivity) and socio-economic (the long-term ability of farmers to obtain inputs and manage resources such as labor).

I am posting this in hopes that when you are asked this question, you come up with the right answer and don't feel like the kid on the special bus in front of your dad.

That's me - saving the socially conscious from embarrassment one word at a time.

Mini Sweet Potato Pecan Pies

We had a Thanksgiving party at the office today. Each of us brought food to share. I brought this. This is the first sweet potato pie I have ever made and it came out great! Everybody at the office loved it. Rebecca even said that these mini pies won the tastiest award of the day - although she always said she loved my food whenever I gave her anything to eat, it was still flattering.



I got the recipe from Simply Recipe - my favourite food blog. I baked mine in muffin pans and got 16 mini pies. I figured they would be easier to carry and if there were leftover, they wouldn't look like leftover. I could give them to my friends after work. It's just that there were only crumbs left by the end of the first hour.

I used 3 frozen pie crusts from the supermarket, divided and pressed into greased muffin pans. The pies baked for about 20 to 22 minutes at 375 degrees in my oven. And because I made mini pies, I chopped all the pecans instead of just half so that I can drop them easily.

I need to find excuses to make more of these. They are delicious... Maybe I'll start baking mini pies for birthday parties instead of cupcakes.

Not in my kitchen...

... in Guatemala

In the Company of (Wo)Men

Here's the thing - I have always been the girl who preferred to hang out with guys. Don't get me wrong, I have had many good and close female relationships, but women as a group have never had much of an appeal to me. Throughout my life, I found myself feeling like an outsider in groups of girls and young women - from Girl Scouts, to Camp Birchwood, to my sorority. Sitting in rooms where the noise volume would reach a deafening decibel, I would sit there and think, ok this is stupid: I don't want to be here, I can't relate to what they are talking about, and most of all, these people are not to be trusted. I would be secretly hoping that a group of renegade boys would burst into the room and rescue us...from ourselves and each other.

So, the fact that I have found myself at a few events consisting entirely of women in the past two months, feeling unified, connected and supported has come of something of a surprise. The events themselves were wonderful, but it was the amazing feeling of being in the room that really struck me. Something primal overcame me, like the urge to band together as a tribe, fulfill our roles as gatherers and nurturers, create a community...or just sit together over big cups of coffee and talk for hours. I really hate that word "empowering", but that is what it was.


In October, Montana took me to a panel discussion put together by Flexsperience and Mommy Track'd, monitored by Leslie Morgan Steiner, author of Mommy Wars. On the panel, 7 women who had various careers and family situations, discussed their challenges and how they found solutions to juggling their careers, children, and marriages. 600 women from the Bay Area attended this event - 600 smart, educated, successful women who were all faced with the same question, how do we do it all? And not go crazy? I was reminded that, even with all of those degrees, years of experience, leadership and organizational skills, these women still questioned themselves, their choices, and how to get it all done. And why, once we make those choices (to be a working mom or stay-at-home), do we separate into two opposing camps, each resenting (and perhaps envying) the other? Why do women feel this need to sabotage each other? - men do not do this - or if they do, they do so overtly, and then go out for beers. In that room, I did not feel competition. I just felt need - the need to reach out to each other and help one another navigate through this complicated life.

Two books spurred the other events that I have attended, The May Queen and This is Not the Life I Ordered.


Amy invited me to a book reading given by her friend and neighbor, Nicki Richesin, of the book she edited called The May Queen, a compilation of life-experience stories written by women in their 30's. Even though I am 2 years past the expiration date for this decade of women, I absolutely loved the book. Each story has a significant moment of learning, insight or self-realization that any woman of any age can relate to. I love the beginning of "Bedsores and Cocktails" by Heather Juergensen:

The day I turned 30 I stayed in bed all day. I never in a million years imagined that's what I would end up doing, but that's what I did. While still safely ensconced in my twenties, I loved spouting wise, pithy aphorisms like 'All good things will happen in your thirties', or worst of all, 'I can't wait to turn thirty!' Flash forward to the day itself, and there I was, lying catatonic in bed like some hideously trite Cathy cartoon. Staying in bed all day - that is alone, with no gorgeous guy licking my toes to make it more interesting - is a lot more painful than I would have thought.

Reading these stories from women who sounded not unlike my friends (because in my dream-world, Tanya Donnelly is definitely my friend!) felt like a dinner-table discussion of people who had learned all to well the meaning behind the saying, "Want to hear God laugh? Make a plan!"

And the extra-special bonus prize? Getting to know Nicki, a wonderful, funny, insightful woman who I am proud to have among my friends.

Last night, Jessica took me to see Jackie Speier, one of the contributors to This is Not the Life I Ordered, who was speaking at Congregation Beth Am in Los Altos. Jackie is a former California State Senator, who has had more than a lifetime of experiences in her 50-odd years. She survived the Jonestown shootings (after being shot at point-blank range 5 times), and after that the death of her husband at age 43, when they were raising a young son and had a baby on the way. Oh and she had just given up her job and found out that her husband's life insurance had lapsed (that was the "that would be me!" moment for me). Either one of those events would have been too much for most people to take. But she learned to be resourceful, lean on her friends and loved ones, and pull through it. And during this time, she and 4 friends formed a Kitchen Table Discussion Group to help each other cope with life's curveballs, a practice that they urge their readers to do themselves. I think it's a great idea. Jackie delivered her story in such a down-to-earth way that I almost forgot about who she was as a public figure - that night, she was just one of the girls.

So, here they are all around me. Career women, women in their 30's, women in their 50's, and sitting square in the dawn of my 40's, me. Not least of all are the 3 dear friends who brought me into these amazing circles. I feel it - I feel the bond. I like it, and I can say this truthfully now, I need it. I am not sure how I am going to exercise this need to commune with my sex on a regular basis, but it will happen somehow. I have heard these voices and they have spoken to something deep within me, so I am not going to let them go any time soon.

Baby, It's Cold Outside

...and I just counted 7 different varieties of cocoa in my cupboard. Schweet!

The World According to ME ME MEEEEEEE!

Which is exactly as it should be, no?

So listen up, music lovers, I am going to clue you in to one of the coolest sites ever. It's called Pandora, and it is an interactive site where you choose a band or song and it plays a selection of related tracks in a continuous stream, in the format of a "radio station".

You can create multiple stations on your account, according to your different tastes and moods (almost like having a Playlist that searches your music for you, except that their database is much bigger). So I started off with "The Decemberists" for some indie rock, and got songs by them, Yo La Tengo, Special Needs, etc etc. A window with the artist and title pops up so you can rate the selections, and so that Pandora can get more acquainted with your tastes. I decided I wanted to hear some electronica, so then I created an "Underworld" station. Now I am listening to a song by some guy named Yoshimoto that has a similar kind of driving beat - love it!

When you sign up, you can either pay $36/year to have advertising-free multiple-channel access, or you can be a cheapie like me and choose "free radio". Just for signing up, you get a thank-you note in your email in-box and a picture of a cute guy who I would assume to be the founder of the site, Tim. I'm gonna assume it, because in my fantasy I am laying in the tub while cutie Tim is playing all of my favorite music and simultaneously dusting and cooking dinner.

Fuck, I just knew my day would come some time. All I had to do was open Pandora's box!

The Fabric of Our Lives

So, next week we are going to London for Thanksgiving. Yes, back to the mother country that our forefathers fled from.

While we are there, we are going to go to Fabric, a nightclub known throughout the world for electronic music. So many great DJ's have played there - Sasha, Digweed, Carl Cox, Chemical Brothers, etc. Next Friday night is an event called Fabriclive, a 2 day/night event with multiple acts in all 3 rooms of the club. One of the performers will be FreqNasty, who plays at Burning Man - Charles ran into him in the Phoenix airport last month, and said he was very cool. It will be great to see him again.

The headliner will be the Stanton Warriors. They're best known for a song from Stanton Sessions, Volume 2 called "Get 'Em High" and a great remix of Gorrillaz "Feel Good Inc."
Why is it that UK DJ's do breakbeat so well? I don't know, but I can't wait to get my grove on to these guys!!

Here is a track from their Fabric compilation album.

Funny Felines

I can't help it, my cats make me laugh.

Here is Simon with my Mac. Yup, there is nothing much going on in internet world.


Here is Hugo in one of his funny and strange positions. I love how his teeth are sticking out and his feet are curled, like that cartoon cat Bucky from "Get Fuzzy". He always reminds me of that cat!

Counting My Blessings

So, purification day is officially over. It was great, I felt cleansed and healthy. My body was purged of toxins, including toxic thoughts. I was proud of myself for being really good all day.

So, today God sent me this. Thanks, God! It's heavenly.

Finding Peace

I have had too much stuff in my head lately. I can feel it bottlenecking, which results in fractured thinking, poor sleep, stomach issues, and anxiety. In the past, that would have led straight to hedonism, but I am trying to be more health-conscious these days.

Today I am taking a "purification day", both in body and mind. I borrowed that phrase from my friend Kirsten, who did a "purity month" a few years ago. No coffee, light foods, and not too much stimulus. I started out my morning with some Pomegranate Green Tea, and apple, and a yogurt.


This afternoon, I am going to a 3-hour yoga workshop, given by one of my teachers at YogaStudio. I am really looking forward to it. I have been doing yoga more regularly, and I realize how beneficial it is to my mind and body - but sometimes an hour and a half seems too short. This workshop promises to incorporate the mind and spirit into the practice, which is something that I think will really benefit me. Cynthia is a teacher that I really like and trust, which makes a huge difference to me.


Outside, a steady misty rain is falling. I love this kind of weather - perfect for going inside yourself and being introspective.

This American Life

What a week. Upon receiving the happy news that my friend Bruce is ok and home from the hospital, I was given some sad news. My great-uncle Tom, one of my favorite relatives and overall people, passed away on Wednesday night.

Tom was one of those people who was always interested in what you were doing, and he wanted to explore and dissect every issue. I remember having Christmas dinner with him, my aunt Martha, and his daughter and grand-daughters a few years ago. The table was so alive with conversation and lively discussion. Disagreements and passionate offense or defense were normal fare at a Hartmann dinner, and I would always catch Uncle Tom chuckling to himself in the corner as the opposing arguments played themselves out, usually spurred on by something he instigated. My aunt Martha, forever strong, proper, and demure, rarely participated in these discussions, but you couldn't miss the smile forming at the corners of her mouth when someone made a particularly colorful remark.

Aside from his many accomplishments, Uncle Tom was first and foremost a family man. His daughters, Betsy and Darcy, were taught to be independent, thinking women who should be confident in being themselves.

I heard from my mother that right before he passed, he asked the question "Why am I dying?" While this may seem tragic, I saw it as Uncle Tom being himself - challenging life just as he challenged all of us, his inquisitive mind never willing to rest.

His was a life well-lived. In 85 years, he accomplished much more than any one of us can imagine, and affected so many people's lives. I feel like on of the world's mentors is gone, and I will miss his presence greatly.

Below is his obituary:

Thomas Buchan Hartmann of Montgomery Township, New
Jersey, died peacefully on November 7, 2007, at
Stonebridge, with his loving family by his side. He
was 85 years old.

Tom was born in Somerville, NJ, the youngest of four
siblings in the family of John A. and Janet Buchan
Hartmann. He was educated in local schools and then
attended Phillips Academy in Andover, Massachusetts,
graduating in the class of 1941. He later served for
many years as class secretary.

He entered Princeton University in the fall of 1941,
and was one of the first Princeton undergraduates to
volunteer to serve in World War Two. He enlisted in
naval aviation and trained as a dive bomber pilot. He
selected the Marine Corps for his commission and
joined the Ace of Spades, the oldest Marine squadron,
as his combat unit. Stationed in the central Pacific
on Midway Island and the Gilbert and Marshall Islands,
he flew eighty-nine combat missions and received the
Distinguished Flying Cross with a cluster and an Air
Medal with two clusters.

He married Martha Bothfeld of Wellesley,
Massachusetts, on April 14, 1945. It was unusually
warm and happened to be the day of President Franklin
D. Roosevelt’s funeral. To the physical discomfort of
the guests and the political discomfiture of some, the
couple observed half an hour of silence in FDR’s
memory before their wedding ceremony.

In fall 1945, Tom returned to Princeton to complete
his undergraduate degree. Upon graduation, his first
job was as a history teacher at the Hun School in
Princeton. In honor of his inspiring teaching, the Hun
School Class of 1951 recently established the Thomas
B. Hartmann Faculty Fellowship Award. He later taught
at the Tower Hill School in Wilmington, Delaware, and
then became headmaster of St. Mark’s School in Dallas,
Texas.

He returned to New Jersey in 1963, and served as
Assistant Director of the NJ Office of Economic
Opportunity and as Deputy Director of the Governor’s
Commission on the Newark Riots of 1967. He helped to
develop Livingston College at Rutgers University, and
joined the faculty there as professor of Journalism
and Mass Media. In 1992 the University bestowed on him
the Presidential Award for Distinguished Public
Service, citing “his contributions to advancing and
understanding the development of public policy, his
extension of educational service to government by
placing student interns in public offices, and his
unselfish personal service to public institutions and
leaders at the municipal, state, and national levels.”
He worked closely with Senator Bill Bradley in his
campaigns.

His volunteer work was extensive. He served as chair
of the New Jersey Advisory Committee for the Foster
Grandparents program, and was a member of the Advisory
Committee for Channel 13. He was a founding member and
trustee of Outward Bound, USA. He also served a term
on the Princeton Township Committee. More recently, he
joined the Board of Trustees of New Jersey Policy
Perspective.

An avid sports enthusiast, he was a scout for the
Detroit Tigers baseball team and assisted the Women’s
Sports Foundation in their annual journalism awards.
He was a passionate golfer and belonged to the
Hopewell Valley Country Club where he spent many happy
hours.

Tom loved people and knew a great many. In a
proclamation issued on his retirement from Rutgers,
Governor James Florio of New Jersey noted that “Tom
Hartmann’s colleagues have been known to remark that
he has gone to school with, taught, or worked with
every person on the planet.” He had a prodigious
memory for people and events, especially concerning
New Jersey’s history and politics.

He is survived by his wife of 62 years, Martha; his
three daughters, Darcy Hartmann of Lafayette,
California, Betsy Hartmann of Amherst, Massachusetts,
and Anna Wexler of Brookline, Massachusetts; five
grandchildren; and his son-in-law James Boyce of
Amherst. A memorial service will be held December 1,
2007, at the Unitarian Universalist Church in
Princeton. In lieu of flowers, gifts may be made to
the Thomas B. Hartmann Faculty Fellowship Award at the
Hun School.

New Kid on the Bloc

Being Quiet

I am out of sorts today. I was up all night doing nothing, just watching tv and having this feeling that something wasn't quite right. It made me restless but also tired, too tired to do what I really needed to do, which was lie down. I just wanted to stare at the tv with the cat in my lap, so that's what I did until 5am. I was awake when the world was asleep and asleep when the world was awake.

This morning my friend Bruce called to tell me he is in the hospital. Again. His sickness has been going on and off again for a few years, but this year has been especially bad. He has cancer on top of everything else, and has had a few rounds of chemo this summer, which were pretty awful. But he has had a clean bill of health for a couple of months, and is taking care of himself now, so when he called me last week to say that he had come down with the flu, I was hopeful that it was just that, the flu.

So, no. It's not just the flu, and he has to have surgery next week. It's never that simple anymore, and I guess I just have to accept that. But you know what? I don't accept it. I don't accept that he is sick and I don't know what is going to happen, and despite doing everything right, it may not be enough. Fuck. Not acceptable.

We had a good talk today. Bruce is one of those people that I am happy to do even the most mundane things with - going to the grocery store, making breakfast, lying in bed watching TV. We love to come home after we've been out to dinner and listen to Striesand on the stereo and sing, and he always turns it down for "Evergreen" because we both love that song, and he loves the way I sing it so he wants to hear my voice. He wants to hear my voice over Streisand's voice - can you imagine?

He told me that everyone has been to visit - his family, boyfriend, friends. He is well-loved, my Bruce. He said, "You know what? It's exhausting to have people here. I feel like I have to entertain them, and my father goes around checking and double-checking everything, and after they leave I just want to pass out!" He told me that all he really wants is for people to sit next to him and put their feet up and watch tv with him, and no one ever does that. He said that is why he wants me there, because that is what we do, and we don't even need to talk, and that is why we are such good friends because we both get that it is okay to be quiet.

His fever makes him sweat through his t-shirts. He bought a bunch of really cool long-sleeved t-shirts this year, and that is what he likes to sleep in, because they are comfortable and they stretch and they keep him warm. He wants someone to wash his t-shirts, because he sweats through them about every 2 hours with his fever, and they tell him that he should wear the hospital gown instead. But he doesn't want to wear the hospital gown - it's cold and doesn't fit and doesn't stretch and he just hates it. And let's be honest, Bruce is not willing to give up his fashion. I don't blame him. It makes me sad that I am not there to wash his t-shirts for him. But he is on Long Island, and I am in San Francisco - so I can only hope that someone will do it for him.

I couldn't bring myself to do too much today. I was back in the chair with the cat in my lap, being quiet. I was feeling so guilty - here he is stuck in the hospital, and I am inside on this perfectly lovely day when I should be outside enjoying it. I thought about what he would say if he were here. You know what? He wouldn't say a thing or give it a second thought. He understands that there are days when you don't want to see people, or do things, or be productive. We would heat up leftovers out of the fridge, eat them out of the containers, and lie on the couch reading magazines.

When I think of it that way, being quiet is a perfectly aceeptable way to spend the day - something I can accept along with all that I don't.

Breakfast Time!

Next Stop, Tokyo

I definitely need to go to Japan. I love Japanese culture and style. I even ate a bull's penis at an izakaya restaurant in New York earlier this year. If I were offered one in South Dakota I would never eat it, but on St. Mark's Place? Sure, why not, it's Japanese!

Tonight I was surrounded with so many Japanese things. The evening started out at the Asian Art Museum with Michael. We were there for their Thursday night evening series MATCHA to see the exhibit called "Stylized Sculpture: Contemporary Japanese Fashion from the Kyoto Costume Institute".


Japanese fashion is so interesting. It often seems architectural to me, with its multiple layers, linear shape, and angles. I love what they do with fabric - they truly treat it as a surface material, like marble or clay or canvas. I personally love the most minimal design style, but when you see a dress made with an impossible number of pleats, you have to admire the engineering.

There were pieces by Issey Miyake (no one does pleats like that man, except perhaps Fortuny), Yohji Yamomoto (surprisingly, my least favorite piece in the show), Rei Kawakubo (sooooo amazing with sweaterknits, including a dress with a bustle - my favorite piece in the show) and Junya Watanabe (wonderfully dramatic).

Japanese couture can sometimes sacrifice wearablity for effect. There were some pieces that were stunning, but looked almost painful. Maybe it's because I was in New York for so long that I can't see beyond the practical - if you can't hail a cab or walk at least 5 blocks in it, you won't see me in it. And probably because I am not flat-chested, thin, and 7 feet tall, I don't own any Japanese fashion. But I sure do love to look at it.

The surprise of the evening was an exhibit by the photographer Hiroshi Sugimoto, called "History of History". I was first introduced to his work at the de Young Museum this summer. But instead of photography, this exhibit showed his inspiration. So there were fossils, artifacts, tapestries, masks...all so intricate and unique. I loved their quiet beauty.

After our museum visit, Michael and I headed to his neighborhood, the Richmond, to eat dinner at Shimo restaurant. I have been to their sister establishment, but not to the highly-touted original, so I was ready for a treat. It did not disappoint! We shared a Spicy Scallop Roll, Caterpillar Roll, and Rainbow Roll - all perfectly prepared and presented. In addition, I had 2 pieces of Uni with raw quail's egg, which is my version of heaven for the palate.


I remember when I was first starting to get into sushi, in high school. We would go to Daruma in Evanston and order California Rolls and get drunk on sake - we thought we were soooo cool, like Molly Ringwald's character in "The Breakfast Club" (which was based on my high school, so we weren't that far off).

When my sweet tooth hit later in the evening, I indulged in a treat from our friendly neighborhood Asian grocery store: Strawberry Ice Cream Mochi. I love mochi! This was something that I discovered upon moving to California. Whoever came up with the idea of putting ice cream inside rice-dough balls (making it the ultimate finger food), is a genius. I get to have both the creamy richness of ice cream and the chewiness of a gummy candy in a few small bites - yum.


Wonderful things in pretty packaging - that's Japan-style to me.