Food and Drink – Page 2 – Don't Gel Too Soon

CALIFORNIA DREAMIN’ – SAN FRANCISCO SCENES YOU MIGHT HAVE MISSED

We’re here to visit our remarkable,wonderful sons and having a lovely time – hence the virtual radio silence here. Some things though, you need to share – even during a family vacation.

First of all, you always know when you come to San Francisco that you’ll see things that might elude you elsewhere, but this one is spectacular even for the capital of Blue State America. This little guy is wearing a shirt that says "Don’t pat me, I’m working." He’s apparently an assistance animal but we were damned if we could figure out what he was assisting in doing… besides wheeling through Chinatown making friends.

Lucky Revolution Vegan Chinese Restaurant (outside of which the Monkey rolled past us.) Great combination fried rice and hotpot eggplant, too

This is the site of Dave Eggars‘ tutorial project 826 Valencia, now expanding to other cities. Author of A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, founder of McSweeney’s publishing and The Believer magazine, he’s built a place to effectively teach writing and communication to underserved kids. It’s embarrassing to wander in, thinking oneself fairly cool for knowing to come here — and to discover — a gift shop! Clearly Eggars and his crew have built something very attractive — and become a tourist attraction.

One block from 826 Valencia and across the street, this blast from the past — windows jammed with anti-war and other political messages. This is not, of course, limited to San Francisco, especially these days, but it just seems so at home here.

Yesterday my husband announced that he had a surprise for me – and dragged me out of the hotel for breakfast. Next thing I knew, we were aboard a cable car for the first time since somewhere around 1971, right after we got married and came to Stanford for him to finish school. It was a great ride on a rainy morning.

We passed this – the top of Lombard Street, San Francisco’s zig-zaggiest.

And ended up here – at the famous Buena Vista Cafe. Famous as the place that invented Irish Coffee, across the street from the end of the cable car line and just above Fishermen’s Wharf, it’s a true landmark a place we used to love. It was so great to return and sit by the window watching this city’s every-changing tourist scene. On this corner, it could still have been 1971 when we first came here. There’s something lovely about a return like this especially when it’s a gift. My sweet husband triumphant once again… 36 years after our first visit!

More pix soon. Goodnight for now.

ODE TO COSTCO AND ITS FANS

Costco seems to be everyone’s darling. Of course, it’s been my darling for years. It’s got great stuff, great prices, great staff, even wonderful employee policies. But in the past week I’ve read two very loving profiles of the biggest of the big box stores in publications ranging from State of Grace — the blog of the remarkable Grace Davis, to the Sunday New York Times.

There are lots of reasons for this I think. Of course there are the usual ones: excellent quality, bulk discounts on staples like paper towels, excellent store brand tee shirts (say some of the men in my life), remarkable produce, and pretty good everything else.

It’s also fun. At the ones around Washington DC, and the ones we used to go to in LA, I always feel like I’m at the UN. Once, during the women’s World Cup, we walked in to find, gathered around the television section, an enthusiastic crowd that looked as if they were from every country in the world. Mexico, the Philippines, India, Japan — just everywhere – all cheering together. It’s always like that. Big families, couples, singles, mom and pop restaurateurs, hipsters, geeks — everyone. Even Douglas Coupland. In my favorite of his books, Microserfs, he writes "my universe consists of home, Microsoft, and Costco."

It’s also home to one of my favorite Simpsons scenes ever: the family almost drowned when they ran into and broke all the giant bottles of cranberry juice in an aisle display and an ocean of juice flooded the store.

OH and I forgot books. Best sellers, cook books, thrillers – if they’ve got something you want, they’ve got it for less than anywhere else.

So carry on oh noble vendor — serving us well and offering us entertaining distractions (if you can park) on Sunday afternoons. We knew you even before the New York Times. But before that? What did we ever do without you?

HEY MACY’S – ON THIS THANKSGIVING, THANKS FOR THE MEMORIES

When our kids were little we used to take them, in the freezing Manhattan November, to the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. For the twenty years we lived in New York, from Josh in a carrier on Rick’s back, to Josh on his shoulders and Dan in a Snugli, to the two boys worming their way past the grown-ups to stand in the front of the crowd at 75th and Broadway, to the years we went to our friends’ house overlooking Central Park West on Thanksgiving eve and watched them blow up the balloons — all the years of Columbus Avenue cocoa and popcorn, we were there. When they got older, the boys went together without us; the two of them joining the crowds (the TODAY SHOW just told me that this year there are 3.5 million people along the parade route) with the finesse of New York kids. I cherish those memories; I know they liked it but I don’t think as much as I loved watching them respond to the balloons and the music and the colors and the crowds.

If I weren’t in San Francisco without all our albums I’d scan a photo of the kids waving from the top of a newspaper vending machine, or on their dad’s shoulders, or looking up at the balloons with such magical wonder that I can’t describe it. But we’re here and no such photos inhabit my laptop, so I leave it to your imagination.

We left Manhattan for LA in 1992 and I haven’t been to a Thanksgiving parade since. I don’t even recognize all the balloons. Central Park West belongs to other parents and kids now; nobody who’s only seen it on TV can imagine the excitement, the smells, the noise, the freeeeezing cold and thrill of watching their kids wave to Big Bird and Bob IN PERSON!!!! I’ll always have a deep affection for Macy’s and the gift of that annual celebration of family, joy and, yes, thanks. Nobody can give a gift better than the gift of memories and they certainly have done that. Every single year.

ISN’T THAT THE GOLDEN GATE BRIDGE?

We leave for San Francisco in the morning, I’m not packed, I have a class tonight and an appointment in 15 minutes. So this is a shortie. I’m so excited to see our kids and, as usual, nervous in advance. Last year I wrote a post called "I Don’t Want To Be a Turkey on Thanksgiving." Sort of the same feelings this year; being considerate of adult kids and their autonomy NOT from things you might do on purpose – those I can control. It’s the stuff that can happen by accident and end up being an issue that I always worry about.
If there’s anything I’m thankful for it’s the gift of these two young men who have grown into such fine people. Even from all the way across the country, they bless my days. Makes Thanksgiving mean a whole lot.

JERUSALEM DIARY 2.0: DAY TWELVE TEL AVIV DAY TWO

Breakfast in our little cafe surrounded by locals with dogs and newspapers. This is a wonderful neighborhood – the kind people move into until those who created it have to go someplace else because it’s become too expensive. You can see it happening all around us. But it’s fun for now and the Mediterranean is literally five or six blocks away.

On our way out we passed this noodle stand — I guess these people want fresh ones for Shabbat soup

These kids in the Carmel Market are canvassing to get people to sign up as organ donors. In Israel it is still difficult to convince people to participate because of Halachic rules about burial. Much has been done to change the rules, but the squeamishness has not abated. They were charming kids, and very committed to this issue – and they had quite a stack of cards of new registrants to the organ bank here.

It’s almost Shabbat so my post for tomorrow is written and ready; this is the last one from here. I’m hoping we can go tonight to the beach for the drums that welcome Shabbat then to our friends for Shabbat dinner.

JERUSALEM DIARY DAY 11: ACTUALLY WE’RE IN TEL AVIV IN THE “COOL” NEIGHBORHOOD (OF COURSE) OF NEVE TZEDEK

This little cafe, NINA, is also home to a small hotel owned by a young woman named Aliza. One of the pioneer establishments in the gentrifying neighborhood of Neve Tzedek, it’s full of the sorts of scenes you would expect in an area that was almost gone and is returning to a lively street and commercial life.

Here’s a bad photo of the room – I’ll post an improved one tomorrow. It’s a little apartment with a sleeping loft and a kitchen. Adorable.

This is the oldest neighborhood in Tel Aviv, just blocks from the sea. As you can see, there’s lots going on , even on a Thursday night – from book store readings to the odd practice of staging wedding photos posed against the industrial landscape here.

We’re going tomorrow to the drum circle on the beach and a crafts show with our friends. It’s nice to be in a modern city after all that time in Jerusalem – as moving as it is it’s also confining in an odd way. I have described the Jerusalem/Tel Aviv comparison as really Red State-Blue State and I think I’m right. Culturally, politically, sartorially and philosophically they are like Salt Lake City versus New York City. Both have their charms and represent parts of the Jewish whole but boy are they different. Goodnight from the Bluest state in the Middle East.

SUKKOT, HOLIDAYS, IS GOD AROUND HERE SOMEPLACE?, ENOUGH IS ENOUGH

This is a Sukkah. More on that in a minute.

My mother always used to tell me that it was better leave a party before you wanted to. "Leave while it’s still fun" she would say, "and you’ll have loved every minute you were there." I always thought that was a rationalization for wanting me home at a decent hour, but I think, as in many things, she was right. We are now awaiting the last three days of what will be, in September and this week of October, ELEVEN days of limited activity and expected entertaining. OH – and religious services, of course: Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur and the first and then final days of Sukkot. All of which fell on Thursday and Friday. Leading into Saturday. Which is the Sabbath. SO. No TV. No phones. No computers. No e-mail even. No cooking for many of those days and ONLY for the day in question the rest of those days.

Remember, these are very holy days, too. You have to be sure to keep that in your mind; go to services and try to connect. Our services are very uplifting and moving; we’re there all day and there’s lots of singing and shared emotion. You really know you’ve been praying and it’s a time when it’s easier to connect with one’s faith (at least for me.)

It also means, however, that on Rosh Hashanah (the New Year) there was dinner Wednesday night, Thursday night and Friday night and lunch on Thursday, Friday and Saturday. On Yom Kippur, a fast day, there was just preparation of a meal the night before. That’s 7 meals. We got through this fine – hosting three meals; and going to others for the other four. It was a lot of cooking and enormous anxiety but it all was in the service of sharing and honoring these remarkable holidays with those we care about; our older son and his girl friend were even there for part of it; all worked out well.

So where’s the BUT? You know there’s one coming. Well, five days later we hit Sukkot — the holiday where you have to eat outside in a "booth" (you can see the commandment here and an explanation at the bottom of this post)– to commemorate the Jewish people’s time living in booths in the desert during the Exodus. That’s ours in the photo (undecorated because I can’t take photos on the holidays when it IS all set up.) Again, two meals for two days at the beginning running into the Sabbath and two more at the end next week running into ANOTHER Sabbath. AND you have people over the in the days in between too, at least a little bit.

Most people I think are exhausted – hardly any have issued meal invitations although I hosted one lunch last Friday and we went to another family for dinner. That still left three of the five uninvited. That’s as stressful as cooking for the ones we host. Where were we going – who was going where we weren’t? Why did it matter? What about praying – why is this temporal stuff on our minds at all?

I have to admit it bothers me a little; others I know are supremely troubled by it. I feel like such a whiny little brat. Here we are just celebrating our
third year as active participants in this life and almost into our
third living in this community – having gained and learned so much –
and I’m complaining. It’s so not what faith is supposed to be about but it’s still a real issue – especially when you haven’t been doing this long.

This is the first year we’ve really hosted people in our Sukkah and so we wanted all to be just right; mostly we have done great except for those invitation gaps. I’m disappointed about that. And I’m ashamed of us for caring at all. These holidays are supposed to bring us closer to God but after seven days with three more coming all I feel close to is exhaustion. I’ve spoken to many friends about this; the women, upon whom the cooking seems to fall, are more pissed but the guys are also tired. Everyone is a little cranky. (My husband suggests that he is both tired AND cranky and the one doing most of the "taking inventory.") That’s probably true but it’s contagious!

Worst of all, it’s so anticlimactic. I wish you could have been with us on Yom Kippur. This holy day, which I had always experienced as solemn and sad, is, in our synagogue, a day of happiness. We are there because of the gift of repentance, we are participating in a service that is thousands of years old, the music is just extraordinary and the ritual moving and humbling. The young doctor who leads our service is profoundly spiritual and an amazing musician – here’s a sample of my favorite.

; I call him the Bruce Springsteen of prayer because of the energy and depth he offers us, and we leave uplifted and inspired.

So maybe the rapid slide into STILL MORE holiday after something so profound robs us of the full celebration of our Yom Kippur prayers – cutting off our feelings from that day but, as I write this, perhaps reminding us that one day’s repentance isn’t going to carry us through the year – or even the week – and that we must continue to try to find ways to follow our faith each moment, not just revel in past moments of spiritual ascendance. And I guess each emotion is a brick in the road to where ever we’re bound – this though is certainly not one I’m proud of.

***One rabbi explains:
THE SUKKA reminds us of Israel’s honeymoon with God in the hostile desert (of
cruel history– there must be more shade than sun in the sukka), and of Divine
clouds hovering over them (= eventual redemption; stars must be visible thru
the sukka roof– Rav Riskin); God’s protection against forces of evil, when the
Jews seem most vulnerable (e.g. 1948, 1991 and Purim), climaxes in the pre-
Messianic battles of our Haftarot. Then God will raise up David’s fallen
"sukka"– the 3rd Temple, preceded by the rediscovered tabernacle. Discomfort,
e.g. rain, exempts one from Sukka– but those truly great stay, experiencing
no discomfort when surrounded by God’s glory (The Berditchever). The sukka is
a symbol of peace, for it is open— to the elements of nature, to the heavens
above and, foremost, to guests, far and near (Rav Avigdor Hacohen). As we
invite guests to our sukka, not only do we do a good deed of kindness and
spread holiday cheer, but we also imitate God Himself, the Ultimate Model Host,
Who constantly feeds, clothes and houses all His creatures; we thus develop our
own Divine Image.

SNOWED UNDER

I’m making a presentation on Thursday and co-chairing/producing a benefit on Sunday so this is it until Monday. Wish me luck — and a good week to all!

DC RESTAURANTS: BEFORE AND AFTER

So Foodmomiac, whose writing, recipes and self I hold in high regard, asks for five top restaurants in one’s hometown. I have to do 10 — 5 PRE-kosher life and 5 SINCE Kosher life.

Since Kosher is easiest since there are only around 10 in DC anyway

JCC Cafe – more nicely appointed than the others and nice, regular food.

Pita Plus – Shwarma and lots of other Middle Eastern meat stuff

Max’s – Great matzo ball soup, schwarma, so-so fried chicken, good fries (according to my husband) etc.

Eli’s – a NY coffee shop type menu – salads with sliced steak, burgers (zillions of types) plus some real "entrees."

Ben Yehuda Pizza – Great pizza w/spinach and tomato and lots more.

NOW – before we began our Kosher life – there were several we loved. Here are 5 of them:

Bistro Bis – cool, beautiful and delicious — American/French cuisine – light.

Neyla – Spectacular Middle Eastern food in an elegant setting (expensive)

Cafe Milano – The Clintons eat here and so do a lot of other "cool folks" on the patio and inside… but celebrity haven or not it’s great Italian food (expensive)

Bombay Club – A fabulous Indian restaurant with a great outdoor area for dinner near the White House at dusk.

THE END OF MATZO MANIA – FOR NOW

Well it’s finally over. All that’s left now is to move all the Passover stuff (dishes, pots, flat ware, utensils, pot holders, dish towels, condiments, coffee pot, etc) down to the basement and reinstitute the usual kitchen — including replacing a pantry full of cereal, rice, Tasty Bites instant Indian food, cous cous, brownie mixes, pasta sauce, olives, capers, and all the rest.)

It’s a real pain in the neck. I started this post Tuesday night and should have taken photos but suffice it to say we stopped and started and it’s now 7AM Thursday and everything is back where it was. I’m kind of embarassed by how hostile this long long holiday has made me. In the time from the Monday night it started until Wednesday evening of the next week, we spent five days living “Sabbath rules” — no driving, no cooking, no turning lights on /off, no shopping etc. In addition to all the stuff we weren’t allowed to eat (Passover rules forbid anything that isn’t “kosher for Passover” — nothing that has been leavened (bread, cereal, pasta etc). plus lots of other products without Kosher for Passover lables) we used different dishes, pots, utensils, napkins, dish towels etc etc etc. (Those were some of what I had to store at the close of the holiday.)

I used to really love Passover and very early on some of our Orthodox friends (women) warned me that it was so much work I might never feel the same way about it despite the magnificent religious and political messages of freedom and justice it contains.

It’s the enormous amout of work that changes things. For some reason it really set me off – I’ve been pissed for days, even though, unlike our friends, I didn’t do any entertaining to speak of. Since this was the first year we’ve observed the holiday in this way, we only bought a few “Pesach” articles; figured next year we’d do it up right. One of my friends told me I might have been less upset if I’d just invited people and used paper plates…. that not entertaining for some of the TEN!! “festive meals” – (Sabbath eve and lunch — as well as two seders, two other dinners on the last two days and four lunches i addition to Shabbat) — just made me feel more anxious. We did enjoy each of the meals to which we were invited, and were grateful to be asked, but who knows?

Anyway it’s over now until next year; I have some time to get used to yet another set of obligations. Some days it seems that there are so many and I’m nowhere near all the way there yet…. They say this religion is a journey not a destination. Last week was one where I really felt I still have a long way to go!