Published in the Berkeley Daily Planet

Right on the front page of the Holiday Reader Submission issue. I was tickled all day.

Post Xmas at the Beach

Our Christmas tradition is to head over to a beach. This year, the Pineapple Express defeated us on Xmas day with such a serious drenching that C and I had to wait for the next clear day.

The gate on the road to Rodeo beach was chained up so a great number of cars started piling up. People were honking and no amount of huffy drivers came out of their cars to assess the situation. Some Russian dude decided to take matters into his own hands. In the movies he would have pulled out a pistol, but instead he starting sawing the chain with his puny leatherman. As soon as the police arrived, he casually stood up walked back to his car.


(Click for more photos.)

Happy Birthday Big J

As I was groggily waking up on Saturday, I got a phone call from Big J demanding to know why we kept calling her without saying anything. C who was doing early morning carpentry at the Buddhist priory had his cell phone perfectly positioned so his pants dialed June. At least his pants and his left cheek remembered J's birthday.

Now that the crab strike has lifted, I had my first shellful of crab butter rubbed with rice and brandy.

Suse gets arrested again.

The girl really should be at the lab getting her Ph.D. out of the way. Tut. Tut.

Yesterday C and I were enjoying our last hike up in Tilden when I looked down the hill and murmurdered "Bridge to Terabithia." C was all confused and had never heard of it. Whenever Suse and I see a steep ravine shaded by sinister looking trees, we nod to each other and say "Bridge to Terabithia". BtT is a Newberry winning young adult novel about two kids living in a rural community with overactive imaginations. Sadly in the end, on a stormy night the girl falls into a ravine and dies. That's the only bit Suse and I remember. Anyhow C kept saying "Bridge to Terabithia" past a few hillsides and then gave up.

I am almost famous as my eating self is doing a cameo in a San Francisco Chronicle photo from the Tamarindo review.

Pudding head

On Sundays I love listening to the BBC Food Programme, and today was my lucky day since the show was all about puddings. I am all for food soft and warm which requires no chewing. Sheila Dillon invited an ex-colonial to cook her steamed figgy pudding with an extra lime rum twist. Since the Jamaican grandma was very tight about her recipe, I will just have to slosh in some lime and rum in my usual batter this year. I tried to hang up my Christmas stockings but it didn't feel right so I hid them away.

On many a Sunday, I bicycle over to 4th street for a pumpkin cream cheese muffin. C likes his blueberry polenta scone. Living in Berkeley, one bakes less that one wishes. It's hard to compete with the pros. My baking pans have not seen serious service in months. Sigh.

Cold tonight. I'm gone to make a hot toddy.

Hobbit gets waylaid.

Needing relief from PhD slogging, Suse came to Berkeley for hobbity fun and a reunion of the three skinny Korean gal pals. Since we haven't been gunning together since Verona, we've planned no shortage of adventures mostly revolving around bakeries and pastry shops.

Since cream pies shouldn't crowd out all the adventures, Sof, Suse and I planned to checkout the new DeYoung museum while the copper was still unoxidized. Then we could have a reunion next year when the building's gone green. On entry to the Golden Gate park, lo and behold- WoC. This did not escape Sof's notice. After going up the viewing tower of the De Young- exactly what you would expect- Sof so casually steered us back to the only official pot event in the park. We walked about the long way as is the common case when Sof steers and mistakenly ended at the back door of the County Fair Building. None wanted to sneak in the back door past the buzzing cluster of potheads. A few sniffs confirmed our suspicions. But then noone not even Sof wanted to handover 20 bucks for the front entry fee- who ever pays that for lectures on hempology. So all we got was this unnatural photo of Suse, the most uptight hobbit in all of Hobbiton who has never had a single puff in her life. (I bet she will demand this photo be taken down as soon as she sees this. Too late!)

The main event of course was the start of the LOTR festival in full garb. Suse was a hobbit genetically predisposed to only one really hairy foot. Sof had the wacky idea of being Gandalf the White's girlfriend. Most confusingly she also insisted on taking pictures of herself kissing Legolas on the screen. After these screen smooches, she promptly fell asleep on the couch.

Shamefully I find myself grooming my netflix queue instead of sleeping sensibly so I can wake up early for going into work. With such nuggets of time I could be gleaning or attempting a worthwhile sentence from my day. You know when you are so tired when you compulsively and mindlessly do things.

Aloha Spirit

All last week C and I were away to Honokaa Hawaii visiting Miss Amanda. A is starting a new edible schoolyard in Waimea and has been battling gale force wind and kikuyu grass. She is a brave woman.

The Big Island of Hawaii is simply huuuuge and requires serious driving. Hours of it. When we take the low road, much of the land all the way up to Mauna Loa's peak is desolate spare a few cows or goats. A welcoming loving aloha spirit is all important on such isolated islands.

I drank two cups of goat milk today so please excuse me a bit. The three people I know who have abundant aloha spirit: Big J, Victor, and Miss Amanda. Always wanting to give and share things.

Today I fantasized about buying a professional Belgian waffle maker. My friends would be so happy and love me because I would invite them for waffles- fluffy yet crispy on the outside. You can see times are not so good.

Friends always ask me what's new with you. Fine yes. I've started using a cast iron frying pan. Who wants all that Teflon in their bloodstream anymore. There is nothing cozier than an egg and a slab of ham frying up in a cast iron skillet.

Terrible rough patches.

Today I made some lime-olive oil scones for C. We ate them hot with some gooseberry jam.

Yesterday I ate a very delicious juniper brine porkchop at Jimmy Beans.

4 days ago, I did not win the lottery but I was very glad. I read somewhere that lottery winners complained no one gave them birthday or Christmas gifts.

5 days ago, I started eating an extra chocolaty brownie a day sent by Big J.

7 days ago I started making reuben sandwiches at home. I make my own thousand island dressing with a pimento relish with generous dollops of mayo and ketchup. It is quite delicious.

Otherwise everything else sucked this week.

Welcoming New Baby to the World.

It's official I have entered a new era of responsibility as an auntie. No more silliness and getting into fistfights, as I have an example to set. Even Hugo has cleaned up his act considerably to become a respectable grandpa.

Poor thing has got a bout of diaper rash causing no amount of heartache for J. Only if we could take turns suffering the rash for her.

"Solicitors Bugger Off"

During my tasty dinner, some white hippie dude with dreadlocks rang my door bell. I don't know why people even bother to canvas in Berkeley for spreading the peace and progressiveness. Must be an easy way to meet girls.

This finally pushed me to tape a sign declaring "No Solicitors. Friends and Neighbors always welcome."

Spring begins with frou frou irises in the front.
As a young gardener I would never have approved of such frilliness. But an aged heart is more tolerant. But if I start thinking well of petunias, someone should really stop me. Irises are leaps above petunias for sure. How could such dried knobs of root produce such silky things. Parrot petals from fleshy firm bulbs of tulips are more understandable.

How perfect is a piece of toast.

When the days are unbearably rainy and cold, what more comfort than a slice of toast and a mug of hot milky tea. Toast of course begs for jam. Despite the 2 open jars of jam at anytime rule, I'm up to 5 jars. The rosehip is really from 2002, and the elderberry jelly is so slippery and not very general purpose. One simply cannot not have a jar of gooseberry jam. Bergamot marmalade I've made myself so it cannot really count towards the quota.

I've rediscovered the joy of toast and have been enjoying it's merits for two months. It pulled me through some rough patches. Tomorrow I'll go down to acme and by a hefty loaf. Even though it will be fresh to eat, I'll toast it, rub it with olive oil and a garlic clove and poach two eggs with some prosciutto. Yes mmm.

Went to the city to start installing the Squirrel. First I had to fill 9 trash bags with styrofoam peanuts from the crates so we can lift out the squirrel sections. I set up a corner for Squirrel body part hospital-riveting seams tightly together. It was hungry work but Clees had promised a celebration dinner. Anyhow after the long day, C says we says we have tasty fish at home. I was very crestfallen.

Michael Acega, the Conquistadork of the fiberglassed ship made from manila folders, came up all shy wanting to know if we needed anything. We went lunching. We met Renny the curator en route who was out on the hunt for a suitably impressive opening outfit. Mike said maybe he could wear a tie made out of manila folders. Then he said that was one of those thoughts which should have been quietly dismissed in his mind.

We found a bustling sliver of a Thai restaurant. There were photos of dishes outside the window and Mike said he could not resist a dish with a fried egg on it.

Trudged out of the house with 10 slices of prosciutto and two pepper tamales. With such solid provisions in one's lunch pack, how can it be but a fantastic day. I just love looking forward to ham.

Trudged out of the house with only a brown paper sac full of tangerines. I left a wedge of cheddar at work and with some crackers in my desk, it can't be all bad today!

Lardy Toast



When one cleans flashing off of plastic chicken feet all weekend long, one gets to enjoy a lot of back issues of BBC radio. Farming Today and the Open Country. Just love it. Who doesn't relish an entire show devoted to "Extolling the Virtues of Lardy Toast" on a cold rainy day.



I have yet to render my own pig fat so I have not had the true pleasures of lardy toast. It's good to have so many things to look forward to.

Welcome 2005



I'm slumping again into the new year. C got sick and the house being crammed full of plastic chicken feet, I did not get to welcome 2005 properly into a well ordered house. June on the other hand made dduk guk and hand made eel dumplings to ring in the new year Korean style. She even spent the eve making beef broth so she could spoon out the fat in the morn. Ugh, another messy unprepared '05 for me.



A very sad '05. I sigh very many times. As my dad likes to offer when he knows the situation does not have any good solutions, " I can take you out to delicious meal with delicious dessert."