tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51646042388669651012024-03-05T16:11:13.721-08:00Open Mouth, Insert ForkEnjoy a full stomach and a full life in two simple steps.Susan Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12178330935523896363noreply@blogger.comBlogger142125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164604238866965101.post-64702944523036397382016-02-28T17:57:00.000-08:002016-02-29T09:46:48.471-08:00Three Little Words: Chicken Pot Pie<div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">An easy answer to the favorite "What's for dinner?" question</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;">It seems that the men in my life like to utter the same three, little words: "What's for dinner?" When I was a harried mom of a school-age child, rushing to meet writing deadlines, driving carpool, attending committee meetings, the innocent question would send my blood pressure rising. I often had no idea what I would put on the table. Later, when I asked my ex-husband why he liked to utter those three little words, he sheepishly admitted, "It gives me something to look forward to."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I always try to remember that when the current love of my life asks the same question. Sometimes, I'll reply with the description of an elaborate meal. Often, I'll offer a choice. But other times, when I'm feeling just as harried as when I was driving car pool, all I need to say are three little words in reply: chicken pot pie.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Five extra pies ready for the freezer</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I make a giant batch and bake five extra pies for the freezer. So when I have no idea what's for dinner, I can pull one out. With a side of roasted vegetables and a glass of red wine, it's a satisfying answer to that age-old question.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Recipe (This makes enough for 12 servings, either two pies, or six two-person portions. The recipe can easily be cut in half)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b>Chicken Pot Pie</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">2 cups cooked chicken (about 2 whole breasts)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">2 cups diced par-boiled potatoes</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">2 cups diced carrots</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">2 cups chopped onion </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">1 large shallot diced</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">1 1/2 C frozen peas</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">1 T olive oil</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">4 T butter</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">1/2 C flour</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">3-4 C chicken broth</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">3/4 C half and half</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">2 T fresh herbs (sage or thyme)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">1/2 tsp. turmeric</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">salt and pepper to taste</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">2 refrigerated pie crusts (I like Trader Joe's)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Preheat oven to 400 degrees. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">- Peel and dice two medium potatoes and parboil. Potatoes should be slightly cooked, but still firm. They will continue to cook in the pot and oven. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">- Meanwhile, heat the olive oil and butter in a large, nonstick skillet or a dutch oven. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">- Add the onion, shallots and carrots. Saute for about three minutes or until translucent. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">- Add the flour and stir for about one minute. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">- Pour in the chicken </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">broth and continue to stir for about three minutes. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">- Add in the potatoes and diced chicken.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">- Pour in 3/4 C half and half and continue to stir until desired consistency is reached. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">- Add the frozen peas. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">- Season with salt, pepper, turmeric and fresh herbs, such as sage or thyme. If using dried herbs, reduce amount to 1 tsp. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">- Use a ladle to scoop the mixture into two pie plates or, as I do, in six rectangular aluminum containers. Top with crusts and cut a few slashes for venting. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">- If using the rectangular tins, simply use the tin as a template to cut the pie dough. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Bake at 400 degrees for 40 minutes or until golden brown.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">To reheat frozen pies, bake at 350 degrees for 30 minutes. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">NOTES: You can use roasted chicken or poached chicken breasts. After Thanksgiving, I didn't have enough leftover turkey, so I used turkey plus one poached chicken breast. </span><br />
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Susan Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12178330935523896363noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164604238866965101.post-48548167733715458082016-02-24T17:24:00.001-08:002016-02-24T17:38:35.553-08:00Remember the Pig's Head?<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Not the most photogenic, but certainly one of the most memorable meals.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I once thought that everyone had a story about a pig’s head.
I believed this because, as it happens, I have two.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I was around 11 when I had my first swine encounter. My
grandmother, who lived in rural West Virginia, couldn’t believe her good
fortune when a neighbor offered her the head of the hog they were butchering.
“Don’t they know that’s the best part of the pig?” she asked in disbelief.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Her excitement was so contagious that my two brothers and I
were giddy when the neighbors brought over the freshly severed head in a
galvanized-metal washtub. I can still picture the head with its glistening
eyeballs, perky ears and flared nostrils. I expected it to snort any minute. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">After we got a good look at the beast, the hijinks began. Daddy
reached down and casually plucked out an eyeball. I squealed like a pig as he
and the eye chased me around the yard. (I wonder now about my recollection of
the easy eye extraction. I just read an <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0043EV5AS/ref=dp-kindle-redirect?ie=UTF8&btkr=1" target="_blank">essay</a> in which Christopher Kimble, former
editor of <a href="https://www.cooksillustrated.com/" target="_blank">Cook’s Illustrated</a>, described the arduous ten minutes of sawing with
a sharp paring knife to perform an “eye-ectomy” on a calf’s head.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">My grandmother, watching the chase scene, must have muttered
something like, “Enough horseplay (or hogplay). We have work to do.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Then came the serious job of turning the head into “good
eatin’.” My grandmother, with my Japanese mother’s help, cranked out hog’s headcheese
and sausage. The best part for me was the brain. I can still remember the
texture and taste – a little crunchy on the outside from frying but sweet and
succulent on the inside. Even then I knew that I was experiencing a delicacy. It’s
taken a few decades and a few pages of reading Kimball and <a href="http://mfkfisher.com/" target="_blank">MFK Fisher</a> to
appreciate how difficult it is to properly prepare a brain. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">But the favorite part of the head, at least for my younger
brother, was the tongue. After it was boiled, he walked around eating the
unappealing organ as if it were a hot dog. I think he liked the shock value as
much as the flavor. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">That head provided us with lots of delicacies, but, more
important, it gave my brothers and me a lifetime of stories. If we’re together
for more than a day, someone will ask, “Remember the pig’s head?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">It was no wonder then that, when I found <a href="http://www.crudoaz.com/" target="_blank">Crudo Restaurant </a>in
Phoenix offers a roasted-pig-head dinner, I was ready to bite. Five other
intrepid diners and I gathered to “eat high on the hog.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">First came an appetizer of <a href="http://www.phoenixnewtimes.com/restaurants/crudos-pig-ears-way-too-freaking-amazing-for-your-dog-6517400" target="_blank">crunchy pig ears</a> in a sweet and
hot vinegar sauce. Yes, I’m talking about the same part of the pig that you buy
for your dog<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even my thrifty Scottish grandmother
didn’t bother to salvage them. But, oh, if only she had known about the
addictive taste and the texture that’s both crunchy and chewy. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Instead of serving the brain as a stand-alone dish, Chef
Cullen incorporated them into Italian risotto balls. The flavor was so delicate
that I wouldn’t have guessed that brains were part of the dish. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">When the waitress brought out the roasted head, we gasped
and spent several minutes examining its snout, ears and mouth. We were
especially intrigued with the rows of tiny sharp teeth that still looked as
though they could tear our flesh. The eyeballs were removed before roasting, so
we didn’t get the sensation that Porky was staring at us. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">If my grandmother was with us, she would have said something
like, “Enough gawking. Let’s eat.” We heaped </span><span style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;">the fatty, roasted meat on to toasted bread and then added ricotta cheese and a choice of three pickle toppings.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">As the conversation flowed, I felt a strong connection with
these five women who were gathered around the head of a pig. Even though we all
agreed that the meat was too fatty for our tastes, we can’t wait to go out for
more dining adventures.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">And, no doubt, when we get together again, someone will ask,
‘Remember the pig’s head?”</span><o:p></o:p></div>
Susan Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12178330935523896363noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164604238866965101.post-2400393735391047252016-02-15T12:53:00.003-08:002016-02-15T13:01:12.275-08:00Gougeres, a Savory French Cheese Puff<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBnKFHapqmzgs-LFWv3yUvdHpAiUayb0cowY7JwNfxyu1vOhyphenhyphenCANW2dHqZ_ghfmxPtQ_iXSUcckoGtIL0zmGEegxkdtsSSrnIvx9QiENCyosnQdEesJFY84X1kBziLiaigoxlQbJ9xEmH8/s1600/IMG_4867.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="466" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBnKFHapqmzgs-LFWv3yUvdHpAiUayb0cowY7JwNfxyu1vOhyphenhyphenCANW2dHqZ_ghfmxPtQ_iXSUcckoGtIL0zmGEegxkdtsSSrnIvx9QiENCyosnQdEesJFY84X1kBziLiaigoxlQbJ9xEmH8/s640/IMG_4867.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Gougeres: Think of them as a refined alternative to the cheese biscuits at Red Lobster</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I like to say that I'm "practicing cooking" in much the same way that I'm "practicing yoga." I don't believe that practice makes perfect, but practice definitely makes progress. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Take, for example, the first time I attempted to make </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">gougeres, the savory French cheese puffs that I discovered at <a href="http://www.tartinebakery.com/" target="_blank">Tartine Bakery</a> in San Francisco. I bought the Tartine cookbook and carefully followed the recipe. Instead of light and airy puffs, <a href="http://openmouthinsertfork.blogspot.com/2010/10/cheese-flops.html" target="_blank">my gougeres </a>were flops, as hard and flat as silver dollars.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh_fFlWTqGux4h-_8iCV_RzyKX36UX0_G-GcZmSj045H5OMAvtNRTtf4Gy3sD0IeV-FFoX5UHTKO0X9HTeIwdgr0Tkm9q8evpY82S08f_bkpxqA1vyI6ugoEqW6DnBAStXxJcEEuNjK2sG/s1600/IMG_4775.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh_fFlWTqGux4h-_8iCV_RzyKX36UX0_G-GcZmSj045H5OMAvtNRTtf4Gy3sD0IeV-FFoX5UHTKO0X9HTeIwdgr0Tkm9q8evpY82S08f_bkpxqA1vyI6ugoEqW6DnBAStXxJcEEuNjK2sG/s400/IMG_4775.jpg" width="260" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Fast forward more than five years later for my second attempt at practicing making </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">g</span><span style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: black; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 23px;">ougères</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">. This time, I ignored the hard-to-follow instructions in the Tartine cookbook. And I turned away from a friend's recipe (from the Dinah Shore Cookbook) that called for scalding the milk in the first step. Scalding milk on purpose? That frightened me. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">This time around, I turned to<a href="http://www.davidlebovitz.com/2009/01/gougeres-french-cheese-puffs/" target="_blank"> David Lebovitz's blog</a> for a simple, easy-to-follow recipe. I'm happy to report that practice (and finding the right recipe) did result in progress. I made them on a Thursday for a women's chocolate and wine party and then practiced making them again on Valentine's Day. My sweetheart and I washed down a half batch of these addicting treats with a bottle of champagne. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinKYu8IoYSy_8yPm3mq1Ii31JMSkbNlOJ2r9K2Ik_8xFzZf4FtUZrOchLgr_yH7vpWFPbuNnua2F4DqCEWLfAqRMHJZmL1ka7ll_RvdJK3fQMtY2Ny7u7hypia_l1FMgUMxNnU5JifVcz8/s1600/IMG_4764.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinKYu8IoYSy_8yPm3mq1Ii31JMSkbNlOJ2r9K2Ik_8xFzZf4FtUZrOchLgr_yH7vpWFPbuNnua2F4DqCEWLfAqRMHJZmL1ka7ll_RvdJK3fQMtY2Ny7u7hypia_l1FMgUMxNnU5JifVcz8/s400/IMG_4764.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I like the helpful hints that David adds throughout his instructions. He doesn't just suggest that you use a pastry bag to pipe the dough onto a baking sheet. He also recommends a freezer bag with the corner snipped off OR two spoons to portion and drop the dough. I used the two-spoon method but would probably go with a freezer bag if I was making a double batch. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I used fresh rosemary and thyme instead of chives as David did, but you can use any kind of herb that suits your fancy. As a matter of fact, these are perfect for improvisation. My friend Lori told me that her mother often served these with an olive in the middle as an appetizer. Or you can <a href="http://dips.tanyaeby.com/olive-balls-aka-olive-gougeres/" target="_blank">mix in chopped olives </a>with the dough. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Try them once and I predict you'll be making these golden, herby, addicting puffs again and again. </span><br />
<br />Susan Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12178330935523896363noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164604238866965101.post-15678007642730860752016-02-08T15:50:00.001-08:002016-02-08T16:33:43.162-08:00Better Than McNuggets and Fries: Oven Roasted Parmesan Chicken Fingers and Sweet Potato Fries<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i> "You've got to help me, mom." </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">This was my adult daughter's recent call for help.The woman with a freezer full of Hot Pockets and Tombstone Pizzas
was seeking out recipes for healthy,
easy-to-prepare dishes that her boys (ages one and six) and boyfriend would
like.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Over the years, I watched my six-year-old grandson shift from a
preference for fresh fruits and vegetables to a craving for the high fat, processed food that drive-through windows and freezers can instantly satisfy. This
was a kid whose favorite foods were once chicken teriyaki, rice, broccoli and
cantaloupe (the menu I made for his second birthday dinner). But by the time he
was four, he rejected these same foods. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">My mission was to help revive the broccoli-loving boy by
offering food that he’d like every bit as much as Chicken McNuggets and French
fries from McDonalds.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1lRz7HmYzEhXiMIyDMKiWgi5TwJ2toTQu0qCTGB49M5tGuWYtH_j3RCbidHV3eKt3lLPPouZSESwR84pV-OaYzU8nr6lc4673Lml3laNIjUcHaYGTWskxh5p8L0mvo6YwznJxq2149NTR/s1600/IMG_4721.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1lRz7HmYzEhXiMIyDMKiWgi5TwJ2toTQu0qCTGB49M5tGuWYtH_j3RCbidHV3eKt3lLPPouZSESwR84pV-OaYzU8nr6lc4673Lml3laNIjUcHaYGTWskxh5p8L0mvo6YwznJxq2149NTR/s320/IMG_4721.jpg" width="226" /></a><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">For a test run, I served these oven-baked parmesan chicken fingers with roasted sweet potato fries and steamed broccoli to the “picky eater” in my
own household. The chicken was quick and easy to prepare, required few
ingredients and, most important, was crunchy and delicious. At this stage, I
think I'll suggest to my daughter these frozen sweet potato fries (<a href="https://www.alexiafoods.com/products/sweet-potato-fries/sweet-potato-julienne-fries#Top">such as this Alexia brand from Sprouts</a>)
as a quicker, easier option than peeling and cutting up whole sweet potatoes. (Baby steps, baby steps)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Since I live six hours away from my grandsons, I'll make a double batch of the chicken finger, vacuum seal and freeze them and bring them, the recipe and a sheet pan with me on my next trip to Southern California. </span></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"></span></o:p></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And, with any luck, I'll get a big hug and a "Thank you for cooking for me, Achan" from the broccoli boy. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>Got any easy, healthy, kid-pleasing recipes? Please share. </i></span></span><br />
<h4>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> Recipe</span></h4>
<h4>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> Oven Roasted Parmesan Chicken </span></h4>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">2 boneless, skinless chicken breasts</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">2 eggs, beaten with 2 T water</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">2/3 cup flour</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">2/3 cup grated parmesan cheese</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">2/3 cup breadcrumbs (I like Panko)</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">salt, pepper and seasonings of your choice (I used dried basil and paprika)</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Preheat oven to 400 degrees.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Cut up chicken breast into thin strips or in chunks like Chicken McNuggets.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Set up your preparation station in three shallow bowls: one with flour, one with beaten eggs and one with parmesan cheese, breadcrumbs and seasonings. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">First dredge each strip in flour, then dip in egg mixture, and then coat with cheese/breadcrumb mixture. Place each piece on a baking sheet sprayed with non-stick spray. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Bake for 20 minutes or until golden brown. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>(A note about panko: Did you know that it literally means "little bread" in Japanese? "Pan" is the word for bread in both Japanese and Spanish. And the "ko" is a cute little diminutive.)</i></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
Susan Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12178330935523896363noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164604238866965101.post-57964292070249787362016-01-30T08:29:00.000-08:002016-01-30T08:31:26.334-08:00Take it Off: Revealing the Charms of the Open-Faced Sandwich<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: start;">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSzi_EZIE1UP5Btp52GGPAKH8MkMSpGAzn1_Kn7JQoTAoRkXAluHTgPpcP4BN0qdL02BeLzK2wdn35PCBt9AAV3NrGgEXEP3adkdhErtwY9JgHo2v5ho37jlUjicwg72quO5oGBgKQKtdF/s1600/P1020112_resize.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="219" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSzi_EZIE1UP5Btp52GGPAKH8MkMSpGAzn1_Kn7JQoTAoRkXAluHTgPpcP4BN0qdL02BeLzK2wdn35PCBt9AAV3NrGgEXEP3adkdhErtwY9JgHo2v5ho37jlUjicwg72quO5oGBgKQKtdF/s320/P1020112_resize.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">A trio of Danish open face sandwiches</span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="text-align: center;">I first</span><span style="text-align: center;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">discovered </span>the joys of the topless sandwich when I visited Copenhagen four years ago. </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">After two frustrating days of searching for an affordable lunch spot ($35 for a salad?!), I stumbled upon a Danish deli where open face sandwiches glistened like jewels under the glass display. Best of all, a trio of the works of art set me back less than $5.00. </span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">As it turns out, the Danish open face sandwich, or <i>smorrebrod</i>,</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> is a thing. Smorrebrod, literally "butter bread," got its name because a smear of butter or duck fat keeps the bread from getting soggy. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">You can read more about the history and etiquette and check out four too-pretty-to-eat recipes, on this NPR article, <a href="http://www.npr.org/2011/01/04/132627711/the-art-of-the-danish-open-face-sandwich">The Art of the Danish Open Face Sandwich. </a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Lucky for me, the popularity of the topless sandwich has spread to other European countries. In Prague, I feasted on two little works of art with a bottle of cheap wine for less than $8.00. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqoiNNNfNPE_DG3XWCYFnDNOGeY2yGFcgsEsSLubJRiqKUTWD0Xk-yKWOU_HHvzgxj9h6Cuz7JHx62q5zawXzzc_y0xWWQK-itm9SbX07nnLrHnq85ppqFctB3tLgOPTqP8UVdcYuPl7mO/s1600/Prague.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqoiNNNfNPE_DG3XWCYFnDNOGeY2yGFcgsEsSLubJRiqKUTWD0Xk-yKWOU_HHvzgxj9h6Cuz7JHx62q5zawXzzc_y0xWWQK-itm9SbX07nnLrHnq85ppqFctB3tLgOPTqP8UVdcYuPl7mO/s400/Prague.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In Prague: crab salad garnished with lemon, red pepper and parsley, and creme fraiche with caviar</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">When I returned home, I got to work taking the top off in the kitchen. My first attempt started with <a href="https://www.google.com/search?q=trader+joe's+european+style+whole+grain+bread&biw=1240&bih=635&tbm=isch&imgil=N0V2Y95XKnS0BM%253A%253BOT8wEftXAX7yBM%253Bhttp%25253A%25252F%25252Fwww.foodspotting.com%25252Fplaces%25252F74239-trader-joe-s-simi-valley%25252Fitems%25252F590970-european-whole-grain-bread&source=iu&pf=m&fir=N0V2Y95XKnS0BM%253A%252COT8wEftXAX7yBM%252C_&usg=__YtffYz_t9QwD2p9HJ8Z3Hj_ndf4%3D&ved=0ahUKEwiSndSr9NHKAhVO42MKHSWlCcUQyjcILw&ei=dd6sVtKOIc7GjwOlyqaoDA#imgrc=N0V2Y95XKnS0BM%3A&usg=__YtffYz_t9QwD2p9HJ8Z3Hj_ndf4%3D">European Style Whole Grain Bread</a>, a dense and delicious loaf from Trader Joe's, topped with leftovers from a salad.</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh-bPgpkXco2ud8AqBOgDPD5ZooPqHVSfgG2-Rs9nBiGC21mQgiZMSYc-520C2A534sQ-0Bov9CnaFUai7YcIDj-1UemioA82jHZo4wyrK7yVgIBlZchXJ_Y6uPbbbBv8i44wm3Yq34rRi/s1600/IMAG0481.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="237" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh-bPgpkXco2ud8AqBOgDPD5ZooPqHVSfgG2-Rs9nBiGC21mQgiZMSYc-520C2A534sQ-0Bov9CnaFUai7YcIDj-1UemioA82jHZo4wyrK7yVgIBlZchXJ_Y6uPbbbBv8i44wm3Yq34rRi/s400/IMAG0481.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>TJ's European Style Whole Grain Bread topped with arugula, pears, candied </i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>pecans and blue cheese (left and right) or same bread topped with mayo, arugula </i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>and sliced boiled eggs</i></span></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">And last week my simple egg salad sandwich went topless. See how much prettier it is when the salad isn't stuffed between two slices of bread? </span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbdsNUsCEX8sZAwSCbHB2hb7iKvML7GHhJ0IMEzRZTuucZiPscLtVbx2X1ZOPsChqhLnvPfrW7rq4xh_3LrQXfulDzwSH1ujJpSFJynmhwnSAqFp6AhNaQRCzz4mPNnw9fPUJ4_RizT8E1/s1600/IMG_4628.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbdsNUsCEX8sZAwSCbHB2hb7iKvML7GHhJ0IMEzRZTuucZiPscLtVbx2X1ZOPsChqhLnvPfrW7rq4xh_3LrQXfulDzwSH1ujJpSFJynmhwnSAqFp6AhNaQRCzz4mPNnw9fPUJ4_RizT8E1/s400/IMG_4628.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>Mixed greens, egg salad topped with minced red onion and chives</i></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<h4>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Why Go Topless?</span></h4>
<div>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">You can show off your sandwich's hidden assets. Don't let a slice of bread hide those beautiful fillings.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">You can cut the carbs. Half the bread means half the carb count.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">You can get creative. Transform leftover salad makings into a sandwich that's a work of art. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">You can use random bits and pieces from the refrigerator. A slice of bacon or a lone carrot can be chopped and shredded to add color, texture and taste to a sandwich. </span></li>
</ul>
<h4>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">For More Recipes </span></h4>
</div>
<div>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Mark Bittman deconstructs the open-faced sandwich and shows you </span><a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2013/01/13/magazine/how-to-create-an-artful-sandwich.html?_r=0" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">how to create an artful sandwich.</a><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> He breaks it down by bread, spread, centerpiece and garnish. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">You can be inspired with 10 more recipes to </span><a href="http://www.thekitchn.com/openfaced-sandwiches-10-recipe-144154" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Tempt and Satisfy</a><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> at the Kitchn. </span></li>
</ul>
</div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
Susan Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12178330935523896363noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164604238866965101.post-4730943435318698622013-04-08T14:08:00.001-07:002013-04-09T14:42:48.342-07:00Do You Eat What You Are?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB8BjJoJ7Y9z4aJJWhIZVKOPrY0pOem3PggA7HKOqb-nP2_JGTiQRQH5yusv0KhWwwE9Vq9GGZXYmIDrzgJL5ZHYqRvid99wErDWrlagC-CMNfuQU8GyyCCXJI7Ga6rqU0IvMPOZ9fltrm/s1600/grocery+store.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB8BjJoJ7Y9z4aJJWhIZVKOPrY0pOem3PggA7HKOqb-nP2_JGTiQRQH5yusv0KhWwwE9Vq9GGZXYmIDrzgJL5ZHYqRvid99wErDWrlagC-CMNfuQU8GyyCCXJI7Ga6rqU0IvMPOZ9fltrm/s400/grocery+store.jpg" height="220" width="400" /></a></div>
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<h3 class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I’ve been wondering lately:
If it’s true that we are what we eat, is the reverse also true? Do we eat what
we are?</span></h3>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">When I was <b><i>a child </i></b>visiting
my grandmother, a thrifty Scottish woman in rural West Virginia, we ate
directly from the garden and the fields.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In the summer, we feasted on corn on the cob rolled in butter, hot mixed
peppers simmered with fresh tomatoes, juicy blackberry and rhubarb pies, salad
greens wilted with hot bacon dressing. In winter, we ate fruit and vegetables
that had been “put up” in the cellar. </span>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I was also the <b><i>daughter
of a Tokyo-born mother and a struggling, blue-collar father</i></b>, a combination that
gave our budget meals a slight Asian twist. Chili con carne was served over Uncle
Ben’s rice. A can of Campbell’s chicken noodle soup became egg drop soup
after my mom plopped a raw egg into the pot. </span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">At the same time, I was a <i><b>hometown girl
of Clarksburg, West Virginia</b></i>, a surprisingly diverse town with thriving
Lebanese and Italian populations.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our
neighbors, the Thomas family, supplied us with wide, flat sheets of Syrian
bread. Mom scrambled eggs with stinky wild ramps and then we rolled the concoction into
the flatbread, burrito style. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">When I went off to <i><b>college</b></i>
in South Carolina, I was a <i><b>scrawny teenager</b></i> desperate to add curves to my
boyish figure. Grits with gravy, hot rolls with butter (consumed by the
half dozen) and deep-fried everything guaranteed that I immediately gained the
“freshman fifteen.” When I wasn’t refilling my plate in the cafeteria, I could
be found at Sir George’s, an all-you-can-eat buffet that we affectionately
called “Sir Gorges.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">After college, I moved to
California and became a <i><b>busy fifth-grade teacher and a grad
student </b></i>struggling to make ends meet. I lived on Bisquick biscuits that I made two at a time and generic cans of soup. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Not long after that, in the
80s, I morphed into a full-fledged <i><b>yuppie</b></i>, working in downtown LA as a marketing manager at
what was known then as “the phone company.” For the
first time in my life, I had disposable income and non-disposable time. I dined
at restaurants specializing in “California cuisine” (think miniscule
portions at maximum prices). When I wasn’t dining out, I was dropping in to
Bristol Farms, a Whole Foods precursor, to purchase pricy, premade items.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">When I quit my job in the
early 90s to become a <i><b>full-time mom</b></i>, my cooking and eating habits once again
changed. I learned the beauty of the stir fry and how to wok this way. While my
toddler was occupied for minutes at a time, I chopped an
onion here or diced a pepper there or thin sliced a chicken breast. When Dad
got home for dinner, I threw everything into a sizzling wok. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">But when the toddler grew
into a picky preschooler and I became a <i><b>harried housewife</b></i> juggling writing,
home duties and volunteer work, the stir fries disappeared.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ll never forget the moment when I looked
down at the grocery cart loaded with convenient blue boxes and processed orange
slices that passed for cheese.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I groaned
to myself, “I’ve become white trash!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Fast forward a few years,
and I became a <i><b>cancer patient </b></i>at the City of Hope. I took to heart the words of
a wise dietician: “Eat nutrient-dense foods.” From that moment on, I started
examining the nutritional punch of everything that went into my mouth. Instead
of faux wheat bread, I chose dense, multi-grain loaves. And brown rice took the
place of the nutritionally vacuous white stuff I'd been consuming. I couldn’t get enough fresh
fruits and vegetables. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Shortly after my stint as a
patient, both in and out of the hospital, I <i><b>joined a community </b></i>called <a href="http://www.ripealtadena.com/">RIPE</a>, an
Altadena-based group that swaps and shares home-grown organic fruits and
vegetables. The sharing soon went well beyond surplus citrus and zucchini. I
saved my leftover citrus rinds as treats for a nearby family of goats. The
goats’ owners shared with neighbors the nutrient-packed soiled hay, which we
used as mulch for our vegetable gardens that produced food that we shared with
one another. It was a perfect circle of sharing and caring. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Who I was and what I ate became closely
intertwined. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">And now I’ve entered yet
another chapter, a <i><b>stress-free life</b></i> in Scottsdale, AZ, filled with hiking, writing,
volunteering and cooking. I haven’t yet figured out how to grow vegetables in
our hot, arid climate, and produce sharing would be difficult (if not
impossible) among the endless chain of gated communities. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">But I’m slowly making
friends who love to share their knowledge, experience and kitchen bounty. One
friend spent an afternoon with me making orange marmalade from the citrus that I'd carted in from the
Altadena backyard. Another new friend brought over a jar of homemade limoncello
that’s far superior to the batch that I made last year. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">And I’m taking pleasure in
feeding the new “picky eater” in my life, a boyfriend who doesn’t like pasta
from any country, shellfish from any sea, fish (other than salmon) and a long
list of vegetables. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Hope you’ll join me in this
new phase of my life as I explore who I am and what's on my plate. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Susan Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12178330935523896363noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164604238866965101.post-78914927759975163802011-06-08T11:48:00.000-07:002011-06-08T14:14:34.353-07:00Grapefruit Guilt<div style="text-align: center; font-family: verdana;font-family:verdana;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC6OoQy4aV0YoDitQg5eVpNOdXAeI3jWUEho8_SIJa4ssVCGPwjPytgyPA2YdL21oFO8wtXZbMuL7ib7iJNX_SqR4hSkP6d1hRZmUKvpzt8YBh4y_6-cGMrQTqR2zfsra2CO9duB1FttSL/s1600/IMAG0308+2.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 222px; height: 371px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC6OoQy4aV0YoDitQg5eVpNOdXAeI3jWUEho8_SIJa4ssVCGPwjPytgyPA2YdL21oFO8wtXZbMuL7ib7iJNX_SqR4hSkP6d1hRZmUKvpzt8YBh4y_6-cGMrQTqR2zfsra2CO9duB1FttSL/s320/IMAG0308+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615923630686465458" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAK_oKpdQUlnsMGBdvnIzrQZkOYpdnezLlq7zE1bQLSeJn-kHcSCZiL63_UYbnM7ekSfjEMatGialaZsLKHYq8U1TyDmBYFzQH9z4JFBjdG9RKQEYH2qU7CUu73r2CkcSyyjm6ZYd7pQLq/s1600/IMAG0305.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 221px; height: 371px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAK_oKpdQUlnsMGBdvnIzrQZkOYpdnezLlq7zE1bQLSeJn-kHcSCZiL63_UYbnM7ekSfjEMatGialaZsLKHYq8U1TyDmBYFzQH9z4JFBjdG9RKQEYH2qU7CUu73r2CkcSyyjm6ZYd7pQLq/s320/IMAG0305.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615923624764237426" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >Guilt seems to be</span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:verdana;" > an overriding theme in my life. Blogging guilt crept in after not posting for more than seven months. Gardening guilt overtook me when I missed all of the windows for planting spring and summer vegetables. And grapefruit guilt attacked when I contemplated the wasted citrus in my back yard.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:verdana;" >Last year, I didn't have to deal with grapefruit guilt. I simply posted a message on our </span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:verdana;" ><a href="http://www.ripealtadena.com/">local RIPE produce exchange group</a> and citrus pickers would magically arrive to harvest the fruit. But after an area fruit fly quarantine put the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">kibosh</span> on fruit sharing, untouched yellow orbs fell to the ground or languished on the branches.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:verdana;" >To the rescue came two small appliances - my De <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Longhi</span> citrus juicer (lightweight, easy to store and use and just $15) and my <a href="http://www.cuisinart.com/products/ice_cream/ice-30bc.html">Cuisinart ice cream maker</a> (purchased online for less than $50).</span><br /><br /><br /><div face="verdana" style="text-align: center; "><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfOAsypz-jwFLsncSydyJShnzuK_b9fawKPscMqD1GqlGPA5DHEU9JkpXCH2Y3MNA8unHcxNzAjfACGJg3uAX1zeWkaiyveSQLQjiGESl6XuQdiklX3rtuVaTR6Konly9mLo_MKuSIwl0c/s1600/IMAG0312+2.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 224px; height: 375px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfOAsypz-jwFLsncSydyJShnzuK_b9fawKPscMqD1GqlGPA5DHEU9JkpXCH2Y3MNA8unHcxNzAjfACGJg3uAX1zeWkaiyveSQLQjiGESl6XuQdiklX3rtuVaTR6Konly9mLo_MKuSIwl0c/s320/IMAG0312+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615923637032984690" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYlPlmspwGhYq4-Sz5nsnLmZr7aroNOJ1ZUxw0f2LwePBQvyAhOl_LDduNecUggmJsR0sssaAxz3oO75Y88O1zltnkRdZUeuVeEMlaKWnN_llTfSGcI9dxI1b0wes3dtzzfQ9kS-O4p0Rm/s1600/IMAG0327+2.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 222px; height: 373px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYlPlmspwGhYq4-Sz5nsnLmZr7aroNOJ1ZUxw0f2LwePBQvyAhOl_LDduNecUggmJsR0sssaAxz3oO75Y88O1zltnkRdZUeuVeEMlaKWnN_llTfSGcI9dxI1b0wes3dtzzfQ9kS-O4p0Rm/s320/IMAG0327+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615941801593193890" border="0" /></a></div><div face="verdana" style="text-align: center; font-family: verdana;"><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Straight grapefruit juice has too much pucker-power, but grapefruit <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">ade</span>, with the addition of water and simple syrup, is as refreshing as the stuff kids hawk at summer-time stands.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Grapefruit Ade</span><br /></div><br />2 cups grapefruit juice (about five grapefruits)<br />1/4 cup simple syrup (1/4 sugar and 1/4 cup water, heated until clear)<br />1 cup water<br /><br />Let the simple syrup cool, stir the three ingredients together and start looking for a front-porch swing.<br /><br />I found this <a href="http://www.produceinthepark.com/2011/03/grapefruit-mint-sorbet.html">recipe for Grapefruit Mint Sorbet</a> on the blog for <a href="http://www.produceinthepark.com/">Produce in the Park</a>, a volunteer-sponsored food and produce-sharing group in Monrovia. I love it when I have all the simple ingredients - grapefruits, <a href="http://openmouthinsertfork.blogspot.com/2009/05/la-vida-loca-crazy-mint.html">mint</a>, sugar and vodka - on hand for a delicious and refreshing dessert.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI7g9stE-I-VGJfq3_IWD2Gky6qOjlmoGECSxEuA_VLMIGByyaPH-mSaravrJItVIbIopal6nFg8V2HHDibVa2nTEmLHd3ndDpSpKe04kTPVsjTUvxDjZgylwZvd_mfTW6DLpsbNrjK5PG/s1600/IMAG0335+2.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 191px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI7g9stE-I-VGJfq3_IWD2Gky6qOjlmoGECSxEuA_VLMIGByyaPH-mSaravrJItVIbIopal6nFg8V2HHDibVa2nTEmLHd3ndDpSpKe04kTPVsjTUvxDjZgylwZvd_mfTW6DLpsbNrjK5PG/s320/IMAG0335+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615948211461177554" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm3fwG4SxXLcjYzWAbMP_Rcq2XCiKNnyx1LbRIApXh49ys70USmF2FkK3cTdMZRnNIK0je8CDsRSj4J6IuIhfXRUORlRxjmK2HrD2SLCJyDpTiXYPpWfVP9wFHmOBfNOibxSKxte6BvpEK/s1600/IMAG0337+2.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 204px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm3fwG4SxXLcjYzWAbMP_Rcq2XCiKNnyx1LbRIApXh49ys70USmF2FkK3cTdMZRnNIK0je8CDsRSj4J6IuIhfXRUORlRxjmK2HrD2SLCJyDpTiXYPpWfVP9wFHmOBfNOibxSKxte6BvpEK/s320/IMAG0337+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615949302446821410" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Grapefruit Mint Sorbet</span><br /></div><br />2 cups grapefruit juice (and some pulp if you’d like)<br />2 cups water<br />1.5-2 cups of sugar (according to taste and sweetness of your fruit, but start on the low end)<br />2-4 sprigs of mint<br />1-2 shots of vodka or tequila<br /><br />In a small pot, combine the juice, water, 1.5 cups of sugar and mint. Bring to a boil and then simmer on low for 10 minutes. Let steep for an additional 10-20 minutes, remove the mint, pour in the alcohol, then chill (the juice, that is).<br /><br />At this point, you can either place the juice in an ice cream maker for about 25 minutes, or put it in the freezer. If you opt for the freezer, just make sure to scrape/mix it every 30 minutes while it’s freezing to incorporate some air.<br /><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht2eEXHfAjD75-zO3LBDWRtAZ8B3chQGXipKVRnYI7RRzIbDSzAhqroC4p3T4jWS2_E788DEeyHbQWAlqWyVMcS467NN_zrYOXetIs9jg7cwxfy5ksMJLccAGY1LXEqcnUM3XhRTaokbkp/s1600/IMAG0290+2.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 386px; height: 228px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht2eEXHfAjD75-zO3LBDWRtAZ8B3chQGXipKVRnYI7RRzIbDSzAhqroC4p3T4jWS2_E788DEeyHbQWAlqWyVMcS467NN_zrYOXetIs9jg7cwxfy5ksMJLccAGY1LXEqcnUM3XhRTaokbkp/s320/IMAG0290+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615923607787657634" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn9LOyIjXmSUKownn1VX0qJ6OChrQt0WoSazrx8FwCdooaPCDjj8VrC8C8pEKmR_YTanOFq-X7zjz1zULG6ux0iFN-p5btyPS-T2-sYNjeWsOeYJqo5pvXEIZZRGXymUhPpGfjBZcjdWGn/s1600/IMAG0297+2.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 390px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn9LOyIjXmSUKownn1VX0qJ6OChrQt0WoSazrx8FwCdooaPCDjj8VrC8C8pEKmR_YTanOFq-X7zjz1zULG6ux0iFN-p5btyPS-T2-sYNjeWsOeYJqo5pvXEIZZRGXymUhPpGfjBZcjdWGn/s320/IMAG0297+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615923615390516194" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">The fresh-from-the-maker sorbet gets weeply quickly, but an hour in the freezer produces a firmer version (see above photo).</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">These grapefruit recipes have cleansed my guilt as effectively as a sorbet cleanses the palate between courses. Now if only I could find a recipe to dissolve the other guilt in my life.<br /></div></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" style="font-family: verdana;" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfOAsypz-jwFLsncSydyJShnzuK_b9fawKPscMqD1GqlGPA5DHEU9JkpXCH2Y3MNA8unHcxNzAjfACGJg3uAX1zeWkaiyveSQLQjiGESl6XuQdiklX3rtuVaTR6Konly9mLo_MKuSIwl0c/s1600/IMAG0312+2.jpg"><br /></a>Susan Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12178330935523896363noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164604238866965101.post-46747430530081368832010-10-09T09:05:00.000-07:002010-10-09T09:46:11.827-07:00Cheese Flops<span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">When I first</span> bit into a gougères, a savory French cheese puff, at <a href="http://www.tartinebakery.com/">Tartine</a> in SF, I wondered, "Where have you been all my life?" The treats are crisp on the outside, puffy on the inside and infused with fresh thyme and gruyere. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I was delighted to learn later that </span><a style="font-family: verdana;" href="http://www.fraicherestaurantla.com/">Fraiche</a><span style="font-family:verdana;"> in Culver City baked their own gougères and even <a href="http://openmouthinsertfork.blogspot.com/2008/09/fresh-look-at-fraiche-my-favorite.html">served their hamburgers on the puffy buns.</a></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">But, alas, I discovered during my September visit that Fraiche no longer bakes or serves the bread. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">"Where can I buy fresh </span><span style="font-family:verdana;"> gougères</span><span style="font-family:verdana;">?" I asked the</span><a style="font-family: verdana;" href="http://foodlibrarian.blogspot.com/2010/10/gougeres-french-fridays-with-dorie.html"> Food Librarian</a><span style="font-family:verdana;">, who had just posted about the perfect puffs she made at home. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">"In your own kitchen," she wrote back. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I was about to pop open a bottle of champagne I'd been saving and decided that </span><span style="font-family:verdana;"> gougères</span><span style="font-family:verdana;"> would be the perfect accompaniment.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I turned to the master source, the Tartine cookbook that I had purchased during a recent visit to the venerable bakery. I'd no longer have to journey to SF to sink my choppers into a gougères.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">But this beautiful cookbook was not a fit for baking-challenged moi. The ingredients and directions were listed on two different pages and I had to keep flipping back and forth. The directions were written in long, narrative paragraphs, not bullet points. And the directions left some confusion. (It said to stir in the flour. Should I turn off the flame first or keep it on high?) They didn't say, so I guessed wrong and turned off the flame. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Perhaps that's why my puffs were a flop, as flat as giant buttons. But that didn't stop friends and family from asking, "Are there more?" I baked up tray after tray of the flops, and they greedily ate them.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Just imagine how gaga they'll go over a gougères done right. (Next time I'll follow Tartine-loving Jen's instructions on </span><a style="font-family: verdana;" href="http://oishiieats.blogspot.com/2009/04/gruyere-thyme-gougeres-recipe-by.html">Oishii Eats</a><span style="font-family:verdana;">.)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" >(PS It may be a while before I can bake up another batch of gougères. I broke a hip, had pin surgery and will be hobbling about on a walker for a few weeks.)</span>Susan Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12178330935523896363noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164604238866965101.post-87810431830075477922010-08-20T16:01:00.000-07:002010-08-20T16:13:17.188-07:00Foolproof Fried Rice<span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">When you forage through your 'fridge</span> in hopes of finding enough ingredients to assemble a meal, what do you find?</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">In our household, eggs are a given. And I can always count on those "baby" carrots that we buy but seldom eat. Some kind of leftover meat - ham, Canadian bacon or leftover chicken - is usually lurking. I can unearth wilted green onions and half of a forgotten red pepper. And I'm never without peas in the freezer and garlic in the pantry. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I have the fixings for one of my favorite go-to meals - fried rice. It's easy, delicious, nutritious and a great way to use up the bits and pieces in your fridge. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">The trick is to have cold, leftover rice on hand. You can bring home the uneaten rice from an Asian restaurant. Or you can make extra rice and chill. Both are good options, but aren't always available when the urge for fried rice strikes. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">So I'll share with you a little secret to ensure that you always have all the fixings for fried rice on hand: brown rice from the freezer section at Trader Joe's. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">No need to defrost. Just dump a bag of the frozen grains into your sizzling wok or fry pan. And, believe it or not, the results are superior to the leftover Japanese short-grained brown rice that I sometimes use. The TJ's frozen rice produces beautiful, separate grains, and that's the secret to a great, mush-free meal.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">The young adults in my household thumb their noses at plain brown rice, but when it's fried with meat, veggies and egg, they gobble it down. Even my one-year-old grandson can't get enough. And, best of all, we never get bored because the variations are endless. </span><br /><br /><ul><li><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" >See my previous post on </span><a style="font-style: italic; font-family: verdana;" href="http://openmouthinsertfork.blogspot.com/2010/06/make-your-own-comfort-thai-crab-fried.html">Thai fried rice. </a></li></ul><ul><li><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" >Check out Shiok's tips on </span><a style="font-style: italic; font-family: verdana;" href="http://www.shiokfood.com/notes/archives/000018.html">great fried rice. </a></li></ul><ul><li><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" >Go to Wandering Chopsticks for several fried rice recipes, including <a href="http://wanderingchopsticks.blogspot.com/2007/03/fried-rice-with-chinese-sausage-mixed.html">this one</a> with Chinese sausage, frozen vegetables and egg. I credit her for teaching me to make fried rice.</span></li></ul><ul><li><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" >We loved this </span><a style="font-style: italic; font-family: verdana;" href="http://closetcooking.blogspot.com/2009/06/thai-pineapple-fried-rice.html">Thai pineapple fried rice</a><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" > from Closet Cooking. It's special enough to serve to company.<br /></span></li></ul><ul><li><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" >Some fried rice recipes call for cooking the egg separately and adding it in later. Another technique (my favorite) is to saute the meat and veggies, push them to the side and cook the egg in the well in the center.<br /></span></li></ul>Susan Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12178330935523896363noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164604238866965101.post-42993536413163802722010-08-04T12:33:00.000-07:002010-08-07T21:50:53.687-07:00More Than One Way to Brew a Cup of Coffee: Roaster Family Coffee<span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">I had hoped </span>to meet my morning caffeine quota with jasmine tea from </span><a style="font-family: verdana;" href="http://www.lunasiachinesecuisine.com/"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Lunasia</span></a><span style="font-family:verdana;"> (my current favorite non-cart dim sum restaurant). But when I learned the wait for tea and dim sum was 45 minutes, I dragged my </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" style="font-family:verdana;">un</span><span style="font-family:verdana;">-</span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" style="font-family:verdana;">caffeinated</span><span style="font-family:verdana;"> self across the street for a quick cup of java at Roaster Family Coffee.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I expected the </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" style="font-family:verdana;">barista</span><span style="font-family:verdana;"> to serve a cup from a pot or urn. Instead, she measured and ground fresh beans. Just for me. What came next was even more surprising. I was familiar with percolating, pressing and dripping methods for brewing coffee. Roaster Family Coffee uses a siphon brewing method. Invented in 1840, the brewing contraption looks like something from an antebellum mad scientist's lab.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center; font-family: verdana;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUfVAhK0eZpnJqKoFI6UVgIw20-vVbm4w0Nm5Hob6JaMSqBiFTEiGazrbgl_EUkuW8nhoDnS6ConlQXKc5i94XHtJXk-FrIukfH0seuSd5vBBCo8hO_tLgNEGw5o9v-401gt-03bZzyacT/s1600/CIMG5864.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 196px; height: 261px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUfVAhK0eZpnJqKoFI6UVgIw20-vVbm4w0Nm5Hob6JaMSqBiFTEiGazrbgl_EUkuW8nhoDnS6ConlQXKc5i94XHtJXk-FrIukfH0seuSd5vBBCo8hO_tLgNEGw5o9v-401gt-03bZzyacT/s320/CIMG5864.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501649039446711058" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWrdIFFy7t_mKRIPZenCEWN1xGNSz01gtPKKC5xVT-aVzsA4WqXH7AIHfRz-BPayvik_Y5HTGlEM5s6M9DZ97Zfx9bRmCpwKsBCGfrVWtFbBlSRS1CV6N7D1o5J_jO0WvE4nRiOYgltMRO/s1600/CIMG5865.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 204px; height: 260px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWrdIFFy7t_mKRIPZenCEWN1xGNSz01gtPKKC5xVT-aVzsA4WqXH7AIHfRz-BPayvik_Y5HTGlEM5s6M9DZ97Zfx9bRmCpwKsBCGfrVWtFbBlSRS1CV6N7D1o5J_jO0WvE4nRiOYgltMRO/s320/CIMG5865.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501649055680462530" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center; font-family: verdana;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh78a2EzF47MfXlfTh7Fp_6cVp10eyY3izC04VtDVOc6pz0bZ8vy7ASUF8wxHSwqRjga1gCH_QfqYfUOGOjbQHtT972ghWhquNzeTXGz78S0Di4kDvW-7o98CwJW8lvyYXuZDsKLbjddP-9/s1600/CIMG5869.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 210px; height: 282px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh78a2EzF47MfXlfTh7Fp_6cVp10eyY3izC04VtDVOc6pz0bZ8vy7ASUF8wxHSwqRjga1gCH_QfqYfUOGOjbQHtT972ghWhquNzeTXGz78S0Di4kDvW-7o98CwJW8lvyYXuZDsKLbjddP-9/s320/CIMG5869.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501649071159003410" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBzPLOjJJZXqB7DwDNx-aAXtpeRlepE9G2o4nkqo7oVwOnRg-qCISd02GjIisNDRmFn1YPSz5bUF1dUB2enwSL1o3ek98odiYtCY7vSjawXaPNlIUuFxL1MwkAKdns7-lEYVllrkHkMKGf/s1600/CIMG5866.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 190px; height: 283px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBzPLOjJJZXqB7DwDNx-aAXtpeRlepE9G2o4nkqo7oVwOnRg-qCISd02GjIisNDRmFn1YPSz5bUF1dUB2enwSL1o3ek98odiYtCY7vSjawXaPNlIUuFxL1MwkAKdns7-lEYVllrkHkMKGf/s320/CIMG5866.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501649061843380258" border="0" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Clockwise from top left: 1) Grind beans. 2) Place beans in vessel over pot of water. 3) Water vapor forces hot (but not boiling) water from the pot into the vessel. 4) See how the vessel is filling up? Alchemy or physics?</span><br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRgznwG7KU7DuKYEmEv061jBLz33gJwUqV02Aiqa1vi1OwQsIX15AoLCzYdeYiOzTctTG3Xqr2av6s8Rri55BuPr6MJw4A25bnHCvHFK88SYvRoYwWL0yse680jIPZUeAsqo4-X4A6YaC9/s1600/CIMG5870.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 204px; height: 272px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRgznwG7KU7DuKYEmEv061jBLz33gJwUqV02Aiqa1vi1OwQsIX15AoLCzYdeYiOzTctTG3Xqr2av6s8Rri55BuPr6MJw4A25bnHCvHFK88SYvRoYwWL0yse680jIPZUeAsqo4-X4A6YaC9/s320/CIMG5870.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501652388662746898" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE6Pvdw-FcRqq_K8up17iX_Biwm5SQFxNpKFnxL6ocXq6rt6F8aBGsT17ScfvnpChhhb2EuUzIf8PPbk_7Ryar6qRLOOgC9rfZsYkaSe5kSOHDxIaEfNFjNwTGlYHglhOXp0N0T2sv3zuc/s1600/CIMG5871.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 204px; height: 272px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE6Pvdw-FcRqq_K8up17iX_Biwm5SQFxNpKFnxL6ocXq6rt6F8aBGsT17ScfvnpChhhb2EuUzIf8PPbk_7Ryar6qRLOOgC9rfZsYkaSe5kSOHDxIaEfNFjNwTGlYHglhOXp0N0T2sv3zuc/s320/CIMG5871.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501652397343569490" border="0" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center; font-family: verdana;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYPV9gLbkosP8hA46IYLUXPVzCGLHVPgVKAER5whxFveo3ksp4QgpB0NnuuLGr5rl3JXMKIle6xlmwcWlrsY_shMP04q7RebXBaAYhE7OlpfFD847JASlFANmvV50tBE2Ucc7prgUZakVa/s1600/CIMG5875.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 208px; height: 278px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYPV9gLbkosP8hA46IYLUXPVzCGLHVPgVKAER5whxFveo3ksp4QgpB0NnuuLGr5rl3JXMKIle6xlmwcWlrsY_shMP04q7RebXBaAYhE7OlpfFD847JASlFANmvV50tBE2Ucc7prgUZakVa/s320/CIMG5875.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501652416060741458" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhUL-sqb4jY1oWb8WIWfwCGn4JkaWq_fxgChj1dQ5xp_ULklCLU_xMVIGRyZTwMBDX-3N0ffQ_NeE09Ez6Iv8tQXj52vN99SX9k5Q5ItB2qagC6z9gYplfYgEFMUVhzDCRSpX7FREHTC8t/s1600/CIMG5860.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 206px; height: 279px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhUL-sqb4jY1oWb8WIWfwCGn4JkaWq_fxgChj1dQ5xp_ULklCLU_xMVIGRyZTwMBDX-3N0ffQ_NeE09Ez6Iv8tQXj52vN99SX9k5Q5ItB2qagC6z9gYplfYgEFMUVhzDCRSpX7FREHTC8t/s320/CIMG5860.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501652403598087874" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;">1) A quick stir 2) Physics in action again: When heat is turned off, coffee returns to pot. 3) Fresh siphon-brewed coffee 4) Elegant service in a china cup for just $1.80.<br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij6vhxPIEoUiHCl0MOryrwkpfPUoIVXsaTjFZAZ4oVy8b6UVwq-gR1KXxl3xPGDV-AyGFqf_FpcozvUz9TTVHAwp9SIUJ9A_N_aSAFWmPUlDRoqpR0Qw8RXwmkzv6DBLCRxHiHsh7hFFMw/s1600/CIMG5873.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 198px; height: 262px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij6vhxPIEoUiHCl0MOryrwkpfPUoIVXsaTjFZAZ4oVy8b6UVwq-gR1KXxl3xPGDV-AyGFqf_FpcozvUz9TTVHAwp9SIUJ9A_N_aSAFWmPUlDRoqpR0Qw8RXwmkzv6DBLCRxHiHsh7hFFMw/s320/CIMG5873.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501654451495223394" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrpSmfLy8jSBDU1IamiuzPIfNzuLpOA1kOlSXheuJkwr5ji4nbqcNrMNPuVuAq64GdWfWFy4FwCmSfCgOPqAkztPhOkE7slmDo4u-hY4C5RWR8TF2lxafwplmsHCay5q1vUK_gNoV4sM7A/s1600/CIMG5874.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 191px; height: 262px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrpSmfLy8jSBDU1IamiuzPIfNzuLpOA1kOlSXheuJkwr5ji4nbqcNrMNPuVuAq64GdWfWFy4FwCmSfCgOPqAkztPhOkE7slmDo4u-hY4C5RWR8TF2lxafwplmsHCay5q1vUK_gNoV4sM7A/s320/CIMG5874.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501654465608096034" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">The brewing method might be so two centuries ago, but the heating method - a halogen burning system - is 21st century.<br /><br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ-xjNMjiuO093Ba9CotHDPp2W0ZccBFo8809QOZtL-3wcIEPEKBKr_Gitn2v-CaqvStx4BjLbTcbjqC_aZ3slJvYQAt66hlwa2hqjQU-YPMFaYQb5LhuFWTtxQKlxYrpTH1gYpKJ_j8ev/s1600/CIMG5862.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 211px; height: 285px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ-xjNMjiuO093Ba9CotHDPp2W0ZccBFo8809QOZtL-3wcIEPEKBKr_Gitn2v-CaqvStx4BjLbTcbjqC_aZ3slJvYQAt66hlwa2hqjQU-YPMFaYQb5LhuFWTtxQKlxYrpTH1gYpKJ_j8ev/s320/CIMG5862.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501655945138722610" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYbFCmi2i8vKEb9vCDOyQjmKw-E0THQ5E8WhVe8D6IfumT1NijFXzGYox3OIKAw2jEiddrMJ8q4eaW9E1WJA-Y_t57v0ZC4dWAg4u3-Ct1N_YqUXDcfBiIsa8OKoY3PWDhq8QNdW_jkNU2/s1600/CIMG5878.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 285px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYbFCmi2i8vKEb9vCDOyQjmKw-E0THQ5E8WhVe8D6IfumT1NijFXzGYox3OIKAw2jEiddrMJ8q4eaW9E1WJA-Y_t57v0ZC4dWAg4u3-Ct1N_YqUXDcfBiIsa8OKoY3PWDhq8QNdW_jkNU2/s320/CIMG5878.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501655933602218002" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiGfa8cJGf_wHQyMILmTTtxho-TNx78qqzOUEriwY8T9NB6kD1nOAp87fmN99EPMFiu7bjawyh2CvVWUPiA4uFqGPFUtrXt4nfRjEk_sSH3Cs2K9cxcblvhetX3OcgTC9gEW1t3VIouJJk/s1600/CIMG5868.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 438px; height: 329px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiGfa8cJGf_wHQyMILmTTtxho-TNx78qqzOUEriwY8T9NB6kD1nOAp87fmN99EPMFiu7bjawyh2CvVWUPiA4uFqGPFUtrXt4nfRjEk_sSH3Cs2K9cxcblvhetX3OcgTC9gEW1t3VIouJJk/s320/CIMG5868.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501655955016881250" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">The decor is a lot like the brewing system - a mix of the old and new. </span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">How was the coffee? Strong and rich without a trace of acidity or bitterness. Come for the show, but stay for the coffee.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Roaster Family Coffee</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">521 W </span><em style="font-style: italic;">Main</em><span style="font-style: italic;"> St. </span><em style="font-style: italic;"><br />Alhambra</em><span style="font-style: italic;">, CA 91801</span><br /><em style="font-style: italic;"></em><span style="font-style: italic;">626. 282.8879 </span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"><br /><br /></span><address style="font-style: italic;" class="adr"> <span class="street-address">713 W Duarte Rd.<br />Suite F</span><br /><span class="locality">Arcadia</span>, <span class="region">CA</span> <span class="postal-code">91007</span><br /> </address> <span style="font-style: italic;" id="bizPhone" class="tel">626.447.2538</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">For more information about syphon-brewed coffee, visit the </span><a style="font-style: italic;" href="http://coffeegeek.com/guides/siphoncoffee">Coffee Geek</a><span style="font-style: italic;"> or the </span><a style="font-style: italic;" href="http://www.nytimes.com/2008/01/23/dining/23coff.html">New York Times.</a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.foodista.com/food/5FDW4PVS/coffee" style="display: block; width: 200px; border: 5px solid #C4DE87; -moz-border-radius: 2px; -webkit-border-radius: 2px; background-color: #C3D694; text-align: left; overflow: hidden; color: white; font-family: arial,helvetica,clean,sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-decoration: none; padding: 4px; text-indent: 0;" title="Coffee on Foodista"><img src="http://cf.foodista.com/static/images/widget_logo.png" alt="Coffee on Foodista" style="float: right; border: none; width: 70px; height: 25px; padding: 0; margin: 0;" />Coffee<img src="http://dyn.foodista.com/content/embed/z1.png?foodista_widget_5FDW4PVS_HB25LVBD" style="display: none;" /></a><br /></div></div></div>Susan Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12178330935523896363noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164604238866965101.post-53212407449811771392010-07-04T13:13:00.000-07:002010-07-04T14:35:08.526-07:00The Pursuit of Happiness: Ice Cream for Breakfast<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkVc7pNZZsB5h52gTaRV7FKNfE0k5mmbfg6LOTEX_sDIvJLvNaZruZEeBP1WNZ9FPwU2czQr_XfDN4Y15ncaeekawLWkKGuo114Npx1O1t1B5jHb0kkZ6C8_ldo0wDsEeILO9Ev8I2e4wg/s1600/CIMG5816.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 486px; height: 368px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkVc7pNZZsB5h52gTaRV7FKNfE0k5mmbfg6LOTEX_sDIvJLvNaZruZEeBP1WNZ9FPwU2czQr_XfDN4Y15ncaeekawLWkKGuo114Npx1O1t1B5jHb0kkZ6C8_ldo0wDsEeILO9Ev8I2e4wg/s400/CIMG5816.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5490151377684655538" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Our new tradition: Ice cream for breakfast on the Fourth of July</span></span><br /></div><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">One of my high school/Facebook friends recently shared her family's Independence Day tradition: eating ice cream for breakfast. She wrote, "It's a coal camp thing," one that's endured for five generations in her family. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I searched the Web for references to ice cream for breakfast on the Fourth of July and came up empty handed, but that didn't hold me back. When I announced my intention to start a new tradition, I received enthusiastic endorsement from the young adults in the family.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">We would declare our independence and pursue our happiness by starting off the day with a bowl of vanilla. Of course, to show our colors, we added bananas, strawberries and blackberries to the bowl.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">When it came right down to it, I didn't have the constitution to eat early morning ice cream. Instead, I started out with an egg in a toast cup and a cup of Joe. (Cut a hole in a slice of bread, fill the hole with an egg and fry in butter. Make sure to fry the round piece of bread in butter too, and then dip it into the soft egg yolk.)<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx2g4NJrb3bTgUVzw8yydp2o582Dgk1a7QoSL5LyejuSmwk6zVyW1LQXPTBvGfwPe4VkiHuOMYMReq_7jg8KMftZ6Ue7xQkx73oApvnM6tMU54AIaPzcbCrsZ3HQzPNfzuEU85gAK1yEay/s1600/Making_eggs_in_basket.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 472px; height: 313px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx2g4NJrb3bTgUVzw8yydp2o582Dgk1a7QoSL5LyejuSmwk6zVyW1LQXPTBvGfwPe4VkiHuOMYMReq_7jg8KMftZ6Ue7xQkx73oApvnM6tMU54AIaPzcbCrsZ3HQzPNfzuEU85gAK1yEay/s400/Making_eggs_in_basket.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5490157494379025778" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Image from Wikipedia. Eggs in a toast cup, also known as eggs in a basket<br /></span></div><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">After my savory dish, I still wasn't ready to indulge in a frozen dessert, but I ate the sliced strawberries, bananas and blackberries. Everyone else, including the grandson, shoveled down their ice cream and wished that every day was the Fourth of July.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Happy Independence Day!</span>Susan Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12178330935523896363noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164604238866965101.post-59108331154491560612010-06-30T09:52:00.000-07:002010-06-30T12:32:03.967-07:00Reminiscing and Reproducing Thai Crab Fried Rice<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOZv8QldAxaHwlqaGcACsKYlGZrvTlbrSbjbWEIFYAHCD8zYbIH0EuDGNyXMldwBxnrBqA10nHnvrBjhZ-e_RzOkQjrazl0VQ0fVIIV72za_iGtbkwJhIuOI-AhJqixmy_yN6s4hg70yLT/s1600/CIMG5811.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 479px; height: 390px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOZv8QldAxaHwlqaGcACsKYlGZrvTlbrSbjbWEIFYAHCD8zYbIH0EuDGNyXMldwBxnrBqA10nHnvrBjhZ-e_RzOkQjrazl0VQ0fVIIV72za_iGtbkwJhIuOI-AhJqixmy_yN6s4hg70yLT/s400/CIMG5811.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488644063655368306" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">A few years ago,</span> when I worked at a small marketing communications firm in Old Pasadena, I became a regular at a local Thai restaurant. A colleague and I never grew tired of sharing the lunch special four times a week at our desks. The owner Sue, aware of our frugal ways, would always slip in an extra order of brown rice.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">When I worked late, I would often slide solo into my favorite seat by the window, listen to the sounds of the water wall and order Thai crab fried rice and a glass of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Sauvignon</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Blanc</span>. Sue would always top off my glass with whatever was left in the bottle.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Alas, Sue eventually sold the restaurant to a clueless <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">entrepreneur</span> who replaced the wall of water with a giant flat screen TV. Not a good sign. When he changed the menu, the crab fried rice was one of the the first casualties. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I've ordered crab fried rice in other Thai restaurants, but it never measures up. Maybe it was Sue's nurturing or the soothing sounds of the water or that extra touch of white wine that made that dish so special.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I was about to give up until I found this recipe on <a href="http://thewiveswithknives.blogspot.com/2009/04/thai-crab-fried-rice.html">Wives with Knives</a>. I made it for lunch today, and it was nearly as good as the version that Sue's mom used to cook up for me at Nana.</span><br /><br /><strong style="font-family: verdana;">Thai Crab Fried Rice</strong><br /><ul style="font-family: verdana;"><li>3 to 4 cups rice, cooked the day before and refrigerated overnight (I used Japanese brown rice because it's more nutritious than white, but I think basmati rice makes the best fried rice.)<br /></li><li>1/4 cup vegetable oil</li><li>1/2 cup raw carrot, grated (I used frozen, but I like the idea of fresh.)<br /></li><li>1/2 cup peas, fresh or frozen</li><li>1/4 cup green onion, sliced in 1/4 inch slices</li><li>1 tablespoon fresh ginger, peeled and finely chopped</li><li>1 clove garlic, minced</li><li>2 tablespoons fish sauce</li><li>3 tablespoons soy sauce</li><li>2 tablespoon lime juice</li><li>1 teaspoon sugar</li><li>2 eggs, lightly beaten</li><li>4 ounces or more <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Dungeness</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">crabmeat</span> (I used lump crab meat from Whole Foods.)<br /></li><li>salt to taste (I found that, with the salty soy and fish sauce, salt wasn't necessary.)<br /></li><li>1/2 teaspoon pepper</li><li>cilantro (Original recipe called for parsley, but I prefer cilantro with Thai food.)<br /></li></ul><p style="font-family: verdana;font-family:verdana;" >Mix together the fish sauce, soy sauce, lime juice and sugar in a small bowl. Set aside.<br /></p><p style="font-family: verdana;" face="verdana">Add 1/4 cup vegetable oil to a large wok or fry pan and heat until it just begins to smoke. Add peas, carrots, green onions and ginger and cook for about one minute, stirring so it doesn't burn. Add rice and lightly mix, then add liquid mixture and blend well. Fry for 4-5 minutes, watching that the rice doesn't burn.</p><p style="font-family: verdana;" face="verdana">Make a well in the middle of the rice and pour in the beaten eggs. Wait for about 30 seconds and then cover the eggs with rice. Leave for another 30 seconds and then continue to stir fry until the eggs are cooked and are mixed well with the rice.<br /></p><p style="font-family: verdana;" face="verdana">Remove from heat and gently stir in the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">crab meat</span>, garnish with chopped cilantro or parsley and serve with lime wedges. </p><p style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-style: italic;">The only thing that could have made it better is a glass of Sauvignon Blanc. </span><br /></p><p style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></p>Susan Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12178330935523896363noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164604238866965101.post-51271941028173739332010-06-18T16:25:00.001-07:002010-06-18T19:07:44.645-07:00Breakfast Theatre<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUmLruKSxTMtItEBYDwIJ5aF1rfm1-kOKWeLFbwwIbzCSA4ngBGsvVSyjJ8ZenOgDvcqcD6pqr37SP_VeUlVzJlf9S9NC0c4icCk0WVUOafy80E0-avimHD1JGt8Eh2Ul4LTFOYdHr7oOG/s1600/CIMG5797.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUmLruKSxTMtItEBYDwIJ5aF1rfm1-kOKWeLFbwwIbzCSA4ngBGsvVSyjJ8ZenOgDvcqcD6pqr37SP_VeUlVzJlf9S9NC0c4icCk0WVUOafy80E0-avimHD1JGt8Eh2Ul4LTFOYdHr7oOG/s320/CIMG5797.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5484269151087215314" border="0" /></a><br /><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >As I bite into my early morning burrito</span><span style="font-family:verdana;"> at Clockers' Corner, I can't decide which is more magnificent: the San Gabriel Mountains and palm trees shrouded in mist or the thoroughbreds running at full throttle.<br /><br /></span><p style="font-family: verdana;font-family:verdana;" class="MsoNormal">The photogenic setting at Santa Anita Park has been featured in films from the Marx Brothers' <span style="font-style: italic;">A Day at the Races</span> in 1937 to <span style="font-style: italic;">Seabiscuit</span> in 2003. But, unlike a typical day at the races, the morning mood is serene. The only sounds are the steady clip clop of walking horses, the staccato clapping of running hooves or an occasional snort as jockeys and trainers work out their horses.</p><p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p style="font-family: verdana; text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsDW8lmLyA3MFsiayLZ480z3Y8PcloYkVknqNYWOaLI1FZ99bTPTKfPKirLrP1chzxSmwi36qMEN_4_FvbHrFLUhaV8N2TltBXqD-Mc1zB1EEWJONmStxqXpWbTVkl2K7bOc_EAaX9XL_D/s1600/CIMG5790.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 475px; height: 346px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsDW8lmLyA3MFsiayLZ480z3Y8PcloYkVknqNYWOaLI1FZ99bTPTKfPKirLrP1chzxSmwi36qMEN_4_FvbHrFLUhaV8N2TltBXqD-Mc1zB1EEWJONmStxqXpWbTVkl2K7bOc_EAaX9XL_D/s400/CIMG5790.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5484263741427236226" border="0" /></a></p><p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal">It's the perfect backdrop for my morning meal, where everything from bagels and breakfast burritos to pancakes and omelets is available at Clockers' Corner, the casual counter restaurant at Santa Anita. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilkfzdM4jd28W2XNdgQnTH70VQYFgZzpQ1oHHWYOsy6GRp4lSfFUgs3YzMBuAmH5X9OHJi7TIsOuVAk5xUqgkRuDVeGsLzImRQmfMAqyAmvIAaQ2ZuieJSDh8OXAonCMUf5Q6gWempcNXg/s1600/CIMG5774.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 215px; height: 306px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilkfzdM4jd28W2XNdgQnTH70VQYFgZzpQ1oHHWYOsy6GRp4lSfFUgs3YzMBuAmH5X9OHJi7TIsOuVAk5xUqgkRuDVeGsLzImRQmfMAqyAmvIAaQ2ZuieJSDh8OXAonCMUf5Q6gWempcNXg/s320/CIMG5774.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5484271291156103698" border="0" /></a></p> <p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal">As for that breakfast burrito? I'll be honest. It's easy to find a better one just about anywhere in town, but you won't find a better place to eat it. (Next time, I'll play it safe with a toasted bagel with cream cheese.)<br /></p><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" >Clockers' Corner</span> <span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" ><br />285 W. Huntington Dr.<br /></span> <span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" >Arcadia, CA</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" >626.574.7223</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" >www.santaanita.com</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Hours: 7:00 to 10:00 am</span></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Parking is free before 10:00 am. Enter Gate 8 from Baldwin Ave.</span><o:p></o:p><o:p></o:p></span> <p class="MsoNormal" face="verdana" style="text-align: right;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: verdana; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Modest prices, magnificent views.</span><br /></p>Susan Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12178330935523896363noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164604238866965101.post-58329106567890495772010-06-10T15:03:00.000-07:002010-06-10T15:54:16.979-07:00Comfort Food: Macaroni and Beef with Tomato Sauce (Or How to Deal with a Dead Dog)<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbgsi08lA1QueA0ZHYi3vWMA-pj_m0Uzx0O8dHA82tUfedxMo4c9qY4xVd0wMchmVjEqh6aEBPKJfZYC-siAvZz8DNZkD4t-4rdcgWJF6SajMAiA0sKVW-ZGSKfHP1EzucnPNZM6oCHRCs/s1600/CIMG5800.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 462px; height: 339px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbgsi08lA1QueA0ZHYi3vWMA-pj_m0Uzx0O8dHA82tUfedxMo4c9qY4xVd0wMchmVjEqh6aEBPKJfZYC-siAvZz8DNZkD4t-4rdcgWJF6SajMAiA0sKVW-ZGSKfHP1EzucnPNZM6oCHRCs/s400/CIMG5800.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481278859356436386" border="0" /></a><br /><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" >A bowl (or two or three) of comfort</span><br /><br /></div><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">It's a funny thing about comfort foods. </span>Nobody says, "I think I'll make a big green salad because I need to calm myself." Or, "I'm steaming some broccoli because I'm totally bummed." I suppose that's what's wrong with us Americans. We've been programmed to turn to foods from our childhood, usually heavily laced with fat, carbs and sugars, when we're seeking comfort. </span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />Today, Betty, my beloved dog of 13 years, died unexpectedly. So, needless to say, I'm bummed, and I need some quick and easy comfort. I abandoned the idea of a spinach salad with goat cheese, dried cranberries and toasted almonds. That's a delicious lunch, but it's not the kind of dish that wraps its arms around you and says, "I know it hurts, but it's going to be alright."</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;">For that, I needed macaroni and beef.</span> <div style="text-align: center;font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >Macaroni and Beef with Tomato Sauce</span><br /></div><ul style="font-family: verdana;"><li> 1 1/2 pounds ground chuck </li><li> 8 ounces macaroni, uncooked </li><li> 1/2 cup onion, minced </li><li> 1/2 cup green pepper, chopped (didn't have this today)<br /></li><li> 1 15 oz. can tomato sauce </li><li> 1 cup water </li><li> 1 teaspoon salt </li><li> 1 teaspoon pepper </li><li> 1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce</li><li>1/2 teaspoon sugar<br /></li></ul><span style="font-family:verdana;">Brown beef, onion and pepper in a large skillet over medium heat. Add tomato sauce, water and remaining ingredients. Cover and simmer over low heat for 15 to 20 minutes. It's as simple and easy as Hamburger Helper, but without all of those naughty processed ingredients. </span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />This makes 8 servings, unless your dog has just died, and then it feeds three ravenous grievers.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Macaroni and beef won't bring Betty back, but at least it will get me through the afternoon. That and a quart of mint chocolate chip ice cream in my freezer.<br /><br />(And if Betty was still here, I'd have let her clean out that bowl.)<br /></span></div> <table style="font-family: verdana;" align="left" cellpadding="12"><tbody><tr><td><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>Susan Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12178330935523896363noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164604238866965101.post-81931733389984222442010-06-01T14:24:00.000-07:002010-06-01T16:37:31.568-07:00'Tis the Season for Berries<span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">When I was growing up</span> in West Virginia, strawberries were a rare treat. Once a year, an itinerant strawberry salesman came to our front door hawking boxes of the bright red berries. My mom purchased two boxes and whipped up our annual indulgence of strawberry shortcake. We savored every morsel because we knew it would be 365 days before a strawberry would pass our lips again.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />Now that I live in Southern California, strawberries appear to be everywhere - the grocery store, the farmers market, a temporary strawberry stand and the back of a vendor's truck. And, when they're in season, I can't get enough of them. </span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />I've eaten them whole and dipped them in chocolate. I've dunked them in creme fraiche and crushed them into strawberry lemonade.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:verdana;">I love to eat them sliced and macerated with sugar, tossed with blackberries, a splash of cassis liquer and a zest of orange. Don't they look stunning in a blue bowl?<br /><br /></span> <div face="verdana" style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZn6Kjn4kKbY5ALiKU8QHugkmdajJAD4ee4_Tg-iOY-GLpOOwWQm6K82j5rSxhVhM9hgDUomqmq-rLctXRnpN5hWfqvs4rC5yXZTt52o8L18J8kztIABivDtTr38dOMD7OU_JRXETBJz9F/s1600/CIMG5749.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 453px; height: 339px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZn6Kjn4kKbY5ALiKU8QHugkmdajJAD4ee4_Tg-iOY-GLpOOwWQm6K82j5rSxhVhM9hgDUomqmq-rLctXRnpN5hWfqvs4rC5yXZTt52o8L18J8kztIABivDtTr38dOMD7OU_JRXETBJz9F/s400/CIMG5749.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477922059674429218" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Life is just a bowl of berries.<br /></span></span><br /></div> <span style="font-family:verdana;">I throw those same berries into a cocktail glass and make a breakfast parfait with Greek yogurt. I have a large collection of stemmed glasses and don't believe in waiting until happy hour to use them. The glasses were gifts from a group of friends who figured that the stemware would raise my spirits when I was trying to pump out stem cells for a stem cell transplant nearly three years ago. (Get it? Stemware, stem cells?) Every time I eat or drink from one of the glasses, I think of my good friends and my good fortune.<br /><br /></span> <div face="verdana" style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi96LPanNm2zaVe3f3wMywMHNdAe0ttZbPhfereOAr0ZSWYEJvQ9w8Drx7XDNikCXqPpp0tJjKTy5DQTz6prd5MUmuEQLjyTMNDhW3HFRxQB9jGcgg-iN5Kw5BHIE5o3uBE9N2yUuYDWBEV/s1600/CIMG5754.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi96LPanNm2zaVe3f3wMywMHNdAe0ttZbPhfereOAr0ZSWYEJvQ9w8Drx7XDNikCXqPpp0tJjKTy5DQTz6prd5MUmuEQLjyTMNDhW3HFRxQB9jGcgg-iN5Kw5BHIE5o3uBE9N2yUuYDWBEV/s400/CIMG5754.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477922079785505970" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center; font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Cheers!<br /></span></div> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br />But, of course, my favorite thing is still that strawberry shortcake. This </span><a style="font-family: verdana;" href="http://www.latimes.com/features/food/la-fo-calcookrec29a-2009apr29,0,177215.story">recipe from <span style="font-family:verdana;">the LA Times</span></a><span style="font-family:verdana;"> calls for orange zest in the dough and a splash of orange juice with the strawberries. I also added a little zest and a wee bit of cassis liquer to the whipped cream. I think it's my favorite shortcake recipe ever. It's even better than the Bisquick mix and cream from a squirt can of my childhood.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigFpicoZC523eJmJHecCGpYcZTAeRPgaapSCbDXoKhqsHIJfQ_8bd4C9A6ChH5rdPhA8d33VxAW67Nb6VVERaOspqi1JvaxNpa5FfH5AqXN3rJvb6TVwUZQ-jnRdn5xB7iU2mwmqXezhr4/s1600/CIMG5757.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 499px; height: 374px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigFpicoZC523eJmJHecCGpYcZTAeRPgaapSCbDXoKhqsHIJfQ_8bd4C9A6ChH5rdPhA8d33VxAW67Nb6VVERaOspqi1JvaxNpa5FfH5AqXN3rJvb6TVwUZQ-jnRdn5xB7iU2mwmqXezhr4/s400/CIMG5757.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477946538481714642" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;" >See the flecks of orange zest in the shortcake?</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"> <span style="font-family:verdana;">And the best part? I won't have to wait an entire year to eat this again.</span></div> </div>Susan Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12178330935523896363noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164604238866965101.post-69896197135287714592010-05-12T14:23:00.000-07:002010-05-12T14:46:12.095-07:00Mary's - Sierra Madre's Hidden Gem<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBRdpvQD4XxV_TDx17EFG5c43U7QSTwkaKMC-3lqqygLLmOp677lYVUfUO5YtZteJhpONwMtSXD_W8dvjFgxPlTPGPYN5jvZg_51GgIXvtdIM4t0DeQnsQGTOUHV-lizPk9e6OKu07LfTU/s1600/CIMG5729.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 453px; height: 481px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBRdpvQD4XxV_TDx17EFG5c43U7QSTwkaKMC-3lqqygLLmOp677lYVUfUO5YtZteJhpONwMtSXD_W8dvjFgxPlTPGPYN5jvZg_51GgIXvtdIM4t0DeQnsQGTOUHV-lizPk9e6OKu07LfTU/s400/CIMG5729.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470500817252330114" border="0" /></a>
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<br /><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span> </p><span style="font-family:Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span> <!--EndFragment--> <meta name="Title" content=""> <meta name="Keywords" content=""> <meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"> <meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"> <meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"> <meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"> <link rel="File-List" href="file://localhost/Users/susancarrier/Library/Caches/TemporaryItems/msoclip1/01/clip_filelist.xml"> <!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:documentproperties> <o:template>Normal</o:Template> <o:revision>0</o:Revision> <o:totaltime>0</o:TotalTime> <o:pages>1</o:Pages> <o:words>293</o:Words> <o:characters>1674</o:Characters> <o:lines>13</o:Lines> <o:paragraphs>3</o:Paragraphs> <o:characterswithspaces>2055</o:CharactersWithSpaces> <o:version>11.512</o:Version> </o:DocumentProperties> <o:officedocumentsettings> <o:allowpng/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:donotshowrevisions/> <w:donotprintrevisions/> <w:displayhorizontaldrawinggridevery>0</w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery> <w:displayverticaldrawinggridevery>0</w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery> <w:usemarginsfordrawinggridorigin/> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--> <style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Times New Roman"; panose-1:0 2 2 6 3 5 4 5 2 3; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:50331648 0 0 0 1 0;} @font-face {font-family:Arial; panose-1:0 2 11 6 4 2 2 2 2 2; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:50331648 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-parent:""; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style> <!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span style="font-size:130%;">You know you’re in for an experience</span> when the first question you’re asked before entering Mary’s Market and Café is, “Do you wanna paint a rock?”</span></p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx_oFpyyH1L4j8Rxgvj-IvlMv3d01_UFN1wzDOHwPVPqL9LcSMYT8dTtY04SOun3qbgMAg5G-X6bX9R-S7KsFyRQGI4QfzWGiQmxddmIDA_X9A6uH9NGfqKnppKuVHmwjMGycy7wA6on56/s1600/CIMG5726.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 234px; height: 312px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx_oFpyyH1L4j8Rxgvj-IvlMv3d01_UFN1wzDOHwPVPqL9LcSMYT8dTtY04SOun3qbgMAg5G-X6bX9R-S7KsFyRQGI4QfzWGiQmxddmIDA_X9A6uH9NGfqKnppKuVHmwjMGycy7wA6on56/s400/CIMG5726.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470500791274761282" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLV4-KSEAzWnzFpB9ODKzxMtQLPqDAKVfQNa1yCs-aZdhq8xAdm1KmlilBCaqYqg7QwQOY4rC50hx8qt-vHwkNwxZ-s7b4gBwFLrtbUogZ8Cnko9yz_vk3CjxZTHEaKvsddMvz9hIyrr9e/s1600/CIMG5727.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 226px; height: 312px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLV4-KSEAzWnzFpB9ODKzxMtQLPqDAKVfQNa1yCs-aZdhq8xAdm1KmlilBCaqYqg7QwQOY4rC50hx8qt-vHwkNwxZ-s7b4gBwFLrtbUogZ8Cnko9yz_vk3CjxZTHEaKvsddMvz9hIyrr9e/s400/CIMG5727.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470500804170394930" border="0" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Arial;">I look down and find a bright, hand-painted collection of river rocks that pay homage to Mary, the namesake of the market and café in Sierra Madre.
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Arial;">“I don’t have time today,” I explain, in an attitude not in keeping with the laid-back vibe of Mary’s, The tiny restaurant and store is tucked into the foothills of Sierra Madre, off the beaten path of the two main drags in town, Baldwin Avenue and Sierra Madre Boulevard. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Arial;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Arial;">Drive less than five minutes away from that downtown intersection, up a couple of narrow, curving roads, and you’ll find Mary’s, in the center of a quaint mountainside residential area. Mary’s looks as though it’s always been there. In fact, the institution has served the foothills community since 1922.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Arial;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Arial;">Walk in and you’ll find old-fashioned bar stools at the front counter or by the front window over looking the tree-lined street. Or choose one of the three comfy booths or one of the tiny outdoor tables. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Arial;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Arial;">The oil-splattered menu, glued on to the back of a brown lunch bag, is as simple and unpretentious as the setting. On my first visit, I chose Mary’s equivalent of an egg McMuffin for $3.50. On my last visit, I went with yogurt, served in a vintage brown transfer-ware bowl, with fresh granola and three kinds of fresh fruit (strawberries, blueberries and bananas) for $3.50. I’ve paid nearly $10 for a similar bowl at high-end cafes. Other options include a breakfast burrito, bagel with cream cheese or oatmeal.
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<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Arial;">Wherever you choose to sit, take some time to lounge outdoors for a few minutes before moving on. Breathe the fresh mountain air. Close your eyes and listen to the sound of chirping birds and water streaming down the storm drain. Watch the sycamore tree leaves blowing in the breeze. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Arial;">And, before you head back to the hustle-bustle world, don’t forget to take time to paint a rock. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Arial;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Arial;">Mary’s Market and Café<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Arial;">561 Woodland Dr,<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Arial;">Sierra Madre, CA 91024<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Arial;">626.335.4534</span></p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjGIXDBHaqE1h8ROTvGCbdwbAL93V4DvsvWyD7syd6G7nwzs5fUSfDChjABbvzeWkKAolGcmcT7UQbLzyVHn6rIutkwBB2R-urf8GiOPiSLyGL1fnon5w0ZQgsLjsy_EVqVz-AFOmm9VCq/s1600/CIMG5730.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 368px; height: 490px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjGIXDBHaqE1h8ROTvGCbdwbAL93V4DvsvWyD7syd6G7nwzs5fUSfDChjABbvzeWkKAolGcmcT7UQbLzyVHn6rIutkwBB2R-urf8GiOPiSLyGL1fnon5w0ZQgsLjsy_EVqVz-AFOmm9VCq/s400/CIMG5730.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470500832390257458" border="0" /></a>
<br /></div><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <!--EndFragment--><div style="text-align: center;"><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;" >No need to rush after that second cup of coffee - free parking for 48 hours. </span>
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<br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" >Special thanks to <a href="http://altadenahiker.blogspot.com/">Altadena Hiker</a>, who introduced the <a href="http://restlesschef.blogspot.com/">Restless Chef</a> and me to Mary's. </span>
<br /></div></div>Susan Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12178330935523896363noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164604238866965101.post-37868266181673551162010-04-30T14:09:00.000-07:002010-04-30T17:13:14.766-07:00Ramping It Up<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Am I crazy?</span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">After all, would a sane person fly more than 2,500 miles for a small town event that lasts four hours? Would a sane person then drive six hours from Columbus to Southern West Virginia just so that she could make it to the last hour of the event? Would a person playing with a full deck take a chance that she'd miss the event entirely if she took a wrong turn down a country road? Would a gal with both oars in the water travel for 18 hours just to eat ramps at the Feast of the Ransom in Richwood, West Virginia?</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Maybe not crazy so much as obsessed with wild ramps, a cross between a leek and garlic that grows rampant in woodsy areas from South Carolina to Canada.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Of course, when you consider the scenery in West Virginia, the insanity case becomes a little weaker.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center; font-family: verdana;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSkz0DOeiwH5hqlv2QVddgvk61784qy6d-7Dpujj8aBr71UkNLiYCY3hGqDcIrjGR56MP0eoBdbeM7j2PMvhiFuu_VW41cmGjmHhAoQOtnEENK9rVKgttZi6GRrDkiBHeVBz8AM9it0Sx6/s1600/CIMG5717.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 475px; height: 356px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSkz0DOeiwH5hqlv2QVddgvk61784qy6d-7Dpujj8aBr71UkNLiYCY3hGqDcIrjGR56MP0eoBdbeM7j2PMvhiFuu_VW41cmGjmHhAoQOtnEENK9rVKgttZi6GRrDkiBHeVBz8AM9it0Sx6/s400/CIMG5717.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466043047303630434" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;">The last hour of the drive was alongside a tree-lined stream.</span><br /></div><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">The ostentatious gateway below is not typical of the ramshackle homes that line the country roads. I thought at first this was horse property, but the stone facade is strictly for show. In fact, you'll see more church steeples than stables in this part of the country.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center; font-family: verdana;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqnktyp2yWXv4eCNXcWkMy6ZU3A4Xr9MKXYV0QUsutopq9GKkZ53N_xcQ52W74-fNgloVEztLACJxFw07w6MV4Eg5CRn-s22aDDw8SgSGkDuIAfFqBrwUlY1NAnF3FUrT1fd8Xe3tVEVIQ/s1600/CIMG5718.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 302px; height: 226px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqnktyp2yWXv4eCNXcWkMy6ZU3A4Xr9MKXYV0QUsutopq9GKkZ53N_xcQ52W74-fNgloVEztLACJxFw07w6MV4Eg5CRn-s22aDDw8SgSGkDuIAfFqBrwUlY1NAnF3FUrT1fd8Xe3tVEVIQ/s400/CIMG5718.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466043057399115202" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge44G2oZarhwj8SOB9wS67enHfhTp8wXV-BNScfRzrvnqNGHE_PMAGb-a1VM2ThNESLZT0KHxzCHYflG-s7YIFzZ_ARy6vuirS9TWbyZIUzvYCQFN_NLiPyrGy5nPRUL_vzZVzh6ZGGwqR/s1600/CIMG5719.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 170px; height: 224px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge44G2oZarhwj8SOB9wS67enHfhTp8wXV-BNScfRzrvnqNGHE_PMAGb-a1VM2ThNESLZT0KHxzCHYflG-s7YIFzZ_ARy6vuirS9TWbyZIUzvYCQFN_NLiPyrGy5nPRUL_vzZVzh6ZGGwqR/s400/CIMG5719.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466043068554700418" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br />It was easy to tell when I'd entered ramp country, but I had no time to stop. I had a festival to attend.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8wGqeEdL4HNXicLNPSreoudc-1Y0tHGuGnMeogG2PBDz1f3fk4JVpj4f7V1uClLzNgWab1z1LMAAq1pqeKJOXCKoUPHTPklmVrCrtLCHLe1_-wjvrX_7JlWLRhfxe5LECp9q0wvUuCvYo/s1600/CIMG5716.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 234px; height: 323px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8wGqeEdL4HNXicLNPSreoudc-1Y0tHGuGnMeogG2PBDz1f3fk4JVpj4f7V1uClLzNgWab1z1LMAAq1pqeKJOXCKoUPHTPklmVrCrtLCHLe1_-wjvrX_7JlWLRhfxe5LECp9q0wvUuCvYo/s400/CIMG5716.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466071022500722754" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip9FvO7yUbQCH0sUo0vBxZD424Fit8OYBgQYwaWuX_Q0h16GRjdW69rrzG7bpwGzd02EM2eH9dKuuGqoqEgYwXlb4Li-rX1tt7lwgwSK__tFAs4Xzxsos9OGs6L3A0l20jQTSAy5axDE94/s1600/CIMG5714.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 242px; height: 322px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip9FvO7yUbQCH0sUo0vBxZD424Fit8OYBgQYwaWuX_Q0h16GRjdW69rrzG7bpwGzd02EM2eH9dKuuGqoqEgYwXlb4Li-rX1tt7lwgwSK__tFAs4Xzxsos9OGs6L3A0l20jQTSAy5axDE94/s400/CIMG5714.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466071006261024674" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgippYHFHyNLg5BNiGJ58qYOC13CyDJ9jy_7hfDcvOQmZAYgl5wgPwYyrrNtYUemuztFyO7uAj5e7IkujWGhndgC0GFNHOhyQJ2fPtjpTYXuUoI8W_dliJYBHPQk5mZ_0jVkixXRX9P6u_f/s1600/CIMG5715.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgippYHFHyNLg5BNiGJ58qYOC13CyDJ9jy_7hfDcvOQmZAYgl5wgPwYyrrNtYUemuztFyO7uAj5e7IkujWGhndgC0GFNHOhyQJ2fPtjpTYXuUoI8W_dliJYBHPQk5mZ_0jVkixXRX9P6u_f/s400/CIMG5715.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466071016369307666" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><br />As luck would have it, I arrived in time for the crowning of the Ramp Princess. I love the crossed ankle pose of the girl on the right. I think she learned that in Ramp Charm School.<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBiJ_gJQa_VJL8V5KLEvuURLfCcc2MHRvK-8-3HCHjo1RgDtvWxeBEJpOuLJxjxuTN6ObwC1WD5JY7hcsrMm2K97ec1eYLn0NRzprw-iL4x3pPccWjtW22ew2nLDWiVo2zQOouoVYTvEYh/s1600/CIMG5698.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 238px; height: 314px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBiJ_gJQa_VJL8V5KLEvuURLfCcc2MHRvK-8-3HCHjo1RgDtvWxeBEJpOuLJxjxuTN6ObwC1WD5JY7hcsrMm2K97ec1eYLn0NRzprw-iL4x3pPccWjtW22ew2nLDWiVo2zQOouoVYTvEYh/s400/CIMG5698.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466047327100841074" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie9SCamFefiZhdElHfOh4tE46D8j5Jl8nt8Zlxqol5cLHOf0wZXkpn8IUJFp1u2LHZd5D7kZlXQBBxSwk0rDAMxiRTb3Ibl57lrcn0wwaVlJQTV9CQM97qR8JG-evMTmYwxM0KDIwg4ZTg/s1600/CIMG5697.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 195px; height: 314px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie9SCamFefiZhdElHfOh4tE46D8j5Jl8nt8Zlxqol5cLHOf0wZXkpn8IUJFp1u2LHZd5D7kZlXQBBxSwk0rDAMxiRTb3Ibl57lrcn0wwaVlJQTV9CQM97qR8JG-evMTmYwxM0KDIwg4ZTg/s400/CIMG5697.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466047317062011362" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">I followed this pony-tailed couple to the ramp feed.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPJfiM3KI92JzYZr4MMsjQ25DNRhH34-6WEF68V8VkL99U-XDW2Dh1UAiVGBnyHJRwzWtY0L-ctLdwUd9T0-xvGKW5-QQUOwArB8IILALqDgukIdZIsNLFXCSYZzq0Qk3qgf00PyQsVUYn/s1600/CIMG5699.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 273px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPJfiM3KI92JzYZr4MMsjQ25DNRhH34-6WEF68V8VkL99U-XDW2Dh1UAiVGBnyHJRwzWtY0L-ctLdwUd9T0-xvGKW5-QQUOwArB8IILALqDgukIdZIsNLFXCSYZzq0Qk3qgf00PyQsVUYn/s400/CIMG5699.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466066656551541250" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgLQYsWEGJP5SsMQLpNIn-K-1EojGVjUzS5h7YxrZS3WEDZdGAgzDFFDX82uqO50Vcl3FHIBMFO03lRlWHo2CZ3VjNy-DcgPtQJj_EGuaZUQYM6TUrGXynzj2AwR_ed1dURR4MGiREXBWt/s1600/CIMG5700.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 189px; height: 251px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgLQYsWEGJP5SsMQLpNIn-K-1EojGVjUzS5h7YxrZS3WEDZdGAgzDFFDX82uqO50Vcl3FHIBMFO03lRlWHo2CZ3VjNy-DcgPtQJj_EGuaZUQYM6TUrGXynzj2AwR_ed1dURR4MGiREXBWt/s400/CIMG5700.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466066641678214850" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">The line for the ramps was so long that I felt like I was waiting for a Korean taco at the Kogi BBQ Truck in LA. While I waited, I chatted with folks about their favorite ways to prepare ramps. West Virginians like to par boil them and then saute them in bacon fat with eggs or potatoes. When I was growing up, my mom sauteed them with scrambled eggs. We rolled the stinky concoction in flat bread that we bought from our Syrian neighbors.<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJgt5CpLk3HzA4J5EXymROxbiuomVnoqX8QAfupFdE3hovmsbyK2EkdFWCejOWAeUg__sFJxJt2OSE6FpbUr38S-vYZHHIFL2QUIW6EJxE9n2gYT3xcw54VDsCFhaYbG42zrc5wBMJzgzj/s1600/CIMG5706.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 307px; height: 230px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJgt5CpLk3HzA4J5EXymROxbiuomVnoqX8QAfupFdE3hovmsbyK2EkdFWCejOWAeUg__sFJxJt2OSE6FpbUr38S-vYZHHIFL2QUIW6EJxE9n2gYT3xcw54VDsCFhaYbG42zrc5wBMJzgzj/s400/CIMG5706.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466069970854595426" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieb3MnKAPY1UbcH18SNSxQ52Oc7UroUPG3DVGFa7zR9-xR2WgGCgBjbrACfznBKBJ7BeaJfqD-pDJ5NlOAV0XpmcG0z7s_55gKP_F4YW-7MM4uCiCBKHRugN0puUybpJ5PdJqBtOXE4BUY/s1600/CIMG5702.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 174px; height: 231px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieb3MnKAPY1UbcH18SNSxQ52Oc7UroUPG3DVGFa7zR9-xR2WgGCgBjbrACfznBKBJ7BeaJfqD-pDJ5NlOAV0XpmcG0z7s_55gKP_F4YW-7MM4uCiCBKHRugN0puUybpJ5PdJqBtOXE4BUY/s400/CIMG5702.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466069978080624050" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">The man on the left had time to grow his beard. </span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">I fell in love with the sassy tea, the perfect ramps pairing. I'm looking for a local source for sassafras root so that I can brew my own sassy tea at home.<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU9xDg5bm1qHCUWIAZDAeZQgBRFUnsC01vnkPtxX9aHUNdueI57RLNIYPmkHiJ11H_AtTftfb_hvJODXnzP2tMBwCC_hp4pOfTaEbLgMQcgOmGfZC8lqnzyltslsMhuZ4f6MGQ7e2jnITE/s1600/CIMG5705.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 307px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU9xDg5bm1qHCUWIAZDAeZQgBRFUnsC01vnkPtxX9aHUNdueI57RLNIYPmkHiJ11H_AtTftfb_hvJODXnzP2tMBwCC_hp4pOfTaEbLgMQcgOmGfZC8lqnzyltslsMhuZ4f6MGQ7e2jnITE/s400/CIMG5705.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466069987267788914" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">While waiting in line, I passed many Richwood volunteers wearing Feast of the Ransom aprons and ramp brooches. And I couldn't resist stealing a raw ramp or two from the plates scattered throughout the tables.<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU6MeJVoSkJMmfviENlwdPppUFhsKcAYtJaW_RJaKPXSjQ3EdHD4OF_zphTk-SaSVfVnAmysBZyKTiDBhyphenhyphen2mXeiMwMbJdSUofCzQA8eCVyU7dtUtD7rT98j-1HuAvhB7cbA3T7L60MWUbw/s1600/CIMG5709.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU6MeJVoSkJMmfviENlwdPppUFhsKcAYtJaW_RJaKPXSjQ3EdHD4OF_zphTk-SaSVfVnAmysBZyKTiDBhyphenhyphen2mXeiMwMbJdSUofCzQA8eCVyU7dtUtD7rT98j-1HuAvhB7cbA3T7L60MWUbw/s400/CIMG5709.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466074232656457330" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheiRVm1zwHX8LhKRAnMv165Yp5jZZR1oYh33cTPxnDuEMMtp4JPqzCtEC7f6-k4tbE7ExitFfLbYlsEjlPBjVpax89TNVJ9A9wXkrLYjjvbUrkqeTahnDf6Dt3i_YD3DanFIgJwXHusUjU/s1600/CIMG5707.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 234px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheiRVm1zwHX8LhKRAnMv165Yp5jZZR1oYh33cTPxnDuEMMtp4JPqzCtEC7f6-k4tbE7ExitFfLbYlsEjlPBjVpax89TNVJ9A9wXkrLYjjvbUrkqeTahnDf6Dt3i_YD3DanFIgJwXHusUjU/s400/CIMG5707.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466074222262025218" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">At last it was time for the ramp feed. The ramps were boiled and then sauteed. I wish that the cooks had also added ramps to the beans and cornbread.<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ65sL0gIXbJqa2ug3-NnMSbfskvudagxg9iUJWSfniRd6vVO7me6PnbG-OnMGasz8Ns1Lt8bJyCGamhyphenhyphenDV1Gt8SXQARDjuy5a7Fy92OjTSJnbGMCs5jEkyDKZ7Dzb6pZeXT1CYVz4Ua1h/s1600/CIMG5710.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 482px; height: 361px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ65sL0gIXbJqa2ug3-NnMSbfskvudagxg9iUJWSfniRd6vVO7me6PnbG-OnMGasz8Ns1Lt8bJyCGamhyphenhyphenDV1Gt8SXQARDjuy5a7Fy92OjTSJnbGMCs5jEkyDKZ7Dzb6pZeXT1CYVz4Ua1h/s400/CIMG5710.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466074242155648258" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">In true West Virginia fashion, the ramps are cooked to within an inch of their life. </span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgz3UPLEZQF5Qj9cO04KvIbE43zmhBG4_IKcpigIcP2Wv3p_XLrl01yc9jxjV4bVs-TH0yPrwdyHqaNmV2qJKYGULTpbQ0CN3aWmDOONJ_yB4uilCYVKc_yYzE2R924rYuAPHEX-8trpSi/s1600/CIMG5713.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 347px; height: 444px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgz3UPLEZQF5Qj9cO04KvIbE43zmhBG4_IKcpigIcP2Wv3p_XLrl01yc9jxjV4bVs-TH0yPrwdyHqaNmV2qJKYGULTpbQ0CN3aWmDOONJ_yB4uilCYVKc_yYzE2R924rYuAPHEX-8trpSi/s400/CIMG5713.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466074250946759074" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">I like 'em raw. </span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">After I returned to Los Angeles, I had a hankering for ramps. I satisfied that craving with a trip to <a href="http://openmouthinsertfork.blogspot.com/2009/06/pizzeria-mozza.html">Pizzeria Mozza,</a> where I ordered the ramp pizza.<br /><br />I brought home three slices of pizza, but when I went to retrieve my left overs, I found that the pizza was gone. The only things in the box were the sauteed greens and bulbs of the ramps. And that suited me just fine.<br /><br />Now, how crazy is that?<br /></div></div></div></div></div></div>Susan Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12178330935523896363noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164604238866965101.post-2223337895449359282010-03-16T18:43:00.000-07:002010-03-22T18:42:42.299-07:00The Power of Two: Pacific Dining Car and Langer's<div style="text-align: center;font-family:verdana;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi20xdq_ncURpcF-9X7ZdH5EhGSn0Xl07wGAqsoxShpbWqAZrEOGk-0aFVxIKbXSJqfLQMskd90PnaiALi5cvBkgiX7Oq14g_fKM7waoCgmmxJuiDofmot5Q0mCA_JZT5511gL_Evi_mjx1/s1600-h/CIMG5662.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 232px; height: 294px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi20xdq_ncURpcF-9X7ZdH5EhGSn0Xl07wGAqsoxShpbWqAZrEOGk-0aFVxIKbXSJqfLQMskd90PnaiALi5cvBkgiX7Oq14g_fKM7waoCgmmxJuiDofmot5Q0mCA_JZT5511gL_Evi_mjx1/s320/CIMG5662.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449427498421730402" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbKGuBOlO0d36jzdcOF7p4Ay3eu5SyCKdKuvgifUJAgwuGHt1CahM0z31-3_cpeqpiBHYUiU_ANrZNSqO0riBTtZ1GVC-PmvR062t0TYyPocqHYkeV8hUBqy5x8SYGTbwTVfKqNuJhxhmC/s1600-h/CIMG5663.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 221px; height: 294px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbKGuBOlO0d36jzdcOF7p4Ay3eu5SyCKdKuvgifUJAgwuGHt1CahM0z31-3_cpeqpiBHYUiU_ANrZNSqO0riBTtZ1GVC-PmvR062t0TYyPocqHYkeV8hUBqy5x8SYGTbwTVfKqNuJhxhmC/s320/CIMG5663.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449427508864456754" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div face="verdana" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Two LA Landmarks: Pacific Dining Car and Langer's </span><br /><br /></div><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Remember the 80s? </span>We didn't walk; we power walked. We didn't eat breakfast or lunch. We had a power breakfast or a power lunch. And a suit wasn't a suit. That's right. It was a power suit. The whole thing made me want to power puke.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">When a friend invited me for breakfast at the venerable <a href="http://www.pacificdiningcar.com">Pacific Dining Car</a> in downtown LA, my first thought was, "What should I wear?"</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I considered wearing a power suit (or at least a power jacket) while we ate our power breakfasts, but settled on a look that was more casual Friday than uptight Tuesday. After all, I figured the ultimate power comes from having a flexible schedule that allows you to take off the morning for a downtown breakfast outing. (Don't ya' love stickin' it to the man.)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Sure enough, all of the other diners were dressed in suits and ties and gazed at spreadsheets and pie charts between sips of coffee from a china cup. To fit in, dining companion and I studied Jonathan Gold's list of <a href="http://www.laweekly.com/2010-02-26/eat-drink/99-things-to-eat-in-l-a-before-you-die/">99 Things to Eat Before You Die</a> while we developed a strategy for our next take over of a restaurant.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I hadn't set foot in the Pacific Dining Car since the 80s, when I worked downtown as a briefcase-lugging corporate drone. I was happy to see that it hasn't changed a bit. Some icons become stodgy over time, but not the Pacific Dining Car. It still looks and feels fresh and elegant, refined and special with its rich colors, linen table cloths and fine china and silver.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center; font-family: verdana;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixKiAsQg4xW8QbPQTylx4vkBqTklihuRdi49pCkewT-QCQszUGNRQYfjcWYqNWszzJP9aCov538-vwZWxIXiNJ8XkbeodxUeKBtmwyPOWLKQbxbfdQ6m35neCZRpKnZVITP2PS01H2SF69/s1600-h/CIMG5652.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 277px; height: 208px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixKiAsQg4xW8QbPQTylx4vkBqTklihuRdi49pCkewT-QCQszUGNRQYfjcWYqNWszzJP9aCov538-vwZWxIXiNJ8XkbeodxUeKBtmwyPOWLKQbxbfdQ6m35neCZRpKnZVITP2PS01H2SF69/s320/CIMG5652.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449427517338591186" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEityLa1k_breo0QZmsi_T74HzwLqffnDb6Y1KPM1lQB_cOkyY4GX2go0NwHrk8KFrMjBg4L9xOinhTrj884zrHpLQTER3nD8MO3QB9KwHU7DEl3U1Vy4J_BfZHXICm4b6QKAmzCYDuInZrm/s1600-h/CIMG5661.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 143px; height: 208px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEityLa1k_breo0QZmsi_T74HzwLqffnDb6Y1KPM1lQB_cOkyY4GX2go0NwHrk8KFrMjBg4L9xOinhTrj884zrHpLQTER3nD8MO3QB9KwHU7DEl3U1Vy4J_BfZHXICm4b6QKAmzCYDuInZrm/s320/CIMG5661.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449427529522493442" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Butter rosettes and a fresh rose at every table</span></span><br /></div><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I ordered the breakfast hash, which is made from the left over steaks from the night before. Unlike most hashes, which tend to be at least 50% potato, this one was 85% steak and 15% potato, all swimming in a rich, savory gravy. The steak came cubed, not shredded, and was so tender that I barely needed to chew. It came topped with a poached egg with two biscuits on the side. Power breakfast indeed.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center; font-family: verdana;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfrppFFttUFyDzVqyHKNibFaAPk35bA3M2K6-2iUEy9KJ9hIXyy8AL0uUtGG2ppfW9otkS4-t0PmtAUnlUCyT3hHkGa3BUKOYs1P3P168GfMKrF7VcZbW_h7QO1MafjD-RcNBUPNGxs30a/s1600-h/CIMG5654.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 464px; height: 348px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfrppFFttUFyDzVqyHKNibFaAPk35bA3M2K6-2iUEy9KJ9hIXyy8AL0uUtGG2ppfW9otkS4-t0PmtAUnlUCyT3hHkGa3BUKOYs1P3P168GfMKrF7VcZbW_h7QO1MafjD-RcNBUPNGxs30a/s400/CIMG5654.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449428420788000738" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Dining companion went for the Cajun style eggs benedict, featuring sauteed mushrooms and a crab cake instead of Canadian bacon.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center; font-family: verdana;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq1WLKVExv-J_OguedpxjFJbhNHUmWQWoQg46o8z8-8fnAiqoburJIR7ZxaVb6e-uRiKViX_86JtC6jT5HXLuVWYfiBXpTQl8i56jUHAOVqux3Ty6r5szpFhyR6AsYjmEJcbLVCyCr8YV-/s1600-h/CIMG5658.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 491px; height: 373px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq1WLKVExv-J_OguedpxjFJbhNHUmWQWoQg46o8z8-8fnAiqoburJIR7ZxaVb6e-uRiKViX_86JtC6jT5HXLuVWYfiBXpTQl8i56jUHAOVqux3Ty6r5szpFhyR6AsYjmEJcbLVCyCr8YV-/s400/CIMG5658.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449428430596640354" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">After our two-hour breakfast, we realized that it was time for lunch. So we did what any food-loving duo would do: we traveled a few blocks away to Langer's to try one of their legendary pastrami sandwiches.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">When the sandwiches arrived, the first thing I noticed was the warm, untoasted bread. Then when I bit into the sandwich, I immediately noticed the crisp, chewy crust. I was enraptured. Apparently, this is what rye bread is all about. Why doesn't everyone do it this way?</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center; font-family: verdana;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrMI1IsVwVBay6gfvCO-1BAwtu9YNPNY8PDPGLSDi_GVuYiz9wkcXVjcR5gS1k_Z1HaMbe_KEVQ0LrNAKj6vqqe5tqzexX_YPmsb_3-q8tl5gJ1j03CUr40eXjkN0nh1oPNg-yA91bXiya/s1600-h/CIMG5666.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 497px; height: 372px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrMI1IsVwVBay6gfvCO-1BAwtu9YNPNY8PDPGLSDi_GVuYiz9wkcXVjcR5gS1k_Z1HaMbe_KEVQ0LrNAKj6vqqe5tqzexX_YPmsb_3-q8tl5gJ1j03CUr40eXjkN0nh1oPNg-yA91bXiya/s400/CIMG5666.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449428441044888978" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">We packed up our sandwiches to go, and I vowed that I wasn't ever going to eat again. That is until I returned home and that rye bread started calling my name.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Of course, I did what any good girl from the 80s does. I powered down the pastrami sandwich and then I took a power nap.</span>Susan Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12178330935523896363noreply@blogger.com28tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164604238866965101.post-19668105460350709152010-03-07T13:11:00.000-08:002010-03-14T22:01:35.677-07:00The Evolution of the Hot Dog<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3aQctuOrOdkOE9M9rLwxWio1GXhXr6plzXXEFgOsdjYL9AbfgSLdekNCM0rh9dsNyDAfT1qmQ0wOmFMek9JZLlKXpuZ2fXfpslrQ7Da0EcaFRT_nKYdnB-duHwgFUMJRBT6CVZPRu3gre/s1600-h/CIMG5608.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 469px; height: 351px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3aQctuOrOdkOE9M9rLwxWio1GXhXr6plzXXEFgOsdjYL9AbfgSLdekNCM0rh9dsNyDAfT1qmQ0wOmFMek9JZLlKXpuZ2fXfpslrQ7Da0EcaFRT_nKYdnB-duHwgFUMJRBT6CVZPRu3gre/s400/CIMG5608.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446770622929622418" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Be prepared for a 15-20 minute wait in line and a 15-20 minute wait for "fast" food at The Slaw Dogs.</span></span><br /><br /></div><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >You may assume</span><span style="font-family:verdana;"> that you can get a realistic glimpse into my eating habits by reading this blog. You would be wrong. Or half wrong. Or maybe half right.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />Take the last nine scrumptious days. I've slurped Japanese </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" style="font-family:verdana;">udon</span><span style="font-family:verdana;"> and </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" style="font-family:verdana;">soba</span><span style="font-family:verdana;"> at </span><a style="font-family: verdana;" href="http://openmouthinsertfork.blogspot.com/2008/12/nomo-ate-here-udon-at-sanuki-no-sato.html"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Sanuki</span> No <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Sato</span></a><span style="font-family:verdana;">; indulged in a friend's home-made </span><a style="font-family: verdana;" href="http://restlesschef.blogspot.com/2010/02/can-you-say-cassoulet.html"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">cassoulet</span></a><span style="font-family:verdana;">, </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" style="font-family:verdana;">ala</span><span style="font-family:verdana;"> The Art of French Cooking; sampled more than a half dozen "red wines under $10" at the same friend's home; toasted to good health with a bottle of </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" style="font-family:verdana;">Veuve</span><span style="font-family:verdana;"> Clicquot; shared paella, </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" style="font-family:verdana;">charcutterie,</span><span style="font-family:verdana;"> Spanish potatoes and a bottle of Spanish wine with friends at </span><a style="font-family: verdana;" href="http://www.3drunkengoats.com/">Three Drunken Goats</a><span style="font-family:verdana;">; met friends for dinner at </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" style="font-family:verdana;"><a href="http://www.malbeccuisine.com/">Malbec</a>, </span><span style="font-family:verdana;">where my medium rare steak arrived well done (but the staff did an excellent job of correcting the overcook); had a tasteless burger at <a href="http://thecounterburger.com/">The Counter </a>in Pasadena; sipped a Manhattan at the decades-old bar at </span><a href="http://mussoandfrank.com/"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" style="font-family:verdana;">Musso</span></a><span style="font-family:verdana;"><a href="http://mussoandfrank.com/"> and Frank</a>; tried the jellied consomme (like gelatin with a </span><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" style="font-family:verdana;">bouillon</span><span style="font-family:verdana;"> cube), beef tongue, mixed salad and Welsh Rarebit at </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" style="font-family:verdana;">Musso's</span><span style="font-family:verdana;">; and couldn't get enough of the </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12" style="font-family:verdana;">fusilli</span><span style="font-family:verdana;"> with fresh tomatoes (hangers on from the garden), shallots, garlic, olive oil, splash of balsamic and sea salt I made for dinner on Saturday night.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />And, even though this rundown sounds like a foodie's fantasy, it's far from my typical week of dining and drinking. And it omits a lot of indulgences, like the half sleeve of Girl Scout Thin Mint Cookies that I gobbled down in the car on the way back from the Scout's home. Or the Cherry Garcia ice cream that I had to have after a friend blogged about the <a href="http://margaretfinnegan.blogspot.com/2010/02/joyology-101.html">joys of the cherry and chocolate confection</a>. </span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />All but one of these meals was blog-worthy, but I'm not tempted to write about a single one of these dining adventures.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />And why not? </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" >Because I want to talk about hot dogs. </span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9Cl4B1xlbw8o22y06xkLrI7tVib8Gp8mZ8T8YrnvtL8olg_sjZvqBF7O4I_6GAgwLnHZb1w2fsza8RGnCGeK5aoXOpAHFJ97yVTt7ac_O2oVkQ3ftK-Bdo8Slz07P4rTxEWWB9Rtx98Mx/s1600-h/CIMG5610.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 229px; height: 171px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9Cl4B1xlbw8o22y06xkLrI7tVib8Gp8mZ8T8YrnvtL8olg_sjZvqBF7O4I_6GAgwLnHZb1w2fsza8RGnCGeK5aoXOpAHFJ97yVTt7ac_O2oVkQ3ftK-Bdo8Slz07P4rTxEWWB9Rtx98Mx/s400/CIMG5610.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446770646397602850" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGnyPGnYs4SNxnfLiXfdpcZR5vjZ3nPzHxzJK8qQlhKT0UKOuXC9ArwMjiXOdce24oadd7O9C9HFgHNwemxVgC0gjWZziEk-alnC4kDA_9Kv8fNgw2XAsbJnFNZfqVQYjLmhXfKclD5eCa/s1600-h/CIMG5609.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 244px; height: 171px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGnyPGnYs4SNxnfLiXfdpcZR5vjZ3nPzHxzJK8qQlhKT0UKOuXC9ArwMjiXOdce24oadd7O9C9HFgHNwemxVgC0gjWZziEk-alnC4kDA_9Kv8fNgw2XAsbJnFNZfqVQYjLmhXfKclD5eCa/s400/CIMG5609.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446770633372640306" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">The Slaw Dogs kicks the classic hot dog up a notch. </span></span><br /></div><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Specifically, the dogs with attitude at Pasadena's newest specialty restaurant, </span><a style="font-family: verdana;" href="http://www.theslawdogs.com/">The Slaw Dogs </a><span style="font-family:verdana;">on North Lake Avenue.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;">The hotdoggery has been open since February, and already lines are snaking out the door, an unusual sight in the City of Roses (especially north of the 210).<br /><br />Today, I chatted with two women who had driven all the way from Camarillo and Torrance to sample the dogs. While other eateries are tumbling faster than dominoes, what is there about The Slaw Dogs that's packing in the crowds from all over Southern California?</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >It's an All-American classic. </span><span style="font-family:verdana;">I know the saying is, "As American as Apple Pie," but we could just as easily substitute "hot dog" for "apple pie." Can you think of a hot dog without visions of family barbecues, fourth of July cookouts, greasy diners and baseball games. It's nostalgia wrapped in a bun.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >It's a Regional Favorite:</span><span style="font-family:verdana;"> Seems like every state puts a different twist on the classic. There's the </span><a style="font-family: verdana;" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chicago-style_hot_dog">Chicago-style hotdog. </a><span style="font-family:verdana;">The Coney Island dominates the Northeast. And, of course, the restaurant's namesake, the slaw dog, is a West Virginia classic. The bloggers at <a href="http://www.wvhotdogs.com/">West Virginia Hot Dog</a> point out that nobody in West Virginia orders a "slaw dog" because it's a given that your hot dog will come with slaw. (Well, it's a given if you live in one of the southern counties in the state. West Virginians take "regional food" to a whole new level.)<br /><br />The Slaw Dog gives you the chance to order your dog just the way you like it, whether you're from Brooklyn, New York, or Charleston, West Virginia.</span> <span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" ><br /><br />It Was Ready for a Makeover: </span><span style="font-family:verdana;">Like the humble grilled cheese sandwich, macaroni and cheese and hamburger, the hot dog was ready to benefit from all the best ingredients, including a selection of 11 links offered at The Slaw Dogs. </span> <span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" ><br /><br />It's Fun to Have Choices: </span><span style="font-family:verdana;">In addition to the choice in links, The Slaw Dogs offers 25 "standard toppings" and 22 "custom toppings."</span> <span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" ><br /><br />It Lends Itself to Fusion: </span><span style="font-family:verdana;">The Slaw Dogs offers a Thai Slaw Dog with chicken sausage, spicy peanut-cocunut satay dressing, cilantro-carrot slaw, crushed peanuts and siracha aioli. The Green Monster, which appears to be one of the most popular dogs offered, is topped with roasted green chilli (that runs the length of the dog), chipotle mayo, grilled onion, pepperjack, and spicy garlic salsa.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:verdana;">For my first visit, I went with "The Original" with chilli, cheese, mustard, onions and cole slaw (but I asked them to hold the cheese). It came served with a knife and fork, but that's almost as much fun as slicing up your pizza before you eat it. Unfortunately, my grilled hot dog bun became unhinged after two bites, but that didn't stop me from using my hands to polish off the classic. </span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO5DnVcBBsCuNgI7eM0Pqb2fv9-CcekkLpnPUI_NsdOViyZ5LHPpYwovQls7vpbD541_8l9XgIQHX519fVjPpsX1ZleiicwgF89duOEL42mzUPw3VrtzIK74tkjFftixuhlZPahp3QPx-4/s1600-h/CIMG5616.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 222px; height: 295px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO5DnVcBBsCuNgI7eM0Pqb2fv9-CcekkLpnPUI_NsdOViyZ5LHPpYwovQls7vpbD541_8l9XgIQHX519fVjPpsX1ZleiicwgF89duOEL42mzUPw3VrtzIK74tkjFftixuhlZPahp3QPx-4/s320/CIMG5616.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446773725780238722" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5X8vSnNoW4AGB5Mc0bEPUqHd6lPweZKQ0JmgvdLiFyAhTpv37RAjoaqvfKo1dqGLM6rKFAMxuCaAnRj7-ZkhS1MUSZtA4K_oHj5RioJUvdzmopBgUHeneYMQfMiVeC_h7M9JEX0NBOMyD/s1600-h/CIMG5613.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 231px; height: 295px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5X8vSnNoW4AGB5Mc0bEPUqHd6lPweZKQ0JmgvdLiFyAhTpv37RAjoaqvfKo1dqGLM6rKFAMxuCaAnRj7-ZkhS1MUSZtA4K_oHj5RioJUvdzmopBgUHeneYMQfMiVeC_h7M9JEX0NBOMyD/s320/CIMG5613.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446773710530208130" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" >Left: "The Original" slaw dog Right: The Green Monster, a crowd favorite</span><br /><br /></div><span style="font-family:verdana;">How did it compare with the slaw dogs I've devoured in my home state? Unlike the fine shredded cabbage in West Virginia, the slaw is coarse shredded at The Slaw Dogs. And the WV buns are soft and steamy, not dry from the grill. On the other hand, the chilli and the grilled hot dog were superior at The Slaw Dogs.<br /><br />Country roads, take me home to the place I belong, Pasadena. But, next time, can ya' steam the bun?<br /></span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" ><br />The Slaw Dogs</span> <span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" >720 N. Lake Ave., #8<br /></span><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" >Pasadena, CA 91104</span> <span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" ><br />626.808.9777</span> <span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" ><br />www.theslawdogs.com<br />Hours: Sunday - Wednesday, 11:00 am - 9:00 pm<br /> Thursday - Saturday, 11:00 am - 10:00 pm<br /></span>Susan Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12178330935523896363noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164604238866965101.post-43557604147523513602010-03-02T10:51:00.000-08:002010-03-13T12:18:13.359-08:00Food for Thought<span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">If you live in the San Gabriel Valley, you may want to check out these upcoming events. </span></span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"><br /><br />March 6:</span> <span>Learn about</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> Access to Impact: Using Open Government to Create Change</span> at the Neighborhood Church (301 N. Orange Grove Blvd., Pasadena) from 8:30 am to noon. Sponsored by the League of Women Voters. Refreshments and free parking. To RSVP for this free event, contact lwvpasocialpolicy@gmail.com or 626.798.0965. </span><table style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;" align="center" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" width="864"><tbody><tr><td bgcolor="#ffffff" height="100%" valign="top" width="5"><table align="center" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" width="864"><tbody><tr><td bgcolor="#ffffff" height="100%" valign="top" width="5"><br /></td><td bgcolor="#ffffff" height="100%" valign="top"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></td><td bgcolor="#ffffff" height="100%" valign="top"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">March 13 and 14:</span> It's <span style="font-style: italic;">Sukiyaki Saturday and Sunday</span> at the Pasadena Buddhist Church (1993 Glen Ave., Pasadena). Dine in (4:00 to 7:30 pm) or take out (4:00 to 6:00 pm) a flavorful beef sukiyaki dinner for just $10. The sukiyaki sauce simmers for days, creating a deep, rich sauce that's nearly impossible to duplicate at home. To reserve meal tickets for this fund raiser, call </span><span style="border-bottom: 1px dashed rgb(0, 102, 204); background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; cursor: pointer; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous;font-family:verdana;" class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1267498441_2" >626.398.9987</span><span style="font-family:verdana;">.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" >March 17:</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;">The <span style="font-style: italic;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">YWCA's</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> Woman of Excellence program</span> features Judge Kim <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Wardlaw</span>, the first Latina woman ever to be appointed to the Federal Court of Appeals. </span><strong face="verdana" style="font-weight: bold;"></strong><span style="font-family:verdana;">She'll be at the Donald R. Wright Auditorium of the Pasadena Central Library, 285 E. Walnut Ave., Pasadena, from 9:30 to 11:00. Tickets are $25 in advance or $35 at the door. Refreshments included. All proceeds go to support programs at the YWCA. Purchase tickets online at<a href="http://www.ywca.org/kimwardlaw"> </a></span><a href="http://www.ywca.org/kimwardlaw"><strong face="verdana" style="font-weight: bold;"></strong><strong face="verdana" style="font-weight: bold;"></strong><strong face="verdana" style="font-weight: bold;"></strong><strong style="font-weight: bold; font-family: verdana;"><span style=";font-size:85%;color:black;" ><span style=";font-size:10pt;color:black;" > </span></span></strong></a><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;" ><strong style="font-weight: bold; font-family: verdana;"><u><span style="color: rgb(254, 149, 87);"><span style="color: rgb(254, 149, 87);"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><a href="http://www.ywca.org/kimwardlaw">www.ywca.org/kimwardlaw</a> </span></span></span></u></strong></span><a style="font-family: verdana;" rel="nofollow" target="_blank" href="http://www.ywca.org/kimwardlaw"> </a><span style="font-family:verdana;">or call Ashley at 626.296.8433.</span><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" ><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">March 20: </span>Do you write or read a blog in the San Gabriel Valley? Join us for the second annual <span style="font-style: italic;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Bloggers</span><span style="font-style: italic;">' Picnic</span> in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Farnsworth</span> Park (corner of Lake Ave. and Mount Curve in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Altadena</span>) from noon to 3:00 pm. Bring a potluck dish to share at this free, fun event. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Whenever:</span> Help save the Adams Park Station General Store at Chantry Flats. Read <a href="http://cafepasadena.wordpress.com/2010/03/02/save-chantry-flat-%E2%80%93-help/">Cafe Pasadena's</a> post about how to give to the non-profit associated with the historic general store. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Hope to see you!</span>Susan Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12178330935523896363noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164604238866965101.post-19928400775134477142010-03-01T15:12:00.000-08:002010-03-02T12:59:54.357-08:00A Taste of the Orient (aka my WTF food moment)<div style="text-align: center; font-family: verdana;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4gorjdqPXAt_85yeMAj1i8E6F3GHSbsnng8Wf47MKJTS_sdmXOFpwcxVKRnnlvitJPhHCO7Waw98fs2iU83yUaIbwE7H7VKrF9vej-IjZXcf4-AFm-CUGzic0BNEDX3rZ3wd0rrRoNqYW/s1600-h/CIMG5606.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 474px; height: 360px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4gorjdqPXAt_85yeMAj1i8E6F3GHSbsnng8Wf47MKJTS_sdmXOFpwcxVKRnnlvitJPhHCO7Waw98fs2iU83yUaIbwE7H7VKrF9vej-IjZXcf4-AFm-CUGzic0BNEDX3rZ3wd0rrRoNqYW/s400/CIMG5606.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443830564404809826" border="0" /></a><br /><br /></div><span style="font-family:verdana;">I know. I know. Food guru <a href="http://www.michaelpollan.com/">Michael Pollan</a> would not approve of eating ramen with a little packet of dried seasoning listing no fewer than 14 ingredients (including MSG). </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Just the same, legions of college students have escaped starvation and financial ruin by subsisting on the eight for a buck packages of Maruchan or Nissin Top Ramen noodles. My own finicky daughter started school with a hot meal in her belly, thanks to the <a href="http://www.nissinfoods.com/cupnoodles/">Cup Noodles</a> that she slurped every morning in the car for an entire year. (That, no doubt, qualifies me for the parenting hall of shame.)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">But me? The one with the discriminating taste buds? The one with the refined palate? No, I wouldn't stoop to slurping the ramen of starving students or the grab-it-and-go breakfast bunch. Thanks to the influence of my Japanese American neighbor, Carol, I suck down Myojo Chukazanmai ramen. </span><span style="font-family:verdana;">At $1.49 a package, Myojo is the gourmet version of instant ramen.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center; font-family: verdana;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz1woASUbVSmvoqRSZ0nfV2OPrOFivalL77YBUKoe4qt5rHYmpM7YTASHhZtzlMatb15zUtgXoH1pQU9hi1_hTZuKosPNMDgl7UWU55KzDsBKadsbNPWWgZzpyo1ZAkXt8nM11d7ile33p/s1600-h/CIMG5605.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 180px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz1woASUbVSmvoqRSZ0nfV2OPrOFivalL77YBUKoe4qt5rHYmpM7YTASHhZtzlMatb15zUtgXoH1pQU9hi1_hTZuKosPNMDgl7UWU55KzDsBKadsbNPWWgZzpyo1ZAkXt8nM11d7ile33p/s400/CIMG5605.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443830556697393410" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9CikKD-wKE_wUPV5tR5VY_JhuY7m-SlruzxAaX4kPuESFRPXedzJMy5OzBZg3Oa419k63WgsI-ZX7CR_qM8KHupv6WoyiOXigVtV6xa8yVqeIQavBwYOl2A5juBuKHYyXIrZwVCuMy8wf/s1600-h/CIMG5604.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 239px; height: 180px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9CikKD-wKE_wUPV5tR5VY_JhuY7m-SlruzxAaX4kPuESFRPXedzJMy5OzBZg3Oa419k63WgsI-ZX7CR_qM8KHupv6WoyiOXigVtV6xa8yVqeIQavBwYOl2A5juBuKHYyXIrZwVCuMy8wf/s400/CIMG5604.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443830545206378482" border="0" /></a><br /></div><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br />Last Saturday, I pondered the flavor choices on a pilgrimage to <a href="http://www.mitsuwa.com/english/index.html">Mitsuwa Market</a> in Torrance. I dropped a few packages of soy sauce and soy bean paste flavored ramen packages into my cart. And then came the WTF moment: Oriental flavor ramen.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-DyY3kazjXWnojJu5vTVzSvt6LJi9TWI_snA0eKoYVHHS1qpeIzoz6CuO1BSZnYUZfwMGbTIEZ6TQ1MX9wQAJc_64m1ZcOETgfAZBTfwcml3B2lh0ddS06ChTWa8pT00aXEvcyVH_PIxa/s1600-h/CIMG5606.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 180px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-DyY3kazjXWnojJu5vTVzSvt6LJi9TWI_snA0eKoYVHHS1qpeIzoz6CuO1BSZnYUZfwMGbTIEZ6TQ1MX9wQAJc_64m1ZcOETgfAZBTfwcml3B2lh0ddS06ChTWa8pT00aXEvcyVH_PIxa/s400/CIMG5606.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444067060218992530" border="0" /></a><br /></div><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br />Why would a Japanese company with a Japanese audience market a vague "Oriental" flavor?<br /><br />To avoid confusion with the milder "Occidental" flavor? To evoke memories of a favorite Oriental rug? To appeal to foodies looking for a touch of the exotic?<br /><br />According to this review by <a href="http://noodleson.com/review/category/japanese/">NoodleSon, </a>it's the sesame oil and traces of Chinese cabbage that contribute that taste of the Orient.<br /><br />Whatever you call it, instant ramen can be a bowl of comfort on a cold, wet day. But I'll bet that Michael Pollan still wouldn't call it food.<br /></span>Susan Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12178330935523896363noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164604238866965101.post-69434255413321716802010-02-20T10:30:00.000-08:002010-02-21T17:21:43.271-08:00A Lazy Ladies Luncheon<div style="text-align: center; font-family: verdana;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center; font-family: verdana;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDG-iYyeTLvf4I7q5fRlqhnYdDSKqlYyXU_KsfZldPZjEbav72PY2TRACQHJTaXiPT79ifVj3KuNM_oW5UnCeti44042f_K4bFx2Y_GUjYk7DZP4rnRIyFEJRehGCQeMyijYRw4PHVTDq_/s1600-h/CIMG5583.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 475px; height: 347px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDG-iYyeTLvf4I7q5fRlqhnYdDSKqlYyXU_KsfZldPZjEbav72PY2TRACQHJTaXiPT79ifVj3KuNM_oW5UnCeti44042f_K4bFx2Y_GUjYk7DZP4rnRIyFEJRehGCQeMyijYRw4PHVTDq_/s400/CIMG5583.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440397606799156930" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">I have a friend</span> who truly exemplifies the word "gracious." When I recently threw a small birthday luncheon for her, she gushed repeatedly, "I can't believe all of the effort you made."</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Of course, she's the type who would be appreciative if I ordered Domino's pizza and mixed up a pitcher of instant tea.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">"I didn't go to that much effort," I protested, and I wasn't being modest. Here's proof that you can host a lazy luncheon and still make your guests feel pampered.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Lazy Appetizer:</span> The <a href="http://openmouthinsertfork.blogspot.com/2009/11/trespassing-snobs.html">pesto <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">torta</span></span></a>, which we enjoyed <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">al</span></span> fresco with a couple bottles of bubbly, is pretty enough to look like you labored, but easy enough to assemble in less than five minutes. If you're feeling too lazy to slice your own baguette, have the bakery department at Von's Market do it for you. </span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center; font-family: verdana;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIJ20K9WCZSCUAoanr68GONrKi9gWRX-OCx2h_H6xbVaro0p1yHjeAGXJAtacD9G5QQ9dYOC3sb3j7U0VPIZTfPgHYdpPSVEKAyJ3nm2Xi5BSycyavHbTFNJhkmQruBFNdILG5Rfe5F2zM/s1600-h/CIMG5574.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 223px; height: 298px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIJ20K9WCZSCUAoanr68GONrKi9gWRX-OCx2h_H6xbVaro0p1yHjeAGXJAtacD9G5QQ9dYOC3sb3j7U0VPIZTfPgHYdpPSVEKAyJ3nm2Xi5BSycyavHbTFNJhkmQruBFNdILG5Rfe5F2zM/s400/CIMG5574.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440400891697913090" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBM83uCckTKPClnJdjkb7kQqm7HasdmhoxB4jUIPGP9d2Hq1X-Y-lQjtL21Up3f65KWbqU8FBuPWaJu4F-sP6mxwgq3ibv4HBzZpMEQaKcwemfOx6z4xtH9DFIoFwHJImrzO8UE2Fd0W2R/s1600-h/CIMG5572.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 297px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBM83uCckTKPClnJdjkb7kQqm7HasdmhoxB4jUIPGP9d2Hq1X-Y-lQjtL21Up3f65KWbqU8FBuPWaJu4F-sP6mxwgq3ibv4HBzZpMEQaKcwemfOx6z4xtH9DFIoFwHJImrzO8UE2Fd0W2R/s400/CIMG5572.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440400468377655746" border="0" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >Lazy Table Setting:</span><span style="font-family:verdana;"> Use what you have. In my case, that meant backyard citrus for the center pieces and personalized grapefruit as the place setting. The gold napkins, purchased from <a href="http://www.motifgifts.com/">Motif</a> in Pasadena, pulled the look together. </span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center; font-family: verdana;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5qPzIKGL6jESyktISDRNvXmWlOxwrgvJ6Qc1-_2v1Vqdg6Z9ldbfapB9d7M8N0UTtJ-uHE-4hFlPV7a-cCysM0Upk8hbdRF9rmC7MU4oRCW3Pplh3xr1d24Pfsblts-Bk-SNP7Z1OiDyz/s1600-h/CIMG5579.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 243px; height: 301px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5qPzIKGL6jESyktISDRNvXmWlOxwrgvJ6Qc1-_2v1Vqdg6Z9ldbfapB9d7M8N0UTtJ-uHE-4hFlPV7a-cCysM0Upk8hbdRF9rmC7MU4oRCW3Pplh3xr1d24Pfsblts-Bk-SNP7Z1OiDyz/s400/CIMG5579.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440397620911055074" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ8LdXJzwgNuvhEbQfe4jIrNt4kDJUaZ1vsYE4H-9Bn3VJ3yMswk-NvyS2saK6fJyrvlFkUbj8nUvyqoqdoFVWfaD_8bdAdUl1Wnx9hjZwfPzkbwga2gNGIxndyEvu8xraH97T54HaE8aC/s1600-h/CIMG5580.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 228px; height: 304px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ8LdXJzwgNuvhEbQfe4jIrNt4kDJUaZ1vsYE4H-9Bn3VJ3yMswk-NvyS2saK6fJyrvlFkUbj8nUvyqoqdoFVWfaD_8bdAdUl1Wnx9hjZwfPzkbwga2gNGIxndyEvu8xraH97T54HaE8aC/s400/CIMG5580.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440397627378818498" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Not a Lazy Salad:</span> This <a href="http://openmouthinsertfork.blogspot.com/2008/12/winter-delight-salad-pears-candied.html">Winter Delight Salad</a> is not exactly lazy, but the combination of slightly bitter arugula, sweet sliced pears, sour Granny Smith apples, sweet and salty candied pecans and pungent blue cheese is worth the effort.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Lazier Option:</span> Save time slicing fruit and candying pecans. Toss the greens with dried cranberries, slivered almonds and feta cheese. Still beautiful and delicious at a fraction of the effort. But, no matter how lazy you're feeling, please don't use a bottled dressing. Take two minutes and shake up your own balsamic <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">vinaigrette</span> - olive oil, balsamic vinegar, a pinch of salt and a squeeze of lemon.<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKrYKIf267xg4K6_kVbNg7ySbaMEJpno_2V1SglNLgWXGzjPuFxbfMHC8F2zhwY8ZVnInh5utVtJiDXEiHtfh91mCTOrcu8FIckCJ3NxMXQGu82l1RT_aAIM-w1YDikGNTuoqBZwYnUTJb/s1600-h/CIMG5576.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 494px; height: 370px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKrYKIf267xg4K6_kVbNg7ySbaMEJpno_2V1SglNLgWXGzjPuFxbfMHC8F2zhwY8ZVnInh5utVtJiDXEiHtfh91mCTOrcu8FIckCJ3NxMXQGu82l1RT_aAIM-w1YDikGNTuoqBZwYnUTJb/s400/CIMG5576.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440398719222452066" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Lazy Entree:</span> It doesn't get easier or more delicious than this. I called <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Euro Pane</span></span> and ordered their vegetarian quiche with a potato crust. They even sliced the pie for me and threw in a half dozen crusty currant rolls.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Lazier Option</span>: Ask one of your guests to pick up the quiche for you.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Lazy Dessert:</span> Add some bling to your table with shimmering oranges and pomegranate seeds. Make it special with a splash of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Galliano</span></span> liquor.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Lazier Option: </span>While you're at <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Euro Pane</span></span>, pick up some of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Sumie's</span></span> famous lemon bars.<br /><br />So, go ahead and take the kudos for a lovely luncheon. Only you and I know how easy (and lazy) it really was.<br /></div></div>Susan Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12178330935523896363noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164604238866965101.post-88764387745582765202010-02-03T16:20:00.000-08:002010-02-05T15:41:02.746-08:00Will Brent's Deli be Around Forever?<div style="text-align: center;font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3m2yhBHifq5QStWzaZfvaLcTWZYz2HyN1K63oU69mNXeRUIEbpqLq5UEA0nVVICMDlLPM1pL2bsZ7IwnFw5eiFjlujsvqB3DXFRfFtkhhCUxN2EtK3g9G1UwTnwQRwuyELaZ96RMp1QBI/s1600-h/brents.gif"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 435px; height: 296px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3m2yhBHifq5QStWzaZfvaLcTWZYz2HyN1K63oU69mNXeRUIEbpqLq5UEA0nVVICMDlLPM1pL2bsZ7IwnFw5eiFjlujsvqB3DXFRfFtkhhCUxN2EtK3g9G1UwTnwQRwuyELaZ96RMp1QBI/s400/brents.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434179769818236242" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></span></div><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">I first sank my teeth</span> into one of </span><a style="font-family: verdana;" href="http://www.brentsdeli.com/">Brent's Deli's</a><span style="font-family:verdana;"> Reuben sandwiches about ten years ago.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I loved it, but I never went back. After all, Brent's is on the other side of the universe in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Northridge</span>. (I think I regard the San Fernando Valley in the same way that many <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Westsiders</span> view the San Gabriel Valley: a long way to drive for a non-destination.)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">And I figured that crowded and popular delis like Brent's would be around forever. In spite of my Reuben infatuation, I was in no hurry to return. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">But that was before my </span><a style="font-family: verdana;" href="http://openmouthinsertfork.blogspot.com/2010/01/when-restaurants-kick-bucket.html">"restaurants might kick the bucket before we do"</a><span style="font-family:verdana;"> epiphany. So when my deli-loving friend suggested Brent's as a "half-way" location for a lunch meeting, I bit.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I circled around the mini-mall parking lot five times before snagging a space. At 11:30 am, Brent's was already crowded. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">The bustling deli was filled with families: elderly mothers breaking rye bread with middle-aged sons; grandmothers, mothers and toddlers sharing a table and chocolate cake; doting dads spoon feeding cabbage soup to adoring daughters. Brent's, like a treasured family brisket recipe, is passed from generation to generation. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">And as I once again sunk my teeth into the Black Pastrami Reuben Sandwich, I could see why. The thick layers of succulent pastrami, melted <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Swiss</span> cheese, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">sauerkraut</span> and Russian dressing between grilled rye live up to the menu's promise: the sandwich melts in your mouth. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I don't think I'll wait another ten years to return.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.brentsdeli.com/"><span style="font-style: italic;">Brent's <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Delicatessan</span> and Restaurant</span></a><br /></span></span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;" class="style4" >19565 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Parthenia</span> St.<br /> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Northridge</span> CA 91324<br /> 818.886.5679<br /> Open daily 6am to 9pm</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span>Susan Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12178330935523896363noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164604238866965101.post-27784438928077276962010-01-30T09:38:00.000-08:002010-02-01T15:10:41.512-08:00When Restaurants Kick the Bucket<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMWKFMj4nbJtRUpIpcDq52kwqJGmDDxaLk73mGcdfAlpbUa2Spt_KoPKONx5oHGbIpu_V-gRCT0Gjs_0zBJTlY6jwomhyyVhYrsGGDs9a4dEG-A9eEK-JaMXugIBUpRmpZDtNIrkIoVlQj/s1600-h/goodys.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 432px; height: 324px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMWKFMj4nbJtRUpIpcDq52kwqJGmDDxaLk73mGcdfAlpbUa2Spt_KoPKONx5oHGbIpu_V-gRCT0Gjs_0zBJTlY6jwomhyyVhYrsGGDs9a4dEG-A9eEK-JaMXugIBUpRmpZDtNIrkIoVlQj/s400/goodys.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432625163858376210" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Photo from http://oldschoolla.com</span></span><br /><br /></div><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Do you have a bucket list?</span> A roster of things that you want to accomplish before you kick the bucket?</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">If you're like me, food plays a big part on the ol' bucket list.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">There's just one problem with including restaurants on your list of things to do before you die: the restaurant might kick the bucket before you do. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Just this week, two Los Angeles resaurant icons bit the dust. I've been to one, Goody's in San Gabriel, perhaps hundreds of times over the last 20 years. I always talked about but never made it to the second, Papadakis Taverna, the Greek restaurant in San Pedro. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">For years, </span><a style="font-family: verdana;" href="http://www.laobserved.com/archive/2010/01/goodys_a_san_gabriel_culi.php">Goody's </a><span style="font-family:verdana;">was the location for my weekend Breakfast Club with a good friend. The waitresses weren't exactly mean, but they had no patience for special requests. (Half caf, half decaf coffee? Go to Starbuck's, Sweetie.) Well, maybe they were a little mean, but that was part of the charm. My friend Carol and I assumed that we would be eating pancakes and eggs at Goody's forever, or at least until we were as old as the other shriveled little old ladies who frequented the place. But, alas, Goody's served their last cup of bitter coffee last week. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> There's talk of a new location in El Monte, but it won't be the same without the familiar </span><a style="font-family: verdana;" href="http://www.spaceagecity.com/googie/">Googie architecture </a><span style="font-family:verdana;">and crusty waitresses. </span><br /><a style="font-family: verdana;" href="http://www.latimes.com/news/local/la-me-papadakis29-2010jan29,0,5623459.story"><br />Papadakis,</a><span style="font-family:verdana;"> the Greek restaurant that was as well known for its raucous dancing and breaking plates as its food, will serve its last meal and shatter its last plate on Sunday, February 1. Friends and I always talked about dancing and eating at Papadakis, but we never made it. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Now I'm feeling a sense of urgency. What's on my food bucket list? This spring I plan to attend the annual <a href="http://www.richwooders.com/ramp/ramps.htm">Ramp Festival</a> in Richwood, West Virginia, a daylong celebration of the pungent wild onion that is now a staple at high-end restaurants. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">How about you? Remember, we won't live forever and neither will even the most iconic restaurants.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">(For a list of 100 foods to try before you die, check out this just-published, SF-centric <a href="http://7x7.com/sf-big-eat-2010">list</a> from 7x7 SF. Scroll down for a look at Roadside Diner's pulled pork sandwich. I don't think I can live without this sandwich.)</span><br /></span>Susan Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12178330935523896363noreply@blogger.com28tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164604238866965101.post-13302604901848562982010-01-23T15:12:00.000-08:002010-01-25T10:53:22.466-08:00Citrus Saturday<div face="verdana" style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIgrgjftvG1zy78HUxRkjwiis0XQvM0q6Ehfn-oNeeqMr-6CZMdNUJSpOLk2I04S0RcNpbGtucANUbK9WdbNyETr7bF26kPdOumiZhkAnaxRAHX-3jw7cfYTNhJiNd1UCr2VyGRO2N3WhQ/s1600-h/CIMG5522.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 480px; height: 360px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIgrgjftvG1zy78HUxRkjwiis0XQvM0q6Ehfn-oNeeqMr-6CZMdNUJSpOLk2I04S0RcNpbGtucANUbK9WdbNyETr7bF26kPdOumiZhkAnaxRAHX-3jw7cfYTNhJiNd1UCr2VyGRO2N3WhQ/s400/CIMG5522.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430182241425627986" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div face="verdana" style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >I was 21</span><span style="font-family:verdana;"> when I made the decision to move from South Carolina to Southern California.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Granted, it was a teaching contract that lured me out to the Golden State (and a snotty promise to my parents that I would move as far away from home as possible when I finished college). But I have to admit that I had been seduced by watching one too many episodes of The Beverly Hillbillies: swimming pools, movie stars. Throw in the beach and Disneyland, and I was hooked.</span><br /><br /><a style="font-family: verdana;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsNqHOb4nwSmoixQ1A9BNyP_pzUnfNwEK42uMZYffK8NzYdfCbRv_ebGp7L-2j58esnJCOW6KHKp6qEjty2-cXdkt6lOistuuE_AN_pDYMgwtqJ_V7N3A2OfMxUODh_UFvsGb4phuz1MLv/s1600-h/CIMG5523.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 114px; height: 152px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsNqHOb4nwSmoixQ1A9BNyP_pzUnfNwEK42uMZYffK8NzYdfCbRv_ebGp7L-2j58esnJCOW6KHKp6qEjty2-cXdkt6lOistuuE_AN_pDYMgwtqJ_V7N3A2OfMxUODh_UFvsGb4phuz1MLv/s200/CIMG5523.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430080675275260386" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:verdana;">More than two decades later, I'm now a little jaded at the sight of movie stars. Mickey and Minnie Mouse no longer do it for me. But there's one thing that reminds me that I'm living the golden life in the Golden State: citrus.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">And if citrus was gold, I'd be a wealthy lady. Our backyard trees are heavy with oranges, grapefruits, Meyer lemons and pomellos.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I still can't get over the thrill of going to the back yard to pluck oranges for a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center; font-family: verdana;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE6jHH1_Cio0thJQKNT8SCU_5yuAnqa5Eu_DQPbMQm1Bm3PeqvvBCXnIppTiiH4spQNFCu3xbO5PLZASzJC9FBs60J4YwpNsnUhEaM628-QPLTDpdsPKbbL4zexEhdHhNxaBenbjZrcDKr/s1600-h/CIMG5526.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 286px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE6jHH1_Cio0thJQKNT8SCU_5yuAnqa5Eu_DQPbMQm1Bm3PeqvvBCXnIppTiiH4spQNFCu3xbO5PLZASzJC9FBs60J4YwpNsnUhEaM628-QPLTDpdsPKbbL4zexEhdHhNxaBenbjZrcDKr/s320/CIMG5526.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430081796458914658" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibSkCgOavzvz-78VPKtklvknNYck11yLIwvZR4YSzuGIXIIZY0n-OpoI8nZivZLGIPf4JE-C-9vdAcoyyCUvojhRy2f1E1dRLUhSYdghqN32jN2aI0wkykyujPx5l7mO1CXclPe-3YVnW9/s1600-h/CIMG5535.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 159px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibSkCgOavzvz-78VPKtklvknNYck11yLIwvZR4YSzuGIXIIZY0n-OpoI8nZivZLGIPf4JE-C-9vdAcoyyCUvojhRy2f1E1dRLUhSYdghqN32jN2aI0wkykyujPx5l7mO1CXclPe-3YVnW9/s320/CIMG5535.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430082011824636802" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center; font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;">It took 12 oranges to make about 24 ounces of juice. </span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Our grapefruit are a little sour, so I topped one with brown sugar and threw it under the broiler for 10 minutes.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd0myuGZ9NQX8GEhPrMEwSk1gaCvZsPAHji7HpesToVxmYbhhe_sZp19g6yBr0hB6-H_gn8Hara5cGIv6s0qeTZXy1M3VbE_DAUOKoFcCTQ9KpS9zKl2YVvwcyvioDcApoTIsbxHY1BMIK/s1600-h/CIMG5532.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 429px; height: 337px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd0myuGZ9NQX8GEhPrMEwSk1gaCvZsPAHji7HpesToVxmYbhhe_sZp19g6yBr0hB6-H_gn8Hara5cGIv6s0qeTZXy1M3VbE_DAUOKoFcCTQ9KpS9zKl2YVvwcyvioDcApoTIsbxHY1BMIK/s320/CIMG5532.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430082626076301762" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Get 'em while they're hot! Just let it cool before digging in. </span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Nothing goes to waste. I use part of the peel to make orange zest and the remainder will go to our neighborhood goats.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfjIcklm8l1_mckbkncaQgd3LejK1OLDVMH5dKusOGY1N_4d2tdSon00CHlPWGBAhmd1yVRHreZNWNdjscRLnop9FsN1rg5RchyJ1Ih-3pdX2Q2XUUaNPpPPSWby9Jv8B-akjyyhTu_nDf/s1600-h/CIMG5533.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 467px; height: 350px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfjIcklm8l1_mckbkncaQgd3LejK1OLDVMH5dKusOGY1N_4d2tdSon00CHlPWGBAhmd1yVRHreZNWNdjscRLnop9FsN1rg5RchyJ1Ih-3pdX2Q2XUUaNPpPPSWby9Jv8B-akjyyhTu_nDf/s400/CIMG5533.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430084303206809826" border="0" /></a></div></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;">I'm making a <a href="http://openmouthinsertfork.blogspot.com/2009/04/harvey-and-galliano.html">Harvey Wallbanger cake</a> with the rest of the fresh OJ and the orange zest. Of course, that means that I'll get to sip a Wallbanger cocktail while the bundt is in the oven (and before and after).<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNLuh5AigJ6WTQvQiO8peiBKUflych9BD1J1wFxxCvaGmVVRUrWY1FjygqqW57Foax0ihg5OYfxE3HDW5gLwXBGA1DDhylOiHeEmKUBCdykUbTfhfyQehyphenhyphenPks49GoablJmevs7jiVxJTjD/s1600-h/CIMG5538.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 317px; height: 431px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNLuh5AigJ6WTQvQiO8peiBKUflych9BD1J1wFxxCvaGmVVRUrWY1FjygqqW57Foax0ihg5OYfxE3HDW5gLwXBGA1DDhylOiHeEmKUBCdykUbTfhfyQehyphenhyphenPks49GoablJmevs7jiVxJTjD/s320/CIMG5538.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430083532372949490" border="0" /></a><br /></div></div></div></div></div><div style="text-align: center; font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Cheers to the good life in Southern California!</span><br /></div>Susan Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12178330935523896363noreply@blogger.com23