2.12.13

Back from my trip. Looking at my picture, it is evident that you could drive a truck through my diastema. That's the large gap between my two upper teeth, anterior incisors #8 and 9 respectively. Did you know that that gap is proof positive of my african origins? Course we all come from one african grandmother if you go back far enough, but we of the diastema clan link to the more recent Yoruba if memory serves correctly. Guy can suck corn through a picket fence...

I share this incisor spacing with the southern african aardwolf as well as Chaucer's lusty "gap toothed woman of Bath." Must see a sign of breeding or degeneracy, one way or another.

Show was bad to fair, for sure a long grind. Three shows in four weeks took me right to my breaking point. My emotional spectrum ranged from mostly even to disconsolate. Woke up one night wondering what the hell I was going to do with my life now? Like most of us these days, I suppose.

Long drive back yesterday. San Francisco to Berkeley, to Fresno. Went to see my dad, who has serious Alzheimer's and can barely walk but looked joyful when he saw me. A look of pure innocence and joy that I will remember forever which pierced through all of my shields and layers like a dagger of love that imbedded straight into my heart. He doesn't exactly speak but he still has a very powerful life force. It was wonderful to see him.

Then on to Pasadena to hit Zankou Chicken and home to Fallbrook around 10ish. Very tired.

The picture above was taken by Cam at my breakfast spot in Burlingame, Christy's. I was digging in to my chicken fried steak and gravy right about when we saw the cool article in the paper about the higher incidence of strokes inherent in the southern diet. Christy's is located across the street from the International Pez Museum. How much traffic can they possibly get at a Pez Museum?

I suppose I will give you a rather fragmented and abbreviated version of the week's events. Might as well build the thing around food. Had one great meal, a bunch of good ones and a few so-so's. I will start at the beginning, Monterey. after getting through a serious trip miscalculation, I got stuck in a monster traffic jam in Santa Barbara and hit Vlad and Natasha's pretty late. The eminent musicologist put on some rare Dylan and Band videos and then segued into a Grateful Dead show in Irvine in 1983. The last day I ever spent with my sister Amy, who died in a car crash a month later. Big brother invited her to a show, she being a serious punk rocker at the time and the two of us having one of the best days of our live's together.

I didn't remember the show as being all that good but it sounded great on the disc. much better then remembered. Shakedown opener... No pain in my life will ever match that pain of losing her, or so I hope.

Vlad cooked up a couple of his famous calzones, a vegetable and a sausage. Ignored his warning and burned the roof of my mouth anyway. Never was too good at listening much.

Drove and set up wednesday. Hooked over to Berkeley to have dinner with M & G. The newly fianceéd couple and I checked out the coolest food in the east bay and decided to try Revival Bar and Kitchen, located near Freight and Salvage in Berkeley. Amy Murray is the chef and M said that she was trying to do great things. Farm to table, tail to snout, in house butcher, local, organic.

We started off with a charcuterie of duck and pork liver mousse, country pate, mortadella, lamb sobrasada and capocollo served with great bread and a basket of toast rounds. Absolutely primo and delicious. Mortadella looked weird, like that strange olive loaf from the sixties, but the grain and texture of the charcuterie was superb. I frankly should have stopped there, the entrées being slightly less successful.

The we dove into with appetizers of warm sunchokes and artichoke hearts with meyer lemon aioli, pickled leeks, chervil and beech mushrooms. This was good but not fabulous, flavors didn't meld that well, aioli was a little underwhelming.

We shared a very nice salad, Frog Hollow blood oranges, Bernard Ranch avocado, endive, escarole, mint, almond hummus and pralined pistachios. The latter was unbelievably good. Having farmed fruits for over 30 years, it cracks me up to see this boutiquey branding of farm stuffs. I know too many farmers to take this naming stuff very seriously but you city folks, have at it. Let you think you can buy something so precious that your neighbors can't afford it. The vegetables were very good, in any case.

Had a great plate of brussels sprouts.

We followed with our main courses. M had chicken on chickpeas, cippiolini, kale and squash with a liquid gastrique. I thought that it lacked any unifying flavor, sort of potchkied together, the chickpeas entirely wrong for the dish, in their inherent dryness and consistency.

Caramelized brussel sprouts with lemon, chili and thyme,  tomato and greens salad.

G ordered the striped bass. I ordered the goat and instead mistakenly received the mixed grill, bavette sirloin, brisket turnips and vegetables. The server screwed up. He would exchange it. I was hungry. I told him not to bother, I would eat. The meat was cooked perfectly but could have used a sauce, in my opinion. Something unifying. Call me old fashioned.

I will summarize and say that the food was good but wasn't necessarily my style, if I returned it would probably be for the salumi and meat and drinks and skip the main course. Great place for tapas. Might be a bit au courant for my palette and gustatory temperament. Disparate is a word that keeps coming to mind.

I drove the long way back to my hotel and met Cam, my now sober room mate for the week. There will be no early morning shots at Whispers on this trip.

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I puttered through the next day of setup and then made plans to meet up with MJ. We met at his craftsman bungalow and drove to a very trendy but unfortunately packed contemporary indian restaurant in San Mateo. They couldn't seat us for two hours. We passed. I breathed a secret sigh of relief. Indian food, particularly garam marsala, bothers me, digestively. I know native indians from gujarat that have the same problem with it.

He suggested that we go to my old favorite, Creola, in San Carlos. I have had so many great meals there but was frankly disappointed last time, both with the food and new menu. Well, I was so happy, we had a killer meal, the best of the trip by far. I had shrimp and crawfish etoufée. MJ had the filet mignon, on the potato pattie with the delicious portabello sauce. The best anywhere. We finished with beignets and coffee. Extraordinarily good meal.

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Have to go to dinner, to be continued...