Simple Things Made Great

Epiphany of Stuff

Three in the morning on Tuesday found me in the garage in pj's and bare feet, moving storage shelving around and reorganizing the dog supplies.

It began innocently, putting in a load of laundry just before bed. While sorting and loading, I noticed the growing coin collection on the cabinet beside the washer. Brushed the soap flakes off the coins and shoved them in my pocket. Glanced to the shelving below to see the hammock we purchased on our honeymoon to Oaxaca, taking up priority shelving space. Forehead wrinkles, muttering expletives under breath about how can it be so complicated to keep the outdoor items in one location and preserve shelf space for items that we need on a regular basis, like the picnic backpack which clearly belongs there. Moving the hammock into the proper location required the relocating of the fairy wands I ordered for the little monkey's 3rd birthday.. and then the consideration of whether we actually need to keep the fish tank, now that beloved Raspberry has moved on from the mortal world. And then, wait, why are the storage boxes for the extension cords sitting so precariously? The garage turned into a single-player world of Tetris and before I knew it the night had given way to morning. Bleary eyed but wired, I fell into bed only to realize I hadn't finished the laundry.

We've had a love-hate thing going on with the garage since we bought our house three springs ago. While providing the modern Bay Area dream of storage space for the jogging stroller, cruiser bike and rollerblade collection, the garage has also given us the go-ahead to just "set it and forget it" as we shove all our not-right-now issues onto an Ikea baker's rack and out of mind forever. I remember standing in the empty garage just after we closed on the house, telling my wife about how we would "of course" be parking the Suzuki in the garage but that it would be nice to have a little extra space for the toolbox and baby clothes. Maybe even the holiday decorations. Oh how we fall. There is not a chance in hell that an actual CAR will be making its way into the garage unless I take a vacation devoted to sorting, filing, shredding, donating and, well, dealing.

That night, while all up in our stuff, I realized I was sitting in the land of discarded dreams: the boxes that house the remnants of my wife's photojournalism career, the last printed labels from a release from my now-defunct record label, the files from our catering business that opened and closed at the beginning of the 00's. The acrylic paints in simple primary colors for mixing that I assumed would one day be used for meditative and reflection-time painting after I put my daughter to bed. The stack of board games I always thought would work its way into family fun night, which turns out to be more eating and talking and story-telling than Chinese Checker-playing. All these reminders of the things we loved long ago, the dreams we pursued (and cleared from our lists).. I decided not to be a musician by the time I was 25 because I wanted a family and a stable income. We pursued catering for a few years but decided the payout wasn't worth the backaches. My wife toted her photo equipment all over the Bay Area to shoot fires, speeches, famous people and bottom-of-the-ninth moments, then realized that she was more captivated by the human moments, and candid soul-searching of artful portraiture than something the newspapers wanted to run.  

So here's the epiphany: We pursued these dreams with our whole hearts. But then we moved on, and it's time for the garage to reflect that. I know deep down that we won't be returning to those pursuits (no more catering in my future, or beta fish, for that matter), simply because our dreams are bigger now. Our life experiences have broadened our capacity to pursue all our grand ideas, but unless I unload the remnants of dreams already lived, we won't have room for them.

Friday Fun

Here is a song to bump you for Friday afternoon, and through the weekend. I can't get enough of it.

The message tee

Scroll through most Myspace band pages and you'll see flash ads along the side columns for a snarky message tee company. All that insta-cool to be had for $34.99! The hipsters are all wearing them! Styley plastic sunglasses-clad kids are looking all "I just grabbed this off my floor and threw on a pair of vans and got on my cruiser bike" with their American Apparel tees, proclaiming something witty (sometimes) and standing against a brick wall in Encino, headed to a free show at a gas station (because THAT is punk rawk).

Let's all have a moment of nostalgia and think back to the late 70's iron-on tshirt shops. You picked out your shirt size and color, and then the art from stacks of binder books with images divided into categories like "girls" "boys" and "adults only" (Lord knows what was in those, I was five). Most were appropriate for that moment in time; my sister's was a rip off of an ACDC album title. Mine was light pink, and I chose a cartoon drawing of a kidney bean dancing in a rainbow field of flowers with the message above proclaiming "I'm a human bean". Awesome.

I've been temporarily tempted to buy into the message tee when I see something especially awesome like this one, available from Smash, whose message tees focus on their homestate of Iowa but has a few good general ones too:

or this one from Delia's (who actually has a reliably cool selection but alas is cut for 10 year olds):

And there's the classic Neighborhoodies, whose price points have kept me just out of reach from ordering pride shirts for my various SF neighborhoods for YEARS (though I am still considering "Lower Rockridge" because that's just plain funny, and only to people who live within 3 square blocks of my house). Their readymades are often smart:

Ultimately, while trying to narrow down a choice, I realize that it's ridiculous to condense my outfit's intention for a day into a little snippy comment on culture, politics or certainly Team Britney. It's a bumper sticker for my boobs. And it's probably not going to be funny to me for long. And it smacks of "think I'm cool please". And I just can't commit. But I still browse. Looking for that "one" to make me overcome my hispter annoyance and dive on in.

To see the root of things

Time for more music! Here's a playlist that I've been sitting on for awhile that includes some really cool and creative covers. I make these every few months to reflect whatever I'm working on- like a soundtrack for my personal documentary. This one clearly is about reckoning and is pretty serious. But sadly beautiful. Thankfully music will often render the emotion for us, confront us with it and let us move through it.

The quest for cute chefwear

One could argue that I've been a chef since 1979. That was the year I created "raisin stew" while sitting on the step-stool of my family kitchen, throwing bits of Triscuit, orange segment, milk and raisins into a plastic bowl and pronouncing it revolutionary. I created a recipe card to accompany this feat, which is likely tucked away in my mother's scrapbook papers somewhere. My sister made gagging noises just to look at it, but I was fascinated by the idea of creating something new and exciting from simple ingredients (Hmm, sound familiar? Some things never change!).

Fast forward twenty years, and I've been working as a private chef for 10 years. My clients' needs vary, from an in-home business dinner where the stakes are high and the guest is crabby, to a casually ridiculous birthday party where the guests break into the samba before the dessert course is even served. I do all the shopping, cooking, serving, table setting, mood making so you don't have to.

Throughout this time I've done huge weddings, company launch parties, bachelorette parties, you name it. I catered with several high end companies (like Restaurant LuLu), and for a short time even operated my own. And what I'm getting to is this: In all these years I've not had a single decent fitting chef coat or mildly attractive pair of pants. And the shoes, well, let's not even start on the shoes.

Below is a standard chef coat one would pull out of the uniform closet in a restaurant in any city. You grab your size, throw it on over your concert tee, grap a quad espresso and get to your station:

Note the complete lack of shape, awful shiny plastic buttons and all-over ill fit for any female cook (which believe me, is still a rare sight). I modified the look slightly in my early days by tightly wrapping a service apron at my natural waist to create a sort of high-waisted pencil skirt shape. This helped only slightly because the rest of the outfit was comprised of:

Green plastic gardening clogs (perhaps a crocs precursor).

and

Standard poly-blend checked chef pants with a tapered leg (oh joy). Note there are typically only men's pants available.

Back when I started cooking, the hip chef fashion pant was Chefwear's "Baggies" line: elastic waistband and tightly tapered, decorated with your choice of patterns- clip art-like renderings of chili peppers, koi fish, tobasco bottles, whatever. Mine were covered in green and red grape clusters- a fashion choice I still stand by considering the other options. The full look, if you think you can handle it, is available for purchase here.

Not being so much in the "industry" anymore, I could afford to be progressive with my chefwear and break out into something new. I do still need to represent with a proper chef coat, and there are a few nice looking ones (with cloth covered buttons, tapered waists, or mandarin collars), but even those women-shaped options are just so predictable in style. Decent, but still uninteresting. White or black coat (or denim.. the reason for this option escapes me completely). Check pants or black pants. Dansko clogs. Blah.

So here's the final question: how to cultivate a uniform "look" while not actually wearing a uniform? Where to find well cut pieces that will stand up to frequent washings, oil splatters and pomegranate molasses? A few pockets, some natural fibers, smart clean lines and we're in business.

Remember that scene in Don't Tell Mom the Babysitter's Dead where Sue Ellen (Christina Applegate) turns a uniform factory into a modern and hip high fashion line?

No, you say you were three when that movie came out?

Help.

Great coffee of the month

There is just so much amazing coffee available. I've decided to quit worrying about which is the best and start to appreciate the variation. Having a steady supply of great coffee beans in my home is one of those things that have made it into the must-have-to-maintain-life-quality list: those things that make me a better me (such as having a piano, fluffy pillows, and fresh air). Those of you who understand what I'm talking about, you understand on a root level, right? I was chatting with a barista/cafe owner the other day about how coffee is nearly a basic human right. Food, shelter, coffee. In that order. But I digress.

Filling the top slot for availability and consistent quality for the month of May is Coast Roast Coffee, which comes from the city of Tomales. For those of you non-locals, Tomales is a teeny rolling hill town in an awesomely gorgeous location on the Sonoma Coast. Retail and wholesale, Coast Roast offers a decent eight organic roasts, including a water decaf.

I tend to alternate between the Peruvian and the French Roast, both of which are heartbreakingly great and roasted to their full potential without creeping into smoky territory. The Peruvian has the earthy caramel and deep almond nutty character that I crave, while the French is more restrained and refined but still packs a "good morning" whallop of roasty sweetness.

Mommy, are cranberries in season?

Spoken by my three year old daughter today, feet swinging in the grocery cart and perusing the produce section: "Mommy, are cranberries in season?". Truly a moment of parental glory. I peripherally saw several shoppers next to us stop in their tracks in awe.

I have taken great care to teach my child about the beginnings of the food we eat, not in a political this-pig-gave-her-life-for-our-dinner sort of way, but in the sense that she understands that a healthful and soulful meal begins and ends with real food; that the respect that we show by cooking for ourselves and our friends is paramount, and that enjoying it is celebrating and affirming life.

I try to orient all our meals around things that are seasonally available, and I think I mentioned this earlier, but I neglected to mention the rockstar center of the meal planning universe that is the Local Foods Wheel. It shows which foods are naturally available year-round in the Bay Area (like sardines and cauliflower) and which time of the year everything else is available. A quick dial to February, for example,  (arguably the most desperate for a chef as our hearts are already longing for avocados and berries in the season that lies ahead), shows escarole, grapefruit and artichokes. Inspiration renewed. We will rock the escarole until the berries appear.

The Food Wheel was conceptualized by Bay Area chef Jessica Prentice, who also operates the community kitchen, Three Stone Hearth in Berkeley. A former Director of Education Programs at the Center for Urban Education about Sustainable Agriculture, and author of Full Moon Feast, she has done all sorts of smarty things for food and the Locavore movement (and remains, apparently, ego-free and undernoted.. this woman should be getting nobel peace prizes right and left in my opinion). Oh, and that term, "Locavore" that all the hip 30-somethings like to throw around casually like yesterday's "slow food" and last year's "organic"? It's her word.

Anyhoo, I've become super dependent on the Food Wheel for all my meal planning and it occured to me today that I would crumble into a thousand pieces without it. What if I had to actually wait until I got to the farmer's market to see what's available? To conceptualize an entire week's worth of meals while standing at the farmer's stand would take a much greater woman than me. And beyond that, what on earth would I do if I left the Bay Area and landed in New York, for instance?

Ta Daaa! The New York version is now available, thank heavens. There is a god. And she's waiting for me with her food wheel in Brooklyn.

A new dawn, a new day

I will read actual books this summer. Not magazines, not how-to manuals, not poetry, not songbooks, but actual literature.

Well, let's not get carried away. It will likely be nonfiction. And we're ok with that.

I have carefully reserved a shelf in the living room for the pile of books I got as presents, bought on a whim, or attained somehow years ago but never made it to. I am excited about all of them, but even more excited about putting the pile to rest and making a new one.

So here's my public statement, with photographic evidence. Judge away, you lit monkeys. I'm just trying to read A book. No need for THE book.

Platform sandal is the new flat

Ok, so it's warm now. We throw our sweaters joyfully into storage and comb through the pile of shorts and summer dresses to see what still works, and make a list of what we need immediately (which typically involves flip flops and tanks). On my immediate needs list: shoes.

Last year the gladiator/flat jesus sandal was happening but just didn't work for me with shorts. I am not blessed with long lovely legs, so putting a flat shoe with a short or cropped pant just makes me look like a squatty clown. But it's freaking summer and I'm not going to walk around in heels, though I tried like hell last year, even while walking the streets of NYC (our resident friends must get so tired of trying to counsel their visitors into wearing sensible shoes.. I imagine everyone comes wanting to represent fashion and goes home with blisters).

  So there are some really interesting sandals happening right now, and most of them are in beige which I think is nice for a summer wardrobe that is likely to be popping with bright color but needs to feel light.

 I saw these all over the spring lookbooks (cause I roll that way and no one will sneak me into the actual shows) and was super excited about the possibility of getting a long-leg result with mid-thigh shorts, all without looking like I should also have a fanny pack.

Then the other day I happened upon a bright colored pair of platform sandals and was immediately in love. They have more edge than the nude ones (and these in particular take themselves far less seriously than those above). Roll those jeans or boyfriend-cut pants (read not skinny, not wide) up to mid-calf, throw on a loose jersey blouse and a fun bangle-y bracelet or pendant and call it a day.

It's like what the color flat does for an uninspired uniform of jeans and tees. Just a little pop of color and you can get away with wearing really simple stuff. It gives the leg a nice line, even when you're wearing cropped pants or longer shorts.

Here's the pair I'm rocking:

My friend Teresa The Stylist would not look kindly on this blanket advice, and would not appreciate the idea of throwing out a "look" that assumes every body type will work with. But I gotta say it did wonders for my Saturday morning and made me feel like a hip mama.

Oddly, we spent the afternoon walking around picnic sites at Crown Memorial State Beach (which is NOT where a platform sandal is best displayed).. but I did confirm that they are comfortable!

Recipe for a long hot summer

When the temperature climbs I'm always first inspired to make a mix to play throughout the summer. Usually it's a collection of songs that sound best out the car window with your hand in the warm air, freely on the way out of town for a new adventure.

But lately I've been paying attention to what the gods of hip hop (at least my personal ones) have to say about what's good with music in a classic sense. I missed the 90's for the most part (aside from a little Tribe Called Quest, there was virtually no exposure for a country girl to find) so I still review the classics and try to sort out who influenced who and why. Up until last year I would not have known the importance of EPMD at all, much less what they sounded like.

Anyway, I'm stepping up my game and have assembled this collection best heard out in the summer dusk in the city. It's a little retro, a little unabashed club sexy and a lot of easy beat. Throw your headphones on and soak in the heat, my friends.

XO