33. The Ludo Truck at Domaine LA’s First Tasting

You know I love Sundays. Most recently I had an exceptional one. And one that involved a lot of decadence and, in varying ways, a lot of food truckness. It all began early on in the day when Maggie and I realized that the final episode of The Great Food Truck Race would be airing later that night and that they would be marathoning the season throughout the day. We had only seen the first episode and kind of forgot to keep up – so, DVR: set. Woo hoo!

32. The Manila Machine

I have been meaning to get to this truck for quite some time. I have followed co-owner, Nastassia Johnson’s blog, Let Me Eat Cake for a while, and like her style. Additionally, her truck hit the streets scant few days prior to one of my first Dinner at Eights, which lamentably resulted in Nastassia not being able to attend. I’ll get her there eventually.

Bat Out of Hell

Mercury just got out of Retrograde the other day. Although it’s not like me to know or care about such things, this time I am truly relieved. Things have been all manner of wonky.

A Wolf By Any Other Name.

 Dining table, kitchen, guests and Carson Daly's film crew.

Last night I found myself deep within the Wolvesden; at the home of Craig Thornton. Formerly at Bouchon and currently private chef to Nicholas Cage, Thornton, or Wolvesmouth, his handle, has given birth to an underground, intimate supper club at his home, high up the Hollywood Hills. With only his “crazy friend, Cortez” to assist, Thornton serves eight guests between 12-16 courses each week.

Disambiguation AKA The Egg; Part 2

Right now, the egg to me is not unlike the number 23 to Robert Anton Wilson: a clustering illusion. It would seem that, in my sphere, most incidents and events are directly connected to eggs. They are everywhere. And much like Wilson’s number 23, I continue to try to explore the rationalization behind this omnipresent egg.

This Late Summer Bubble AKA The Egg; Part 1

I don’t get to travel much. The last vacation I had was over two and a half years ago. So I think occasionally I create my own versions of vacations without actually going anywhere. More often than not these trips happen in late Summer. I think it’s because it recalls a time of sweltering heat, cicadas, fireflies, thunderstorms… The South. Tennessee Wiliams, sexy heat and malaise, secrets and debauchery. You know?

31. Great Balls on Tires

Meat their balls.

My word. It has been a while, yes? Well, for your (and my own) food truck pleasure, I'm back with another rousing truckventure for you...

My buddy, Doug, lives across the street from the Frosted Cupcakery where, every Thursday, they host a food truck in their parking lot. D Smoov (he will be so happy I wrote that) emailed me this morning to let me know that a newbie, Great Balls on Tires, would be the truck du jour. Well, I do love me some word play. And balls. Of meat.  

Topography

My friend, Brandon, recently told me that when we are born we have smooth brains. As we get older, acquire knowledge, information and experiences, our brains become wrinkly. I guess as we get older everything gets wrinkly and crevice-y. Not unlike rivers, valleys, and land in general. The Grand Canyon is a very good example of this. Here we have nearly two billion years of the Earth's geological history exposed as a result of the Colorado River and its tributaries cutting their channels through layer after layer of rock.

Squashes and Sniffles

I’ve been sick. I never get sick and I’ve been sick. I have a cold. I guess I’m getting over it now. But what misery; a Summer cold.

Detour

In the late 1940s and early 1950s the French were watching a lot of the popular films coming out of this country.  After a little while they stopped to pause and wondered what in God’s teeth was going on over here?! In these films there were men coming home from the war to find the women had taken their jobs, their wives cheating on them or leaving them for the men who weren’t even “manly” enough to go to war, and their children were completely alienated from them. We were full of cynical attitudes and sexual motivation. Absolute disillusionment. We were broken people. A broken country.