Forty Days, Forty Nights and Forty Cloves.

Good gracious. Where have I been? I promise I haven’t forgotten about you. I only hope you haven’t forgotten about me. I guess the past month has been filled with curve balls. But mostly my Time appears to have changed. Again.

  

Good To Go

Goddammit. I’m sick. 

It’s irritating on obvious levels. But the big rub is that I walk around, all puffed up like a peacock most of the time, touting that I simply do not get sick. But anyone can take one look at me right now and know that’s a load of crap. It would appear I have temporarily acquired Walter Matthau’s nose and I am entirely unable to pronounce any words involving the letters N and/or M. And let’s not even mention the small mountain range of soiled tissues that have become my number one accessory of late.

Dominoes

I have been noodling with different ideas for my end-of-the-year post for about a week or so now. I bandied about the idea of a 2011 ‘round-up’ and even started that one – I got two paragraphs in and everything. I guess I abandoned it when I realized 2011 has been a year I have been kind of ambivalent about. I mean, it has been quite a year. A year that feels like a minute. But, without trying to sound maudlin, a year I’m perfectly fine with passing into a new one.

I'm Totally Rushing You In the Fall.

Things are happy. Things are good. Business is good, things feel pretty stable, and, on these crisp nights, I can rock layers (clothing). Thanksgiving has passed and Christmas is coming up really fast. Usually I am a pretty major Christmas geek. I love Christmas music, the tree, the decorating, the parties, the excuse to be over dressed and wear sparkly things, the excuse to be over dressed, wearing sparkly thinks while drinking sparkly things.

Duck, Duck, Fat: Dinner at Sun Ha Jang.

This past Saturday night was very exciting. First off, I may or may not have been on a date. But more importantly, I was taken to two (2) places in my City of Angels that I had never been nor had any prior knowledge of. That’s pretty rare.

Frankly, my dear...

I watched Gone With the Wind for the 7,539^th time on Thanksgiving. We couldn’t find Home For the Holidays on TV and Maggie had never seen it before. Seemed like a good idea. That film has always had a profound effect on me, but usually in that hopeless-romantic-why-can’t-Rhett-and-Scarlett-just-figure-it-out-already-and-realize-they’re-meant-to-be-together way. As usual, I was a bumbling mess of tears and sniffles when Rhett walked out the door, but this time, for a different reason. I again found myself really identifying with Scarlett, but for a different reason.

Simplicity: The Hallmark of Genius

My mother's name Kathryn Virginia. My grandmother called her Divinia (Virginia jumbled up and pronounced similarly) and nicknamed her Divi. Most Virginia's are nicknamed Ginny or Ginger but my grandmother had her own special naming and language process. My grandmother had her own special way of doing most things. The mother of five, she became weary of hearing "Mom, oh Mom, Mama" from her brood. Once she announced that she was to be addressed as Brenda (not even close to her name: Esther), so for almost a month she would not respond to anything but Brenda.

M.B. Post - And a Girl Date.

With a little less than a week to go, I have successfully tested, at least once, every recipe for the next Dinner at Eight. I have delivered one of everything to Jill so she can assess her pairings. I have used all of the leftovers to deliver lunches to various folks around Hollywood and I still have a refrigerator that is fecund with said food.

Mozart. Music. Flowers & poetry.

 
It’s Sunday morning, we’ve just gained an hour, and it’s pouring down rain. It’s perfect. The next Dinner at Eight is creeping up and I’ve been testing recipes like it’s nobody’s business (or definitely like it’s my business). I’m very pleased with the creamy chestnut soup, though I haven’t settled on its garnish. The only problem with the soup is that I gave all my friends samples of it and completely forgot to take some to Jill so she can assess an appropriate paIring. So I’ll be making that again today.

The Blue Goat: RVA Goes Nose-to-Tail

 

As you know, I very recently visited my hometown, Richmond, Virginia. Richmond has pretty sweet restaurants and I have been lucky enough to sample many of them throughout my life. The city is flecked with small, intimate corner cafes and independent bistros with thoughtful food, kind staff and, more often than not, big windows and pressed tin ceilings. And, almost always, a welcoming bar where one can comfortably sit and eat.