The Revenge of the Homemade Ravioli

It’s this close to Halloween, the spookiest, scariest, fake-bloodiest night of the year (unless, of course, it gets trumped by a sad turn with the election next Tuesday). There will be lots of horror movies, trick-or-treaters, costumes, parties, candy and, in my house, ravioli. 

Jason Shaw

I started seeing Jason Shaw about seven or so years ago. I had a client up on Kings Road, just a few houses down from where Paris Hilton was living at the time. I had a somewhat unusual (unhealthy?) fixation with Paris Hilton. I thought she was kind of brilliant in an Emperor’s New Clothes kind of way. I never thought she was a mastermind, mind you, but I applauded her unwitting ability to turn her foibles into farce for her hungry public. She, again unwittingly, showed us our own reflection as gossip-hungry imbeciles. She was exactly what Hollywood is. And I, albeit self-reflexively, ate her every move right up.

To Everything, There Is A Season.

According to my calendar it is officially Fall. But according to the thermometer, leveling at a tranquil 90 degrees today (or, it was when I started writing this), it is still very much Summer. Most people don’t think LA really has seasons, but we do. The changes are subtle and nuanced for the most part: June Gloom and the ocean layer, the smell of Night Blooming Jasmine, a shift in the quality of light, the Santa Ana winds (and the wildfires fires that follow), and perhaps most obviously, the produce at the markets. The Halloween (and some Thanksgiving) decorations are in the stores and all my magazines are showing up in my mailbox with pumpkins, fall leaves and all manner of oranges and browns on their covers. Except Vogue.  You can always tell it’s the beginning of Fall when you get the tome that is the Fall Fashion issue of Vogue. Tolstoy, step aside.

Dr. Strangecleanse

I’m currently on a cleanse. I did one about a year ago, too - which was my first cleanse. That makes this one number two (pun intended). The first one I did with Maggie and was bookended by an alien procedure (just leave it alone). But the week in the middle, the diet, was not that strict. I believe it was no meat (but some fish or a little chicken was okay), no dairy, no caffeine (but maybe an occasional coffee, or preferably tea, was okay), no booze (but maybe one or two glasses of wine throughout the entire week were okay), and no wheat or gluten. And drink a glacier's worth of water each day. During this I was to take supplements in the mornings and evenings. This cleanse was a bust - and an expensive one at that. I did not feel different, my skin was not all glowy, I did not lose any weight (that I know of (I don’t actually own a scale)), and I don’t recall any increase in energy.

Buck Jumping & Having Fun.

Seven years ago at this time Katrina had just hit New Orleans and forever changed a lot of things for a lot of people. It was one of those landmark events in history that will always remind us of where we were and what we were doing when the hurricane roared through with its devastation. Not entirely unlike 9/11 in that sense. During Katrina, I was living in a different house with a different person. We were glued to the television all night in awe and shock stricken silence. I was, even then, up here in my canyon. Beso was there and so was Milo. I’m pretty sure around that time I was cooking things like braised short ribs, sausage and cheese grits, meatloaf, barbecued tri-tip, various types of fish with various types of salsas on top of them and mushroom risotto and stuff like that.

Blind Melon

At a market, recently, I stumbled upon a basket of melons with identifying signage that read Sugar Queens. I’m not really a melon fanatic, but I snatched one up quicker than a bell clapper in a goose’s ass. Why? Because it said Sugar Queen. No, I had never heard of this variety of melon, nor did I have a clue what it was or what it would taste like. But the fact that it was called Sugar Queen made me all chirpy. I figured it must be a precious and exultant melon.

The Red Hot Chili Peoples

It’s been hot. It’s been the kind of hot we don’t get too often here in Southern California. But it’s August. The month when almost everyone in the country can experience the same thing: sweat. This particular heat wave has been a bit of a doozy. I know, compared to the heat coupled with that added bonus of humidity happening on the East Coast, we have been fortunate. But we really have had hundred degree days over the past couple of weeks.

I Just Can’t Get Enough

There are some foods, some dishes, that I feel I could eat to infinity - dishes where I lose all self control.  Or at least, I don’t want to stop eating, and making myself put on the brakes requires a great deal of discipline. Usually salty crunchy things fall into that category; for instance, I could eat Doritos until I turn orange, but the other foods that put me in a state of compulsive gorging followed by a state of gleeful shame are less obvious. These foods may include, but are not limited to, mashed potatoes, spaghetti carbonara, uni (Well, I’ve never actually had the opportunity to eat my body weight in uni. I’m guessing I’d get my fill faster than I think), chicken fricassee, sausage biscuits, my mom’s cream of mushroom soup (I could drink it like a milkshake), pimiento cheese, tomato sandwiches, burrata, buttermilk pie, Cadbury Creme Eggs (made myself sick eating four in a row) and vichyssoise (made myself sick on that one, too), and pan gravy. I can power down some gravy. And I don’t need it to be on anything, either.

I Am the Ostrich, Coo Coo Ca Choo.

When I was in college, a group of us in Victor Garcia’s Spanish class went on a trip to Mexico – ostensibly to study the language while immersed in its culture. Fortunately for me, a lot of my closest friends, and my boyfriend, Paul, were in that group. I also had a pretty big crush on Victor Garcia. Not the kind where I wanted to get in his pantalones, but more the kind that I just wanted to be part of his life, his family. He was just so great. And his wife and son were great, too. Very happy. And, he was so attractive.

Girl on Grill.

I feel bad. Maybe you haven’t noticed, or maybe it’s not a big deal, but I feel bad for being kind of absent lately. For the past couple of months a lot of things have been in flux. It’s felt a little bit like a deck of cards tossed up in the air. And some haven’t even hit the ground yet. But everything is all good, mind you.