Racoon for dinner
Alameda County Fair!!! I love the fair!!
I’m a city boy, from the wilds of Brooklyn. Going to the county fair, with the food and the animals and the sideshow and the jams and jellies and the people selling all sorts of strange stuff is just the greatest fun for me.
The big news at the Fair this year is the guy selling really weird food. Lion. Ostrich, Kangaroo. Scorpions. Maggots. You just know I had to go try this out.
Getting Gail to go with me was more of a challenge–she’s waaaay too hip, slick and cool for the down-home cheesiness of a county fair. But when I told her that we were going out for dinner of raccoon on a stick, I finally persuaded her.
Attendance at the fair tonight wasn’t all that spectacular–I’ve been there when people were backed up onto 680S waiting to get into the parking lot, but not tonight. We spent the big bucks for premium parking, and got right up front. Made the money back because it was $3.00 night and the admission was really cheap. I didn’t even have to lie and tell them I’m a senior.
It took a while to find Jungle George, but perseverance pays off and soon we were in front of the grill, stacked up with racoon carcasses grilling away. I paid my $7.75, and got a skewer stacked with the red meat, and the moment of truth had arrived.
'Coon pieces grilling
Raccoon on a stick--just what a city boy want's for dinner.
I’m fairly adventurous. I’ve eaten deer, elk, caribou, wild boar, ostrich, buffalo and crickets. This wasn’t all that great a stretch for me. And the answer is: racoon is pretty good. Tender, flavorful, fairly lean, sort of like pork but red like beef. I liked it. Not gamy at all, but then this stuff is farm raised (for the fur; the meat is really a sideline for the growers). If I went back, I’d try the kangaroo sausages. They tried to have lion meat, but the sanctimonious snits at PETA put up a fuss.
So that was great, now to enjoy the rest of the fair. Gail had a bite of the ‘coon, which she had to admit was fine, but we both needed more sustenance for dinner.
This is California, we try to eat some kind of an at least moderately healthy diet, but the fair just demands that you pig out on dietary disasters.
A jumbo corn dog. This is the middle size--I couldn't handle the "monster".
I chose the corn dog. Obscene in every way, there’s something about an enormous dog covered in corn meal and deep fried that speaks to my heart–which we shouldn’t tell the cardiologist.
Gail just went for a basic greasy hot dog, covered in onion and pickles. She likes mustard almost as much as Tom Jacobson, so the whole thing was pretty yellow as she ate it.
Fine dining, county fair style.
After the culinary experience, we were off to the next step–animals. We keep a few chickens around here, and I wanted to go see the small animal display. The bunny rabbits don’t much interest me, but there were a dozens of fascinating chickens on display, ranging from tiny bantys to a huge production chickens bigger than a small dog. We enjoyed looking at them all, and marveling at the variety.
Lastly, the expo hall. I love these places that sell weird things you can only buy at fairs and show. Waterless cookware, whatever that is. Knife sets. Knife sharpeners. Hospital-type beds for the home. Sham-wows. Fruit and vegetable juicers. It must be a strange life travelling the county fair circuit selling these things 15 hours a day for 2 weeks here, 2 weeks there then taking the winter off.
Of course, I had to find something to buy:
See the pile of shredded veggies? My new peeler can do that in seconds.
I like to cook; I can always use another kitchen gadget. So I bought a fancy stainless steel peeler, which I hope will do better than the somewhat worn and tired peeler I have now. Heck, the sales pitch was such a good show it was worth the cost.
Is this much steam really necessary?
This girl was just blowing off steam. Okay, it’s corny but that’s her line, not mine. I don’t iron, I don’t know if this is a good thing or not. I just like taking photos of pretty girls.
Comic relief
Then there were the Republicans. Socialism? Do you think they even know what they are opposed to?
Socialism is an economic system in which the means of production are publicly or commonly owned and controlled co-operatively, or a political philosophyadvocating such a system. (Wikipedia)
After I stopped laughing at the stupidity of this sign, I whipped out the camera, and the woman turned and hid her face. Not that I blame her, I wouldn’t want my face associated with this ignorance, either.
Nachos del grande. Muy grande. Super-D-duper grande.
Holding my sides from laughter, we headed out the gates for home. But first Gail had a taco. Then we passed the stand with the nachos, and she wanted those, too. Just nachos, no meat. But there’s no discount for no meat, so it set me back $9.75 for a plate of chips and guacamole. They were great nachos, at least the 3 chips Gail ate before she realized that this was a mistake of epic proportions and tossed the entire plate.
It was great. The Fair is on until the 10th of July, and I may well go back–but I doubt that I can get Gail to go with me. I think she’s afraid of the kangaroo burgers.
Growing up
Yes, it’s about time I did.
I hate to ask people to play cards with me. Always have.
Even after 25 years of partnership, I don’t really like to call Mike and ask him to play. That’s all my fault, not his.
But if you want to play, and play with better partners, you just have to grow up, put on your big boy pants and do something about it.
Tuesday, Gail had a meeting at the Ruth Bancroft Garden, so she cancelled our regular game at Redwood. What to do, what to do?
Finally, after years of dithering, I bunched up my nerve and sent an email to someone I’ve always wanted to play with. Imagine my glee when I got a note back that he would love to?
Sort of an angelic backlight, don't you think?
I’ve liked Hugh Ross, and admired his game, as long as I can remember. Recent health problems have caused him to retire from top-rank competition, but he still enjoys the game, and would like to get out a little more, too. I picked him up at his home in the Oakland hills and we sped off to the club. People were impressed. Micky B. bribed the director to skip us.
Playing with Hugh is a dream–he is the nicest of partners, and his play is astounding. I saw defensive moves I’ve never seen before. I watched him balance with 4 points because he knew it was right. There is just so much I have to learn.
Mike Lawrence was the first person Hugh met when he moved here from Montreal in 1962, and they have been partners and friends ever since. I told Mike I had a game with Hugh, and he told me how much I was going to enjoy it. He was right.
There are drawbacks to playing with a world-class partner–if we get a bad board everyone thinks it’s my fault, if we get a good board he gets all the credit. I can live with that. I can live with the stunned looks on people’s faces when they see who I brought, too.
Our game was just average–a couple of slips, the bad luck of having Ron Kow and Danny Scarola at the table for the round where EW have two cold slams–which they bid, of course. New partnership miscommunication. Nerves (mine).
I had a great time. Hugh enjoyed himself, and says he’s willing to do it again. That growing up and doing the things you’re afraid of pays off, I guess. Now they tell me.
Take your SEAT
Big cities are amazing places–there is so much going on at any given time you just can’t keep up with it all.
Thursday night, we got invited to the opening of a very different kind of exhibit. An artist and landscape designer named Topher Delany twisted heaven only knows how many arms to get this off the ground–a display of artistic/imaginative/functional seats/chairs/benches which are placed around the building in Fort Mason extending over the water–Herbst Pavillion and the other two, whose names nobody ever remembers.
She then prevailed upon artists and designers to create and provide these interesting artifacts, which will be displayed unguarded and exposed to the weather for the next year, or until some jerk destroys them.
Although we own a couple of pieces that Ms. Delany created (yes, Topher is a girl’s name. Not that she’s a girl–her mother took her to lunches with Jean Arp in the 30’s) we heard of the show from Dave Allen, proprietor of Artefact Salvage in Sonoma. Dave is the greatest merchandiser we have ever seen, and a darn good designer, too. He created our dining room table, among other things.
Enough talking, here’s the sort of work you can go see for free at Fort Mason, courtesy of the city and Topher Delany.
Dave Allen's creation--it speaks of flotsam from the sea.
The chair is sitting on a huge mirror, with a bar code on it. I don't know why.
This is sort of a sea creature--and looks pretty indestructible, which is good for this site.
An airplane. More whimsy than practical, but whimsy is nice. I like whimsy.
Nice looking chair, nice looking girl. Not something I would skip.
A set, so you can sit with your friends.
Another cute chair, cute girl combo.I remember these thing from High School Biology--they're planaria!
And a group bench, or a bus stop.
This guy should be president
The state of New York is debating a same-sex marriage bill. Their legislature has passed it, but it’s all tied up in their Senate–the Republicans are against it, the Democrats are in favor, with a couple of exceptions.
My new hero, State Senator Roy McDonald of Saratoga, New York
The biggest exception, it seems, is State Senator Roy McDonald. He’s a Republican, from a strongly red district. Despite that, he has changed his mind and his position and openly supports the bill. Here’s what he said:
“You get to the point where you evolve in your life where everything isn’t black and white, good and bad, and you try to do the right thing,” McDonald, 64, told reporters.
“You might not like that. You might be very cynical about that. Well, f— it, I don’t care what you think. I’m trying to do the right thing.
“I’m tired of Republican-Democrat politics. They can take the job and shove it. I come from a blue-collar background. I’m trying to do the right thing, and that’s where I’m going with this.”
And if that isn’t the modern day equivalent of “damn the torpedos, full speed ahead”, I don’t know what is.
It’s about time some of our so-called legislators bypassed the politics and just did what is right. Good for Roy McDonald, I hope some of his colleagues are listening and taking notes.
What artists talk about
Do artists sit around talking about the deeper meaning of their work? Do they discuss “exploring the dark interiority of a romantic practice in a well-lit visual field” (which I once saw on the wall at the Museum of Modern Art)? Are they interested in epistemology?
No.
Get a bunch of artists together and they will either talk about methods and materials, or marketing. All that sitting around late at night, smoking Gauloise, drinking absinthe and talking philosophy, is for the movies.
Brooks Jensen demonstrating one of his folios.
Tonight, I went to a lecture in Berkeley given by Brooks Jensen, the editor/publisher/writer/owner/office boy of Lenswork Magazine, held at The Lightroom, a high-end photo printer. Lenswork is unique in that it is a magazine actually devoted to fine art photography–the other photo mags are largely centered on equipment and methods, not on the result. Lenswork only features the art–which may explain why it has no advertising.
Brooks wasn’t talking about art or philosophy, he was showing a way he had developed to show/market prints that makes them more interesting and accessible. He creates “Folios”, sets of 8 or 10 or so prints, 8 x 10 or 5 x 7, that he sells as a unit for under $200, well below the usual price for art photography.
Besides being a marketing item, his folios allow him to explore a subject in some depth and share it all with the purchaser. It’s an interesting and useful concept for the fine art photographer.
About the gibberish about the art that you see on museum walls, it isn’t necessary to have an MFA in art criticism to write it well. You can simply got to The Arty Bollocks generator and click the button to get something like this:
My work explores the relationship between the body and life as perfomance.
With influences as diverse as Munch and Andy Warhol, new combinations are created from both traditional and modern textures.
Ever since I was a child I have been fascinated by the traditional understanding of the human condition. What starts out as vision soon becomes corrupted into a dialectic of greed, leaving only a sense of what could have been and the inevitability of a new beginning.
As shifting impressions become frozen through diligent and critical practice, the viewer is left with an insight into the possibilities of our era.
See? I just saved you $50,000 on graduate school. Now you too can be an artist, or at least talk the talk.
Enterprise doesn’t do it again.
Last January, I wrote about the joys of trying to rent a car from Enterprise here in Walnut Creek–making a reservation, then finding that they not only didn’t have the car when I got there but were incapable of telling me the truth.
Yesterday, it happened again.
We rent a couple of large vans to take people from our house to the Ruth Bancroft Garden for the sculpture show, then back to the house for a party. So last week I called and reserved them. They were booked for 3 pm.
Just before three, Enterprise called to say that one van was on site, and the other was at Tires by Wheel Works and would arrive in 15 minutes. Great, I thought. Silly me.
Gail and I went down to the rental office at 10 after 4. The guy said that he had one van, and the other was 15 minutes away, just around the corner. I had my doubts.
Still, it took 30 minutes to do the unending paperwork. Guess what hadn’t arrived yet? Yep, the other van. Now they were telling me that it was coming from San Ramon (what happened to Wheel Works, 2 blocks away?) and was stuck in traffic.
Gail took one of the vans, and I waited for the other. And waited. We had guests arriving at 5:30, and I wanted to shower and change.
At 5:15, an hour and 5 minutes after we got there, two and a quarter hours after the reserved time, the guy drove in. I grabbed the keys from his hand an high-tailed it out of there, dirty windows and all.
Today, returning the car, they told me some BS story about having the wrong van and having to go to Berkeley to get the right one. Then the drone behind the counter wanted to know what they could do to make it right, because customer service was their highest priority. I think he wanted me to beg and whine for a discount, but that wasn’t happening. If they can’t man up and offer a decent discount for their poor service and lies, I don’t think I care to let them make me demean myself by pleading for what they should be doing in the first place.
Monday I’ll have a chat with the regional office in Oakland about their hideous service, their incessant lies and the poor way they have handled the entire affair, but Idoubt that it will do any good.
Does anyone now of another company that rents 15 passenger vans? I’ll need two this time next year.
Mi Casa is pretty darned good
Today I had the day off–Gail played in the Oakland Sectional, while I had a couple of small errands and then nothing else to do all day. So I did nothing, expertly. Last night was our big party in conjunction with the opening of the Ruth Bancroft Garden Sculpture show, and we had a house full of people with much excitement, but today I was pooped.
Gail came home, we played a pair of the one hour speedball tournaments on Bridge Base (picking up a quick masterpoint), and then headed out for an easy, informal Mexican dinner.
There’s a little place on the corner of North Broadway and Pine Street in Walnut Creek I’ve been eating at for many years. I went there with a French class so we could all order in French, I went there to have Thai; now I go for the good Mexican and Central American food. In its current incarnation, it is known as Mi Casa, and I like it.
This isn’t your typical Mexican, as Gail would say, “dump’. There are tablecloths and cloth napkins. The server speaks English. There are no combination plates on the menu.
And I didn’t have the fajitas. Gail laughs at me, because every time we go to a Mexican restaurant, I spend ages reading the entire menu, then order the fajitas. Inevitably. I always think they’re the best thing I see.
Not here. Mi Casa offers Central American dishes, too, and tonight I had the Inca Platter–tilapia with onions and bell peppers served over quinoa (which turns out to be a grain-like plant from Peru, purportedly very healthy, which cooks like rice, is related to beets and spinach, and is not something you find on your everyday menu).
Gail had the tacos–but even with the classic Mexican fast food, Mi Casa does it differently. You can have your tacos soft, hard, or dorado, which means a soft flour tortilla cooked just a bit before it is wrapped around the chewy goodness. Better than the soft taco but not hard and crispy like the hard ones. It’s the perfect middle position, and Gail is already planning the next trip. ($2 taco night is Tuesday, I see on their website)
The bill for this feast was $32, including Gail’s white wine. It isn’t fancy, but it’s good, it’s fast, it’s cheap and it’s at least a little different. Hard to imagine what else you could want.
Not new, just good
Tonight we started out at the Ruth Bancroft Garden, for the press opening of their sculpture show. The object was to get local media outlets to come see the show before it opens so they could write laudatory articles and drive great attendance. I guess a blog is part of the media, and I had to be there to serve up the the dozens of devilled eggs I made, so it was a double header for them.
After we were finished, Gail and I took BJ out with us to the Walnut Creek Yacht Club, an old standby we haven’t visited in some time. BJ was in the mood for a crab louis, and it just seemed like the right place to go–turns out it was a wonderful choice.
I made an opentable.com reservation from my phone, and our table was ready when we got there a mere 15 minutes later. The Yacht Club looks like it should have the ocean right outside–the wooden tables, the decor, the design, are all perfectly appropriate to the theme.
Service was quick and friendly. The first pleasant surprise was on the wine list–BJ had a South African bubbly, Gail tried an Argentine concoction comprised of a mix of 3 wines, served over ice with a slice of lime–exceptionally light and refreshing on a hot day.
They offered us a 3 course prix fixe dinner for $30, but we weren’t interested. BJ had her Crab Louis:
A very nice Crab Louis, not drowned in a heavy, creamy, gloppy, hi-fat, hi-calorie dressing
Gail wanted an old-fashioned Shrimp Cocktail–tiny shrimp, lots of red cocktail sauce. It came, just the way she envisioned it:
Shrimp cocktail just like it should be. Plus plantain chips, because this is California
Now a mystery.
Why do they call them oyster crackers if there are no oysters in them?
I ordered the soup; they brought me the crackers. Notice that they are baked in Vermont–a state not noted for its oyster beds, given that it has no seashore. I wonder about things like this.
In any event, the soup was unlike anything I have had before. Sweet Potato soup with Italian sausage, dressed with a cheddar cheese tuille. Sometimes the first bite of something is great and then it pales–this was the reverse. It took me a while to get into it, but then the depth and complexity grew on me and liked it more and more.
Soup, tuille, a shot of something green to make it look better.
The menu has the usual things you’d expect in a fish house–lots of different fish, offered in lots of different ways. What moved me tonight, though, were a couple of the appetizers, so that’s what I ordered.
First up, the fish tacos. You get two of them, with the fish either grilled or battered. So I had one of each. They arrive in a rack so they don’t fall apart, accompanied by guacamole.
They call this an appetizer--it could pretty easily be called dinner.
The two tacos would easily make dinner for most people. They were hot and fresh and tasty and rich. Gail, who ordered them as well, added hot sauce to hers, but I’m a purist (besides being a hot-sauce sissy), so I just enjoyed them plain.
The other appetizer I couldn’t resist was the Ahi Sliders–three tiny buns topped with a napa cabbage slaw and a slice of seared Ahi, along with a bit of shredded carrot/jicama salad. I liked it, but then I like seared ahi pretty much any way I can get it. I thought the buns were essentially superfluous, and didn’t eat the tops at all.
Ahi tuna sliders--as beautiful a presentation as you are likely to find.
The bottom line? We liked it. We’d go back for the fish tacos. We’re glad Walnut Creek has restaurants like the Yacht Club. If you’re in the mood for fish, it’s the place to go.
Sculpture time again
Every year on Father’s Day weekend, the Ruth Bancroft Garden has its sculpture show, and that means now.
Reaching out to the local artists community, over 300 works of art have been assembled, mounted and arranged inside the world-class succulent garden hiding right here in Walnut Creek.
We have been involved with the garden for 5 or 6 years, and it has never looked better. With the current addition of a small museum’s worth of three dimensional art, it’s simply spectacular.
All the art is for sale, and prices start at under $100, so there is something for everyone.
The opening party Friday night is somewhat expensive, $75, (includes music and food) but the show will be running for an entire month, and admission is only $10 ($7 for students and seniors) the rest of the month. The garden is open from 10 am to 4 pm every day.
Instead of blathering on, I think I’ll just include a large galley of photos for you to enjoy. The show is truly wonderful; I hope you make the time to see it.
Another star in our midst
I’ve always said that inside every bridge player is something unique, you just have to dig a little to find it.
Bud Miller, for instance, writes songs. Always has. He wrote an entire musical 50 years ago, just because he wanted to. Beverly, his wife of forever, was first chair Clarinet at Cal. So it isn’t a surprise that their daughter Tracy is an excellent singer and songwriter, too.
Tonight they had a musicale, which they held in our yard. Sixty friends and relatives gathered round for a great party, and some wonderful singing.
Here’s Bud, singing one of his favorite songs:
And here’s his grandson, Jonathan, singing one of the songs from Bud’s musical:
The crowd was interesting, too:
We had a wonderful time. Actually, we’re still having it as I’m typing while the crowd is still partying. With luck, they will stay all night. And they’ll be back next year–see if you can get Bud to invite you.
Totally Unauthorized 