It’s Over
The ACBL posted this today
We’re through. The issue is closed.
Absinthe makes the heart grow fonder
The Absinthe Drinker, from Picasso’s blue period
Life is who you know. Keith Gunn introduced us to his wife Jan. Jan plays tennis with a woman whose son works for the San Francisco Opera. He has access to seats magically available. All of this means we got to go see Lucia di Lammermoor this afternoon.
Lunch comes first, and Jan likes Absinthe, a bistro on the corner of Hayes and Gough a few blocks from the Opera House.
I’ve always wanted to try absinthe, the liquor. It has a storied past, banned in many countries, supposed to be hallucinogenic, addictive and mind warping. Much of that, it turns out, is because it ranges from 90 to 150 proof–you can get seriously wasted on this stuff in a flash.
It’s legal now, and Absinthe (the bar) has a decent stock of Absinthe (the liquor). Getting a drink is a production–a shot is poured into a glass, then cold water is slowly dripped through a sugar cube. Of course they could just add cold sugar water from the refrigerator, but there’s no show business in that.
How exotic can it be when it comes from Alameda?
Ice water dripping through the sugar
Where you go to find an absinther infuser is a question I can’t answer.
In any event, the liquor tastes like black licorice. It’s cold, it’s sweet, it will knock you silly if you aren’t careful. I’ve had my glass, that’s probably enough for one lifetime. On to lunch.
Gail and I started with the deviled eggs.
I don’t know how to make an egg that color beige.
All deviled eggs are good, and these were no exception. There are two things that are never left over from a party–deviled eggs and Oreos. If you put an Oreo in a deviled egg you would have the perfect food.
Then I tried the spicy fennel sausage hash.
Not the Libby’s hash I grew up on
They really mean the “spicy” part. I tried a few bites and then had to start trading like a 5th grader with a zucchini sandwich and bottle of wheat grass for lunch. Fortunately for me, Jan likes spicy and had a sandwich I could swap for
A grilled cheese for grown ups
Grilled cheese, fresh tomato, pesto. House made chips. I was happy.
Service was excellent, prices are San Francisco high. Ambience like a fin de siecle Parisian cafe. And a wide selection of Absinthe (the liquor). I like this place.
A nice little Italian joint
Dinner this week with Margaret, and I was looking for someplace new to go. Luna Ristorante sounded intriguing, so away we went.
The address is on Willow Pass Road in Concord, directly across from Todos Santos Plaza. It’s actually tucked into a side street, or passageway, or alley, that goes through to Concord Blvd. It’s confusing, but you’ll find it.
Luna is a small, very Italian place that looks like it makes most of its money on lunch–when I called for a reservation they said just come on down, and indeed there were only a couple of tables of people, which is a shame because the food is so good and the prices are so right.
Starting out with the smoked salmon bruschetta, we immediately noticed the not only the attractive presentation, but the fact that the host saw to it that we received 4 pieces , not the 3 that are standard for this dish. I’ve never understood why anything comes with 3 pieces, but I was pleased to see this attention to detail.
The ladies all had the Caesar salad:
Caesar salad with extra anchovies.
Gail and Lisa both enjoyed the extra anchovy, Margaret just shared hers. The key ingredient, the dressing, appeared to be house made, not just a commercial mix.
I had the butternut squash soup, and enjoyed every bit of it.
Butternut squash soup, thick and rich
Gail and Margaret both had the calamari steak. This is always a bit of a gamble–it is either great or awful, with little middle ground. Fortunately, Luna serves a good one, on a platter with potatoes and veggies:
Calamari Steak
One of the specials was linguine with crab. Who could pass that up?
Linguine, crab and broccoli.
Okay, it’s time for the chef to ease up on the parsley decorating the plates, but the dish was excellent. I have to approve of a dish where the sauce doesn’t overwhelm the pasta, but rather complements it.
Service was decent, but it certainly should be when there aren’t many customers. Prices are excellent–my linguine was about $20, and the bill for 4 of us, with an appetizer, drinks, salads and entrees, was just over $150. As you would expect, there is a good selection of wines. They don’t have a hard liquor license, so Margaret couldn’t have her martini. No place is perfect.
We like Luna Ristorante. Good Italian food not out of can, decent service, a nice location and great prices. Hard to ask for anything more.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAhhhhhh.
Email from the ACBL, with the results of the election for first alternate. This is not in any way confidential.
There will be a run-off election for District 21 1st Alternate
Between: William Corliss and Stu Goodgold
Chapter III, Paragraph D, Section 1.1 provides that in order to be eligible to serve as First Alternate Director, a member of the ACBL must be in good standing. Bruce Blakely does not meet this criterion and therefore is not eligible for the District 21 runoff for the position of 1st Alternate Director.
How do you get to be ineligible? One way is to bounce a check. That probably isn’t what happened here.
If you want to know, you’ll have to ask Bruce why he is not in good standing, and why he spent so much time running when he knew that he wasn’t.
I can’t wait to hear the answer.
Packing them in like sardines
Sunday night jazz at the Sardine Can
Just wandering around tonight, we decided to stop for dinner at the Sardine Can, a completely casual joint in Vallejo right on the water.
We’ve eater here before, and always enjoyed the creole cooking and the completely unassuming ambience–no chairs, just benches and picnic tables.
Happily, very happily, we walked in to find some absolutely great music happening, no cover, no tickets, just come by and enjoy. The restaurant was crowded, but we found a spot–it’s cool to just join a table anywhere there is space.
Starting off, I had a cup of their very excellent black bean soup, which should have been hotter. The soup is worth the drive to Vallejo all by itself.
In the past, I’ve always had the jambalaya, which is excellent. Tonight, I tried the whiskey glazed salmon, which turned out to be a decent piece of salmon, somewhat overcooked, on a plate with just plain rice and some sauteed zucchini. Mo betta you stick with the jambalaya.
Gail just ordered nachos, which came smothered in so much cheese, meat, salsa, olives and jalapeños you could barely find the chips. These people surely know how to build a plate of nachos.
The pumpkin pie I had for dessert was hardly some house made specialty, but a decently serviceable commercial product. At least I enjoyed one instance of squash with dinner.
The music continued. These are not young guns trying to make a name for themselves, these are old pros enjoying an evening doing what they love.
Our luck was spectacular–tonight was the last concert of the season. The music is every Sunday from April until October. When the rains leave and the robins come back next year, wander on up to the Sardine Can some Sunday night and prepare to have a good time.
Why is this a secret?
It didn’t work for Maxwell Smart, and it won’t work for us.
You might thing that the essence of a democracy is an informed electorate. The board of directors of District 21 would like to disabuse you of this silly notion. They believe in an electorate kept in darkness and ignorance.
At their meeting during the most recent regional, the board suddenly went into “executive session”, expelling from the room all non-board personnel. Then proceeded a discussion, started by I know not whom, about how awful our current district director, Roger Smith, is and how important it is to recall and replace him. Note that because of the ‘executive session’, Roger was not permitted to be in the room to stand up for himself.
The nexus of the discontent, apparently, was the meeting with ACBL President Suzi Subek the previous day, to which all Unit presidents were invited but the District nabobs were pointedly ignored. That may have been very unwise of Roger; it was certainly not politic. It is my opinion the political elite were more upset over the subject of the meeting than the guest list, but there are certainly other thoughts on the subject.
A vote was taken, and it was decided to ask the unit boards to begin the process of recall–it requires a supermajority (75%?) of the unit board members throughout the district to effect the recall. Before adjourning the meeting, everyone was severely warned that this entire subject was confidential and under no circumstances to be discussed with anyone not on their unit board, who would also be bound by strict confidentiality.
I find this abhorrent, despicable and reprehensible.
If the District Board wants to replace the District Director, that is their privilege. If they feel that telling the truth is such a heinous act, then they are completely within their rights to dispense with his services. Perhaps they want to contend that a 9 year veteran of the ACBL Board, and past President of the ACBL, is incompetent. Roger is a big boy, I’ll leave it to him to make his own defense, not that telling the truth should require much of a defense among honest people.
What the District Board is not permitted, by any sense of decency, morality or fair play, is to keep this all a deep dark secret from the electorate. If a recall is indicated, then it should be shared with all of the players in the district, not just the super-secret cool kids club.
By some ghastly sense of entitlement, of superiority, of moral primacy, the cool kids have decided that not only do they know best, but we poor peons don’t need to be bothered with the messy details of their machinations. We are expected to pay our table fees and follow orders, not bothering our pretty little heads with the details of running the game. Don’t forget that this is the same group sitting on $400,000 of our money. What don’t they want to tell us about that little issue?
Why not ask your unit board member about this fiasco. Try to find out why an important decision is being taken behind a screen of obfuscation and darkness. Ask if this is the kind of district management we really want. There is nothing like sunshine to make the cockroaches scatter.
A different kind of athlete
Saturday morning held a rare opportunity. The Smuin Ballet invited long time subscribers to attend the morning ballet class before their 2 pm performance.
The company assembled onstage at the Lesher, which looks industrial and functional with just the work lights on. The dancers were dressed in warm-ups of every style and color, and portable barres had been brought out.
The first fifteen minutes they worked individually warming up with stretching and calisthenics, then the group formed up at the barre and Ballet Master Amy London took over.
Amy London leading the class. Rex Wheeler seems to be enjoying it.
Amy, a former member of the corps de ballet, leads the company through a series of dance combinations designed to use and strengthen every part of the body.
By tradition, the dancers begin with their left hands on the barre, working the right side of the body. The whole group shifts hands later in the process.
Artistic Director Celia Fushlle provided commentary for the lucky subscribers. Celia was also a dancer with the Smuin, and now does a wonderful job running the show.
The class goes on for quite a while, Amy introducing new, difficult combinations that both work the body and improve specific dance technique. Eventually, the barres are removed so they can practice their pirouettes. Just as some of us are right handed and some left handed, each dancer spins better in one direction and they need to practice more in their weaker direction.
Two of the pieces in this seasons program were created by left-handed choreographers (Amy Siewert and Ma Cong), which leads to more off-direction spins. Just another amazing fact I learned.
Ballet dancers are athletes, no less so than the 49’rs, and have to look good doing it, too. The work they did in this class would put most of us in bed for a week–and they do it before they do their performance for the day. These are no twinkly toed sissies, these are hardcore athletes, men and women in perfect physical shape at the top of their form.
One dancer in particular caught my eye–mostly for his choice in clothes. There aren’t many men who could wear these:
Wes Krukow shines in a great pair of tights.
Wes is the son of Mike Krukow, the Giants color man (and former starting pitcher). Being an athlete just runs in his family.
My camera was running out of battery and we had people coming over for dinner so I had to leave–the dancers had been working for over an hour and weren’t yet finished, then had a performance to give at 2 pm.
Watching this ballet class was a great pleasure and strong learning experience. Hope I get to do it again next year.
Our Greater Family
A mangled truck that lay in the water off to the left of the railroad track where an Amtrak train collided with the truck and trailer carrying a jet ski with it off Orwood Road in Byron, Calif., on Thursday, Aug. 20, 2015. A woman floating in the water was hit by the truck and the woman and the driver of the truck were taken by helicopter with unknown injuries. (Dan Rosenstrauch/Bay Area News Group)
(photo from the Contra Costa Times)
Most of us know Pat Crane, who has been playing cards in the Diablo Valley area longer than I have. Last month, her grand daughter Mackenzie was floating on a raft in the Middle River, near Brentwood. Minding her own business.
A truck was on the railroad tracks. So was the train. The train hit the truck, and punted it into the water–right on top of Mackenzie.
She was airlifted to John Muir. After 10 days in the trauma unit, she was transferred to Kaiser Vacaville.
The doctors hope she will be able to walk by next April.
The truck driver was uninsured.
Even with decent health insurance, this is a devastating financial blow for her family They have set up a Go Fund Me account at https://www.gofundme.com/et2q2bn6 to help them weather this storm.
I called Pat to confirm this story before I posted it. Now I know why we haven’t seen her on Wednesdays lately, though she hope to return this week.
Chop Bar
I hate it when I forget my camera. I’d like to be able to show you the food.
I wanted to hear an artist talk at PHOTO gallery in Oakland this evening, and persuaded Gail and Toby to come with me, promising them an interesting dinner afterwards. Oakland is full of up and coming eateries these days, and there is always a new one to try.
After listening to a fascinating talk by Margaretta Mitchell about her work with the 20 x 24 inch Polaroid camera, we headed to the Chop Bar, one of the hip new places in town, on 4th street near Jack London Square.
The interior is done in repurposed wood, and there is a large indoor/outdoor dining area in the front. We loved the rustic look of the restaurant, but it is just too damn loud.
Chop Bar is casual–a bucket on the table holds the silverware and paper napkins. Prices are pretty reasonable.
Gail opted for the oxtail poutine, a cheesy mix of cheddar and shredded oxtail meat served over french fries. Sounds bizarre, tastes great
I had the Bus Station chicken. A few years ago we went to Cuba, and had chicken and rice and black beans at most every meal. Bus Station chicken is the what the Cuban food should have tasted like. Succulent chicken, rice, black beans, pickled veggies and a spicy tomato sauce that brought it all together. The dish officially comes with cherry bomb peppers, but I knew they would be too hot for me, so I asked to be spared the heat.
The young master had a steak, which comes to the table sliced. It was perfectly medium rare, and there were no leftovers, which says everything you need to know.
I had the chocolate chip bread pudding for dessert, which wasn’t very bready, but had lots of chocolate and whipped cream, so who cares?
When it comes to Banana Splits, I’m a traditionalist: they should have three scoops, chocolate, strawberry and vanilla, three sauces. chocolate, strawberry and pineapple, a banana, whipped cream and a cherry. This is what God intended.
The Banana Split here was essentially a chocolate sundae and a banana. Not bad, not a banana split.
The service was fantastic. A delight. A joy. We had a supremely professional waitress who was on top of everything and had the personality of an angel. This woman alone is reason enough to return. (But the excessive loudness is enough to keep us away)
Clearly, we liked Chop Bar. Really good food, and not the usual fare. Phenomenal service. An attractive, if loud, setting. Definitely a place you want to try.
Service done right
OK, enough of the ugly politics of bridge. Let’s get back to something important–food. And customer service.
During the regional last week, Gail and I headed to Birks, the excellent steakhouse in Santa Clara. I try to avoid big slabs of meat,to keep the cardiologist happy, but once a year I order a rib eye steak–our annual trip to Birks.
I’m sure I had some sort of salad, it was fine. I overate on the little rolls they bring to the table hot from the oven. Then my medium rare rib eye hit the table–and it was well done. Not even close to mid rare. I was devastated.
There were a couple of waiters standing near us, waiting for a private meal in the back room to start. I asked one to get our waiter and got the perfect response “How can I help?” I showed him the steak and said “this isn’t medium rare”.
Before I could react, my plate vanished. No “it’s not my station”. No, “I’ll get your waiter”. He just solved the problem in a flash.
Our waiter came over to tell us that a new steak would be out as soon as possible.
In not very many minutes, the new plate arrived, delivered by the man who cooked it. He stood right there until I cut into it to make sure it was correct, which indeed it was.
Mistakes happen. The mark of a great establishment is how well and quickly they correct them. Birks did the job about as perfectly as can be imagined.
And that’s why I have my one rib eye a year at Birks.
Totally Unauthorized 