Famous!!! In an anonymous way
I’m a regular reader of Andrew Sullivan’s blog, The Dish. He clearly identifies as conservative, and is opposed to the fanaticism and religious and sexual bigotry of the right wing of American Politics.
Unlike The Totally Unofficial Blog, The Dish does not permit comments. He has a few million more readers than I do and he wants to avoid the flame wars that break out in many political comment sections. In an effort to maintain fairness and credibility, though, Sullivan regularly posts emails (without identifying information) he gets from his readers with dissenting opinions, allowing the other points of view to be aired without rebuttal.
Today, there was an article on The Dish discussing the deplorable incident in Tampa where two people, as yet unidentified, threw peanuts at a black CNN camerawoman while explaining “this is how we feed the animals.” I felt he was making a mountain out of a molehill, and sent him a letter telling him so.
Folks, I’m famous. I finally made The Dish. Andrew posted my letter in his “Daily Dissent” article
Mine was the second dissent quoted:
In a political contest too often focused on ginned-up outrage over minor or irrelevant issues, why would anyone focus on this one?
Of course the perpetrators were 100% wrong and out of line. There is no excuse for that much stupidity, much less the bigotry and simple bad manners. The RNC, for a change, did exactly the right thing. They immediately removed the (most likely drunk, although that isn’t mentioned) miscreants, and clearly stated that their behavior was inexcusable and would not be tolerated. What else do you want them to do?
I agree with virtually everything you say about the Republican Party these days. I just think we need to keep the attention on real issues, not the childish and stupid actions of a couple of clowns who most likely represent West Podunk, Alabama and have never been to the big city before.
That post will see more readers today than all the people who have ever, or will ever, seen this blog in a lifetime. I’m famous!! Sorta.
Blithe Spirit
Anthony Fusco as Charles Condomine and René Augesen as Ruth Condomine in Cal Shakes’ production of BLITHE SPIRIT, directed by Mark Rucker; photo by Kevin Berne.
We go to a play at Cal Shakes with Mike and Linda every summer, generally preferring something that is NOT Shakespeare. I’ve been doing this since before I knew Gail, about 20 years now. Today, we saw Blithe Spirit, and Mike declared it the funniest thing we have ever seen there.
Now you might think that if you patronize a theater for two decades, you would get better seats, but you’d be wrong. We were in the very last row, on the side that gets too much sun. Not that it matters much–there isn’t really a bad seat in the house and we needed the sun as the fog was rolling in. This may be sunny California, but I had my leather jacket and my gloves along for a good reason.
The performance was fantastic, and what else really matters? Noel Coward was a brilliant writer, and this is perhaps his finest work.
What we have here is the simple story of Charles and Ruth Condomine, a middle-class couple in pre-war England. Charles is a writer of popular novels, and invites a local medium to visit their home for a seance, to gather material for his next book.
Domenique Lozano as Madame Arcati and Jessica Kitchens as Elvira Condomine in Cal Shakes’ production of BLITHE SPIRIT, directed by Mark Rucker; photo by Kevin Berne.
The seance goes awry, though, when the spirit of Charles first wife, Elvira, is brought back, and Charles can see and hear her, although nobody else can. Elvira is petty, vain, snarky, viscious and jealous of Ruth. She wants Charles back in the worst way–quite literally. Her plot to kill Charles so he can join he in the afterworld goes awry, though, and she kills Ruth instead. Then things get really complicated.
Another seance is held, much more cattiness is spewed between the women, and finally they are sent back to wherever we go after we die.
The plot is one thing, the explication is another. Noel Coward was a master of dialogue, and the reparteé is priceless. Speaking all those brittle lines takes a lot of talent, and the cast is more than up to the challenge. Cal Shakes is blessed to have some of the finest actors available, and there isn’t a weak player in this cast.
The role of the medium, Madam Arcati, played by the tremendous Domenique Lozano, is an actors dream for a comic turn, and Ms. Lozano makes the most of it.
Rebekah Brockman as Edith and René Augesen as Ruth Condomine in Cal Shakes’ production of BLITHE SPIRIT, directed by Mark Rucker; photo by Kevin Berne.
An old show business maxim is “there are no small parts, only small actors”, and it was never more true then the part of the maid, Edith. As far as I’m concerned, Rebekah Brockman completely steals this show. Her every scene is perfect, every motion, every expression. I’d go see this play again just to see her.
Blithe Spirit runs through next weekend. If you need a good laugh, go see it.
My new favorite cheese
If you eat in restaurants as much as we do, you notice as new foods become the latest rage, only to be supplanted by the next big thing being marketed.
Fourteen years ago, I first saw a salad with warm goat cheese, at Lulu in Reno. Then I saw it at Rivoli, in Albany. Then I saw it everywhere.
Later, figs were on every menu. In salads, mixed with vegetables, roasted with the prime rib.
Sweetbreads came and went.
Beets were big a couple of years ago.
Brussels sprouts, the over-cooked bane of Micky’s fraternity experience, have come back fried, sauteéd, poached, roasted and who knows how else.
And now, all the best places are offering burrata, a mind blowing hybrid of fresh mozzarella and fresh cream. It comes in a ball shape, and when you cut into it the a cream and cheese mixture flows out. I am unable to pass it up–if it’s on the menu, it will be in front of me to start the meal–burrata is served as an appetizer/first course, with bread and Italian cured meats, or as a caprese salad with the ripest, freshest tomatoes available.
Tonight we had dinner in Mill Valley at Bungalow 44, and you know what I started with:
Burrata, toast, olives and cured meat–the perfect way to start a meal.
Strangely, not everyone thinks the same way I do,so they offer a few other dishes. I don’t much care for oysters, but the presentation is good to look at:
Fresh oysters on a bed of ice.
Brussels sprouts may not be the latest big thing, but they’re still popular, and Bungalow 44 knows just what to do with them. This is a warm salad, with sprouts, eggs, bacon (which is always overcooked in my opinion) and a vinegary dressing. If they’d had this at Eta Beta Pi when Mike went to Cornell, he’d love it as much as I do.
Not exactly salad with thousand island dressing, the warm brussels sprout salad in a work of art.
Another new item suddenly common on plates is quinoa (pronounced keen-wa), a South American grain supposedly rich in all sorts of good things for you. All I know for sure is that it tastes great.
Quinoa was the bed my Ahi was balanced on. Ahi that was perfectly seared; light and delicious.
The right way to serve Ahi tuna, resting atop red quinoa
Bungalow 44 is part of a restaurant group including the Buckeye Ranch in Marin and Trevigne in the Napa Valley, and they know what they are doing. We completely enjoyed our meal, right through the butterscotch pudding we had for dessert. It’s a good enough reason to go to Mill Valley all by itself.
Fashion or Art?
Today was the last day for the Jean Paul Gaultier exhibit at the de Young Museum, and so many of our friends had told us we had to see it that we braved the crowds and the fog and the traffic to see it.
Gaultier is one of the major forces in fashion, consistently pushing the limits of acceptability. What he shows in his haute couture shows is often designed to shock and get lots of press while his pret-a-porter lines are much more wearable.
The exhibit was jammed, last day and all. I thought it was particularly poorly laid out, with little traffic flow. The opening room included a mannequin on which was projected Gaultier’s face, talking about his work. The video loop was far too long, with the result that nobody was moving. Other rooms were clumsily designed so people had to walk around twice to see the exhibits.
Still, the clothing was exciting and intriguing. I can’t tell you to go see it, because it just closed. Here are some photos so you can see what you missed: ( click on any one to see a gallery of large images)
On the town
Last night we were like cool people in the big city. Dinner out and a concert at Davies Hall.
The concert was a production of Carmina Burana, and we went because our friend Chuck Wong is a singer in the San Francisco Choral Society, the artists performing the production.
A reviewer is supposed to make intelligent commentary, but since I don’t know much about singing I have nothing to say. The obbligato was sufficiently obliging. The treble didn’t need to be more tremulous. There was a first piece, which none of us liked. Then there was Carmina Burana, which most of us liked (Gail turns out not to be a fan of whatever kind of music that was).
Let’s talk about dinner–I know from food.
We ate at The Boxing Room, a Southern themed bar/restaurant just 1 block away from Davies Hall and across the street from the parking garage.
Loyal readers, if such there be, will remember my trip to Gatlinburg a couple of years ago when I was hunting high and low for good hush puppies. Just like the moral of all those old fables, I found what I had been looking for right at home.
The way God intended for hush puppies to be
Lisa thought that they were to “custard-y”, but I think I need to try another 10 or 12 before I can say a thing like that. The accompanying pepper jelly was great–not too hot, just sweet enough.
Gail had the red beans and rice.
This is the large portion–and it was very large indeed.
Spicy red beans, ham hocks and some undefined sort of sausage, with a goodly dollop of white rice (or brown for the tree huggers). There is no way Gail would be able to finish a plate this large, but she gave it the old college try.
Lisa, Jack and I all ordered the Duck and Sausage Jambalaya.
It looked so good I started eating before I remembered to take the photo.
“Duck confit” means they cooked the duck in more duck fat, which makes it all the duckier. All three of us cleaned our plates.
Cute little corn muffins dripping in honey butter.
Those southern folk have devised a way to eat dessert with their meal–corn bread and honey butter. We (ok, I) had to order the muffins, and I’m glad we did. You need something to push the last of your rice onto your fork, and what could be better than a bit of cake?
The service started slowly, but the place was mobbed on a Saturday night before the performance. They caught up well, and were not only professional but clearly adjusted to the exigencies of their location–the server asked if we had a curtain time to meet and offered to keep the boxed leftovers for pickup after the theater.
We liked The Boxing Room so much that we went back after the show for dessert, so I guess that means I seriously recommend this place for dinner.
Stalking el mejor restaurante Mexicano
Out with BJ and Larry tonight, continuing our hunt for the finest Mexican restaurant in the Bay Area. While we didn’t, I should think, find the very best, we did have an excellent mean in very pleasant surroundings.
Tonight, the search took us to Doña Tomás, a large facility right on Telegraph Ave in Oakland’s Temescal district. I tried to make a reservation on Opentable, but they had no tables listed, so I called. A table was offered, slightly later than we wanted but I took it, and just got there 15 minutes early.
There are a couple of indoor dining rooms, a large patio in the rear and then another, mostly open, room in the far back. We chose to enjoy the perfect weather on the patio, but soon wanted the heaters lit. After the 3rd time we asked, we got heat.
Intrepid foodies sacrificing their cholesterol levels for the sake of adventure.
A glorious bougainvillea graces the patio.
The first thing you start with is always drinks, and what is a Mexican restaurant with a margarita? As one would expect, Doña Tomás offers a variety of the Mexican classic. BJ wants me to tell you that the Margarita de la Reyna (hand-shaken El Tesoro Silver tequila, Cointreau & fresh lime, served up) is one of the great margaritas of all time. The first was so good she had to have a second to make sure it wasn’t a fluke: it wasn’t.
I ordered the iced tea, as usual, only to find that they offer “hibiscus ice tea”, which is a dreadful concoction that I instantly rejected, instead opting for hot tea and two glasses of ice. What is the attraction of hibiscus? Why not just give the customer what he ordered–iced tea?
On to the food: we liked it. We started with the guacamole, which was excellent, fresh and accompanied by fresh, house made chips, not something out of a bag and a factory. BJ had mentioned the taquitos, which were made with halibut cheeks, so we had to try them and enjoyed the subtle, hearty flavor which was not at all overtly fishy.
Larry and I had soup. He had the sopa de lima, described as:
rich chicken broth infused with lime, garlic, onion, tomato, chile and cilantro with chicken and fried tortillas
I had the Gazpacho
chilled soup of mixed heirloom tomatoes, cucumber, onions and garlic topped with cilantro & avocado
We both felt that the soup was neither the best nor the worst we had had, it was just a basic, decent soup.
Chiles Rellenos con Calabaza
Gail had the Chiles Rellenos
roasted poblano chiles stuffed with yellow squash, goat cheese, raisins, pine nuts, marjoram and queso
mixto, over a tomatillo salsa
Every restaurant has its own version of Chiles Rellenos, so they can be hard to compare. All I can say for sure is that Gail liked these, and would order them again.
Carne Asada con Salsa de Jalapeños
This is what Larry had. It looks good, and he didn’t leave any.
Pescado Veracruzano
This was my dinner:
seared albacore in a sauce of tomatoes, capers, olives, onions & garlic, served with corn and zucchini
pudding, puréed black beans and house-made tortillas
To me, “seared” albacore is just that–thrown on an exceedingly hot grill for a few seconds on each side, so the fish is searer on the outside and rare/raw in the center. This fish was cooked, through and through. It was OK, I guess, but it was hardly what I expected from the menu.
I didn’t get a photo, but BJ had the shrimp tacos and pronounced them excellent.
Actually, these are your grandmothers tortillas. If your grandmother was from Guadalajara.
It’s the little things that count–one of the pleasures of eating at Doña Tomás is the handmade, absolutely fresh tortillas. No sissy flour here, you get your choice of corn or corn.
The people next to us were having what looked like a great dessert, so we ordered it too. Although Gail isn’t much of a sweets eater, she made an exception for this:
The sun was setting over our dinner, and this frozen Mexican hot chocolate.
Here’s the recap: dinner was decent. I’ve had better, I’ve had much worse. The service is sorta good, but not wonderful. The fish was overcooked, the soup was ordinary, the dessert was spectacular. Great ice cream outweighs being slow to light the heater, so we’re willing to go back. You probably should give it a try. Avoid the fish, order dessert. Don’t forget the Margarita de la Reyna.
About damned time
Where the heck have I been lately? Why aren’t there any new blog posts?
Darned if I know—we haven’t been anywhere in months, and don’t have a single trip planned, and still life has been busy.
Of course, I just spent 2 weeks glued to the TV watching the Olympics, or whatever NBC decided to show instead, like the history of the second world war or a story about a basketball team from 12 or 16 years ago. I guess the Olympics weren’t interesting enough for them to show.
One thing we did do is go to a couple of great concerts–we saw John Fogarty in Saratoga at the Mountain Winery, then we saw Neil Diamond at HP Pavillion.
Now what do I talk about? Politics? Yuck. The Republicans make impossible promises–they will cut taxes and balance the budget with chimerical spending cuts that never occur. The Democrats talk a good game, but all they ever do is talk, and they let the Republicans walk all over them.
The people who call themselves conservatives , which used to mean people who wanted the government out of our lives, now seem to want a Christianist theocracy, where everyone is free to believe that there is no evolution, dinosaurs were on the Ark with Noah and God didn’t make Adam and Steve, although I know both Adam and Steve, they used to live in our guest house. Wonder who did make them?
The serious Berkeley liberals think corporations make 80% profits on sales, and should give it all away. Hard to agree with that position, either.
The rest of us, sitting in the middle of the road, think that the a guy with a quarter of a billion dollars should pay more than 13% on his $22 million income. Think that the government should get out of everyone’s bedroom. Don’t want to carry on wars on the other side of the world for the benefit of Halliburton and Dick Cheney. Don’t understand why we still have Air Force Bases in Japan–they’re a rich country, are they paying us for their defense? Why not? How about Germany? If we have to maintain a base in Ramstein to protect Europe, why don’t we get a 30% discount on everything when we travel to Paris or Frankfurt, to show some appreciation? We could afford French style free health care for everyone if we didn’t have to pay for our own defense.
I have lots of questions, but nobody seems to know the answers to any of them. Why do I get charged $800 for an ambulance ride, but when the insurance company pays the bill they only have to pay $100 or so? Why are state employees still retiring on excellent pensions in their early 50’s? How can I get one of those state jobs where you make $125,000 and don’t have to show up, but are only given to guys who get termed out of the legislature?
So maybe I don’t want to talk about politics after all. There don’t seem to be any answers–we all just shrug our shoulders at the lies and the dysfunction and hope that somehow it will get better.
Here’s my favorite John Fogarty song–taken with my little pocket camera.
Roller Derby
I remember watching roller derby on TV as a kid–a cheesy pseudo-sport featuring men and women racing around a small, banked track and beating the daylights out of each other. I realize now that it was a fake as wrestling, but it sure was fun in black and white.
Well, roller derby is back, and we went to see it.
The game today is all female, on a flat “track” which is just a portable floor set up in the old Lincoln assembly plant in Point Richmond, now known as the Richmond Pavillion. The only other time I was there was to see a site-specific ballet by Merce Cunningham–this is about as much of a polar opposite as you can imagine.
The place was packed–we spent the big money ($25) for “VIP” seating, which got us bleachers right in front and a free drink. There may well have been 3000 people in attendance.
I can’t explain roller derby, but it doesn’t matter. There are two teams, skating around a very small oval track. Somebody breaks out of the pack and tries to lap the field and gets points for each of the opposing team they can pass. There is lots of pushing and shoving. It’s fast and exciting.
The players all seem have a nom de skate. The most exciting player on the San Francisco Shevil Dead team is Trixy Pixy, who is about 83 pounds soaking wet and tears around the track scooting in and out and under. The Richmond Wrecking Belles feature Chantilly Mace. Even the referees are in on the joke–there are Sexy Beast and One-Z, among others.
The season seems to be over for 2012, but we’ll be back there next year. It’s a fun evening with an interesting group of people and tons of excitement.
I went with my little camera, which isn’t really the thing for sports photography, so I mostly took photos of the crowd. I’m just going to put them all in a slideshow, I hope you enjoy it.
Out to the ballgame
I’m not much of a sports fan, I leave that to Mike. Nonetheless, last Wednesday found me at ATT Park to watch the Giants and the Mets.
Parking is always a challenge, but sometimes you can get lucky. There is a restaurant called Momo’s right across the street from the stadium, and they offer valet parking. We got the very last spot, for a price pretty near the national debt of Bolivia, but it’s pretty cool to have your car right in front where the trolley cars stop.
Proof that was there–and wearing the appropriate shirt, too. I left my Dodgers suspenders at home.
Ross, Gail’s son the Fresno almond broker, got the tickets. We were closer to home plate than the dugout, which seems to be a good thing.
I had a chair–these guys had to stand.
Two grandkids and Toby, even closer to home plate
I think you have to be important to stand there with your hands in your pockets. Anyway, he’s too old to be a player so he must be a big shot.
Wednesday was apparently a big night–it was Jerry Garcia night, in honor of what would have been his 70th birthday. Bob Weir was one of the three guys singing the national anthem.
It was also a big deal that it was the first game for Hunter Pence. I don’t know why he just started playing with the Giants but everybody clapped and cheered when he came up to bat for the first time.
I hate it when the guy on deck blocks my view. Why can’t he do that in the dugout?
Okay, so I don’t know much if anything about baseball. What about the food?
It’s a ball park, don’t come expecting gourmet. The interesting thing was the delivery–you don’t have to stand in line anymore, except for the ladies room. There are people roaming the stands ready to take your order and send it electronically to the kitchen, where it is prepared and then delivered to your seat. Payment is by credit card, no cash, and you’d better have a good credit limit. A couple of very pedestrian hot dogs, some garlic fries, a wine and a beer set us back $57.
Gail with son Ross and daughter in law Julie
But you don’t go to a ball game for the food. You go for the game, for the classic American experience, the sounds, the sights, the smells, and, if you are lucky and it’s just the right night, a view like this:
Full moon over McCovey cove
Eventually, the evening was over. The Giants lost, 2-1. Gail was cold so we watched the last two innings from the bar where we parked the car–the grandsons weren’t leaving until the bitter end, and then had to try to get autographs. I took a wrong turn and it took a while to get on the freeway and it was still a wonderful, mostly magical evening at the ball game.
Connected to the world again
Delivered to the front door at 9 am Thursday
Apple may be difficult as hell to deal with, but they deliver on their promises.
I sent my phone off Tuesday morning at the UPS store. Just walked in, gave them the phone and the RMA (returned materials authorization) number and they did all the rest.
Thursday morning, 9:00 am, there was a knock on the front door and the FedEx man had a package for me. A nice shiny brand new (or possibly refurbished, I don’t know) iPhone just for me.
Of course, nothing is easy, nothing is without drama. I raced with it to my computer to activate it, and got the message “No SIM card installed”. Nobody told me I had to take the SIM out of the old phone when I sent it back, I though that was their responsibility. Maybe, maybe not. In any case, my fault or Apple’s, the phone wasn’t going to work until I went to the ATT store and had a SIM installed and activated.
That process is pretty easy, and free. I spent more time waiting for a clerk than the actual process took, and then I was out and free and once more connected to the interned and the universe with the little magic box in my pocket.
There was one more little incident, though, to make this process complete.
Thursday there was a notice on our mailbox that FedEx had attempted to deliver a package, and it needed an personal signature–no leaving a note, no leaving with neighbors.
Friday there was another notice. FedEx are a persistent bunch.
Gail and I hoped that the package in question was some wine glasses we have ordered. So Saturday afternoon, we drove out to the FedEx office in Concord, all excited to see our new goodies. I was surprised and disappointed to see that the “package” was just an envelope.
The little bitty thing in the middle is my SIM card
Yup, Apple sent back the SIM card, which I no longer needed but they didn’t know that. Just one more wild goose chase in the saga of the broken iPhone.
Totally Unauthorized 