I have escaped the Grotto

I am in my office at the moment watching a man in a trunk of a car across the street. He is lying in the trunk with his leg hanging out. There is a parked car behind him with a hidden camera. I think the idea is to get people walking down Sunset Blvd to say "hey! wait a minute! there's a guy in the trunk!" and record the hilarity that ensues when the hidden camera jumps out. Rather hilariously, no one seems to notice.

Anyway, Christmas.

An altogether successful enterprise.: The Mozza Budino was good, but way too rich for the suggested serving size. I had to push myself to finish a serving, and that's saying a lot. I was pleasantly surprised at how easy it is to make, and appears to be very forgiving recipe. Now if I can only figure out how to make it with skim milk...

The apple-calvados croustade was a real show-stopper. We used Nocino, a walnut liquer, instead of calvados. Rocked the house. And dont fear the filo - filo is your friend. I got distracted by work and the BLOODY TIGER ATTACK so probably ended up overcooking the apples. Didnt matter, it was still delightful.

I had a major breakthrough with my yorkshire pudding. I did not realize that you have to bring the ingredients up to room temperature so they rise properly. Mine was still not perfect, but well on the road to puddingy perfection.

I have to get back now to nursing my unhealthy paranoia of zoo animals escaping and killing me in my sleep.

And we wonder why they hate us

"Is France a country?"

See me. Fear me.

You cant stop me. I'm unstoppable. I'm the FOOD TERMINATOR.

This happy holiday season I will be attempting 3 feats:

Butterscotch Budino (the Pizzeria Mozza recipe)

Roast Prime Rib of Beef with porcini red wine sauce and yorkshire puddings

Apple Croustade

Not all for one meal. Give me a little credit.

Gratuitous Cute Pix

Awwwww.

LA works (sometimes)

There's an intersection in my neighborhood that makes me gasp every single day. Cars come careening off the Hollywood Freeway, or over the Cahuenga hill, or up from the Hollywood Bowl - all are blind approaches and there's only a stop sign to regulate it. We noticed last week that the powers that be have put up a new stoplight. Heartattack averted.

Why do I mention this incredibly boring little tidbit? I was thinking about my nutty neighborhood and thinking about all of the things that got fixed this year: Junkie Palace was cleaned out and turned into condos; new "no parking" signs have gone up so all the mullet-heads that pay $250 for a ticket to see Genesis at the Hollywood Bowl (yep, still irritated about that one) dont park in front of our garage anymore; they put in left hand turn lanes up and down Highland (the major road that runs from our house down to the Kodak Theater) so the traffic moves faster with less honking; and now the stoplight at Heartattack Corner. I got a minor warm fuzzy feeling that these things were getting accomplished. Of course, Iain points out that it took about 2 years for them to repair and rebuild another intersection in the neighborhood. But that's just sour grapes.

Its no mystery that in a town as car-based as this one, politicians have to pay serious attention to the road situation or risk intense public rebuke. I have been living in major cities for most of my adult life and have become used to the one thing that they all have in common is that they just dont WORK. You just have to accept that in exchange for living in a cultural capitol and/or where you can have saag paneer delivered at 10am or an Absolut Mandarin and cranberry at 4am, the things that irritate you are just never, ever going to get fixed. The crime is never going to get better. The traffic is never going to move faster. Your rent or mortgage is still going to make your family members spit their dinner out their mouth when you tell them how much it is. That's just the way it is. But these tiny changes in my neighborhood over the last year make me think that maybe I'm wrong. Or not. But worth thinking about.....

The Big One

I've had a week of company bonding events. I find them energizing and, at the same time, exhausting. Today, 2 scientists from Cal Tech came to discuss that perennial SoCal fave, earthquakes. They said that many people questioned scientists after Katrina and said, "you knew this was going to happen, why didnt you tell us?" So, they figure, we'll tell you.

To summarize: HOLY SHIT.

Here's the fun bits:
- Scientists cannot predict major earthquakes, but the one pattern they have seen is that a major earthquake occurs in SoCal every 150 years. The last one was 1857.
- The 1994 Northridge Earthquake is NOT considered a major earthquake, but 32 people died and $40 billion dollars worth of damage.
- Northridge was a 6.7 and lasted for 10 secs. The one they are expecting ANY DAY NOW is going to be 7.8 or above and last for 2-4 minutes.
- The scientists use a very technical term to describe the aftermath: REGIONAL CATASTROPHE.
- 21 million people live in the effected area. The San Andreas Fault where it will occur runs through some of the most populated and fastest growing areas in SoCal.
- All of LA's water, fuel, electricity, rail lines run through the Cajon Pass where the epicenter is likely to be. Early estimates say 7-10 days until water or electricity is restored if major hubs like the Port of LA is not damaged.
- The effect of the earthquake will likely be too big to drive out of the affected area. LA and the LA basin will likely be cut off from the north, so any aid would have to come from SD (if it is not damaged).
- If the earthquake happens during a Santa Ana wind season, the risk of fire is intense. There will be no water to fight subsequent fires and emergency services will be otherwise occupied.

BRING ON THE APOCALYPSE. Say it with me: I LOVE LA!

Why I Should Be President

I have more buzz than Barack Obama

I am only slightly less vicious than Hillary Clinton

I am less angry than John McCain

I am not NUTS like Mike Gravel

I do not wear magic underwear like Mitt Romney

I have never married my cousin or broken up with one of my 3 wives in a press conference like Rudy Giuliani

I believe in evolution unlike Mike Huckabee

I have never paid $400 for a haircut like John Edwards [full disclosure: if you add in hair color and products, then…]

I was never in “Curly Sue”, the low point of John Hughes’ career and that includes the “Home Alone” movies, like Fred Thompson.

I like meat and all the wonderful things animal products give me unlike Dennis Kucinich

I am more memorable than the rest of em.

Back in Black

I'm wearing black to mourn the death of my holiday, and because I have gained so much weight that I will be wearing black for the duration.

Thanksgiving starred our own little pork chop, Quinn the Mighty and Merciless. Dont let the adorable face fool you. He's a cold-blooded killer.

Iain and I went to the Oregon coast for a couple days after Thanksgiving, staying in Arch Cape near Cannon Beach and Manzanita. It was midweek after Thanksgiving so most everything was closed for the season, but that was ok. We holed up in our hotel room, watched movies and read. We also took a very inspiring hike through Oswald West State Park up to Cape Falcon. This guy has a beautiful picture that really captures the feeling of the area, except for the pouring, pouring rain we had. Actually it was lovely. But wet. The Oregon coast really is beautiful and very dramatic.

From the coast we headed into Portland to spend a fabulous weekend with the very glamorous couple, Meanboy and Bun. We did too many glamorous things to recount all here, but I will try.

Barely a day goes by that the New York Times fails to write yet another slobbery wet kiss to Portland. While we do not have the slavish devotion to the NYT that some people have (ahem.), we still opted to sample the city's culinary delights. Brief reviews:

Clyde Common: buzzy airy restaurant in a new boutique hotel downtown. I had the "red salad" of cabbage and razor clams as a starter and meaty gnocchi dish for main. The star was clearly Iain and Bun's Puttanesca which was bold and slutty just like its name. Waiter was impossibly trendy and very, very dopey.

Nostrano: Stellar pizza and wine on a rainy Portland day. Iain raved about his powerhouse of a soup. Meanie says if you ask to have your Italian-style pizza cut for you, they will rather haughtily decline. I experienced no such insolence, although our waiter here was a dope too.

Grand Central Bakery: Mmmm tuna melt with no mayo. And lots of lesbians.

Cacao: Truly an "only in Portland" kind of place. It is a coffee shop that serves fancy hot chocolates as its specialty. Billed as a European-style hot chocolate, but I found mine to be less thick and less intense than some I've had. Still a gorgeous place.

Le Pigeon: This is The Restaurant in town and the one the NYT keeps mentioning. The blurb from the overall bj:

He transformed a little storefront restaurant into Le Pigeon, an informal, slightly manic spot with seasonally changing, nonconformist dishes like braised pork belly with creamed corn and butter-poached prawns, sweetbreads with pickled watermelon, and just about anything that can possibly involve tongue. His signature dessert is apricot cornbread with bacon, topped with maple ice cream.

In short, we loved it. The place was awesome. I had sweetbreads to start - doesnt that just scream "GOUT" - and Pork Stuffed Pork to follow. The pork was porcine, but the sweetbreads rocked. Iain's Cod with Lobster Balls (*snicker) tasted totally rich (*surprise) unlike what you expect (*bland and white). Meanboy described his Beef Cheek Bourguignon as a "molasses brownie beef". That makes it sound slightly disgusting, but it wasnt. We passed on the fois gras profiteroles for dessert as I'd probably ingested enough entrails for one day. Meanboy and Bun's flourless chocolate cake with smoked marshmallow on graham cracker (smore, get it?) was the best dessert and only slightly strange.

But still, the best meals we had in Portland were the scones that Bun the Jazz Baker made us for breakfast (we had threatened to go to Costco and buy scones as big as your head) and the homemade ricotta gnocchi with fresh Oregon chanterelles, shitake, and Matsutaka mushrooms Meanboy made for dinner on our last night. Like I said, tooooooo glam for words.

Struck

We have the worst luck . Iain gets his green card and production on just about everything shuts down thanks to this ridiculous strike. Sigh. Thank God the megamediacorporation currently screwing the writers is continuing to pay my rent.

Other annoyances:
Friday Night Lights is probably going to get the bullet now, which is beyond depressing.
I'm going to be forced to watch more news. Also beyond depressing.
I have no place to channel my rage now that the Daily Show is in re-runs.
My tivo is lonely.

But as with so much in life, there is always a silver lining.

The Upside of The Strike:
Bionic Woman is circling the drain. I had big hopes, but the show blows and deserves the flush.
The World's Greatest Reality Show, OJ's Life, is about to start a new season.
I'll get to catch up on Netflix.
Kenny the Torturer has returned to my life for a whole new round of gym-based waterboarding.

If you need a handy guide to what's what according to the writers, check this or this out. YouTube is pretty rich hunting for vids from the writers. The producers: not so much.

Tacowhores Anonymous

My blog viewings go up everytime I write about tacos... so tacowhores, this one's for you.

Actually, I'm not a massive taco fan. I havent really mastered the art (and apparently, it is an art) of eating one without bathing in it first. I often end up doing the totally gringo thing and eat the damn thing with a fork and knife. Still, there's something infinitely attractive about tacos. Most burritos are actually physically larger than your stomach, enchiladas and chimichangas make me feel guilty - tacos are kind of a little bit of perfect in their simplicity.

Anyway.

My favorite local taco place is called Cactus. I order the carne asada with avocado, cheese, and sour cream - all of which I'm sure will horrify the purists. Taco Purists are the distant cousins of Sushi Purists ("Eaters of California Rolls Will Be Prosecuted To the Fullest Extent of the Law") and Steak Purists ("My grandma eats filet mignon"). Whatever. I dont care. I like me some tacos. I've tried the carnitas and the chicken at this place, both were rather unremarkable, but the carne asada rocks.

Hollywood is rapidly gentrifying, but this little corner of the world is so not. Kind of funny story from a kind of funny website to give you an idea of what the neighborhood is like.

My absolute favorite. No place is better. Stop your hunt, you've already found the best taco. The orange sauce, I believe it's chipotle, is deadly. I spilled some in my car long ago. Several days after that, I had forgotten about the spill and saw an orange stain on my seat. I scratched at it, saw a little disappear and vowed to attack it later. About five minutes after that, this was during my morning commute, I rubbed my eye with that hand. Bad, bad idea. I was blinded and in pain for about 10 minutes. I had to pull over.As for the homeless vibe at this taco stand, that's not all: it's just down the street from the Hollywood mental health clinic. The last time I went to Cactus, I was approaching the seating area when I saw a pretty normal looking latin guy with long hair walking along the sidewalk. He was approaching the ordering window but was clearly going to walk past it. Two well-dressed young guys were seated at the tables, enjoying their tacos. A family was there as well. Suddenly, one of the well-dressed guys starts yelling and has a look on his face of total disbelief. "WTF!? W. T. F?! That's fucken blood, man!" Sure enough, he had blood all over him. In fact, there was a trail of bright red blood all along the sidewalk right behind the long-haired guy. His arm was pouring blood and he was waving his it to and fro, lazily splattering blood from side to side. He had gotten some all over the now angry diner. The family fled and the blood-covered guy said "get the crowbar". They went to their car and got a tire iron. The long-haired guy was now across the little street just south of Cactus. The blood-covered guy was threatening to make the long-haired guy bleed some more. The longhair got on his knees and begged to not be beaten. He acted rather out-of-it and crazy (duh). Mr. Blood realized that he was dealing with someone missing all of his faculties and spared him. I'm guessing that he put his fist through a window on his way down from the clinic. He didn't look homeless at all. The two guys complained about how they wouldn't be able to return to work covered in blood. I ordered, had a seat, and enjoyed two wonderful carne asada tacos.

BTW this place is ugly. But good. mmmm.

More Sassy Girl's Guide to Europe

A couple suggested adds/subtractions to the Sassy Girl's Guide to Europe:

Mom & V suggest adding Lisbon: "Easy, affordable, friendly, no hassles. Doesn't reach the heights of Paris, Rome, etc, but very little downside."

Mom also chastises my shocking omission of Venice: "Only the MOST romantic city on the planet!" I found it cold and overpriced, although it IS Venice. So you gotta go, I guess.

Sonia disputes my Budapest description: "I think it's a great place for a weekend. Small enough to have a great wander around but big enough to have some adventures. Perhaps the group of five girls getting invited into an after drinks party by the waiters at a posh restaurant and drinking half the lovely wine the cellar added to the experience..." Yeah I'm sure the cellar of wine made the city a little more welcoming than I found it!

My lovely husband likes Siena: "Less touristed than Florence but equally important and The Palio - the crazy horse race around the town - is memorable".

And gotta love Linda's recommendation for The Hague: "she must must must go to the torture museum in the hague! it's like abu ghraib on less than 50 bucks a day."

Dorkus Maximus

This is Chaim Gur-Arieh, Owner and Winemaker at C.G. Di Arie. He wants to be your friend.

I like this wine, but this picture is totally dorky.

Lovely Ljubjlana

Joanna's sister is living in The Hague (I always liked the sound of that. Is there another Hague so they got all shirty and decided to call themselves THE Hague?). Jo asked me for my 5-top destinations in Europe to give her sister some ideas. I figured, everyone likes different things on holidays, not everyone likes eating reindeer, so I broadened it out a bit. I present to you My 5-Minute Guide to Europe. Let me know what you think!

The Obvious, but have to be done
- Florence
- Barcelona
- Rome
- Paris
- London

Underrated
- Sardinia – great place to get away from the Eurotrash of it all. Good beaches and cheap food n wine.
- Mallorca – Stay away from the mega-tourist resorts, but the rest of the island is really interesting and beautiful. Great food.
- Glasgow/Edinburgh – scrubby fun arty city and its beautiful sister. Make like a local and get drunk and get in a fight in a pub! Great jumping off place to the Scottish Highlands which are also awesome
- Vienna – good food, good art, beautiful city. Shame about the Austrians.
- Brussels – good food, good art, beautiful city. Shame about the Belgians.
- Stockholm & Copenhagen – Too trendy for words and all the beautiful people can be intimidating, but fun nights out and great shopping.
- Helsinki – love love love Finland – like Sweden only more Russian and fewer Europe’s Next Top Models. They have tango clubs and you can eat reindeer. LOVE.
- Zurich – Switzerland is gorgeous, the skiing is great, you can sing The Hills Are Alive, and the glaciers are melting so go now.
- Counties Clare and Kerry in Ireland (west coast) – the people are simply the best in the world. Truly atmospheric – you can roll into a pub on a rainy day, listen to music, drink beer. Some would call that wasting a day, but I call it superawesome. Ennis is a good place to start.

Off the Beaten Track but awesome
- Talinn, Estonia – weird and looks like a movie set – like Helsinki only more foreign. Don’t go expecting edible food.
- Vilnius, Lithuania – small compact town that is very well-preserved. They have a really fun night life.
- Istanbul – one of the food capitols of the universe. And the sightseeing – the mosques and the Bosphorus – cannot be beaten.
- Reykjavik, Iceland – to be honest, I’ve only flown in and out of here about 10 times, but it looks wild. I haven’t spent a serious night in town, but I hear it is awesome and the Blue Lagoon is supposed to be unmissable.
- Dubrovnik, Croatia – Ad campaign’s tag line is “like the Mediterranean used to be”, whatever that means. A little weird, but in a fun way. Dubrovnik is now a UNESCO Heritage city so most of the bullet holes are fixed. Island hopping off the coast is fun.
- Wales – if you like your holidays adventuresome – walking, horse riding, hiking and pub fighting – you may like this. Some cool towns tucked away in unlikely places. Do your research ahead of time so you don’t end up in some bombed out Welsh mining towns.

Overrated
- Athens – Athens is essentially a 3rd world city. It can be tolerable if you know someone who can take you around, and the islands in the south are amazing.
- Prague – populated by expensive (I'm told) prostitutes and film crews. Things that should be cheap aren’t, and things that aren’t cheap are yucky.
- Oslo – So expensive it hurts to breathe, but the rest of Norway is unbelievable, esp the west coast/fjords like Bergen so don’t count Norway out completely
- French wine country – breathtaking, but you feel like a giant tourist the whole time (except when drinking vast amounts of rose and being bombarded by bats, but that's a different story)
- Dublin – I love Dublin and I feel like I could go back there all the time and never get sick of it, but most people I know disagree with me.
- Budapest – inedible food and brutalist architecture. It is interesting and creative, but can be a little impenetrable if you’re only going for a weekend.
- Monte Carlo/French Riviera – I guess you have to go at some point just for the ridiculous wealth on display, but really really not my scene.
- Milan/Genoa – They work hard there. You can tell.
- Stuttgart/Frankfurt – occasionally people try to convince me that Stuttgart is the home of great German food and Frankfurt is, well, convenient. Yeah, not so much.

I’ve never been, but I hear is nice
- Madrid
- Ljubljana (seriously. supposed to be nice. whatever.)
- Munich
- Berlin

Rachel's Kitchen Nightmares

One of the great pleasures of my mom's adopted hometown, Ashland Oregon, is the restaurant reviews in the local newspaper. The area actually does have a lot of great food at all points on the spectrum, from creative-fancy American cuisine, to classic French, to great little Mexican holes-in-the-walls. The reviews, however, seem to be most concerned with the size of the portions and how they package your leftovers.

Victor kindly forwarded me the latest review, which I excerpt here:

It is early Sunday night when my dining companion and I enter the G Street Bar and Grill. The sushi chefs are making hand rolls, the aroma of french fries wafts from the kitchen — and a duo of belly dancers gyrate to hip hop music. The boom box is so loud, it reverberates in our hungry bellies.

If that aint enough to give you nightmares...it gets worse.

Between the East-West menu, the mishmash of seating and the variety of original artwork ranging from stylized murals to the nature scenes adorning each booth, this place desperately needs a cohesive makeover. The net effect is a tilt-a-whirl world reminiscent of a Baz Lurhmann film. My beau wants to head for the door. But there's something oddly appealing about the crazy jumble. It hints of culinary adventure. I want to stay.

I'm with her beau.

He graciously concedes, transfixed by the undulating bejeweled women of all shapes and ages. "This is the weirdest place we've ever been to," he says, as we slide into a ringside booth. "Might as well have a view."

Uh. I guess so. Doesnt sound like that's going to help. Trust me on this.

I suggest he order the chicken soba noodles ($7). Since he's being such a good sport, I want my soup-loving beau to order a dish he'll like.

Break up with her. Now.

But in keeping with the wacky vibe, I select the strangest item on the non-Japanese side of the menu — Halibut Foster ($15.95). The chef has morphed a fish dish into an homage to the famous dessert. My 8-ounce halibut filet will arrive covered in caramelized banana wedges and brown sugar liquor. This could be killer good.

Ok, definitely dump the cow. In case you werent paying attention, that is HALIBUT COVERED IN CARMELIZED BANANA WEDGES AND BROWN SUGAR LIQUOR. I'm pretty sure the United Nations Security Council passed a resolution at some point about a dish like that.

Her verdict on the halibut once served:

The halibut filet is smaller than expected, and has a tropical flavor due to the bananas. Its mood is very Hawaiian.

Thanks for the insight.

As an aside, I once accidentally ordered a chicken breast in a strawberry-banana sauce at a restaurant (what can I say - it was Budapest in 1993 and no English menus). When I know it might be awhile before I eat again, I sometimes think about that dish to kill my appetite.

I wont torture you with any more. But if you can believe it, she actually recommends the restaurant...and suggests you visit on belly dancing night. Might have to give that one a miss.

I am not afraid of you and I will beat your ass

I posted the wrong address for the wedding website: its http://www.iainandrachel.com/.

We have our interview by the Department of Homeland Security on December 7. I believe this is the meeting where we have to convince them that Iain and I are a real couple and they ask us questions like what are his favorite foods yadda yadda. Like The Newlywed Game, only the stakes are much, much higher.

A friend was recently diagnosed with lymphoma. Particularly cruel, because she has 2 kids, is younger than me, never smoked, and plays basketball at least twice a week (she mistakenly invited me to play with her once, not knowing that this is NOT a sport in which I excel. I'm probably more use at cricket). She is of course amazing and brave and positive. Anyway, she was asking for some "I'm going to kick cancer's ass" music for her ipod while she's doing chemo. I started on this list, but feel free to add some more:

Miracle Drug – AC Newman
Meds – Placebo
Nausea - Beck
Smile – Lily Allen
I Fought in a War – Belle & Sebastian
Wake up – Arcade Fire
I Feel It All – Feist

The Eye of the Tiger Principle:
Sweet Emotion – Aerosmith
Hey Ya – OutKast
As – Stevie Wonder
Panama – Van-bloody-Halen

And just because I like the title: I Am Not Afraid Of You and I Will Beat Your Ass – Yo La Tengo

And you will know us by our smokers cough

I'm back! Apologies for the looong delay in posts, but life/work got in the way.



The fires were truly crazytown. The fires are mostly out now, but the retro 1970's air quality remains. There's something about fires that scares me more than weather. You cant get away from fire. You cant protect yourself or your home. It is sort of like a tsunami in that sense. The big difference, of course, is most of the people that lost their homes in southern California have resources...they are not the kind of people that cant afford a car to drive out of town when the mandatory evacuations go out like Katrina. In fact, our bookers kept finding fire evacuees holed up in the Ritz-Carlton Downtown San Diego. This does not diminish their loss at all, but it is definitely a different kind of story to cover. Everyone will rebuild their homes and they will all burn down again within the next 5 years. The circle of life continues.



I cant write about work on this blog but this was our biggest field operation since Katrina and it was mental. Take me out for a drink if you want to know more on that.



Went to the LA premiere of CNN's Planet in Peril at Mann's Chinese Theatre and the party after at the Roosevelt Hotel . It was unusually swank for CNN, where parties usually involve an open bar for 15 mins and tacos that run out about 5 mins after the free bar does. Matthew McConaughey winked at me.



Stayed at a cool hotel in Santa Monica called The Oceana. Unfortunately, we were staying there because our flat has been torn to pieces. Apparently they have found traces of black mold and want to get it early. I wont bore with the details but it is driving me INSANE. Anyway, the hotel was fab, really fab.


The Save the Dates on the wedding party are going out soon. I have confirmed that the place I booked did not burn down in the Malibu fire. I thought it had, but apparently had been spared. Check out our website at www.iainandrachel.com and let me know what you think.

Random Living in this City Observations

• Junkie Palace has apparently been cleaned out and the workmen have moved in. Looks like they are gutting the place and planning to sell them as expensive condos. Neighborhood is much quieter too - no more Junkie Hootenannies at 3a. But where will I buy my crack? [ed. note. that was a joke.] Score: LAPD: 1, JUNKIES: 0.

• I am SO OVER living next to the Hollywood Bowl. The traffic in the neighborhood makes me homicidal, and having to watch drunk frat boys stumbling towards the Dave Matthews (sorry Chuck) concerts makes me long for the Apocalypse. And tonight, just to REALLY PISS ME OFF: Genesis. Who pays $250 for Genesis tickets? I can only imagine how irritable I am going to be tonight. Sake is the only answer.

• Choppers. We had crime and traffic in both NY and London and blissfully no helicopters. LA is lousy with em. In the morning as I awake, right before the coyotes drive all the neighborhood dogs insane with rage, I try to listen to the plentiful wildlife living in the trees around my apartment. Then all the morning shows send their choppers up for the traffic report and 4 days out of 5 there is an accident on the Hollywood Fwy and THEN I GO MENTAL. And dont even get me started about the Oscars or the finale of American Idol and the choppers hovering over the Kodak Theatre.... THEN my quiet little Hollywood Heights neighborhood sounds like Fallujah (well, Fallujah before they sent in all the Blackhawks and turned the sand to glass).

Well that little intemperate Friday rant made me feel much better. Off to see Michael Clayton tonight. Hurrah! More on My Own Personal Private Love Affair With Television next week. Happy weekend!

Quinn William Butler

Wincing the weekend away

Saw The Shins in concert on Sunday night, described by a local blog as a BYOVT event (Bring Your Own Vintage TShirt). I have come to the conclusion that it is impossible to see a bad concert in Los Angeles. Sure, most of the venues sell $7 Bud Light and are so airy that you never get that true "fuck yeah" rock feeling that comes from someone accidentally setting your shirt on fire with their cigarette and then using their beer to douse the flames. But sitting outside on a balmy evening listening to jangly indie music on a stage framed by giant pines with the stars flickering above is a lovely, pleasant experience. And The Shins were good too.

A group of us went bowling this weekend. I found that, disturbingly, I'm not that bad at it. We drank beer, ate buffalo wings and some crime against nature called mini mac and cheese bites, and trash talked. Sadly, the place (Lucky Strike in Hollywood) was too annoying for words and we resolved to find a less faux-ironic locale for our next outing.

Laura has promised pictures of Quinn at her earliest convenience. Stand by.

Now I'm just showing off

a gift from The Best Husband In The World.

BREAKING NEWS! It's not green

Iain received his green card late yesterday! His status has now been officially upgraded from Man of Leisure to Officially Unemployed. We are very excited.

I have avoided writing about the immigration process until we got over the first hurdle, and I dont want to jeopardize it going forward because it is far from finished, but let me just say that it has been a nightmare. I am starting to understand why people would sneak through a sewer rather than go through this process. We have tried to do everything properly and hired a $$$ lawyer to help, but even that has been incredibly difficult. Anyway, I think the worst of it should be over and hoping it is all smooth sailing from here (JINX).

TV, and raw fish

An abundance of tv joy to report, but first a mini-review of our Friday night source of joy: Izayoi. We finally got to Little Tokyo and chose this izakaya bar for our social debut. Very modern, clean Japanese decor. Most of the customers Japanese. Our mutual favorite dish was the minced sardines, wrapped in shiso leaf, and deep fried. We also liked the matsutaka (a special mushroom) tempura, sauteed shishito peppers, and shrimp and jalapeno spring roll. Iain also had the buckwheat soba (which rocked) and we shared the above sushi plate. The yellowtail and tuna were not stunning, but the spanish mackerel was so fresh it nearly flopped off the plate. I also had some sake that tasted like the sake I remember from Japan. Lots o fun. And that's not just the sake talking.




Anyway, back to the important thing...TV!!!


I did my tivo homework over the weekend, and am in tv nirvana.


Love Bionic Woman, although Starbuck playing the baddie is so much more interesting than the main actress. I was worried they would kill her off soonish, but they let Sylar stick around on Heroes for awhile so there is hope.


The show after that, Life, was pretty amusing too - like a cross between House and The Closer.


Dirty Sexy Money is (insert Peg's trill here) fabulous! Totally camptastic.


The Reaper is really funny, if not VERY Buffy.


Heroes premiere was fine. Just ok.


Gossip Girl looks good, but I was never into the OC so I think I'll kick it off my tivo.


Chuck must have cost a bomb to make, but kind of spins its wheels.


Moonlight - blech.


This week's highlights: catching up on Ramsey's Kitchen Nightmares, Pushing Daisies, and the premiere of Friday Night Lights. Dont call me until December.

I could totally see Laura doing this

Rasputin is soon to make his entrance to our troubled, conflicted world as Laura will give birth October 15th. Hurrah. Hopefully she will not do this:

Shop thief in lactation attack
Friday, September 21, 2007

A would-be shoplifter squirted her breast milk at a store detective when he tried to stop her stealing goods. The woman exposed her breasts and fired away after being confronted at a Co-op store.
The attack in Leicester is thought to be the latest in a trend in which thieves try to get their DNA on security officers so they can accuse them of sexual attacks if caught.
Graham Collins, of security company Citywatch, said: 'It started off with people picking their noses until they bleed and then accusing staff of assault.'

TV! TV! TV!

Enough of this physical activity shit. The new TV season is starting and I'm celebrating by giving Kenny The Torturer a good swift kick.






What I will watch:
1. Reaper: supposed to be funny. Reminds me of Buffy.

2. Bionic Woman: because I'm an enormous geek.

3. Dirty Sexy Money: What's not to love?

4. Pushing Daisies: supposed to be cute (some say TOO cute, but hey I'll be the judge of that).

5. Heroes: see #2.

What I will not watch:

1. Any reality show (with the exception of Ramsey's Kitchen Nightmares).

2. Boston Legal: eh not so much.

3. Cane: Although Jimmy Smits is always smokin'.

4. Journeyman: Because I'm not that much of a geek.

5. How I Met Your Mother: yeah yeah yeah, but I never really liked Friends either.

You will note that there is nothing from HBO on that list. Because THEY SUCK. Sorry, that's my disappointment talking. I tried to watch "Tell me you love me" and like so much that's supposed to be about sex, it was profoundly unsexy and unpalatably pretentious. Blech. "Deadwood" seems like such a long time ago.

I will also continue to watch the NFL in my quixotic attempt to win at least one week of the fantasy football league. Thus far, my performance has been rather like that of my team's namesake: Posh and Becks. Terribly skinny, virtually useless, but with an occasional flash of brilliance.

Death March with Cocktails*

Pictures are of us at the Arcade Fire, LCD Soundsystem concert last night at the Hollywood Bowl. That's Bruce (Iain's youngest brother) and their friend Lee. I do not have a photo of Brian as he was snuggling a new friend out of frame.

We partied like it was 1988. Both sets were amazing - Arcade Fire is tremendous live - I gotta lot of time for any band with a hurdy-gurdy. LCD was totally different than I thought they would be, but super fun. They sounded so much like the Talking Heads, it was eerie. After the concert, the boys swanned off the Chateau Marmont where a friend was DJing that night. Sounds very glam, but I went to bed. WHY? you ask. I'll tell ya.

Day 5 of the British invasion, and this visit is like a Death March with cocktails (*apologies to Tim Goodman). Lordy can those men party (and I've only been a spectator). I'm working this week so I'm in bed most nights at a normal hour, but the boys have not come stumbling home until 3a at the earliest, or the 2 days where one or 2 of them DONT COME HOME AT ALL. Just to give you a taste: Brian used his Jedi mind trick to crash a party at a club in Hollywood, which turned out to be the movie rap party for - and I'm not kidding here - "Ninja Cheerleaders". As Arcade Fire would say, "You better look out below!!"

Minne-apple report

First things first. Grandma is ok. She's 88, has a bad heart, bad lungs, and they just lopped off some of her colon, but all things considered, the tough old boot lives to fight another day. After they gave her some serious drugs, her old perky self took over. She told me lots of funny stories about the characters I have the (mostly) good fortune to be related to. i.e. My great grandpa was a bootlegger and dragged my grandpa around the upper midwest trying to outrun the feds while he sold moonshine out the back of his truck. Anyway, it was nice to have that week with her even if it was less than pleasant.

MN is an ok food town, if not a bit timid. I went to an interesting restaurant in St Paul called Heartland. I think I get what the chef is trying to do with all the local ingredients, and sometimes it worked (wild pigeon mousse with rabbit jam) and sometimes it was excessively fussy just for the hell of it ("Sherried golden-raisin-sheep-milk ricotta gateau with cinnamon creme anglaise, peach-chockecherry butter and chocolate sauce - whew!). Lovely wine and atmosphere. Also had a fun night at the local sports bar eating wings and watching college football (where did the University Kentucky fans come from?). That night was capped by me completely humiliating Dad & Ingrid in dominos. I am amused by the simplicity of their game, now bring me your finest wines and cheeses. (actually this is all a lie. i suck at dominos).

I bought a pair of "cheer myself up" Dior ballet flats. mmmmmmm.

Well, folks, its back to my daily big glass of OJ.

But its raining in my heart...

The heat has broken...thank heavens. It is now 65, which is A-OK with me.

After a protracted battle with El Jefe (my boss) involving limited tactical nuclear weapons and viciously thrown bobble-headed dolls, I have secured 5 coveted days of Paid Time Off. I plan to spend said PTO in the fine Twin Cities of Minneapolis and Saint Paul. Barring a run in with the notoriously overzealous MSP Airport Police (motto: "Keeping Bathrooms Safe Since 1876") I will be back on BrownontheBeach Monday September 17.

Grandma Angie is not well, and will need the happy feelies from all Brown on the Beach devotees. Owen Wilson doesnt need them anymore, so send em north.

You know its hot when...

It is hotter than the surface of the sun here. HOT. We went to the beach this weekend in an attempt to stay cool. Hurricanes are horrible things, but they do produce very friendly waves. I think I'm finally getting the hang of boogie boarding...or it could be that a Pacific Hurricane is the only thing to produce waves large enough to propel me through the water. My "ladies" are a little pink. Viva la SPF50.

Too hot to blog much, but feel free to email me with any amusing anecdotes I can post and claim as my own.

Sonia is obviously evil

I mean, look at her.

The evidence:

She spends the summer in London, and record floods devastate England.

She takes a late August bank holiday in Greece, and we KNOW how that turned out.

We are awaiting the plague of locusts for her October weekend in NYC.

We fought the Law and the Law won.

We learned a couple things this weekend.
1. Would CHIPS really camp at the bottom of a highway so steep that there are runaway truck ramps on either side on a Sunday giving out speeding tickets for going 14 miles over the speed limit on an 8% downhill grade? Why yes they would.
2. Did you know that California does not recognize international driver's licenses if the driver in question is now a resident in California, which makes operating a car in the state of California illegal? Why yes that's true.
3. Did you know that if you are a foreign national in the United States that it is a misdemeanor to not carry identification, including your passport, with you at all times? Yep. True.
4. Tequila=good. Sake=good. Tequila + Sake= Bad.

Postcard from another life

A friend sent me these pictures today (actually, he TAGGED me on Facebook) from some time I spent in Israel in 2002 . Seems a long time ago....

LA is funny

LA is weird. This is, of course, a well-known and explored fact. Still, this is worth a read.

L.A.: Life that art can't imitate
Reggie the alligator is further proof:
You can never make this city too crazy in fiction.
By Will Beall
August 20, 2007

So Reggie the alligator already has escaped once from his cell at the Los Angeles Zoo. Mark my words: No prison will hold him. He will escape again and steal a Ferrari Enzo.

This is what makes writing wild fiction about Los Angeles so hard. L.A. just won't be utdone. This city feeds on phantasmagoria. It mocks magic-realism and one-ups even the most florid fabulation. This city conjures car chases, for instance, that send Jerry Bruckheimer quivering to his stunt coordinator in despair. It's as though L.A. is a hoary old vaudevillian who refuses to be upstaged.

After park rangers first discovered Reggie two years ago -- some kids were trying to coax the thing out of the water with tortillas -- wranglers, wrestlers and problem-drinkers from across the country waded in to confront Lake Machado's dark prince. They all walked away empty-handed, all except Thomas "T-Bone" Quinn, a mouthy guy in a Crocodile Dundee hat. Turned out he was a wanted fugitive, so Los Angeles sheriff's deputies booked him on his warrant.

Reggie remained at large, perhaps feeding on the child molesters and sub-prime mortgage lenders who wandered too close to the water's edge. Eventually, in May, some city workers lassoed him and duct-taped him up. Which was for the best. Let's face it: Reggie is 7 1/2 feet long and 120 pounds, and he makes a lot of furtive movements. If it had been LAPD guys taking Reggie down, there would have been a video.

Reggie had his own noir back story worthy of a Warren Zevon song. The gator allegedly was dumped in the lake by an ex-L.A. cop. When the LAPD raided this dude's pad, officers found six marijuana plants, three more alligators, a rattlesnake and piranhas.

Piranhas. I'm not kidding. The police department now has set procedures for piranha encounters, but if I let them nibble someone in my next book, people will tell me it's just not realistic.

Anyway, this article is really funny if you want to read the whole thing. Click here if you want to read more about Reggie the Alligator. He, of course, has his own blog and myspace page. This is LA after all.

Best. Birthday. Ever.

The week-long Celebration of Rachel has sadly drawn to a close. Apologies for the delay on the Osteria Mozza review, but all that Celebrating is exhausting. Without any further ado:

THE FOOD: The menu was separated into 4 different courses: Starters, Mozzarella Bar, Primi Piatti (pasta) and Secondi (meat & fish). I started with the Crispy Pig Trotter (in for a penny, in for a pound), served with a mustard sauce and frisee and beet salad. Iain ordered the Burrata (mozzarella stuffed with cream) with bacon and braised escarole. We drank Prosecco. I'd had stuffed pig's trotter in Italy a couple times, and recalled it as being like a milder, coarser sausage. This was obviously something different and slimier and not terribly pleasant, but Iain's burrata was revelatory. The bitter escarole balanced the out-of-this-world richness of the burrata amazingly well. The coowner, Nancy Silverton, was behind the Mozzarella Bar and was I assume personally making the cheese appetizers. For the next course, I had the agnolotti with butter and sage and The Boy had gnocchi with light tomato sauce. Both were simple and fantastically made. The waiter had suggested a Barbera with the pasta course which we enjoyed.

I'm mildly embarassed to admit that at this point I was full, but not too stuffed to greatly anticipate my main course: Lamb Scottadino, or "burnt fingers" referring, I guess, to the preparation technique. Basically its roasted lamb chops served in this case with pearl pasta, and a tangy yogurt, cucumber and paprika sauce. Awesome. Iain had the grilled whole Orata (dorade -like a sea bass). Again, very simple, very nice. We had a wine varietal I didnt recognize or remember from Campagnia, but it was as well excellent. I topped the meal with melted chocolate and caramel gelato, and Iain had frutti di bosco sorbet.

THE LOOK: Very elegant room black and white bistro-type room - lighting about one notch too low, but I suppose that makes it easier for most of the clientele to hide the facelift scars. The room is loud, but tolerable.

THE JUDGEMENT: Osteria Mozza is a great special occasion place - fancy but not formal, interesting but not fussy. The service was friendly and not insanely aggressive like at Pizzeria Mozza. To cap it off, "Exile on Main Street" (the entire album) played through most of the and when "Gimme Shelter" came on about the same time as the Lamb arrived I almost burst into tears. Soundtrack for dessert was Elvis Costello. LOVE LOVE LOVE.

I'd like to say I'm eating air and drinking water now to compensate, but....

I am 37.

My bday card from Meanboy and Bun above. In case you are wondering, gay water is Absolut Mandarin and cranberry juice - my cocktail of choice to celebrate my bday.

The Boy has secured a coveted reservation at Osteria Mozza for tonight's festivities. I suspect that his accent is what got us the reservation - gotta be good for something in this town. You might remember, dear Reader, that I was mightily irritated by my visit to Pizzeria Mozza. But birthdays are a time for reconsidering one's life and priorities and progress. Birthdays are not, dear Reader, a time to hold grudges. Especially when short rib agnolotti is involved. I am unclear from the (mostly glowing) reviews if the sublime Butterscotch Budino your loyal author enjoyed at PM is on offer at OM, but one can only hope. My full review tomorrow. Until then, may your pasta always be al dente.

Soaked in beer and lightly grilled

Spent the weekend in Chicago for Leslie's 40th bday bonanza. Myself and the other out of town interlopers took the opportunity to sample Chicago's finest at Hot Doug's Encased Meat Parlor. As the tshirt says, there are no finer words in the English language than "encased meats". I had one regular Chicago dog "dragged through the garden" and a bratwurst, soaked in beer and lightly grilled, with sauerkraut and mustard. Both were delectable and not scary at all to eat, although the electric green relish on the dog was a little disconcerting. As a special giant kick in the ass to my diet, we all split an order of fries which, on the weekend, are fried in duck fat. They were ok, but not sure its worth violating The Surge.

The party was a typically baroque foodie affair: one attendee made 200 mini cupcakes (4 different flavors including hostess cupcake and lemon almond) with little pictures of Leslie in 7th grade on each (each!) one. Another brought 200 minicheeseburgers. I stuck pretty close to the vat of Leslie's Lime Punch, which reminded me of the punch Liz, Verna, and I created in inflatable pools during high school (hope Mom & Dad arent reading!).

In other news, the LAPD raided Junkie Palace across the street twice last week: SWAT-ified, guns drawn, all the bells and whistles. I tried to call Hollywood PD today to get the lowdown on it but no one had heard of the operations. How many raids can they conduct in a week to have not heard of what's going on?

Doing my civic doodie

Apologies for the posting delays, but I was on jury duty on Tuesday. A very interesting experience. I thought that by flashing my press pass around and maybe dropping Nancy Grace's name I'd be dismissed immediately. Not so. The jury foreman in the Phil Spector murder trial is a producer for "Dateline" who has interviewed most of the defense and prosecution witnesses for his stories. As everyone in the WORLD knows, the LA legal system is a strange and mysterious machine. The courthouse I reported to is the same where the Spector trial is taking place (and the OJ trial). There were about 200 of us, about 60% Latino, 20% Asian, and 20% everything else. They called up about 150. I sat around, read Vanity Fair, and they let me go at about 3:30.

The upside to jury duty is excellent lunch choices. The criminal courts building is close to Little Tokyo and Olivera Street (Mexican!), but I opted for Vietnamese. Best beef and rice noodle salad I've had maybe ever and pretty good fresh spring rolls too. Alas, today I'm back in Hollywood and my only lunch choice is Lean Cuisine. Sigh.

PS - Saw Bourne Ultimatum last night. YAY! v fun.

Only Disconnect

I have 9 tvs in my office and they are all on all day. Most of the time the daytime dreck just sort of wafts over me, but I just happened to catch Oprah's show on hip hop dance lessons. Words fail me. A little piece of me has died.

The Boy and I went to Sacramento this weekend to visit Laura, Chuck, and her royal Sophianess. Very enjoyable weekend with a tour through the Amador County wine country and bocce grudge matches for the adults, and lots of make believe princess play for Sophia (and me). I stocked up on a fun (and cheap!) Sangiovese from Noceto, an elegant Syrah from C.G. di Arie, and a really complex and grassy Sauvignon Blanc from Cooper Vineyards. All are highly recommended.

We have another reason for celebrating fast approaching...no not my birthday. The end of "John From Cincinatti". This show is supposed to be an existential meditation on how we connect with our fellow humans. It makes me want to, with apologies to EM Forster, only disconnect.

The Family Curse

My back is killing me. OUCH. Bad backs run in my family, so I suppose it was only a matter of time before it afflicted me. I think I pulled something while fraternizing with Kenny the Torturer. Because both my parents struggle with their backs I know that there is no easy cure/pill you can take to fix it. But I am slightly bitter because I thought I was doing everything right: I work out, and do special exercises to build up strength in my lower back, I have lost weight, I have an ergonomic desk and keyboard so I'm not hunched over all day. Grrrr. I cant really think properly at work if I dont take painkillers, and if I take painkillers then I cant really think properly at work. So you see my dilemma.

I will have to rely on my illness cureall: watching "Pride and Predjudice" dvds over and over again until I feel better.

Le Geek, C'est Chic

The Boy and I went to Comic-Con in San Diego on Friday, supposedly the largest pop culture convention in the world. It was completely overwhelming and totally hilarious. The Boy is more interested in this stuff than I am, although I definitely do have a deep and wide geekstreak that embraces Battlestar Galactica etc. Basically, the convention includes booths and presentations from most of the movie, tv, and publishing houses plus lots of activities for all the fans. People come in elaborate costumes (pictured above and below) - my favorite was the giant transvestite dressed as Princess Leia. There was a long line of very angry becostumed Harry Potter fans being turned away at the door of the Harry Potter Fan Club presentation - if they could have cast a spell turning the security guard into a toad, they would have. Lots of storm troopers and Japanese anime characters too. We attended the New Line presentation with Clive Owen (ridiculously gorgeous in person. seriously. I mean it) and the director of his new movie. They also showed the initial shots of the "Golden Compass" movie which I am very excited about (if you havent read the Dark Materials books, DO). We were going to stay for the Blade Runner panel with Ridley Scott and the designers, but we decided to skip in favor of more wandering the floor. I'll have to dust off my Boba Fett costume for next year.

Completely random musings

Best new word: "radgical". Rad + Magical. Coined by a 4 year old.

Some people like cop shows and some people like hospital shows. What does your choice say about you?

Best at the Farmer's Market this week: peaches, strawberries, heirloom tomatoes. Is Caprese salad the best salad ever invented? Is it a salad?

Best new music: Feist "The Reminder"

Vote of the Day

Johnson's Baby Shampoo is running a contest to find kids with the best hair. Which picture of Sophie and her crazy hair do you like best? Tell all!

What I did with my weekend

My new friends had a party for me. I'm cursing my footwear choice - I can barely walk today!

The game was FUN. The Galaxy did appear to show up for the game, although Chelsea did predictably wipe the pitch/field with them. Beckham played the last 12 minutes and people screamed like he was the second coming of Christ. Or Justin Timberlake. A great great atmosphere. I'm sure most Brits would be horrified by the lack of commitment - I can guarantee you that 80% of these people wont be here when the Galaxy plays Real Salt Lake - but people were well into it on Saturday. A flash stadium, beer, famous people, and sunshine...who cares if Beckham plays like an old woman.

Pictures of us roasting in the album below. Yes, that's grass we're sitting on.

Beckham debut

A bad case of Goldenballs Fever

We are going to Chelsea vs. (Someone) + Beckham tomorrow. Beckham's tender, tricky, delicate aahhhhhhhh (sorry) ankle will probably prevent him from playing, but seeing Chelsea should be fun anyway. Drogba and Essien played in the first game against the Suwon Blu Butterflies, or something like that, which Chelsea appeared to almost lose. Or sleep through. Or something. Whatever. That's about as much soccer/footie as I can manage. I will at least be able to tell my children when David Beckham declared world peace. I was there with my buzz on.


UPDATE on Da Hood: We did get a bit more backstory on the local crime wave. Apparently the owner of the building died and left it to his junkie son who invites all his screaming junkie friends over for nightly hootenannies (thanks for the invite! must be lost in the mail!). Luis the Landlord of Vengeance paid us a visit to hand deliver our rent increase (thanks! glad that didnt get lost in the mail!) and was treated to his own special performance from the crew. He spoke with the police on the scene, and they assured us that the place has been raided, everyone arrested, but they are all now back. Well that was useful. Luis is now taking it up again. His last wave of vengeance was interrupted by a most ill-timed vacation to Tuscany, but hopefully he will devote more attention now.

Happy Friday!

Bitter and Twisted is Back!

Since you asked, yes I do miss London.

Oh there is SO much to not miss (weather, traffic, expense, shit randomly blowing up) but there is NOTHING like London in the summer. Sonia's dry spell has ended, and she is back in Relationshipland which heralds the return of BITTER AND TWISTED SONIA. BandT is a truly beautiful thing to behold.

Knowing I was slightly adoptedhomesick, she was torturing me with tales of summer frolics in London. She reports a new art exhibit at the Hayward Gallery by Antony Gormley featuring human figures placed in the area around the Gallery on the South Bank. Our intrepid correspondent also reports that the South Bank revitalization project is proceding apace ("Now featuring 25% less homeless!!") and there are some lovely bars and restaurants to populate the newly cleansed space. She and the Source of her Deep Bitterness (pictured above) were having lovely beverages outside the Hayward watching passerby reactions to the Gormley installation. No one, I mean no one, can resist a statue with a penis. Anyway, I do miss London but the only thing that saves me is the fact that Bitter and Twisted Sonia is wearing a coat and The Source is wearing a sweater IN JULY. Ha. Ha. Ha.

Why my diet The Surge is like the real Surge in Iraq

1. Both are difficult
2. Neither are working very well at the moment.
3. Both need some time before we judge them a success or failure.
4. Both were billed as temporary solutions (diet till the wedding! vs troops until September) but are most likely going need to become permanent to have any impact at all.
5. Extension of both Surges will make a lot of people (me!) very angry.
6. Both feature lots of sweating.

A pretty good chicken recipe, actually

First of all, thank you to all my many fans that helped make my Beckham write one of the top viewed stories on the CNN.com website for the day. 360,000 hits before noon - more than 1/4 of a MILLION people. I would like to say it is my extraordinary writing ability that thinking people everywhere are clamoring to read, but I fear I could have written "tooth decay... tooth decay...BECKHAM.... tooth decay... tooth decay.... BECKHAM" over and over and still would have hit the 1/4 million club. Sigh.

Dancing was sort of a non-starter. The DJ blew out the sound system on Michael Jackson "Rock With You" and so we rolled. We did see the employee screening of Harry Potter at 9am on Sat morning - v.v. good, actually. If you cant stand all that blathering about wizards and witches and bibbidy bobbidy boo bullshit, this is still worth seeing. Amazing to look at. We also saw "Transformers" and there was LESS than meets the eye. Shit blows up. You get the picture.

Anyway, as a prize for sitting through that drivel: My new favorite chicken breast recipe. I dont really like chicken, and like grilled chicken breasts even less: that fluffy tasteless flesh leaves me cold. But the Obsessive Compulsives at Cooks Illustrated recently printed a recipe that I think is tasty and easy. Maybe you all have a great go-to chicken recipes, but if not this one's pretty good.

1 tsp Dijon mustard
2 TB lemon juice
6 TB olive oil
1 TB parsley leaves
1 ¼ tsp sugar
Salt & Pepper

3 garlic cloves pressed
2 TB water
4 chicken breasts

Whisk together mustard, 1 TB lemon juice, 3 TB olive oil, parsley, ¼ tsp sugar, ¼ tsp salt, and ¼ tsp pepper. Set aside.

Whisk together remaining TB lemon juice, 3 TB olive oil, tsp sugar, 1 ½ tsp salt, ½ tsp pepper, garlic, water,. Put in ziplock w chicken. Marinates no less than 30 mins and no more than 1 hour.

[hysterically convoluted grilling directions] to summarize: on medium-hot grill, put chicken breasts smooth side down and put top down on grill. Cook until grill marks show (about 6-9 mins). Rotate and flip chicken and cover grill. Flip and cook again 1 min each side. Take off grill and let sit for a bit. Cut into slices and drizzle with sauce.

My what a large democracy you have

Washington DC - Heming's wedding

What could be more romantic than Washington DC in July? Delhi? Mogadishu? Mobile, Alabama? Answer: If you like your Greek iconography plentiful and your sweat thick, then DC is the place for you. Otherwise, feh.

That said, the wedding was lovely. The highlight was clearly the chair dance - you had to feel pity for the 12 guys it took to get a nearly 7-foot Norwegian hoisted overhead. Click onto the album above to see photos. Twas very nice to see Gus and Joanna and the budding southern socialite Georgia Bahn.

We did have a couple inspiring meals in DC. My favorite was at Cashion's Eat Place in the Adams Morgan neighborhood. I started with a papardelle and blue crab dish (nice, simple, buttery) and had filet of wild king salmon with spring pea sauce and creamed corn (also, fresh, simple). The salmon's presentation looked like a preppy's dream - circles of pink, green, and yellow - perfect for DC. I had an amazing Orvieto with the salmon that proved to be the highlight. Unfortunately, so much of a highlight I forgot to jot down the name. Some restaurant reviewer I'd make.

DC's sights are always inspiring as well. We walked from Capitol Hill to the Lincoln Memorial with detours at the Vietnam Memorial and the WWII Memorial. Kind of hokey, but I still get choked up when I read the Gettysburg Address. We also went to the National Archives to see the Bill of Rights, Constitution, and Declaration of Independence and to the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum. The weather was over 95f, humid, and deeply, deeply unpleasant the entire time.

The Boy and I plan to accompany Pegchismo to the Mountain Bar tonight for female DJ night and some earnest dancing. There may be a day when the Boy and I do not go out on a Friday and throw ourselves around in a most undignified fashion (known in some circles as DANCING) but this Friday, my friends, is not that day.

Catch Goldenball Fever!

Check out my write on David Beckham coming to LA and help boost my hits!

We interrupt this blog...

I’m heading to DC tomorrow morning to plea for clemency, apply to be the new head of the World Bank, and attend my 7foot friend’s wedding. I do not think I will be posting while I am there, but I will have many tall tales when I return.

Sex! Sex! Sex!

According to this very strange monitoring device, my blog is rated PG-13 because I mention "murder" twice and "gun" once which were from my heavily (self-) censored posts on Iraq. Apparently my multimedia post on transsexual porn stars is appropriate for preteens.

Good show, old chaps

Favorite quotes today from Almost-Blitz '07 coverage of the London bombs over the weekend:

From the "he was always such a quiet lad" file: "I am sure Mohammed does not have any links of this nature, because his history in Jordan and since he was a kid does not include any kind of activity of this nature," the father said.

From the "but he thought he'd blow them up anyway" file: "He told us people were nice and considerate and did not discriminate against them on the basis of their religion or colour," the father said.

From the "that's because the mobile phone was being used in a bomb" file: In recent days, the family had been unable to reach their son on his mobile phone and began to worry that something might be wrong.

The boy has the best quote on the latest Blitz '07: "For terrorists, they are rather crap".

3 sure signs of the coming apocalypse, my age

Three of my favorite college anthems, now being used to shill totally inappropriate products:

1. "Unbelievable" by EMF, horrifically translated as "Crumbelievable" to sell Kraft's Natural Cheese Products. Kill me.

2. Oasis doing cell phone ads. They dont even call them cell phones in England.

The most depressing:

3. "Sunny Side of the Street" by the Pogues to sell grotesque oversized repulsive Cadillac Escalade SUVs (I know I know some people NEED SUVs - they are big and can carry lots of stuff! and people! and children! My objection is to the sheer tack of the Escalade). I can only hope this is some hilarious inside joke from some ad exec. I listened to this album, "Hell's Ditch", on pretty much permanent rotation my junior year in London. There's so many songs on it that captured my mood at the time, being young and in London and obscenely happy and terrified of the huge city all at the same time. While it is not my favorite Pogues album ("If I Should Fall from Grace with God"), Hell's Ditch is pretty great (hurrah Lorca's Novena and the title song!)

My only consolation is the sheer inappropriateness of the lyrics. Imagine with me the Stepford Wife in the ad singing along with Shane MacGowan, the toothless alcoholic Irishman who fronts the Pogues (when he can get out of bed or off the bar floor)...

Seen the carnival at Rome

Had the women I had the booze

All I can remember now

Is little kids without no shoes

So I saw that train

And I got on it

With a heartful of hate

And a lust for vomit

Now I'm walking on the sunnyside of the street.

Stepped over bodies in Bombay

Tried to make it to the U.S.A.

Ended up in Nepal

Up on the roof with nothing at all

And I knew that day

I was going to stay

Right where I am, on the sunnyside of the street

Been in a palace, been in a jail

I just don't want to be reborn a snail

Just want to spend eternity

Right where I am, on the sunnyside of the street

As my mother wept it was then I swore

To take my life as I would a whore

I know I'm better than before

I will not be reconstructed

Just wanna stay right here

On the sunnyside of the street.

I watch, so you dont have to

An amazing confluence of celebrity on Sunset Boulevard yesterday. Paul McCartney playing a not-so-secret gig at the Amoeba Records across the street and a certain jailbird appearing at our humble studios for an interview. I can honestly say, I've never seen hype like this. A full-on paparazzi clusterfandango. I like what the NYT had to say about this morning: "There is a bizarre counter-effect to the Paris Hilton phenomenon: a little like the children’s taunt, 'I’m rubber, you’re glue,' the sheer absurdity of her fame ensures that anyone who denigrates it looks even more foolish." So shut up.

As for the interview...unless you have currently emerged from a cave, or were watching Lou Dobbs for 24 hours straight, you probably are aware of the content. But in the event you were considering actually watching the damn interview, dont bother.

Here's my log:

- cops to having ADD and on medication but cant really explain what it does to her
- says she has never used illegal drugs and "really isn’t that into" drinking
- her hair person is wearing a "jesus is my homeboy" tshirt in, I believe, an unironic fashion.
- Far too much talk about "pathways" and "crossroads"
- I think Larry is calling it "ADT" like the security company now.
- Oh God she’s going to read from the notebooks again.
- "I work very hard and haven’t taken any money from my family"
- Larry: "So you like to party, but its not drugs?"
- She has a new appreciation for life, is no different than anyone else, has not been treated differently.
- "I did my time"
- Larry: "Do you have any friends in rehab?" [NOTE TO LK: she is clearly not going to cop to anything more serious than ADD]
- Lord save us from these notebooks.
- She knows prison reoffending stats [I smell a Crisis Manager]
- She voted in the midterm election.

There you are. The problems of the universe are solved.

Real poh-leece

We've just finished season 3 of The Wire and are in serious withdrawal, but no worries: we have a real-life drama right outside! The George Michael Memorial Home for Disgraced Music Stars (eg. my apt) is under siege. My house is on an intersection in Hollywood near the Hollywood Bowl, so it was never going to be retirement home fodder. But some drug cartel took over the apartment bldg across the street and the friendly guys started making an almighty ruckus in the neighborhood. The ever-powerful Luis the Landlord decided to take matters in hand. Our City Council member was informed, and the police have just crawled right up our new neighbor's hindquarters. We're talking midnight busts, helicopters, and swat teams. I -heart- Luis the Landlord! My new favorite pastime is surfing the LAPD's CrimeMap website and mapping all the aggravated assault and violent robberies in my neighborhood. And the cherry on the top: the parking police are towing every car that parks outside my house. I'm very popular.

Speaking of popular...I'm on Facebook now. This blog is already so much work, I dont think I'll really get much of a chance to play with it, but hey the kidz seem to like. I always associate it with someone meeting a violent end - its the first place journalists look for pix of a random murder victim.

Speaking of neighborhood crime watch: my friend Peter writes on his real estate blog about a pretty hilarious scam. Woman buys a rundown house and waits to get permits before she moves in. She's looking for a local rental nearby, finds one that looks perfect on Craigslist...and it is HER HOUSE. Hilarity ensues. Check it out.

One more random note: John from Cincinatti is causing divisions in the Brown-McFadyen household. He likes, I think John is the Jar-Jar Binks of premium cable.

Why I dont write about politics on my blog

Journalists dole out cash to politicians (quietly)
By Bill Dedman, Investigative reporter, MSNBC

BOSTON - A CNN reporter gave $500 to John Kerry's campaign the same month he was embedded with the U.S. Army in Iraq. An assistant managing editor at Forbes magazine not only sent $2,000 to Republicans, but also volunteers as a director of an ExxonMobil-funded group that questions global warming. A junior editor at Dow Jones Newswires gave $1,036 to the liberal group MoveOn.org and keeps a blog listing "people I don't like," starting with George Bush, Pat Robertson, the Christian Coalition, the NRA and corporate America ("these are the people who are really in charge").

Whether you sample your news feed from ABC or CBS (or, yes, even NBC and MSNBC), whether you prefer Fox News Channel or National Public Radio, The Wall Street Journal or The New Yorker, some of the journalists feeding you are also feeding cash to politicians, parties or political action committees.

MSNBC.com identified 144 journalists who made political contributions from 2004 through the start of the 2008 campaign, according to the public records of the Federal Election Commission. Most of the newsroom checkbooks leaned to the left: 125 journalists gave to Democrats and liberal causes. Only 17 gave to Republicans. Two gave to both parties.

The donors include CNN's Guy Raz, now covering the Pentagon for NPR, who gave to Kerry the same month he was embedded with U.S. troops in Iraq; New Yorker war correspondent George Packer; a producer for Bill O'Reilly at Fox; MSNBC TV host Joe Scarborough; political writers at Vanity Fair; the editor of The Wall Street Journal's weekend edition; local TV anchors in Washington, Minneapolis, Memphis and Wichita; the ethics columnist at The New York Times; and even MTV's former presidential campaign correspondent.

'If someone had murdered Hitler ...'

There's a longstanding tradition that journalists don't cheer in the press box. They have opinions, like anyone else, but they are expected to keep those opinions out of their work. Because appearing to be fair is part of being fair, most mainstream news organizations discourage marching for causes, displaying political bumper stickers or giving cash to candidates.

Traditionally, many news organizations have applied the rules to only political reporters and editors. The ethic was summed up by Abe Rosenthal, the former New York Times editor, who is reported to have said, "I don't care if you sleep with elephants as long as you don't cover the circus."

But with polls showing the public losing faith in the ability of journalists to give the news straight up, some major newspapers and TV networks are clamping down. They now prohibit all political activity - aside from voting - no matter whether the journalist covers baseball or proofreads the obituaries. The Times in 2003 banned all donations, with editors scouring the FEC records regularly to watch for in-house donors. In 2005, The Chicago Tribune made its policy absolute. CBS did the same last fall. And The Atlantic Monthly, where a senior editor gave $500 to the Democratic Party in 2004, says it is considering banning all donations. After MSNBC.com contacted Salon.com about donations by a reporter and a former executive editor, this week Salon banned donations for all its staff.

What changed? First came the conservative outcry labeling the mainstream media as carrying a liberal bias. The growth of talk radio and cable slugfests gave voice to that claim. The Iraq war fueled distrust of the press from both sides. Finally, it became easier for the blogging public to look up the donors.
As the policy at the Times puts it: "Given the ease of Internet access to public records of campaign contributors, any political giving by a Times staff member would carry a great risk of feeding a false impression that the paper is taking sides."

But news organizations don't agree on where to draw the ethical line.

Giving to candidates is allowed at Fox, Forbes, Time, The New Yorker, Reuters - and at Bloomberg News, whose editor in chief, Matthew Winkler, set the tone by giving to Al Gore in 2000. Bloomberg has nine campaign donors on the list.

Donations and other political activity are strictly forbidden at The Washington Post, ABC, CBS, CNN and NPR.
Politicking is discouraged, but there is some wiggle room, at Dow Jones, Newsweek and U.S. News & World Report.

NBC, MSNBC and MSNBC.com say they don't discourage or encourage campaign contributions, but they require employees to report any potential conflicts of interest in advance and receive permission of the senior editor. (MSNBC.com is a joint venture of NBC Universal and Microsoft; its employees are required to adhere to NBC News policies regarding political contributions.)

Many of the donating journalists cover topics far from politics: food, fashion, sports. Some touch on politics from time to time: Even a film critic has to review Gore's documentary on global warming. And some donors wield quiet influence behind the scenes, such as the wire editors at newspapers in Honolulu and Riverside, Calif., who decide which state, national and international news to publish.

The pattern of donations, with nearly nine out of 10 giving to Democratic candidates and causes, appears to confirm a leftward tilt in newsrooms - at least among the donors, who are a tiny fraction of the roughly 100,000 staffers in newsrooms across the nation.

The donors said they try to be fair in reporting and editing the news. One of the recurring themes in the responses is that it's better for journalists to be transparent about their beliefs, and that editors who insist on manufacturing an appearance of impartiality are being deceptive to a public that already knows journalists aren't without biases.
"Our writers are citizens, and they're free to do what they want to do," said New Yorker editor David Remnick, who has 10 political donors at his magazine. "If what they write is fair, and they respond to editing and counter-arguments with an open mind, that to me is the way we work."

The openness didn't extend, however, to telling the public about the donations. Apparently none of the journalists disclosed the donations to readers, viewers or listeners. Few told their bosses, either.

Several of the donating journalists said they had no regrets, whatever the ethical concerns.

"Probably there should be a rule against it," said New Yorker writer Mark Singer, who wrote the magazine's profile of Howard Dean during the 2004 campaign, then gave $250 to America Coming Together and its get-out-the-vote campaign to defeat President Bush. "But there's a rule against murder. If someone had murdered Hitler - a journalist interviewing him had murdered him - the world would be a better place. I only feel good, as a citizen, about getting rid of George Bush, who has been the most destructive president in my lifetime. I certainly don't regret it."

Conservative-leaning journalists tended to greater generosity. Ann Stewart Banker, a producer for Bill O'Reilly at Fox News Channel, gave $5,000 to Republicans. Financial columnist Liz Peek at The New York Sun gave $90,000 to the Grand Old Party.

A few journalists let their enthusiasm extend beyond the checkbook. A Fox TV reporter in Omaha, Calvert Collins, posted a photo on Facebook.com with her cozying up to a Democratic candidate for Congress. She urged her friends, "Vote for him Tuesday, Nov. 7!" She also gave him $500. She said she was just trying to build rapport with the candidates. (And what builds rapport more effectively than $500 and a strapless gown?)

'You call that a campaign contribution?'

Sometimes a donation isn't a donation, at least in the eye of the donor.

"I don't make campaign contributions," said Jean A. Briggs, who gave a total of $2,000 to the Republican Party and Republican candidates, most recently this March. "I'm the assistant managing editor of Forbes magazine."

When asked about the Republican National Committee donations, she replied, "You call that a campaign contribution? It's not putting money into anyone's campaign."
(For the record: The RNC gave $25 million to the Bush-Cheney campaign in 2004.)

A spokeswoman for Forbes said the magazine allows contributions.

Briggs also is listed as a board member of the Property and Environment Research Center, which advocates "market solutions to environmental problems." PERC has received funding from ExxonMobil and other oil companies, and tries to get the industry's views into textbooks and the media. The organization's Web site says, "She exposes fellow New York journalists to PERC ideas and also brings a journalistic perspective to PERC's board. As a board member, she seeks to help spread the word about PERC's thorough research and fresh ideas."

Americans don't trust the news or newspeople as much as they used to. The crisis of faith is traced by the surveys of the Pew Research Center for the People & the Press. More than seven in ten (72 percent) say news organizations tend to favor one side, the highest level of skepticism in the poll's 20-year history. Despite the popularity of Bill O'Reilly and Keith Olbermann, two-thirds of those polled say they prefer to get news from sources without a particular point of view.

'My readers know my views'

George Packer is The New Yorker's man in Iraq.

The war correspondent for the magazine since 2003 and author of the acclaimed 2005 book "The Assassins' Gate: America in Iraq," Packer gave $750 to the Democratic National Committee in August 2004 and $250 to Iraq war veteran Paul Hackett, an anti-war Democrat who campaigned unsuccessfully for a seat in Congress from Ohio in 2006.
In addition to his reported pieces, Packer also writes commentary for the magazine, such as his June 11 piece ruing Bush's "shallow, unreflective character."
"My readers know my views on politics and politicians because I make no secret of them in my comments for The New Yorker and elsewhere," Packer said. "If giving money to a politician prejudiced my ability to think and write honestly, I wouldn't do it. Fortunately, it doesn't."

His colleague Judith Thurman wrote the New Yorker's sympathetic profile of Teresa Heinz Kerry , published on Sept. 27, 2004. Ten days later, the Democratic National Committee recorded Thurman's donation of $1,000. She did not return phone calls.

Their editor, Remnick, said that the magazine's writers don't do straight reporting. "Their opinions are out there," Remnick said. "There's nothing hidden." So why not disclose campaign donations to readers? "Should every newspaper reporter divulge who they vote for?"

Besides, there's the magazine's famously rigorous editing. The last bulwark against bias's slipping into The New Yorker is the copy department, whose chief editor, Ann Goldstein, gave $500 in October to MoveOn.org, which campaigns for Democrats and against President Bush. "That's just me as a private citizen," she said. As for whether donations are allowed, Goldstein said she hadn't considered it. "I've never thought of myself as working for a news organization."

Embedded in Iraq, giving to Kerry

Guy Raz does work for a news organization.

As the Jerusalem correspondent for CNN, he was embedded with U.S. troops in Iraq in June 2004, when he gave $500 to John Kerry.

He didn't supply his occupation or employer to the Kerry campaign, so his donation is listed in federal records with only his name and London address. Now he covers the Pentagon for NPR. Both CNN and NPR forbid political activity.

"I covered international news and European Union stories. I did not cover U.S. news or politics," Raz said in an e-mail to MSNBC.com. When asked how one could define U.S. news so it excludes the U.S. war in Iraq, Raz didn't reply.