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?