The shower

 

Lindsay's bridal shower was an event befitting her. There were lots of people. There was lots of fuss. And it was a lot of fun.

There were two parts. Part 1: for the older people was the bridal shower held by Lindsay's future mother in law. She went all out, preparing tea sandwiches (which I LOVED -- I'm a total tea sandwich nut). She had games and prizes (I won two, but only got one prize ...). The cake was from the bakery that's doing the wedding cake, and it was really good. It has the whipped cream type of frosting, made with real butter, which I just love.

I had a lot of fun, but then I always have fun when I can crack myself up, which I do regularly -- such as when I dubbed Ryan "The Guz" in high school, to much hilarity, and it turned out to be his real nickname, which was even MORE hilarious. Amber and I were amusing each other and ourselves. I think the rest of the girls were just putting in their time until they could all head out in two limos to L.A. for dinner and drinks.

Alcohol was also available in the limos, so the girls had lots of boozy fun. I'm not sure when I ended up on the old side of the divide between fun and tradition, but I suppose it's a natural progression. I'm just not sure I'm ready. I suppose I must be because the thought of going to L.A. with a bunch of inebriated kids does nothing for me, but giggling about Ryan's nickname is actually a pretty good time.

Courtney enjoyed herself, although being eight months pregnant really doesn't put one in much of a partying mood. Besides it's not every day that an Ohio girl gets to take a limo to Hollywood to celebrate her sister's upcoming nuptuals.

Funnyman

 

Lindsay's bridal shower is this weekend. OK. Sigh, I can handle it. Ryan's mom is hosting, so I don't have to do anything. There will be games, which I abhor, but I'll play along in my usual sarcastic, obnoxious, but ever so clever, way.

We've all been saddened by the news that Courtney can't make it to the wedding. Her OB/GYN moved her due date up a couple of weeks so she will be two weeks from when she's expected to have baby No. 2, poor, leftover, second fiddle Alex. This pretty much precludes her from traveling and we were all bummed. Lindsay and Courtney have been extremely close their whole lives -- maybe it's the little extra genetic closeness they share, maybe it was in reaction to mommy and daddy being apart -- but they love each other dearly. So for Lindsay to get married without Courtney, who was going to be the matron of honor, is a really huge, hairy deal.

Last week Rob came up with the idea of Courtney coming out for the bridal shower. She can still travel, although it will be miserable. This was such a great idea and Courtney and Dave got the time off and here they are. Rob wanted it to be a surprise for Lindsay, but I had to hog telling her the news. I knew Courtney would tell her anyway. Rob's still fuming about that and I'm still gloating.

In anticipation of my grandson's visit, I wanted to make homemade graham crackers. I have this recipe in my cookie recipe book that I've wanted to try out and I want to give my grandson some healthy food while he's out here. He appears to be a milk junkie at the moment and it's a good idea to give him some other things to eat.

There I was last night, kneading the dough and rolling it out. Pricking it all over and baking it. I lovingly trimmed the crackers and put them in a container. When I got up I asked Rob if he'd tried one of my homemade graham crackers. He said,"What's the matter? Didn't they have them at the store?"

"What are you going to make next," he asked. "Saltines."

Ha. Ha. He's been repeating it all day, he's so proud of himself.

P.S. The graham crackers are really good and taste different from the store-bought ones.

David Sedaris ★ Steven Barclay Agency

Rob and I went to see one of our favorite authors, David Sedaris, in Santa Barbara on Saturday. I had bought the tickets for a performance by David Sedaris and Sarah Vowell as a Christmas present. I'd been searching for tickets to see David Sedaris for some time because I just love his readings on This American Life, so this seemed as though it would be a really fun thing for us to share. Rob and I rarely plan events for ourselves, so we were both pretty excited about this night out.

We had a blast.

We went to dinner at our favorite restaurant in Santa Barbara, The Paradise Cafe, which has the best hamburger around. It's oak grilled and you can get it medium and it's juicy and fantastic. I had a burger and Rob had a porterhouse steak. We made fun of the rich people -- well made fun of and envied them. There was the requisite perfectly groomed older woman whose hunched-over frailty was in direct contrast to her smooth, flawless face.

Plastic surgery in real life tends to look weird. The surgeons have it down so that there's nothing wrong with what you're seeing, but somehow up front and personal there's something jarring about a face that's seen a lot of surgery. It's too plastic, waxy and not quite real. I guess they call it plastic surgery for a reason.

There was the lady dressed in a thousand shades of green with green sunglasses. We named her The Riddler. It ended up she was going to the David Sedaris thing too and we spotted her taking her seat. I'm always taken aback by the money that's evident in Santa Barbara. I grew up around enough rich people to be able to spot the signs. Truly rich people don't tend to be all gaudy and gauche. They are understated. Their clothes look almost too casual and sloppy. But if you look closely, the haircuts are expensive and the accessories are for the rich only.

We finished our meal, which was leisurely because we got there with plenty of time and headed to the theater. The Arlington Theatre in Santa Barbara is built to resemble a Spanish courtyard, complete with adobe building fronts and a fake starry sky with painted trees. This was a good thing because it's also huge and you couldn't see the speakers. I mean you could see them all teeney up at the mike, but you couldn't make out facial features or anything.

David Sedaris started first by doing a really sarcastic piece on honesty in his stories. This is in response to an article by Alex Heard in The New Republic, an expose that reveals that Sedaris may sometimes exaggerate for comic effect. The article was roundly ridiculed by many in the literary world, including the Web site Gawker. They cite the example of Sedaris claiming he was sent to speech therapy because he was gay when, in fact, it was because he had a lisp. As it was pointed out by commentators, lisp = gay in South Carolina and in the 1950s.

Of course, something like this is way too much of a gimme for the satirist, who probably wrote Heard a thank you note, and if he hasn't he should. Sedaris' piece on honesty in his works was inspired. He ended up pondering why he should be called to task when such lies and prevarications -- like, say, weapons of mass destruction and imminent threats to the U.S., lies that have resulted in untold deaths -- are treated as "typos."

I had a great time, well, except for a couple of little things. Like the fact that my seat SUCKED and Rob wouldn't switch with me. The guy next to me had atomic breath. It was so bad it hit me like a supernuclear blast every time he laughed. This is a good way to establish a Pavlovian response. Every time Sedaris or Vowell -- who is also great -- would say something funny, I would cringe -- waiting for the wall of stink to envelop me. It was the kind of stink where you take your fingers to your nose and smell, a la Molly Shannon, to block out the other smell.

I kept trying to scootch away, but I couldn't see the stage below because there was a girl smack dab in my line of sight and she couldn't sit still. She'd go right, so I'd go left, so she'd shift left, so I'd go right and she'd go right, ad naseum. I was going to smack her. It's not as though there was much to see -- literary readings aren't exactly visual feasts -- but I at least wanted the option. No one was sitting in front of Rob, but he wouldn't switch. I probably shouldn't have told him about the bad breath.

Sedaris did some new material from early this year. It was pretty good, not as good as his lie riff, but it was good. Sarah Vowell likes to do satiric history humor. That sounds a lot more esoteric and nonfunny than it is. But she's good. She's got a real knack for the comic pop, so her bit about a cartographer from the 1800s who was hysterically unimpressed by the pioneering explorations he was undertaking, was really funny.

They did questions and answers but the venue was too big and it was awkward. We could have stayed for the book signing and meeting of the author after, but there were a ton of people there and Rob and I aren't stand in line for a rote meeting and signature kinds of people.

I always wonder why we don't do more of this kind of thing when we have so much fun every time we go out. Oh yeah, I forgot. We're lazy.

Hummingbirds

We kept noticing humming birds up by our front window today. There were a bunch of them in my peach tree, so I decided to take some pictures. The hummingbirds seem to have nested in our neighbor Dan's tree. I've spotted Dan sitting out front with his camera taking pictures of them.

Dan appears to be mad and Rob and me right now. We don't know why, but he turns his back when we come home and is quiet. He was the same way to our neighbor Ramsey, so who knows what it is. Our dogs were also hassling his dog, but his dog has hassled ours and is a LOT meaner. Who knows? And we really don't care because we're friendly neighbors -- we'll catch your dog if it's out or tell you if you've left the lights on in your car, but we're not best buddy neighbors.

Back to the hummingbirds. They've been going to the peach tree because it's been blooming. We have some of the most amazing hummingbirds here because Ventura is on a major migratory path and because of the temperate climate we see all kinds of birds that follow the coast.

The Weddin

 

 

My daughter, Lindsay, is getting married. This isn't a surprise -- she's been dating Ryan for years. But like with most things like this, I've been trying to avoid it until I absolutely have to deal with it.

The wedding is May 26. I absolutely have to deal with it. So today Lindsay, her friend Shelby and Lindsay's future mother-in-law, all piled in my pet-hair strewn car and went to Burbank to the Ikea store there. I'd been looking online for stuff to make into centerpieces at the wedding. It's going to be outside, so it seems a good bet to go with low centerpieces.

Lindsay wants a colorful wedding and I've arranged for my flower guy to deliver a bunch of flowers a few days ahead so they're open for the wedding. We're just going to assemble a bunch of the best flowers available, avoiding pastels and going for vibrant colors.

I decided to put one together to see how it would work. It's sitting outside now to see how it will work outside. Discovery No. 1; regular tea candles in those little tin dealies work just as well as floating candles. Wooo Woooooo.

It's getting to be kind of fun to wander into the L.A. area. I'd been to Ikea before, but this time we actually ate dinner in a downtown Burbank restaurant. I hadn't spent much time with Dorothy before so that was fun. Lindsay always talks about how sweet and nice she is, with that slight -- or not so slight -- reproving tone she likes to adopt. Despite that, Dorothy is still a lovely lady and we seemed to have the same attitude toward the task at hand, which was to get it done with.

Another test recipe

 

Cooks Illustrated sent me another recipe to test. It was a really good idea to go with two email addresses because I get so many more recipes this way. This recipe was for tangerine beef stir fry with onions and snow peas.

It's a fairly simple recipe and I served it with some chow main soba noodles. Rob, however, hated it. This in and of itself really doesn't mean anything. Rob is one of those people who uses food to gain power over whomever is cooking. By withholding his approval he -- by extension -- is showing is displeasure with the cook. Or, as I like to put it, he's getting back at mommy for not paying enough attention to him. Either way, he said he didn't like this recipe.

I, on the other hand, enjoyed it. The flavors are complex -- more complex than most Westerners are used to. One thing the Chinese enjoy a lot more than Americans is bitter flavor. Chinese cuisine works to balance five elements of taste: sweet, sour, spicy, salty, bitter. There is a general enjoyment of foods that are way too bitter for the Western palate. I once tried some bitter melon. I'm not sure what I expected, exactly, something called "bitter melon" is pretty much letting me know how it tastes. I was still shocked when I tasted it; maybe not so much because it was bitter, but more because it was impossible for me to understand how anyone would want to eat it.

This is a long way of saying that this dish had a real bitter element to it, which came from the tangerine zest. The bitterness wasn't overwhelming and in this case adds an interesting dimension to the dish. This was the most flawed recipe I've tried so far -- the onions are way overcooked, among other things, but I enjoyed it.

The. Best. Roast. Chicken. Ever

From time to time Rob goes to the store to do grocery shopping. I do most of it, but occasionally he heads out. He came back one day last spring with this really weird gadget he'd bought on sale. He said it was to roast chicken.


It wasn't impressive to look at: a small silver bowl and two large wires. Rob said it was advertised as being a roaster for barbecues and grills. I realized immediately that this was sort of a beer can chicken apparatus. But we don't have a grill that can accommodate a chicken in a vertical position.


It was easy to put together. I just snapped the wires into place. I put some wine in the bowl. I figured the whole reason beer can chicken works is that the heated beer steams through the roasting chicken. This doodad would allow the wine to get hot and because the chicken would be perched on the two wires, there would be more air circulating up into the chicken, along with the steam from the evaporating wine.


I have a pretty standard way of preparing roast chicken. I change the herbs around sometimes and alternate using wine and beer to put in the roasting bowl. But I always use lemon and I usually use shallots. I rinse the chicken off and squeeze the juice of a lemon all over the chicken, making sure to get the inside cavity. I then grate lemon zest onto the chicken skin. I place one lemon in the chicken cavity. I also put a few shallot cloves up there. I sprinkle the chicken with whatever herbs I'm using; I generally alternate among sage, rosemary, thyme, oregano and any combination. I then sprinkle garlic powder and onion powder. Finally I grind white pepper all over the chicken.


I place the chicken in a roasting pan and put it in a 350 degree oven for 1 1/2 to 2 hours. The smell is incredible and makes the house feel all homey, and the dogs love it. Our old cocker spaniel Jersey would just go and sit by the oven whenever I roasted chicken. She didn't want to waste any energy and she just love the smell of cooking bird.


The resulting bird is tender and juicy because the steam helps cook the bird. The flavors are amazing because the wine or beer vapors along with cooking shallots, lemons and herbs inside the chicken in in the bowl really add so much to the chicken. An added bonus of cooking the chicken this way is the skin is crispy all over and you can get to the little tenderloins on the back of the bird easily.

I've made chicken a million different ways over the years and this is really the best. It's better than a rotisserie because of the steaming of the meat and the skin is actually crisper this way than any other way of cooking, except for frying.

I have no idea where to get these little things. They're amazingly cheap -- as well they should be. They're an amazing innovation the world of roast chicken. I've seen some other vertical roasters out there, but this one works the best because it just uses wires to support the chicken. This is a case where less is definitely more.

Oh yeah, for the record, Rob claims this recipe as his because he found the little gadget. But it's not because a roasting gadget does not a great chicken make.

Apres Easter

 

 

 

 

This Easter turned out to be surprisingly festive. I had thought only a few people would come over, but we ended up with a full house: Lindsay and Ryan;Gen, Sean and Kaia; Colin and Tracey (late); Kim and Dennis; Dena, Kelly and Kelly's friend and Dave. I'd already bought a huge Honeybaked ham. I love Honeybaked ham for the holidays. I also had lamb to grill outside with garlic and fresh rosemary. We had new potatoes with green onions and parsley all from the farmer's market along with asparagus with lemon and butter and Rhodes rolls.

Because Dena is a vegetarian, I bought extra eggs to make an asparagus/Swiss cheese frittata. They take just minutes to make and really taste good. Dena was lucky to get a slice because everyone flocked over after I pulled the browned treat out of the oven. I was told it was the hit of the evening during the post-feast reviews. Basically I go, "how was the food?" and everyone has to say how great it was and how wonderful I am.

When I was making the frittata, Kim came over and wanted to know how to make one. They're so very easy and they can easily be incorporated into many of today's diets.

Asparagus/Swiss cheese/bacon frittata

8 eggs
3/4 cup whole milk
salt
fresh ground white pepper
3 tablespoons butter
20 spears lightly cooked asparagus cut into 1-inch pieces
8 ounces Swiss cheese
10 slices of cooked bacon

Beat the eggs and milk in a small bowl with a whisk. Add salt and pepper. Heat butter in an iron skillet. Add the asparagus spears and spread them out over the bottom of the skillet. Add bacon and spread it evenly around. Pour the egg mixture over the top and reduce the heat to medium. Add Swiss cheese slices, spread evenly over the top of the mixture. As the frittata cooks, loosen the edges with a spatula, letting the egg mixture flow through. Be careful not to scorch the frittata -- use your nose for this. The minute you smell the eggs beginning to overcook, turn the heat down and turn the pan. Cook the frittata until it seem set when you jiggle the skillet. The top will still be liquid, but everything underneath should be set. This takes about 7 t 8 minutes. Place the skillet in the broiler just under the flame and brown for about 1 to 2 minutes. Remove and slice to serve.
*A couple of notes: I add a LOT of cheese which makes it seem runny, although the egg is cooked through and it will set up when it cools. But you don't have to use so much. Whole milk works best, but you can use low-fat and low fat cheese. Serve this with a nice salad for really quick and good meal. Fritatta are extremely flexible, so mix it up. The best frittatas have some kind of vegetable along with the eggs and some cheese. Feel free to experiment.

Here comes Kaia Cottontail

As usual, it being a holiday and all, I'm all over Easter. I've been squirreling away candy -- especially Reeses peanut butter eggs, the small kind. It's kind of
like shovelling the walk in a blizzard -- Rob eats them as fast as I can buy them.

Actually, I've been cutting back because in past years I've thrown out pounds and pounds of candy. It's one of those overcompensating for the lean years -- like the year Briggs and I ended up putting real grass in the baskets because we couldn't find any at the last minute. But I've swung too far in the other direction and have been buying way too much, and I really don't eat that much candy, so it's wasteful.

But I've got my Easter decorations up. I buy stuff when it goes on sale after the holidays and I can get it dirt cheap. I ended up getting two bunny dolls last year -- they're really not as bad as they sound. They're dressed up in elaborate Beatrix Potter-type costumes and I have them waving out the front window. OK, I swear it's a lot cute than it sounds. I've got all kinds of other Bunny droppings around, including a bunny windsock, an Easter egg tree and assorted other decorations.

I have no idea why I do this every year, especially now that the children are gone, but I really enjoy it, so there you go. What's the harm?

We have Kaia come over each year to help dye Easter eggs. This year, I decided we'd make Easter nest cupcakes too, dying coconut green to look like grass and putting jelly beans in the middle. We discovered quickly that Kaia doesn't like coconut. Frankly I've never understood coconut haters, oh well.

Kaia is getting older. She's moving into full-on childhood, which comes with school I suppose. During the past few months since the start of school, she's exploded in her knowledge. She's reading and learning letters. She's counting and adding. She's at the "Watch me do this" phase, which my girls went through, when every hiccup was worthy of note. There's nothing wrong with this IMO. After all, if you can't get unfettered praise when you're 5 ...

We have a lot of fun working on my little projects; something I cherish for the fleeting thing it is. When the girls were little people always said, "the grow up so fast," and when you're in the middle of it, with the insane running around and craziness, those words seem like silly prattle. But they do. It's a cliche because it voices a universal truth.

I guess that's why they invented grandchildren.

Having a good time

I enjoy all kinds of odds and ends that make me really happy. I really like to decorate my house for holidays. I enjoy big flower arrangements that I make with flowers I buy at the Ojai Farmers Market each Sunday. I love bike rides to the beach, although I haven't been for a while. I kind of enjoy gardening, although the Southern California weeds are persistent and they can overwhelm me.

My very favorite pastime, however, is food. I subscribe to all kinds of food magazines, including Olive magazine from England, which is a real indulgence and one of my favorite things, what with all their puddings and everything being brilliant. I've had to learn another language because the Brits don't speak English -- seriously. Courgettes are zucchini, aubergine is eggplant, rocket is arugula, chips are french fries -- seriously when did English people stop speaking their eponymous language?

And don't give me the whole "it was their language first." Um, we're bigger, stronger and a whole lot cooler and we have Hollywood. Hollywood determines the popular culture for the world, at least the English-speaking portion of it; at least the American English speaking portion of it.

In addition to the weird language, I get a real kick out of reading Olive and looking at products available in Europe that aren't available here. Unfortunately I'm never going to be able to make a recipe from Olive seeing as how those difficult Brits have everything is weird measurements and temperature. Sure, I could convert the measurements -- after I smash into a wall head first. My head would explode either way.

Another magazine I get is Cook's Illustrated . This is an ad-free magazine that comes out six times a year. It basically gives practical cooking tips, explores recipes and reviews various cooking products. When I say explores recipes, I mean they really look into various standard recipes and see how to make them taste the best. Cooks Illustrated writers will dissect a recipe, looking at each ingredient and each cooking method to find the best way to make the best everything. If you need a great recipe for some favorite dish -- say sugar cookies, brisket or what have you, Cook's is the place to go.

I get periodic emails from them and I don't block them because they're usually pretty interesting and have a lot of information. I noticed one day that they were asking for people to sign up to test recipes for upcoming issues. They will send you a recipe and they ask to to prepare it and let them know how it went, what works and what is unclear. I had signed up some time ago, but I'd never heard back. I'm one of those people who lives in some kind of bureaucratic black hole. When it comes to forms, applications, queries, etc., things get lost. So I figured I'd try to sign up again, but this time I used my gmail account.

Lo and behold I received, not one, but two recipes to try out. One sent to my home account and one sent to my gmail account. One was for tiramisu and the other was for chicken tikka masala. I had a great time trying them out -- tracking down the right ingredients, making sure I had the right equipment.

The tiramisu recipe calls for rum, but I didn't want to use any alcohol in the cake for a number of reasons. I finally had a moment of clarity and realized that what I needed to replace the rum was hazelnut syrup from Torani. It was an inspired choice. The chicken tikka was also really good.

So now when I get my upcoming Cook's Illustrated and I see these two recipes, I'll know I was one of the people who had some small input into their final versions. How fun.

Huaraches

I love the Internet. As I mentioned above, Rob and I bought a bunch of stuff at a local Mexican market. One of the items was a bag of oval, cornmeal, about 1/4 inch things. Huaraches is a name for a kind of sandal and you can kind of see why these were named after the sandal, they kind of look like the sole of a shoe. I had no idea what to do with them so I did a Google search and found out that you just fry them up in some oil and serve them topped with some kind of meat and cactus (nopales) salad.

I've always loved the idea of cactus salad and when I was able to taste some, I found I liked the flavor, kind of like smokey bell peppers. I fried up my huaraches in some canola oil and topped them with fajitas, prepared with steak using a package for seasoning (McCormack -- it wasn't very good BTW). I topped that with cheese that I melted on top. I added the nopales salad, some chopped avocado -- something we all have in abundance around here and sour cream. It was really good. The huarache is a very distinct flavor and it stands up well to all the stuff on top. It has a crunchy outside and a kind of chewy inside. It's actually quite yummy -- like polenta would be if it had a better texture.

Across the border

 

 

True story: Lindsay's fiance's parents like to do house exchanges. Living in Ventura, it's pretty easy to find people in other countries who want to take a vacation in Southern California. This is a cool, relatively inexpensive way for people around here to take vacation and get to explore other countries.

One of the couples hailed from Great Britain. As they were recounting their stay to Ryan's parents, they mentioned how one day they went out driving. They didn't know how far they'd gone, but they managed to stumble across a "quaint little Mexican village." Since Ventura is a good three hours from the Mexico border, and since crossing that border usually entails some kind of checkpoint, the Guziks questioned the couple further about this "Mexican village" and after a short while determined it was Santa Paula, a town just east of Ventura.

People in Ventura County will immediately start laughing. There is a very strong Mexican influence in Santa Paula, with some of the best Mexican food and groceries around, so it is conceivable that someone from England could get confused.

Or at least that's what Rob and I were thinking, and laughing about, when we decided to make a trek to Tresierras, which has some of the best Mexican groceries around. Once of the things I've noticed is that most white people are afraid of the Mexican markets. Down the street from where I live is the main Mexican strip in Ventura. There are three markets, a carciniera, a couple of panaderias, along with restaurants, liquor stores and mini marts. Most people I know have never set foot in any of these markets.

It is a bit intimidating. First, the primary language is Spanish and some employees don't speak English at all. Those who do speak English tend to speak Spanish, especially when white people are around. Then, a lot of the foods are unfamiliar. The first revelation is the meat counters at the Mexican markets. They still employ butchers. You can get them to cut up, chop, grind, saw anything you want. It's amazing.

You know all those cooking shows where someone who hasn't been out shopping for at least a couple of decades -- read Martha and Rachael Ray -- will say something glib like "have your butcher ... blah blah blah?" I don't know about you people, but my local Vons butchers are completely worthless when it comes to preparing the meat. They get theirs from pre-cut chubs, which they break down into company-mandated packages and they rarely cut to order. The Mexican meat markets carry a much wider array of meat products than the severely limited standard grocery stores. You can get the organ meats, which are available in abundance and there are treats like pigs feet (a personal favorite), cows feet and all manner of pig and cow pieces.

The Mexican markets are where you can find all kinds of obscure, gourmet items. As you would expect, there are tons of chiles. There are Mexican squashes, sugar cane, tomatillos, cactus, Mexican-style green onions (which are great grilled on top of your meat) and about a gazillion unfamiliar Mexican and Latin American cheeses and creams. Tresierras also makes tortillas on the spot, along with fresh gorditas and huaraches.

Rob and I had a great time just exploring the store and checking out all the unfamiliar items. I started buying selected treats with no real plan in mind. The first thing I got was chicharones con carne or pig skin with some meat. My family on my dad's side has a real pork affection. My dad used to spend summers at his uncle's pig farm in the Ozarks and I don't know if it was just lard becoming part of the family DNA, but you don't want to be around Gamblins when there are things like crunchy pig's skin to be munching. My dad once had a pig roast and I thought the guy doing the cooking was going to start hitting us with his spatula because were were all sneaking little bits.

I had some real difficulty making myself understood about my order because the counterperson didn't speak English. Fortunately another customer started translating. I also got some menudo, which is a tripe soup Mexicans traditionally serve for hangovers. I'd always been curious about it and wanted to give it a try.

Rob made gagging noises when I told him what I'd bought. There were all these bags of little wheel-looking things called duritos, so I got a bag. I was curious about the huarache, which is an oval-looking thick corn tortilla kind of thing, so I bought them. I also got some nopales salad because I've always wanted to try cactus -- it looks so good. Tresierras has the best pico de gallo in the area and they fry their own chips. I also snagged some weird-looking peruano beans out of curiosity. We added some guacamole and Rob bought a chicken that was being grilled out front. The cool part about it was that we didn't spend very much money at all.

We went home and I started trying to figure out what I'd bought. I found out that the duritos are made from flour-based sheets that are cut out and fried to become puffy. They tasted like shrimp crackers with the same texture, but porkier. They are commonly eaten with a little lime juice and some hot sauce, like Tapatio. I tried them with the hot sauce, but found I really liked them best plain. The huaraches are fried and often served with nopales salad. So it actually looked like I knew what I was doing when I bought both items. I love when that happens. I started munching on my pork skins, much to Rob's great disgust. I tried the menudo, but it didn't have any hominy and was disgusting and greasy with just the tripe. I threw it out.

I'm going to have to change some of my menus to Mexican this week to take advantage of our bounty. It's such a shame we have these wonderful resources and opportunities to explore and discover all kinds of new things, but so many people are afraid to venture to the "Mexican" side of town or they hate "Mexican" food. It's really too bad. They're missing out on a lot.

Whale-less watching

One of the reasons I love living here is that on almost any given day, weather permitting, I can take off for a small ocean voyage. Winter is whale watching season, here on the West Coast. The gray whales migrate south from Alaska to Mexico, starting in December. In Mexico, they take a break, get some sun, fool around and they have little baby whales. By about March or so, they start back up north.

These whales pass right by the Channel Islands, which lie off the coast of Ventura and Santa Barbara counties. A local outfit, Island Packers, offers whale watching tours. These generally last about 3 1/2 hours and you get to see some really cool wildlife. I love taking these tours. I just love going out to the islands. I first went out a few months after I moved here -- I'd read about the Channel Islands online and was chomping at the bit to get out to see them.

I took Rob with me the first time I went over. This was back before they had the fancy boats they now use to zip back and forth to the island, so it took a few hours to get out to Santa Cruz Island. It was the coolest trip because Captain Randy was only going over because he was celebrating his daughter's birthday -- there weren't enough passengers to make the trip worthwhile, but he went over anyway because of his daughter. We had almost the whole island to ourselves. I couldn't believe how beautiful it was -- and how quiet.

We saw dolphins for the first time and we saw some sea lions, seals and plenty of sea birds.

This was where we discovered the truth about sea parks. Sea parks are cruel and inhumane places where animals are basically tortured. Wild dolphins live in complex societies called pods. They communicate using echolocation, which works kind of like sonar. Dolphins tend to have unique families, languages and characteristics. They tend to be highly playful and are beautiful to watch.

When sea parks capture dolphins to use, the mortality rate is enormous. Some dolphins, like the common dolphin -- the name of the dolphin, as opposed to bottle-nose dolphins for example -- will all die in captivity. They lose their will to live and won't eat and will starve. The dolphins who do survive usually have a lifespan of about 5 years. In the wild, a dolphin has a lifespan of 35 years.

I know some parks are raising dolphins in captivity, which is perhaps more humane, in the way it would be more humane to have a child born into slavery, rather than a child who has experienced freedom. It's the social nature of dolphins that makes them so suitable for marine shows. They do like to please and the parks take advantage of that by establishing relationships between the dolphins and the trainer.

But once you see dolphins in their natural habitat, playing in the surf, diving for food, just generally being happy dolphins in the enormous pods, which can number in the hundreds, you'll understand why captivity seems so cruel. They have unique languages that actually differentiate by dolphin families. It's such a great experience being able to see them in their natural habitat living the dolphin lives they were meant to live. There's really no reason to go see them do some choreographed man-made tricks.

OK lecture over.

I love going out on the ocean and do it at least once a year. There is something about seeing such natural beauty that can chase away even the most stubborn of depressions. This is seriously a lot better than Paxil. It was a really windy day and the sea was really choppy, which made picture taking difficult. It's hard not to shake the camera.

The only down part was that we never saw any whales, which is actually a first for me. I've always seen whales when we went out whale watching. Rob and I actually saw some mating one time. It was amazing. There were two males and one female. Our guide explained that whales have sex with one female and multiple males. This is so they can hold her down while the one does his dirty deed. Why you may ask? Because if it were just one on one and the male tried to trust at the female, being underwater, she would just float away from him. Hmmm. The things one learns that one never even wondered about.

As a veteran seafarer, I've learned that you always come back famished. I don't know what it is about the sea air but I always have to have something to eat. As a result I wanted something quick. I've been working on budgeting our money better, which is long overdue. As a result, I've been exploring the wonderful world of chicken thighs. I've developed some quick and easy chicken nuggets that are way, way better than fast food.

I'm going to start naming my recipes with much cuter names because with the success of Rachael Ray, I've decided I need to be a whole lot cuter. So here is my recipe for:

Nifty nummy nuggets

4 tablespoons black pepper (to taste, but I really recommend the extra pepper)
3 cup canola oil
Six chicken thighs (I use the bone-in because it's cheaper, but the recipe works with boned, skinned thighs
1 cup milk (you can use buttermilk for an added tang)
2 cups flour
3 tablespoons Lawrey's seasoned salt (or to taste)

Heat oil in an electric skillet (mine cooks best around 375 degrees). Cut the bone out of each thigh and cut the thigh in half. Dip the pieces in the milk. Shake the flour, seasoned salt and pepper in a large plastic bag (you can use a Reynolds oven bag or a large Ziploq bag) Add the milk-coated pieces and shake until the chicken is coated. Place pieces in the skillet and cook for about 15 minutes on a side -- smaller pieces may cook sooner. Serve with cole slaw or some other salad and mashed potatoes.

The dog park

In addition to other official dog parks around town (Arroyo Verde park), Ventura has an unofficial dog park at what is known as Cemetery Park -- officially it's Memorial Park, but it's built over an old cemetery so everyone calls it Cemetery Park. There is a big old sign that says all dogs must be on a leash. The sign prohibits other things too, like skateboards, bicycles and remote control planes. Some days I count how many activities prohibited by the sign are occurring, sometimes it's all of them. It warms my heart to see such civil disobedience. It's all anti-Establishment-y, dude.

We foud the park when we were on our way to KFC last year. We go to KFC for the dogs because, for some reason, dogs love KFC more than just about anything. Personally, I think it is among the most disgusting of the fast foods. Jersey -- our old cocker spaniel just LOVED it -- and our new guys really get a kick out of it. As we passed Cemetery Park going the back way to KFC from our house, we noticed a bunch of people with dogs. I'd seen people with dogs there before and I always thought it was a obedience class or something. This time I noticed that the dogs were all running around, so it didn't seem like a class. We stopped to see what was what.

Our guys just loved it. The park is built so that dogs more or less stay away from the roads. They can just get out and run around and play and socialize (read: sniff butts). Because the park isn't official there's no big dog/small dog division. Our little guys can sometimes be intimidated by the bigger dogs, but by and large, it's been good for them to know how to handle the big guys. Brindle's way of "handling" them is to snap and jump at them when they sniff her. Fuser loves to chase the big guys when they chase their balls and Rascal just looks terrified and waits for them to go away, which is a huge improvement for him.

Each day we take the dogs for a run around their park. It's such a positive energy place for the most part, with happy dogs and happy people all doing happy things. Occasionally some jerk or jerks will try to deflate the happiness quotient -- one couple seemed intent of getting everyone to put their dogs on leashes by screaming at people and calling the police. I haven't seen them back.

Another guy, who is a regular with his dogs Xena and Lola, started screaming at me the other day because he'd seen Brindle poopie and although I said I'd get it, he proceeded to start getting hysterical, yelling across the park about how I needed to jump up and get it right then. I recommended yoga to him. And BTW when I went to find the poopie it wasn't there, but Brindle seems to be pooping when she's peeing, so Mr. Anger Management-challenged could have just been wrong.

But for the most part the park is usually the best place in town to recharge the mental batteries. Not only is the energy positive and joyous, as only happy dogs can make it, but it also has some of the best views of the pier and the Channel Islands. Who can beat it -- frolicking dogs and sunsets?

The Cocksman

Remember the phrase from Wedding Crashers? I've seen this guy around town for years. He lives about three blocks from me and he always is walking his dogs. When I first met him, we had Jersey and he had Jane. I have no idea what his name is and he doesn't know mine. We don't ask each other, nor do we really care. We do ask about the dogs. He is really non-threatening and tends to have a lot of women he chats with on his walks. So Rob dubbed him The Cocksman because Rob's funny that way (in the head).

He rescues retrievers, who tend to be old because people who obviously have no souls give up dogs when they get old. He's had Jane for a while and she's getting old, which is sad to see. He rescued Fred, but Fred died and now he has Linda, who is more demanding than the other two have been because she was mistreated.

I hadn't seen him since Jersey died, so I introduced him to our gang. We told him the story of each dog, one rescue (Fuser), one stray (Rascal) and one adoptee (Brindle). After we lost Jersey we decided it would be best to give homes to dogs who needed them. We said it was in memory of her, but actually Jersey hated other dogs and would see this as defiling her spirit. We did adopt so many to fill the hole Jersey left when she died. I'd hoped that by having more, I wouldn't be so sad when they died, and dogs have such short lifespans. But now I realize I'll be just as sad -- times three. Still, they are the most loving, sweet souls and they bring us such doggie joy.

Colin!!!!!!!!

The best thing about the dog park to our dogs is seeing Colin. Colin lives right next to Cemetery Park, along with his girlfriend Tracey. Colin also loves dogs, so he makes a big deal out of seeing them. This makes them even more crazy about him.

Rascal especially loves Colin. Colin tends to single him out for a little extra attention because Rascal has such a Sad Sack quality to him. Rascal was found wandering around in Oxnard somewhere by one of Lindsay's friends. He was filthy, underweight and had exposed patches of skin because he's allergic to fleas. He's a terrier/poodle mix, we think. When we got him, his eyes were cloudy and we thought he may have a vision problem. But they seem to have cleared up, so maybe it was a vitamin deficiency.

Poor Rascal was obviously severely neglected and he tends to be really skittish when he's in a new situation. When we first got him he had to be kept on leash at the park or he wouldn't get out of the car. He'd actually climb up Rob and me in terror when other dogs approached him. He still thinks dripping hoses and outdoor faucets are the greatest thing known to man because back when he was a stray I'm sure they were the highlight of his pitiful existence. I keep trying to tell him he can have all the spring water he wants, but he still has his little stray habits.

Rascal's life is good now and he shows it every chance he gets. He just loves to run up and give big old hugs, using both of his front legs to hold on tight. And even though he's bigger, he lets Fuser beat him when they wrestle, which makes Fuser feel like the big dog he isn't. Brindle saw Rascal as an interloper at first, but she's decided he's OK, especially because he seems to understand that she is The Queen.

The possibility of seeing Colin makes the park even More Fun for the dogs. Selective reinforcement is always more effective than constant reinforcement, according to the old college texts. The dog park is the highlight of their days and they plan around it, waiting by the front window starting around 2 p.m. It's also the highlight of most of my days. After all, who can resist such happiness?

Midwinter recipes

This time of year, the tail end of winter is the blah-est time IMO. Even here in Southern California where it's still pretty and nice, there's just a sense of ehhhh that's inescapable, except in the kitchen.

When in doubt, I always say, cook. The one thing that always cheers me up is the smell of good food cooking. I take such a deep joy at this and it's so easy and cheap to do. I've developed a bunch of easy recipes that really hit the comfort food spot without being too unhealthy.

The first recipe is a great way to sneak vegetables into non vegetable eaters. It has only a few ingredients and is quick and easy and uses few ingredients.

Vegetable/beef soup
2 plus pounds of beef cut into one-half inch pieces
garlic powder
onion powder
5 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1 quart V-8 vegetable juice (you can use tomato juice, if you prefer, but I really like the flavor of V-8)
1 large package mixed frozen vegetables (the standard peas, carrots, lima beans, corn mix is the best)
1/2 cup red wine (optional)

Brown beef sprinkled with garlic and onion powder in Dutch oven in batches in heated olive oil. Add V-8, vegetables and wine. Bring to boil, then reduce heat and simmer for at least an hour.

One of the first things every male I knew made for himself that actually could count as cooking was the Lipton's soup pot roast. They'd wrap a piece of soup-covered beef in aluminum foil and/or plastic wrap, stick it in the oven at 350 for an hour or so and think themselves the next Bobby Flay or something. The reason they were so proud was because it's actually kind of good, just a piece of piece coated with Lipton Onion soup mix and cooked.

But there is so much more to pot roast and I've been able to take it to a level of culinary transcendence that it's mind-boggling. Or at the very least, it's one of the most popular meals I serve. It really makes the house smell amazing.

World's Best Pot Roast
Reynold's oven bags (not the aluminum kind, turkey size)
3 pounds 7-bone chuck roast (you can use any beef, but chuck is always the best)
2 tablespoons flour
1 envelope Lipton's onion soup mix
5 red potatoes, scrubbed and quartered
5 celery stalks cut in 1-inch pieces
5 whole carrots, peeled and cut into 1-inch pieces
2 onions cut into 1-inch chunks
4 turnips, peeled and quartered
4 bay leaves
1 cup red wine or beer
1 cup water

Shake flour, soup mix and beef together in oven bag. Add the rest of the ingredients. Slit bag, put in 11X13 inch baking pan and place in 295 degree oven for about three hours or until meat is fall-apart tender. Serve with crusty bread. I have to have sour cream with my pot roast, which I mix in with the juices and mop up with the bread, but Rob likes his without the juices and with A-1 Sauce (ewwwww).