Not-so-sufferin' succotash

I don't really have much to say about this, except it's the first time I made succotash, and it was just a mixture of stuff I had around in the fridge: leftover purple potatoes from the pizza Garry and I made yesterday, leftover red onion, leftover zucchini, frozen edamame, and the star of the dish, white corn I bought at Arata Farm over the weekend.

I like how prettily the purple mixes with the green and pale yellow.  It was yummy, too.

This is how I know that love is not rational.

No it's not rational, but it's inconvenient, unpredictable, and anxious.  Or am I really talking about infatuation?  If so, this is not the first time I've been infatuated with a place.

Some context: those close to me have borne intimate witness to the harrowing one-month apartment hunt I just conducted, during which I must have seen 40-50 living situations from Redwood City to Bernal Heights in SF (if, like me, you've never heard of it, it's a neighborhood nestled south of the Mission and Potrero Hill, just northwest of where the 101 and the 280 intersect...I'd say it's SF's best-kept secret: affordable, charming, historical, and incredibly convenient for those who own a car).  

It was frustrating especially because I kept open parameters, not wanting to limit my options, and yet a strict list of criteria.  I looked at studios and shares.  I looked at every town within about 10 miles of work: RWC, San Mateo, Belmont, San Carlos, Burlingame, Millbrae, and Foster City.  It was exhausting! I've encountered everything from the pristine townhome furnished completely from Cost Plus, to the houseful of hippies and fruit trees, to well-maintained but boxlike apartments built in the 1970s, to a decrepit old house at the tippy top of a steep incline, which was built in the 1880s and looked 150 years old, an abode befitting witches or old professors.  I must have clocked 100s of miles on my car and became familiar with the nuances of how neighborhoods changed, if you crossed the tracks, or if you landed on the wrong side of a particular intersection.

You know how they say "the odds are good, but the goods are odd"?  That is exactly what the housing market is like right now.  A short drive down El Camino in the town of Burlingame will take you past dozens of "FOR RENT" signs (hint: many owners in this area do not advertise on Craigslist, and many are pushing 90 years old.  Instead, they expect people to walk or drive by and call).  But there was usually one or several things wrong these places, for instance:
  • No laundry on the premises
  • No parking spot included
  • No dishwasher (this was common)
  • Cave-like, with no light
  • "Kitchenette" with a mini-fridge and sink so small you can't even fit a plate in it.
  • Hallway smells of old cats
  • Faces industrial railroad yards and auto repair shops
  • Dirty
  • Faces El Camino: loud/noisy, dusty, and those damn eucalyptus trees make it near impossible to get out of the complex safely
  • Roommates teach channeling classes and renaissance swordfighting out of the house.
  • 3-4 roommates sharing one bathroom
  • Etc. etc. etc.
Out of all the place I saw, I could count on one hand the number of places I truly liked.  Then, I saw 1021 El Camino Real in Burlingame.
______________________________

I liked the manager, Barry, as soon as I talked to him on the phone.  I didn't like that the place was on El Camino, and it was kind of expensive, but as I approached the old building with its stately facade, I was intrigued.  The lobby made me smile - someone had taken pains to set up some lovely chairs, lamps, and a coffee table.  Barry called me from somewhere up the stairs, and I never thought the stairs would end.  But it was only after I reached the fourth-floor landing that I lost my breath.

Barry was in the middle of fixing the place up and repainting - he kept warning me not to lean on anything - but under all the clutter, what I saw was a golden, light-filled aerie.  It looked out over the rooftops of the surrounding buildings, with one window that faced north and two giant windows that faced full west, inviting all the light from the setting sun.  You don't understand, it is so difficult to find an apartment in the area with good natural sunlight.

My eyes started to adjust and I started to explore.  All the little nooks and crannies, from the built-in bookshelves to the built-in glass-front cabinets, only enchanted me further.  The apartments had been built in 1931 and retained all the old charm.  The hallways were as thoughtfully decorated as the lobby, giving the whole place the feeling of an old, jewel-like, and storied hotel.  I loved it all immediately, madly and deeply, and that was even before Barry pointed out the exercise room on the top floor, and the rooftop deck that allowed an almost 360-degree view of trees, the Woodside hills, and all the way to the East Bay. 

There were two major drawbacks though: the apartment was on the fourth floor of an old building with no elevator, and the windows faced El Camino and all the rush-hour traffic noise.  The fourth floor would not be a problem as long as I am able-bodied, but I injure myself a LOT, what with my weak ankles and knee that tends toward dislocation.  The romantic, delusional part of me wanted to overlook these imperfections, embrace them even.  It was prepared to sign the lease right then and there, and Barry seemed pleased to have me as a potential tenant. "You suit this place," he told me. 

The realist in me told me to hold out for something better, as if that were even possible after one finds the apartment-love of one's life.

I told Barry I'd continue looking and think for another a day or two.

Well friends, it was not meant to be.  In the end, my practicality defeated my romanticism, even though the studio at 1021 El Camino really felt like home, like I truly belonged and could be myself.  The next day I found a place which, by all practical measures, completely outweighed the place I loved.  It is closer to downtown shops and restaurants, it is walkable to Caltrain and the library, it is cheaper (with utilities included!), it's in a much quieter and more affluent neighborhood, and it has decent light, though it faces east, not west, and will have none of that magical "golden hour" light that photographers love so much, and which the studio at 1021 El Camino had in abundance.  So I signed the lease on the more practical place and I hope I can make a home of it.

But it's been days, and I still can't stop thinking fondly of 1021 El Camino.  So I wanted to immortalize it here.  Thanks for humoring me.

I'm going to miss this place.

The Mountain View shoreline at sunset is one of the most beautiful places I can think of being.  It's usually windy, but I like how the wind makes this half-dead place, with its half-dead shrubs and teeming wildlife, come to life.  

I think I'm going to try to come here almost every day before I move.  I don't even mind the goose poop.  And last night I saw a skunk (see the second to last picture)!

Mysterious Cities of Gold: One of the greatest children's anime series is now on DVD!

This is for those of us lucky enough to grow up watching Nickelodeon, or in France.  Back in the 80s, children's programming was top-notch with shows like David the Gnome, Belle & Sebastian, Adventures of the Little Koala, and Grimm's Fairy Tale Classics.  But the one that really stuck by me all these years was this little known series, The Mysterious Cities of Gold, a French-Japanese collaboration about the legend of El Dorado, that aired just 39 episodes on Nickelodeon around 1989.

It all but sunk into my memory except for the image of towers of gold and a big golden condor, but I do remember that I loved it, from the characters to the plot to the way it captured my imagination.  It was brainy, it was historical, and it was fantastic.

I sort of re-discovered it sometime in college and almost wept with joy when I found someone had uploaded the main theme onto an 80s nostalgia website.  I went on a quest to find out more, but the DVD at the time was only available in France.  People had created clandestine DVD-rips of the show and were selling them on eBay for like $15.  I bought one.  It was terrible quality, but I was willing to overlook it because, well, that's all there was.

Until now.

As of April 2009, this wonderful show has been released onto DVD in the United States!  It's quite pricey (the deluxe edition going for $78 on Amazon, but only $48 on DeepDiscountDVD.com).  But probably worth it, no, for 39 hours of viewing pleasure, and so much happiness?

Foodie Tuesday: Burrata

There is always a dichotomy of feeling when one learns of a new food that is utterly delicious.  On the one hand, you are beside yourself, elated with the sweet thrill of discovery, thrumming in anticipation of enjoying it in times to come.  On the other hand, you're appalled that you lived so long without knowing it, mourning all the lost days in which you were completely ignorant of its existence.

This is how I feel about burrata.

I had never heard of burrata until a few months ago, when I was visiting LA for my friend's bachelorette and we took her to Farfalla Trattoria in Los Feliz.  She saw the burrata on the menu and jumped at it.  We all tried some.  And that was the end of one chapter of my life, and the beginning of another.

Burrata is one of those well-kept secrets of the Old World, much like gougeres and the many applications of leek confit.  In Italian it literally means "buttered," which is an apt description of its taste.  It begins like an ordinary cheese, specifically like a mozzarella, which involves curds, hot whey, and much pulling of stringy-soft goodness.  But here is where burrata bids adieu to its ordinary cousins and moves on to higher planes of existence.  Before the curds cool, the cheese if formed into a pouch, stuffed with scraps of mozzarella and filled with cream before it is sealed.

The result is delicate, light, and the most dream-creamiest cheese you've ever tasted.  In all seriousness, when I realized that they carry burrata at Trader Joe's (right next to the other versions of ho-hum fresh mozzarellas), I decided that I would probably never eat regular mozzarella again.  I bought it, took it home, and together Garry and I ate it with all the fixings: fresh tomato, Arcangeli's crusty artichoke-garlic loaf, extra virgin olive oil, balsamic vinegar and prosciutto.  A dash of smoked salt I got from Whole Foods, which I have been using on absolutely everything.  And freshly torn, peppery basil leaves that I harvested from my new basil plant.

Today, I tried something different with the leftover burrata - I used it to make my very first pizza margherita.  I used only 1/3 a pouch of Trader Joe's ready-made "almost whole wheat" pizza dough and rolled it out very thinly.  I then gave it a light sprinkling of regular shredded mozzarella, covered it in thin slices of tomatoes, then topped it with sliced burrata and a little more of the regular mozzarella.  I baked it for about 12-15 min. in a 470 degree oven.  

It came out perfectly hot, crispety-crunchety, and melty on top.  But to be honest, it's kind of a waste to use burrata in this way - it is best eaten fresh and cold.

Amelie Rio stockings: A Follow-Up

Posted simultaneously to wearability.posterous.com

Some of you may remember this story I told more than half a year ago, about a pair of stockings I fell in love with.  In fact, it was the first pair of stockings, or leggings, or any legwear accessory to which I ever gave a second thought.  They were made by MaxMara, but the brand was beside the point.  They were the most beautiful things I'd seen in a long time, and they haunted me.  You can read the original post here.

After that first encounter, and at least a week or two of miserable pining, I decided to try to find them again.  This was not an easy task, as MaxMara doesn't even have a website.  (Though their less expensive brand, MaxStudio, does.)  Apparently MaxMara makes hosiery, but the lines are not widely distributed, and even among MaxMara stores, only a select few carry hosiery at all.  And among those, the chances of me finding this particular style in my specific size were slim.

By the time I decided to cough up the $70 to buy them, of course, the South Coast Plaza location was sold out.  I went on a cyber quest, searching for them in many different permutations until, finally, I ran into this Boston Globe article about eye-catching legwear. I jumped - there was a boutique that sold them, Moxie on Charles St. in Beacon Hill!  I wrote them immediately to see if a) they still had the stockings in stock and b) they would ship to California.  A day later, I got the magic response:
________________

Stephanie,
I have one pair left.  It is a M/L but it is Italian sizing and runs pretty small.  I can ship but we charge $10 for shipping.  The stocking is $65. 
 
Let me know if you'd like it.
 
Thanks.
Karen F. Fabbri, owner 
M O X I E
______________

After a flurry of e-mails where we figured out logistics, shipping/credit card information, the stockings were on their way.  I gotta hand it to the Moxie folks -- they were so patient, responsive, and accommodating.  Totally painless experience, and I was so grateful that they held the stockings for over a week while I continued to hem and haw over the purchase.  When I finally took the plunge, I was glad I did!

I know all the considerations about impracticality, exorbitant price, etc.  But in the end, I was so very glad I did it.  This is how I figured it--I don't buy jewelry or expensive handbags.  This was one of the first luxury items I ever purchased, and just because they are non-conventional, and I can't wear them all the time, doesn't make me any less satisfied with them.  They really are fine quality and I'm sure if I am careful with them, they'll last for years to come.

Arata Farm Straw Labyrinth

Garry and I were driving down PCH towards Pescadero yesterday when we saw this big handmade sign that announced, "Straw Maze."  We looked at each other and said, let's go!  We had no idea what to expect, but we weren't in a rush, so we thought we'd have a little adventure.

The Straw Maze turned out to be a labyrinth that is constructed every year by the men at Arata Pumpkin Farm in Half Moon Bay.  They start building it around March/April every year out of some 1500 bales of hay.  It takes 3-4 months to construct, and every year it is a different design.  They used to only have it up in time for Halloween, their busiest season, but these days they make sure it is ready to go by midsummer so tourists (even local ones like us) can stop by and get a little lost. 

 The owner got the idea because he was born on Crete and wanted to pay homage to his native culture (remember the myth of King Minos?).  We thought that was pretty cool.

Average time to solve the maze is about 30 mins, though we saw a couple that went before us who did it in about 12 min.  Garry and I didn't time ourselves because I actually wanted to explore every nook and cranny in the place, even if I knew it was the wrong way.  It turned out to be a lot of fun.