tanabutler

I think from our affiliation at the Outstanding in the Field farm dinner back in October. Then I ate there twice (once in October, again in February). I'd send you my invitation if I still had it, Docsconz, but I accidentally left it with the pastry chef of Craft when I met her last week in New York. (Which was silly, because she had one of her own, too.)

"Dude! That's my head!" </Jeff Spicoli>

I don't think Copia is worth the trip in and of itself, and I don't think a little girl would enjoy it that much. Stay in the city: enjoy it! BTW, have you priced hotel rooms via HotelRes.com? The best prices in the world, in my experience. Union Square is as noisy as Rome, if that matters, and parking is exorbitant and difficult to find. My favorite hotel in SF is the Hotel Majestic, which is midtown in a much quieter neighborhood, with easy access to everything. (The whole city is only seven miles from end to end, less than 50 square miles in area.) If you want to try something wonderful at Farallon, get a glass of the Gruner Veltliner. That's the first place I ever tried it.

Nearabouts as I can tell, FF/R is kinda kin to me. There are a coupla lapses. but if I get down that way, I will be happy to shake hands.

I'd hardly call the card we received "gorgeous." But it does invite us "to preview the prix fixe menu at a 20% discount through the end of April." The invitation I received had a handdrawn, antique-looking map with exquisite lettering (I'm a calligrapher), and the type was beautifully done as well. I consider Blue Hill's team to be world-class perfectionists, and an inspiration to me in every way.

Hey, congratulations on your wedding! Have a glorious trip and may the heavens rain blessings on you both.

Salon did a piece on some books that were written to complement his artwork (don't ask). They're novels that take place in Kinkade-esque towns. One comment about the cover art (a Kinkade painting) mentioned "a lighthouse situated, unhelpfully, in the woods."

Congratulations, John and family. The invitation I received in the mail was just flat-out gorgeous.

I forgot something else. Satan's Official Interior Decorator has commissioned Thomas Kinkade for all the artwork in Hell. Another irony, given that all four of his children have the middle name "Christian." (Can someone tell me how this man chose Santa Cruz as his home?)

Not mine. I love all of your dinner companions. Not wild about Bobby Flay, though.

I forgot something. CoffeeMate. Flavored CoffeeMate.

This place sounds like the Olive Gardens for Mexican food. Is that a fair assessment?

I know. I know. Have I mentioned she lives in Georgia? She used to go to one of those snake-handling churches, but now I think that's too exotic for her. She was probably too afraid they had germs. Carpe California!

I cannot elevate her status to "chef," but one of my younger sisters will be preparing all the food in Hell. The irony isn't lost on me, as she is the so-called "Christian" who has assured me for years that it is I who will burn for eternity. (I prefer to call people of her ilk not Christians, but "Bible-ists"--hence my long-standing nickname for her: "PsychoBible.") All food at PsychoBible's house comes from cans or packages. To my knowledge, the only fresh produce she's ever bought would be tomatoes, so she can make tomato sandwiches (on Wonder Bread, slathered with Miracle Whip: the Devil's food). Everything else is parsed from boxes and bags, and then heated to death: to grizzly, lifeless, tasteless, mushy death. Green beans (canned) are artfully adorned with Baco-Bits. Pre-packaged salads of iceberg lettuce are festooned with genetically engineered "baby carrots" (carrots which are, factually, the remnants of large, woody, unsaleable carrots that have been put through the equivalent of a rock tumbler and sold for ten times the price they'd fetch in their whole state). Frozen meatlike entrées are smothered in Campbell's Cream of Mushroom Soup and garnished with packaged onion soup, like a 1950s party dip come back to life in Frankenstein's laboratory. Steaks and burgers are well-done (no matter how badly done): paranoia about everything in general comes into keen focus in the kitchen. Bacteria must NOT give you a chance to meet your Maker before you're due. (I find this ironic. If you want to see Uncle Jesus so much, why fear death?) Seasoning in the Kitchen of Hell, under PsychoBible's hands, becomes a revived art form. Her motto: additives make things taste better! Bottles and bottles of toxic condiments line her shelves, only in Hell, she won't have to reach for Smoke-Flavored BBQ sauce. The natural ambient smoke should add a nice flavor to dishes year-round. The only music PsychoBible will brook (no surprise here): big-hat country and Soothing Christian Tunes. And by "tunes," I mean "white people clapping on the downbeat." Come to think of it, though, there is also that second Christian genre, and that would be the moaning men and women who take authentic, badly written love songs, and change "you" to "Jesus" in the lyrics. Think Barry Manilow singing "Mandy," with "Mandy" being "Our Lord and Savior" instead..."when You came and You gave without taking, but I sent You away...". Beverages: diet colas and other toxic waste, or extra-extra sweet iced tea with fake lemon flavor (mint extract optional). A large pitcher of ice-cold high-fructose corn syrup is available for thirst-quenching or just to pour onto your breakfast items (freezer waffles and pancakes). Appetizers: Velveeta cheese "fondue," Vienna sausages, saltine crackers, and extra greasy buffalo wings. All the "baked" (from packaged mixes) desserts are stale. The mandatory Jell-O salad, a lovely preternatural green, contains an assortment of pimiento-stuffed olives, canned pineapple, canned pears, and maraschino cherries. Dinner companions, naturally, are exactly who you'd expect to find in Hell: "Doctor" Laura, Rush Limbaugh, Bill O'Reilly, and Michael Jackson. PsychoBible is conflicted between her inclination towards racism (even though Michael Jackson's hardly black any more) and her desire to suck up to celebrities: Hell provides so many chances for name-dropping, you see. We all sit down to a table with a plastic floral-themed tablecloth, plastic cutlery, and Chinette plates. Paper napkins are folded into God-fearing rectangles, and a large plastic flower arrangement (God-fearing daisies, patriotic carnations, Made-in-the-USA chrysthanthemums) is a real eye-catcher. Literally. The daisy heads are loose, and those wires are a real danger. After a prayer that goes on for (seemingly) an eternity, the food is cold and coagulated, and PsychoBible is ready to eat. Repent at leisure.

That guac recipe looks sucky. No lime or lemon juice? Phoo!

I'm pretty fond of Habana, which is really good Cal-Cuban food at very reasonable prices. The decor is very retro, and you'll feel like you've stepped back in time. It's on Van Ness at Pacific. Yummy. And you know you MUST go to the Ferry Plaza building, right?

Why do you need to wash the lemons? If mine are growing (organically, of course) in my back yard, what am I washing off?

What a lovely design: so thorough and beautiful. And the recipes. Ooh la la!

What I discovered when I traveled to Italy was that it was cheaper just to use my VISA card than to get lire. Substantially cheaper: they'd charge the item and the conversion was automatic, and there was nothing lost in the exchange. No charge, in other words. I don't know if that's the case now, but it's worth investigating.

Marie-Louise, have you ever heard of Cabrillo Music Festival? It's America's largest contemporary music festival, and it happens in August every year (for over forty years now). Most events are in Santa Cruz, but the finale concerts (one in the afternoon, one in the evening) always occur at the mission in San Juan Bautista, which is one of my two favorite California missions. I've sung at the Carmel Mission: it's beautiful. I'm just putting in a vote for SJB, too. The gardens are over a hundred years old, and they've got some enormous roses. Very beautiful grounds.

Is there a difference between "chefs' websites" and "restaurant sites"? I think so. I also think the chef sites, in general, are a higher caliber, with more information in general, than your average restaurant site. And being a professional web designer, I really really think there is a dearth of good websites for restaurants. I can't believe what people have told me they were charged for their sites. Somewhere at eGullet, there is a link about restaurant sites. I wish they would all dish the Flash and the automatic music. That stuff is so annoying.

Gayle's Bakery & Rosticceria is the best place in the world, and I mean that literally. A few years ago, my daughter (then seven) and I did an all-day cooking class together. One kid + one adult, five classes (including bread sculpture, "easy vinaigrettes" taught by Marion Cunningham, etc.), plus they fed you, for only $75 for both of us. Plus Joe and Gayle are two of the greatest people I know. They're huge supporters of the arts, and they're awesome folks. I love taking people there.

No, just that all the dealers are old now.

http://toddenglish.com/ (Is he also an underwear model? I wonder.) Jean Georges Vongerichten : http://jean-georges.com/ (Oh-so-annoying with the Flash and the music that, apparently, can't be shut off unless you mute your speakers.) http://www.charlietrotters.com/ (Very attractive design) Paul Bocuse : http://www.bocuse.fr/ Jamie Oliver: http://www.jamieoliver.com/diary/index.html http://www.jacquespepin.net/ (I didn't know he was a painter.)

Thanks, Gary. More good points. I don't like Guittard chocolate so much, but a former housemate did: a woman with the salad gene and the chocolate pantheon (she loves the gods, she does). I think I really need to visit the factory.