I am bigfoot.  My feet are long and they are wide.  That has always made finding comfortable shoes (especially stylish ones) a challenge.  The problem is that for an untold number of years, I’ve been buying shoes that are too small for my feet.  It wasn’t until I stopped at a New Balance shoe store in Torrance, California last month, that I met a man who led me out of the shoe size darkness and into the light.

You may wonder how it is that, if I knew my feet were long and wide, I continued getting shoes that were too small for my feet.  In retrospect, I feel kind of silly about the whole thing.  What happened was this: since graduating from college, I’ve had it in my mind that I wear a size 10.5, 2E width.  That has been the gospel truth, in my mind if not in reality, and so always tried shoes in that size.

Sometimes the shoes felt like they fit well, other times it was clear that they didn’t, but they were always pretty snug.  Sometimes the shoes that felt like they fit well ended up not fitting so well once I brought them home, often pinching my small toes.  Over time, I had come to accept that this was just my lot in life as someone with wide feet, and would stick loyally to the few pairs I had that were truly comfortable.

So it was something of a revelation when I walked into the New Balance store on a whim and the assistant manager, an affable young man named Matt, listened to my complaints about the difficulty I have in finding shoes that fit and asked, ”When was the last time you measured your feet?”

Of course, this is one of those questions that shouldn’t catch someone by surprise.  But I was stumped by this trick question.  A long silence lingered, as I searched my mind for an answer.  “I don’t know that I’ve had my feet measured anytime in the last two decades,” I responded with a twinge of guilt.  With that, Matt suggested that measuring my feet would be the right place to start.

You will not be surprised to learn that I’m not a size 10.5, 2E.  In fact, according to his measurements, I’m a size 11, 4E.  Half a size longer, one size wider.  This would go a long way towards explaining why some pairs of shoes I bought in size 10.5, 2E would still pinch my toes.  THEY WEREN’T WIDE ENOUGH!

Matt also had me stand on a mat that measures how I distribute my weight, which showed that I put more weight on the balls of my feet than I should.  That would explain the problem I had a few months ago with tendonitis in the front of my left foot.  (As I write this, I’m amazed at how obvious these things now seem, and how inexplicable they were back then.)

We looked through a variety of shoes and Matt explained that even at a single manufacturer, the shapes of the shoes vary.  He pointed me to one particular model, the 993, which is a classic New Balance shoe and is cut wider through the “toe box” – a term I had never heard before.  Sure enough, trying a pair of these in the right size and with the right shoe insert was an amazing experience.  The shoes actually felt roomy and comfortable instead of tight and cramped.  I also noticed that I was putting more weight on my heels instead of the balls of my feet.

I left the store with two pairs, one in grey and another in navy blue, and a profound respect for just how much comfort a professional shoe salesperson can bring to another human being.  Looking back, I still wonder how it is that I managed to go so many years without measuring my feet.  Maybe it is because at most shoe stores, no salesperson ever suggests it.  The future feels a little brighter, though, now that I’ve found bigfoot. 

The last night of our June trip to California was spent in Oceanside, a small beach town in northern San Diego County, visiting friends.  The following morning, I decided on a whim to search for a French patisserie, or pastry shop.  Perhaps I was in the mood for something like Tartine, a corner bakery in San Francisco’s Mission District that I make it a point to visit each time I’m there.  We ended up driving a quirky route through the hills until we wound up at Loïc, a bistro and patisserie in Rancho Santa Fe.

The bistro and patisserie are adjacent buildings nestled in a small shopping complex at the foot of a large housing development.  The design is meant to evoke an Italian village, which it more or less succeeds in doing.

Would an Italian village have a parking lot like this?  Probably not.  Just a small concession to Southern California’s car culture.

The interior of the patisserie was a little stark but the smell and sight of freshly baked goods were every bit as welcoming as the lady working behind the counter. 

As we ordered, the lady explained that the chef is French.  After several years working aboard cruise ships, he decided to settle in the Rancho Santa Fe area and open his own restaurant and patisserie.

We sat in some comfy chairs, sipped our café au lait, and picked apart our croissants, smearing eat bite with jam and pretending we were back in Paris.  The croissants were very nice: light, flaky, and buttery – everything one wants in a croissant. 

Afterwards, we took a few more pictures then climbed back in the car for our drive back to Orange County, where we met another Xangan for lunch.

The thought occurred to me the other day that maybe the problem of the never-ending campaign, in which it seems America has no sooner finished one election season than another begins, would be to change the length of terms to which politicians are elected.

Currently, the President is elected to a four-year term with a maximum of two terms.  Senators are elected for six-year terms, with approximately a third of the Senators up for election every two years.  Representatives are elected for two-year terms with the entire House of Representatives up for election at the same time.

What, then, if we changed the President to a single, six-year term with no chance for re-election?  Senators could remain a six-year term, but modify it so half the body changes every three years.  Representatives could be increased to three-year terms.

It would seem that the upshot would be a bit more time between election seasons, allowing for more opportunity to govern.  Especially for the President, since he or she could not be re-elected, there would be more freedom to govern based on one’s positions rather than the poll results.

What do you think?  Would there be any pros or cons to this plan?

Three weeks have passed since I rolled up my sleeves and started my balcony vegetable garden and while there are encouraging signs of life, there have also been a few lessons learned.

One of the first lessons learned, almost as quickly as I finished washing the dirt from under my nails, was that I should have started the seeds in small containers and then transplanted them once they grew larger.  With our heavy rains nearly each afternoon, the wee seedlings were being pummeled and the soil wound up splattered all over the balcony, creating a mess.  Plus, there is no direct sun on this side of the building for another month or so.

My solution was to move the pots to the hallway outside our units, where they enjoy some better protection from the rain and at least a few hours of sun in the mornings.  Soon, though, that sun will go away as the star passes directly overhead our building.  At that point, I’ll move them back to the balcony.

Here is a container-by-container update:

These are the large Chianti Rose tomatoes.  The cherry tomatoes are at a similar stage, with the second pair of leaves growing.  The cherry tomatoes will also need to be significantly thinned as one 15-inch container is not going to handle a dozen plants.  So far, so good.

The carrots and beets seem to be doing well.  I think I didn’t grow enough carrots and I think my beets may be too crowded, but I’m happy to see the frilly leaves on the carrots – a sure sign that they really are carrots.  I’ve planted some additional carrot seeds in the open spaces between plants.  I realized that each plant produces only one carrot.  For some reason, maybe because I always see carrots in bunches, I expected I might get a bunch of carrots from one plant.  So much for having farmer’s blood in my veins.

The two mini bell pepper plants are doing well, also with a second pair of leaves forming.  There is another sprout coming up in the background but I don’t think this is a pepper plant.  Not sure what sort of interloper it is.  Curious, though, as I know I planted at least three pepper seeds.

On to the mixed herbs container: These two stalks are growing in the area I planted parsley seeds.  I’m not sure what baby parsley plants are supposed to look like, but this isn’t what I had in mind.  Am I not looking for crinkly leaves?  Do those just grow in later?

The first hints of what may possibly be cilantro peeking up through the soil.  These little green flecks have scarcely grown in a week.  The rosemary seems to be missing in action.

The Italian basil is doing well, not seeming to mind their close quarters.  I’m looking forward to having the basil developed enough to cook with, although I guess I could eat the young shoots, too.

That’s all from the farm.  Stay tuned for more details in another few weeks!

Wikipedia

While in Los Angeles last month, Tawn and I slipped up to The Grove, a shopping and entertainment center near the Farmers’ Market located at Third and Fairfax Streets near CBS Studios.  While there, we met with a pair of Xangans who were down in LA for the weekend, and also observed first-hand the disturbing trend known as the American Girl Doll.

The Grove is another of these recent developments built to approximate the feel of a real downtown, except with a Disney-esque sense of artifice.  An electric tram runs down the middle of the “street” past big box stores that, if it weren’t for their elaborate façades, would look like any other strip mall.  It is a nice space, much in the same way that Main Street, U.S.A. is a nice place, but I think I’d prefer to stroll down a real main street rather than a recently built recreation.

Borrowed from someone on the internet for non-commercial use.

Prominently placed on the main shopping thoroughfare is the American Girl Doll store.  Have you heard of this trend?  It simultaneously fascinates and disturbs me.

The roots of the American Girl Doll are generally impressive.  Originally released in the mid-1980s, these 18-inch dolls represented 10-year old girls from a variety of periods in American history.  They were dressed in period-appropriate costume and were accompanied by a series of books targeted to 8-13 year olds that brought the characters to life while addressing (in an age-appropriate manner) subjects such as poverty, racism, child labor, etc.  In short, a compelling way for young people to identify with and learn about history.

American Girl website

In the mid-1990s, though, a “Just Like You” line was released, with dolls representing a wide range of skin tones and eye and hair colors, so that you could purchase a doll that looked just like you.  A variety of accessories are available including matching outfits.  (See the picture above.)  The dolls, sans accessories, cost $100, a price that strikes me as ridiculously expensive for a toy targeted at pre-teens.

On the one hand, I can see a lot of positives about a doll that reflects the wide diversity that exists in our world.  Certainly, any number of women of color have shared stories about not being able to find dolls when they were children that looked like them.  At the same time, especially when you can even wear the same clothes as your doll, this seems to be furthering the growth of unhealthy narcissism.  Not only are we gazing more at our own navels, but now we can have a dolls whose navels look like ours.

What was even more disturbing, though, was walking into the store and seeing two display cases containing rows of the identically-dressed dolls wearing numbers.  Maybe this is just a sensitivity to the too-visible sex trade that exists in Thailand, but this image of women lined up behind a glass wall, wearing numbers and waiting for you to choose them, is especially disturbing.

I don’t know what to make of the whole thing.  As I mentioned early, it is both fascinating and disturbing.  Reading more about the American Girl Doll phenomenon, the company (now owned by Mattel) seems to do a lot of philanthropy and there are many opportunities for young girls to learn important lessons about the world and about issues they may not often hear about.  The messages on the walls of the store – “A confident girl believes in herself!” – are potentially empowering.  That said, I’m still a bit disturbed.

Courtesy Sheening

The best thing that came out of the experience was the opportunity to finally meet Piyapong, one of those Xangans who doesn’t blog often but whose posts are still interesting.  Also met Sheening again, but he hasn’t blogged in so long on Xanga that I’m not even sure what his user name is anymore.

In the July 9 issue of The Economist magazine, I read this interesting article about why it is so difficult to stir up public sentiment in the United States against the wealthy.  For example, why do so many people get riled up about the idea of eliminating the tax cuts for the wealthiest people, when we’re talking about 2% of the population who are radically better off than the other 98% of the population?

One paragraph in particular caught my attention:

“The point here is only that Americans do not seem to mind about the widening inequality of income and wealth as much as you might expect them to in current circumstances. By and large, they have preferred opportunity to leveling; equality of opportunity rather than equality of outcome.  The trouble with this is that America is a long way from providing equal opportunity.”

I continue to wonder why it is that when you talk to people individually, they are very much in favor of creating truly equal opportunity.  Somehow, though, en masse, they become reverse Robin Hoods who support the taking from the poor and giving to the rich.  Even more confusing when it is against their own best interest to do so.

In an attempt to add a little (relatively healthful) variety to my usual breakfast of oatmeal, I bake batches of granola made of rolled oats and barley, nuts, wheat germ, dried coconut, and flax seed, all of which is lightly moistened with a mixture of canola oil and maple syrup and then roasted until lightly browned.  After cooled, I add raisins, dates, or other dried fruit.

Served with some plain yogurt and some fresh fruit – in this case, passion fruit pulp – it makes for a nice breakfast, no?  I’d like to believe it is also a healthful but in addition to the whole grains and good fats, I think it is pretty high in calories.  Thoughts?

A week ago we had two pairs of visitors, one on their final day in Thailand after a month-long vacation and another on their first day in Thailand on the start of a multi-week vacation.  While the two pairs had never met, I rented a van and driver, bundled them all in, and took them down on a Friday night to the floating market in Amphawa, a town about 90 minutes southwest of Bangkok.

I’ve been to Amphawa many times but on each visit I discover something new or, at least, a new way to approach it.  As such, I feel like I’m refining this “tour”, if you will.  Each subsequent guest gets a better experience.  For example, I have decided that Fridays are a much better day to go than Saturday or Sunday because the market is much less crowded.

I’ve also decided that it is best to hire a boat and visit several of the temples along the river in the hour or so before sunset.  This way you get few tourists but lots of interesting “golden” light.  This temple, which has been abandoned to the forest, is at Bang Gung (literally, “Area of the Shrimp”) and while I’ve visited here on bicycle before, I didn’t realize it was an easy walk from the river.  Add that to future itineraries.

Riding a long-tail boat down the Mae Khlong River just after sunset it a breathtaking experience.  The sky is so beautiful and the water is so calm.  Afterwards we explored the floating market, ate lots of tasty, fresh, and inexpensive seafood and other treats before heading back to Bangkok.

Previous entries about trips to the market:
October 2010 – A trip to the market finds is nearly flooded.
June 2010 – A grade school friend and his children visit on a “top secret” assignment.
January 2010 – a trip to the market with a Xangan from London.
December 2007 – An early trip there with an American friend and his mother.

About two years ago, Gary and William took me to the Santa Monica branch of Musha, a Japanese izakaya, or small plates, restaurant.  They have another branch a few miles south in Torrance and I took the opportunity during our June visit to Los Angeles to take Tawn there.  It remains a satisfying place to dine.

An izakaya is a drinking establishment that, in the same way that Spanish bars serve tapas, provides small plates of food to patrons to accompany their drinks, encouraging them (or, perhaps, enabling them) to drink longer.  After all, you can’t continue to sell drinks to someone who has passed out and a little food in the stomach delays or prevents that happening.

While at first Torrance may seem an unlikely location, the city is home to many Japanese businesses, including Toyota’s North America headquarters.  As such, there are countless restaurants and other services geared towards the many Japanese who live and work in the area.  Musha is located in a strip mall on the northwest corner of Carson Street and Western Avenue.  With its dark green awning, the building could just as easily house a Starbucks.

The restaurant is a small space with a large table running down the center.  Smaller tables line the walls and on the left is counter seating facing one of the two kitchen areas.  The interior is a cozy and several fans are running to dissipate fumes from the grill-your-own dishes that are on the menu.

We opted for the counter, giving us a good view of the action in the kitchen and a tempting view of plates and bowls full of some of the previously prepared foods that we could order.  It took a lot of will power to not help ourselves.

A must-order item is the Aburi Shimesaba.  The description on the menu, complete with spelling errors that seem to authenticate the Japanese ownership of this restaurant, is as follows: “New creation from the great chef of Musha!!  Fresh mackerelmarinated with rice vinegar, sliced like a sashimi then torched at your table.  Try the taste of “Holly Mackerel !!”

While I’ll avoid speculation about the holly mackerel, I will say that this is a wonderfully complex dish made of only the simplest of ingredients.  The rice vinegar helps to cook the fish in a ceviche-like way.  It adds a sweetness to an otherwise fishy tasting flesh.  Then the torching give the skin a crispy texture with caramel flavors.  To top it off, the banana leaf on which the fish is placed starts to char a bit so you get the smoky fruit aroma.  While the dish is really only two ingredients – fish and vinegar – the flavor is multi-layered and complex.

The second dish was the lobster roll, a riceless bit of sushi that uses a thin springroll wrapper instead of seaweed filled with lobster and cucumber.  Very tasty.

One of my favorite dishes is the spicy tuna dip served with rice crackers.  The name pretty much describes what it is, but doesn’t have any superlatives that convey how tasty this dip is.  Might I suggest something like, One of the Tastiest Things You Will Ever Scoop with a Cracker?

Another Musha signature dish is the Takotama.  This is their take on okonomiyaki, a “Japanese style pancake”.  In the case of Takotama, you have the two-layered omelette (pictured sitting on the counter above) with chopped octopus, Tokyo leek, red ginger, bonito flakes, chives, and nori seaweed.  The sauce is a thick, sweet sauce topped with mayonnaise.

To finish we had a plate of Typhoon Char Han, a spicy fried rice prepared with ground pork, chili, bamboo shoot, ginger, garlic, and Tokyo leek.  Tasty and filling.

Stuffed and running out of time to head to LAX and pick up my sister and her family, we skipped dessert, cleansing out palettes with the complimentary salted plum tea.

All in all, I think Musha offers tasty food at a fair price.  Like all “small plates” restaurants, you have to watch out because the bill can rapidly increase.  That isn’t a matter of the prices being high; instead, it is a matter of ordering more food than you really need.  If you are in the South Bay part of Los Angeles, or in Santa Monica, a stop at Musha would be worth your while.

The bedroom, according to Thai culture, is a private place.  It is a place into which you do not normally invite others, whether they be strangers or even friends.  But I am going against convention and inviting you into my bedroom because I have a story to tell about my quest to silence a squeaky bed.

A local metal worker made the bed frame we have used since moving into this condo more than three years ago.  It has all the stylings of an expensive Martha Stewart Living frame (upon which the design was loosely based) at a fraction of the cost.  But in the past year or so, the bed frame has started to make noise.

Cue the obvious jokes and smart-alec comments.

Somewhat ironically, it doesn’t make any noise from those sorts of activities.  In fact, it only makes noise when you turn over and, even then, only intermittently.  The noise isn’t the full-throated “squeak, squeak” of mattress springs.  Instead, it is a subtle but high-pitch chirp that echoes through the frame and is at just the right volume and frequency to momentarily wake you up, producing something like an auditory sleep apnea.

We tried many things to troubleshoot the problem.  For example we cut up an old yoga mat and used it to cushion every point at which the frame came into contact with anything else.  We tightened all the screws and connections.  Initially, we didn’t realize that the frame was held together with hex key screws and were just tightening the decorative knobs.  When that didn’t work, Tawn had the makers of the bed frame come out and they revealed the hidden screws, tightening all of them.  That lessened, but did not eliminate, the chirp.

Notice the little bits of pink yoga mat cushioning the frame.

Working our way through the problem solving process, we turned our attention to the board under the mattress.  Ever since moving out of my parents’ home decades ago, I’ve never had box springs, not seeing the point of them.  But I started to rethink the wisdom of living without box springs because every twist and turn of our bodies was being transferred to the frame, which would in turn protest with that shrill, sleep-interrupting chirp.

The next-to-final solution was to purchase two box springs to replace the boards and transfer the full weight of the mattress to the floor rather than to the bed frame.  Workers from the department store came and measured to ensure the box springs would fit inside the frame.  We placed an order and last night, some six hours after the scheduled appointment, the delivery men arrived and installed the box springs.

The fit is good and the box springs are only about an inch higher than the boards on which the mattress previously sat.  Tossing and turning to test them, we could not induce a single chirp from the bed frame.

Waking up the following morning, I’m glad to report that there were no interruptions to our good night’s sleep.  The weight of the mattress now bypasses the frame and with two box springs, one person’s turn causes less disturbance to the other sleeper.  There appear to be only three resulting problems:

The first problem is that the frame, which no longer has any lateral support, shifts easily.  This means you cannot sit up in bed, resting against the headboard to read a book.  The second problem is that there is no longer any under-bed storage now that there are two box springs taking up what was once free space.

The final problem is trying to figure out what to do with the two large plywood boards.  Any takers?

Near the end of our trip to Los Angeles last month, while driving down the Pacific Coast Highway to visit Janet for tea, we stopped for brunch at the Starling Diner.  Located on East Third Street in Long Beach, the look and feel of the Starling Diner is that of an old-time neighborhood institution.  The food is comforting, the service friendly, and the fellow diners are, well, neighborly.

Starling Diner is all this despite having been around for less than five years.  It is no surprise then to learn that owner Joan Samson made a very conscious effort to create a space that had that neighborhood institution feel.  From their website:

In times past, neighborhoods were Communities where everyone casually knew each other and the gathering places were icons such as the front porch, the corner store and the neighborhood diner. It has always been our personal mission to create gathering spots that provide a sense of place along side the highest quality food and drinks. We live in and love Long Beach. We just made a place where we would like to meet our friends and connect.

My cousins had first brought me here in 2009 and I was eager to share the cute restaurant and tasty dining experience with Tawn.  He wasn’t disappointed.

This pale green cruiser parked outside seems to exemplify the Starling Diner.  Located amidst houses on a quiet street, this is the type of place you would hop on your bicycle and ride three blocks to meet some friends for breakfast at.

The tables are crowded with little tin tubs of all the condiments you might need.  Interestingly, they serve water in these biodegradable corn-based plastic cups in order to save the environment.  As I pointed out to the server (in a friendly, non-complaining sort of way), they would do more to save the environment to serve their cream, jellies, sugars, etc. in bulk containers rather than individual sachets and packages. 

The fact that our server took that suggestion with a thoughtful smile and remained friendly and welcoming is a good example of the type of consistent service I’ve enjoyed during both my visits.

The highlight of the menu is the San Francisco stuffed French toast.  Unlike most French toast, this is broiled not fried, and is made from baguette, not square loaf bread.

It does not disappoint!  The result is something that is light and crispy rather than heavy and soggy like most French toast.  This is a recipe I would like to learn to recreate at home.

Tawn had the crab cakes sandwich, which had these wonderful, large lump crab meat and tons of fresh greens.  This was really tasty, too.

All in all, the only disappointment at the Starling Diner was that there were just the two of us and, as such, we were only able to try two items on the menu.  Mark this on the list of places to come back to on a future visit!

Gardening is probably in my blood.  After all, my father was born and raised on a farm and when I was growing up in suburban San Francisco, he tended to an extensive backyard garden.  But in the nearly twenty years since I moved out of that home, I’ve had only two summers when I was able to garden: 2004, when Tawn and I were living in San Jose and I had five tomato plants growing from 5-gallon buckets, and 2005, when I was living in Kansas City before moving here to Thailand.

Finally, I am going back to the land, getting the dirt under my fingernails, and fulfilling my birthright: to grow my own food!

In the more than three years we’ve lived in this particular condo, we have wanted to hang plants from our balcony but the wire planters they sell locally are really wimpy – good only for petunias and shrinking violets.  We finally found a gardener who said he could make some heavy-duty planters for us.  It took a year to actually get them made, but finally he delivered. 

But they look pretty flimsy, don’t they.  Sure enough, just hanging on the edge it looked like they would hold maybe 10 pounds at best before collapsing four stories onto the backs of cars parked below.  So the gardener went back to his workshop and returned a few hours later with three metal brackets to put below the planters, providing better support. 

I’m still petrified that the planters will crash to the ground below, seeing as how they are actually attached to the balcony railing with wire!  I’ve purchased some plastic cable straps to provide greater security and am inspecting the planters frequently to look for signs of distress. 

We have two balconies, one in each unit.  For the balcony outside the bedroom, Tawn wanted a hedgerow so we don’t have to look at the abandoned building next door.  These trees provide a nice sense of greenery outside and with the bamboo blinds, one can wake up almost imagining being in a tropical resort.

While in the US in March and June I did some seed shopping.  Faced with limited space, I whittled down my selection of seeds to these five: mini bell peppers, cherry tomatoes, beets, carrots, and heirloom tomatoes. 

Didn’t get a picture of me actually mixing the soil, which was a bit of a mess given the small work space.  However, we now have five 37-cm pots hanging over the edge of the balcony.  I mixed chopped coconut husks into the bottom two-thirds of the soil to ensure it drains well and to reduce the weight of the pots. 

Some Starbucks stir sticks were purloined to make for row markers.  In addition to vegetables, I did one pot with mixed herbs.  I think I’ll have to purchase a few more pots and place them on the floor of the balcony.

One challenge we face is that our units face southwest and during the summer months the sun is actually to the north of us (since we are so close to the equator).  During the cooler months, though, we get direct sun.  I’m worried this might throw the plants off a bit, especially the tomatoes which I think will do best if they have hot days but, as the fruit sets, relatively cool nights.  We’ll see. 

I planted the seeds on July 4.  Three days later, the first sprouts were pushing their way through the soil.  Here, a cherry tomato seedling.  It occurs to me now that I should have planted first in some small containers, then transplanted into the bigger ones.  I’m going to have to thin out all of the larger pots since I can’t grow multiple tomato plants in a single pot. 

Sweet Italian basil “micro-greens” – ha ha!  Of the four herbs - basil, rosemary, parsley, and cilantro – the basil is the only one that has so far made an appearance.

Well, stay tuned over the coming weeks and months to see how this experiment at gardening goes.  To be sure, my maid is fascinated by my interest in this.  You have to reach a certain level of the bourgeoisie, I guess, to see growing your own food as a hobby rather than a necessity.

Near the end of our trip to Los Angeles, Tawn and I drove south to Oceanside, CA to spend the night visiting some friends.  Along the way we stopped in beautiful San Juan Capistrano, a small town on the south side of Orange County, to visit Janet, a fellow Xangan who keeps us enthralled with her photos.

San Juan Capistrano is a mission town, home to one of the 21 missions and settlements founded by Father Junipero Serra and his band of merry Franciscan friars.  At the heart of the town is a railway station, at which Amtrak and commuter trains regularly call.  On the left side of the tracks is the old town area, Los Rios, where several antique shops and tea rooms are located.

Antique shower from Paris, filled with rocks and sitting in the garden of the tea house.

In her entry on the meeting, Janet has more pictures including a better one of the three of us.  The tea shop was very cute, though, with all sorts of fussily elegant cups, saucers, tea pots, and creamers, hilariously mismatched.

Their scones were very nice with locally made preserves and fresh cream.  Was it clotted cream though?  Not sure.  Anyhow, it was a pleasant visit and I’ve glad we had the chance to meet Janet in person after several years of knowing her virtually.

Tags: @slmret

The first few nights we were in Los Angeles in June, Tawn and I stayed at the Travelodge Culver City on Washington Place just east of Sepulveda Drive.  As down-market as you would expect a Travelodge to be, this one has received well-deserved high rankings in TripAdvisor and other review sites.  In addition to the really tasty Metro Cafe located downstairs from the motel, just around the corner was the timeless Johnnie’s French Dip Pastrami.  Of course, I wanted to try it.

Established in 1952, Johnnie’s is this small shack of a diner.  As their menu explains, the jukeboxes are originals and some of the waitresses are, too. 

The restaurant is open until 2:30 am and an hour later on Friday and Saturday nights.  A wide mix of people stop by, young and old, well-off and those barely making ends meet.  They all are there for one thing: good, honest food.  The menu is simple: burgers, dogs, and sandwiches, with the pastrami taking center stage.

Complimentary dill pickles, sliced thick.

Combine the pickles with a root beer float made with hand scooped ice cream and, despite it sounding like the food cravings of a pregnant woman, I was in heaven!

The ambience is all chrome and naugahyde.  The pastrami boils for a while then finishes in a steam bath, coming out moist and thinly sliced.  What’s that machine on the left?  Well, for you youngsters out there, that’s how a real milkshake is made!

The pastrami on rye arrived.  While pastrami is generally a fatty meat, I found my cuts to be quite rare.  The fat that was attached was well-cooked and not overwhelming.  Compare the construction of this sandwich to a pastrami I tried at a wanna-be place in Bangkok called New York Cheesecake, which served me only a thin layer of meat topped with a third slice of bread and several inches of lettuce and other veggies.  Needless to say, Johnnie’s came a lot closer to satisfy my pastrami craving.  As for the flavor, it was fantastic.

Tawn ordered a veggie burger.  What’s that!?  A veggie burger at a place like Johnnie’s!?  Well, as my dearly departed paternal grandmother used to say, if we all liked the same things the world would sure be a boring place.  Truth be told, it was a pretty tasty veggie burger probably thanks to all the burnt-on beef bits on the grill!

Overall, we could debate whether Johnnie’s has the best pastrami in LA or not.  People have different preferences, of course.  I just know that Johnnie’s hit the spot for me, filling a need for good pastrami that I had been carrying with me for many months.  Next time I’m back in LA, I may return.  Or I may seek out some of the other recommended pastrami shops.  We’ll see.

Before we headed to Los Angeles last month, Tawn and I were invited to a special foodie dinner held at Sra Bua by Kiin Kiin restaurant.  Sra Bua is known for its molecular gastronomy take on Thai food.   Organized by CatAndNat.com, a Thai lifestyle website, and WorldFoods, I was invited to attend because of the writing I do for CatAndNat.

Dinner was held at the beautiful Siam Kempinski Hotel, tucked away right behind the Siam Paragon mall.

Opened less than a year ago, the Siam Kempinski is a beautiful 5-star hotel.  Their fresh flower arrangements in the lobby make it worth a visit just to “stop and smell the roses”.

The building also features gorgeous architecture and decorations throughout.  I enjoy visiting nice hotels like this just for the ambiance.

By coincidence, fellow blogger Angel and his partner were on holiday in Bangkok, staying at the same hotel.  We were able to meet them for a late afternoon tea before proceeding across the hall to our dinner.

Our host didn’t have Tawn’s full name handy so used my surname for his place card.  Tawn was very excited as this is the first (and only) time after our wedding that he’s had my surname!

Each dish was made with a WorldFoods sauce and was paired with a wine from Monsoon Valley Wines, a local Thai winery. 

WorldFoods is a Malaysian based maker of high quality Asian-inspired sauces, marinades, chutneys, and pastes that previously has given me samples of their products and invited me to try and, if I like, to write about them.  While I’ve been given no compensation, Tawn and I were invited to this very nice complimentary dinner.

The restaurant,Sra Bua, is the sister restaurant of Henrik Yde-Andersen’s Kiin Kiin in Copenhagen, the second Thai restaurant in the world to receive a Michelin star (which I understand has since been lost). 

Appetizer – Yum Som O, which is a traditional salad made with pomelo.  Pomelo is basically a large, less sour grapefruit.  Here, the chef added frisée and fish roe, which was meant to have a similar texture to the individuals pulp sacs of the pomelo.

Close up of the pomelo salad.  This wasn’t much of a success, in my opinion, with too little pomelo and too much roe, which overpowered the flavor of the salad.  The pairing wine was a Monsoon Valley Colombard, a fruity white.

Next dish was a Laksa Soup, which used the Singaporean Nyonya Laksa Paste.  This was a very pleasant, curry-type soup that was flavorful but not too spicy.  It was paired with a Monsoon Valley Cuvee de Siam, another white wine from grapes grown in the hills above Hua Hin, a beach town about three hours south of Bangkok.

The fish course was a pan-seared white fish (bass, I believe) with fish mousse and red curry.  This used the Red Curry Sauce and is actually based on a classic Thai dish called haw mok, in which fish is pureed, mixed with a red curry paste, and steamed in banana leaves.  I really enjoyed this course.  It was paired with a Monsoon Valley Shiraz that was pleasant, although not very complex.

The highlight of the meal was this beef with basil curry sauce.  The chunks of beef couldn’t have been more tender and it was served in a lightly fried pastry shell that is balance (although you can’t see it) on a small mound of jasmine rice.  This dish was so good that Tawn, who rarely eats beef, had the whole thing.  It was paired with a Monsoon Valley Cuvee de Siam Rouge, which was also the highlight wine of the evening.  It is a blend of 70% Shiraz and 30% Sangiovese grapes and has nice fruity flavors without too many tannins. 

Dessert was a jasmine ice cream served wrapped in phyllo dough and a jasmine rice panna cotta served with mixed tropical fruits, wrapped in a banana leaf.  These were really nice as the flavors were very delicate and refreshing.  The wine was a Monsoon Valley Muscat Dessert, which was sweet and syrupy.

After dessert a variety of hand-rolled truffles were set out.  If you like chocolate, you’d like these!

What the room felt like after the dinner.  Ha ha…

Me and Tawn with our friend Linda, who was able to join us at the last minute for dinner.  Conclusion: the menu, which was specially prepared for the event, worked very well in some areas and less well in others.  Attention to detail in the preparation was very high, though, as was the quality.  Service was also very attentive, which of course can be a challenge when you have some 30-40 diners.  Kudos to the chef and staff of Sra Bua for pulling this off.

(Updated Monday am) Sunday afternoon, the polls closed in Thailand’s second general election since the 2006 coup that saw Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra ousted by factions of the country’s military.  The results, announced last night by the Election Commission, are that Thaksin’s sister Yingluck Shinawatra will be the kingdom’s next Prime Minister, and also the first female PM in its history.

Tensions have been high because this election is seen, more than anything, as a litmus test on how the political situation will go forward.  First, let me make clear that I have no particular interest in any of the parties involved in this election.  Here’s the long and short of it:

• Thaksin was removed from office by a coup in September 2006 despite his party having won majority votes in two prior elections. 
• After a new post-coup constitution was ratified, a subsequent election saw the reincarnation of Thaksin’s political party (dissolved because of charges of breaking election law) again winning a majority. 
• The next two PMs, both from Thaksin’s party, were removed from office upon being found guilty of minor offenses and after a minority coalition party switched sides, the military-backed Democrats were able to form a government with Oxford-educated Abhisit Vejjajiva as Prime Minister.

Now, it looks like we’ll be back where we started, pre-coup.  Or, at least, something close to it since Yingluck and her Phuea Thai (“For Thais”) party have run on the slogan, “Thaksin thinks, Phuea Thai acts” and a proposed amnesty for Thaksin has been openly discussed as a leading policy position.

Election campaigns in Thailand are every bit as much of a circus as they are in the United States, although they take place in a much more compressed period of time – less than 60 days elapsed between the dissolution of the previous Parliament and these elections.  Yesterday, while waiting on the Skytrain platform at the Asoke station, Prime Minister and Democratic Party candidate Abhisit and his supporters were waiting for a train on the opposite platform, shaking hands and taking pictures with people.

Here’s a closeup of the man, described in one US Embassy cable that was leaked during the Wikileaks scandal as handsome and ineffectual.

Something that I will be glad are gone now that the election is over, are the large campaign signs that are tied to trees and poles along the streets, blocking the sidewalks.  In some areas they are so thick that the footpath is entirely hidden from the street, which I suppose is not necessarily a bad thing! 

These posters by the Phumjaithai (“Proud Thailand”) party showed male and female athletes with the face cut out, encouraging you to see yourself as one of the winners.  I couldn’t resist.

Driving around the city after the polls closed at 3pm, I noticed many people in small motorcycle driven push-carts, collecting these election posters.  “So quick to clean up!” I thought, until Tawn explained that these people were collecting the posters to use as building material.  The heavy corrugated plastic sheets can be used as roofs and ceilings in the slums.  Sadly, this may be the most any of these candidates actual do to improve the lives of the kingdom’s poor.

Even though Tawn and I had a chance to visit with them in Los Angeles just a few weeks ago, it was a pleasant coincidence that Gary and William had scheduled a trip to Bangkok for the end of June.  We were able to see them several times during their visit, and they invited me to travel to Kanchanaburi Province with them to visit the Tiger Temple.

First stop was the town of Kanchanaburi itself, about two hours northwest of Bangkok.  This town, located on Maenam Kwai (“River Kwai” – pronounced “kwae”), is the site of the bridge made famous in the 1957 David Lean film, Bridge Over the River Kwai.  We made a quick stop at the very good Thai-Burma Railway Centre, the better of two museums in the city about the building of the bridge.

Next, after a delay of about 45 minutes, we jumped on a train pulled by a 40+ year old GE diesel engine for a trip across the bridge and about an hour towards the Burmese border. 

Riding in a nearly antique (but still considered standard, third-class quality by the State Railways of Thailand) car, our interest quickly faded as the passing scenery blurred into a hazy green.

William, leaning out the window, takes a few shots of the countryside.  Fear not, we were actually stopped at a small country station when he did this.  Otherwise, he would have been whacked in the back of his head by overgrown bushes alongside the tracks.

A lone motorcyclist travels a country road as we pass a pair of houses.

Young rice grows a vibrant green in rich, volcanic soil.

Can you identify these crops?  Our tour guide disappeared for most of the train ride, but I was eventually able to learn that these are cassava plants, from which tapioca starch is obtained.

After much too long on the train, we disembarked at a dusty whistle stop and boarded our van, which had been chasing after us.  About twenty minutes later we arrived at the Tiger Temple.  The temple itself started out as a forest monastery in the mid-1990s.  Over time, the monks came to care for insured birds, an injured boar, and other animals they either encountered or were given to them.  The large grounds of the monastery developed into something of a wildlife sanctuary.

In February 1999, the first tiger cub was brought to the temple.  The cub had been orphaned by poachers and then had been sold to someone who was going to have it stuffed.  The cub survived the botched procedure to euthanize it and was brought to the temple.  Over the next few years, other orphaned cubs were brought to the temple and the head monk cared for them in following the principles of compassion for all living beings.

My last visit there was five years ago and the temple has developed quite a bit.  It remains a very popular tourist destination and the visitors’ fees go to support projects to protect the tigers.  The temple has also come in for some criticism from animal rights activists, which I won’t go into here other than to say that I did not witness any signs of ill treatment of the animals.

Okay, not a tiger, but a very large fire ant.  I was impressed with the macro focus on my camera!

The tigers, much like all cats, were napping in the warm afternoon.  There were about three or four staff members and volunteers for each cat and we were instructed about how to approach the cats and then the staff would take pictures. 

There were also plenty of other animals roaming about the large temple grounds, including this very friendly deer named Ta Waan – Sweet Eyes – who knows our tour guide because he always brings a bag of dried corn with him to the temple.

After feeding her, Ta Waan became our new best friend, following us around the temple.

Many of the tiger cubs are handled by various monks.  They play with them and keep them out of trouble.  This one made a lunge for Ta Waan, who bounded away, and the monk literally had to grab the tiger by the tail to keep him from running after the deer.

Since my last visit, the temple has introduced several programs that allow more interactivity with the cats, all for an extra price.  One of the programs was being able to feed and play with the cubs.  Gary and William opted for this and ended up with some wonderful pictures and great memories.  You’ll have to stay tuned to Gary’s site for those pictures.

Another program was being able to exercise the big cats.  Visitors are escorted by staff members into the exercise enclosure (Daniel in the lion’s den?) and get to play with them much in the same way you play with your cat at home: by holding something at the end of a stick that they will want to pounce on.  The enclosure has good vantage points from which you can see the big cats enjoying themselves.

As for the danger level, these are definitely wild cats and I observed that a lot of work is done by staff and volunteers to ensure that visitors don't do anything that would startle the cats or cause their natural instincts to kick in, causing harm.  I suppose that also keeping them fed (boiled chicken) and happy do a lot to minimize some of the risks.

While I was standing there filming from the wall (standing about where the man in the white shirt is taking a picture in the photo above), I suddenly sensed that there was something just over my right shoulder.  Sure enough, the tiger cub (pictured with the monk several photos above) was walking along the top of the wall and had stopped because I was in his way.

This picture, one of three that turned out very nice, wasn't taken with any zoom lens!  I was about two feet away from his whiskers.  Beautiful animal but a bit unnerving to be caught unawares.

I'll leave you with this video compilation, about three minutes of footage of the tigers playing in the water.

All in all, I think Gary and William had a fantastic time and I'd include a visit to the Tiger Temple on the itinerary for other guests.  It is certainly an experience you won't have at home.

Whew!  The big day has come and gone: cooking for a group of up to 80 for a community event called the River Space Dinner Party and Talk.  Reservations for the event were coming in faster and earlier than ever before in their several-month history and the day before, Yvan, one of the organizers, suggested I prepare for as many as 90 diners.  Thanks to a little rain, we ended up with about 70 people, still more than any previous dinner.

Much like I imagine one feels after running a marathon, I’m very glad I had the opportunity to tackle this challenge.  Now I know I can do it.  But it was exhausting and took a lot of hard work, not to mention the support of several friends who pitched in, so I’m probably not going to volunteer to cook for such a large group again anytime in the near future!

The preparation was spread over three days leading up to Tuesday’s dinner.  Most of the prep work involved careful planning – extrapolating my recipes into larger batches, creating shopping lists, and checking prices to ensure I would stay within my budget of 80 baht (US$ 2.63) per head.  When it came time to do most of the shopping on Tuesday morning, I had to go to three stores, managing to clean out two stores of their supplies of cilantro, radishes, and cherry tomatoes.

Tuesday morning I also baked more than 80 buttermilk shortcakes, which would be part of the dessert.

The grains for the mixed grain salad were cooked in batches and then sealed in bags.  Note the carefully-written labels.  Four parts (each serving about 20-24 people) with bags A, B, and C providing the different mixtures of grains.  Bag A contains brown rice, GABA rice, and Job’s tears.  Bag B contains brown rice, black beans, and small red beans.  Bag C contains pearl barley and corn.

I used large plastic storage containers to divide the ingredients by dish.  Some dishes took several containers, which completely filled our car.

The River Space is located on the second floor of a building in a local market on the banks of the Chao Phraya River, next to the Millennium Hilton hotel.  Since the street is some distance away from the building entrance, we temporarily parked (during rush hour!) and Tawn hired a porter from the market to help us move everything into the space.  That cost 200 baht (less than $7) and was the best 200 baht I’ve ever spent.

While I thought I had prepared a pretty simple recipe, one that required only one dish to actually be cooked on-site, there was still a lot of peeling, slicing, chopping, and dicing that needed to be done.  Thankfully, a half-dozen friends came early and rolled up their sleeves.  Little did they realize they would spend the next four hours in the kitchen!  From left to right, Bee, Ken, me, Sophie, and Linda.

At moments like this, I imagine that a Cuisinart food processor might be a worthwhile investment!  Except they would have decimated the tomatoes.

Very organized, I had instructions for pulling together each dish, including plating diagrams, prepared and taped to the kitchen walls.  These aren’t exactly a recipe, but helped everyone keep track of what steps we needed to complete and what the finished items were to look like.  This is for the dessert, a buttermilk shortcake topped with macerated mango and ginger whipped cream.

We had two burners to work with, although a second-hand stove was recently acquired that has three burners, significantly expanding the capacity.  Here, I start frying batches of the green curry marinated chicken while organizer Yvan prepares his signature garlic bread recipe.

Done with the mixed grain salad, my volunteers (now joined by Tammy and Tawn) slice mangoes for dessert while Doug, the friend who roped me into this event, supervises.

Doug also wandered around with my camera, documenting the action.

By 8:30 the crowd was ravenous, the best way to have them!  People started pouring into the kitchen and my friends expertly plated the meal, controlling portion size and garnishing with chopped cilantro and sliced almonds.  Unfortunately, in the chaos, nobody snapped a picture of the finished product!

After everyone ate, the guest speaker took the microphone for about 20 minutes.  Since this is an art space, they try to have someone at each dinner who can talk about a project they have worked on, usually with some relevance to Thailand or the local scene. 

In this case, it was Thai photographer Aroon Thaewchatturat and German writer Tom Vater, the photographer and author, respectively, of Sacred Skin, a book about the history and contemporary practice of Sak Yant, Thailand’s spirit tattoos.

These tattoos, written in ancient Khmer, are said to provide powers of protection from accidents, misfortune, and crime.  You see these tattoos peeking out from under monks’ robes, the shirt collars of young men, and even on Angelina Jolie.

The crowd seemed very interested in what Tom and Aroon had to say and enlargements of Aroon’s photos had been placed on the wall, startling images that sparked many discussions throughout the night.

As the talk concluded, we served our dessert, complete with a mint garnish.  Again, in the rush we managed to not get a picture of the finished product!  Next time, I need to bring my own media people, right?

We received a lot of compliments and had no troubles convincing people to take zip-loc bags of the extra mixed grains salad home, which is perhaps the best compliment of all.  We ended up with about 70 people and a final cost of 7,400 baht.  Based on the 90 people we prepared for, this was just ever-so-slightly over budget, coming in at 82.2 baht per person, or US$2.70.

To say I was exhausted when we returned home at about 11:00 is an understatement.  I’ve rarely been so tired, ever.  Working in a space that is not well-equiped for group cooking, I gained a new appreciation for the work of caterers and restaurateurs.  Thanks again to all my friends (and my husband) for helping me pull it off!

This weekend I’ve been scrambling to prepare for a dinner on Tuesday night, at which I will cook for up to 80 people.  This will be the largest group I’ve ever cooked for by a factor of three, and I’m excited to take on the challenge.  Oh, and an added challenge: I’m working on a budget of 80 baht (US$2.63) per head.  How did I get roped into this?

Two months ago, my friend Doug, an expat American to whom I was introduced by a friend from the San Francisco Int’l Asian American Film Festival, invited me to an event called the “River Space Dinner Party and Talk”.

The dinners are inspired by Jim Haynes and his famous Paris dinners which have lasted for more than 30 years. Jim’s son, Jesper, helped launch the Bangkok dinners at the River Space a few months ago.  Jim described his dinners during a piece on NPR’s All Things Considered:

Here in Bangkok, the dinners are held twice a month in a second floor flat on the banks of the Chao Phraya River, immediately next to the Millenium Hilton hotel.  The space is used for various arts events and is mostly just a large, open space.

The space is spectacularly situated, though, just above a small market and adjacent to the local ferry pier.  The reflection of the setting sun bathes the banks of the river in shades of purple and pink as residents who live on the west side of the river commute home.

The dinners are cooked by volunteers in a kitchen that is, to be generous, under-equipped.  But there are plenty of hands willing to pitch in, which is the important thing.  As I’m preparing to cook on Tuesday, most of my thoughts are about the strategy of how I’m going to do this in the most organized manner.  What tools will I need, what equipment, what supplies?

The meal served when I attended in April.  Potato salad, green salad, quiches (made at home by the head chef), and a wonderful strawberry triffle.  One of the things I’ve realized is that to cook effectively in this space requires a lot of advance cooking at home.

When I say “under-equipped”, you get the idea when you watch Doug contorting himself as he tries to make garlic bread for what was about 50 people using only a tiny toaster oven.  Needless to say, I was dragooned into the kitchen, willingly, and helped prepare the garlic bread.

So that’s the challenge I’m facing.  Having given a lot of thought to the meal, I’ve adapted, updated, and revised my proposed menu several times.  Finally, Friday night I cooked a “proof of concept” meal, to make sure the recipes worked (at a small scale) and would be on-budget.

The menu as it stands today: Mixed grains and vegetable salad with a sherry vinaigrette; stir-fried chicken marinated in green curry; and a yogurt relish with cucumbers and tomatoes.  The homemade bread and hummus will not make the cut.  Instead, the garlic bread and a green salad will be provided by another person.  And for dessert?  Saturday night I did another “proof of concept” and served homemade buttermilk shortcake with mangoes and ginger whipped cream. 

Stay tuned to heard how it all turns out!

One of our dinners, per my sister’s request, was at Mrs. Knott’s Chicken Dinner restaurant at Knott’s Berry Farm amusement park in Buena Park.  Knott’s Berry Farm is “the other amusement park” in Orange County, located just up the road from Disneyland.  Jennifer requested that we go to Mrs. Knott’s as she had fond memories from a visit there when we were children.

The history of Knott’s dates back to 1920, when Walter Knott and his family sold berries and preserves from a roadside stand.

In 1934, to make ends meet, Knott’s wife Cordelia (1890–1974) reluctantly began serving fried chicken dinners on their wedding china. For dessert, Knott’s signature Boysenberry Pie was also served to guests dining in the small tea room. As Southern California developed, Highway 39 became the major north-south connection between Los Angeles County and the beaches of Orange County, and the restaurant’s location was a popular stopping point for drivers making the two hour trip in those days before freeways.

These days, the wait for dinner is still long.  Admittedly, we were a larger group than normal – about 10 people – but the wait was still about an hour.

Prices have gone up over the years (by about 100 times) but the menu remains pretty much unchanged.  Frankly, this was more food than I wanted to have, as I was more interested in the boysenberry pie than anything else.  Walter Knott was responsible for naming and popularizing the boysenberry, a blackberry, raspberry, loganberry hybrid cross-bred by Rudolph Boysen of nearby Anaheim.

The interior of the restaurant, made up of several medium sized dining rooms, looks very run-down, badly in need of a makeover or, at least, a deep cleaning.

Buttermilk biscuit – okay, but not nearly as flaky or tasty as mine.

Rhubarb compote served chilled as a starter.  Very, very sweet.

Very sad salad.  “Farm fresh”?  Pathetic, really.

The main course itself – three pieces of fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, and corn.  The food was okay, although I found the chicken a bit oily and, like pretty much all chicken in the US, the meat lacked any discernable flavor.

The dessert – the boysenberry pie with ice cream – was pretty good.  So good that I managed to not get a picture of it!  But overall, the meal proved the conventional wisdom that things are better in our memories than they are in real life.  At least I was surrounded by family, so in good company for an otherwise mediocre dinner.

A nearly full moon climbs over the structure of GhostRider, the park’s wooden coaster.