29 September 06
Tango Evening
There were no tickets. There were no tickets WEEKS ago. But I showed up at 7:55, and, lo and behold, there was a woman whose friend had been unable to make it.
Estampas Porteñas was riveting, sexy, rigid, flowing, stop-start-stop like all good tango should be. But what was so much more fabulous than I’d thought was the four-piece band (piano, double-bass, accordion, fiddle). They were given music-only slots where they each shone. What a treat.
What a treat. I tried to sketch in the dark. It was pretty pitiful but I’ll try and post a sketch tomorrow.
27 September 06
Birthday Party
He was having his friends over—six of them—to participate in a contest on his birthday: make the best presented/sweetest/spiciest etc. dish with the ingredients available. He arranged to have a panel of independent judges present. He greeted his guests with enthusiasm and excitement.
They set about the basil and grape leaves and chiles and ice cream with abandon. His effort was a log-cabin masterpiece of dolmas and chiles…
He has, ladies and gentlemen, just turned six. And he’s my nephew. (Photos of Simon making pizza dough with me two years ago can be found here.)
21 September 06
The Best Meal of Our Lives
Or certainly a top candidate: Tim and Carolina’s wedding, at El Convento in Boadilla del Monte.
Part of this is always, inevitably, context. But I think we arrived in Spain at a time when the cuisine, previously safe, predictable, heavy on the pork to an extreme degree, has been experimenting with copious fresh produce, an interested and interesting clientele, and just plain panache.
The wedding menu featured meats, salad, seafood in novel and interesting combinations (smoked duck and asparagus in an intriguing-looking soup, for instance). But we were offered, and accepted, a “real” vegetarian menu. Watermelon gazpacho; saffron-flavored tagliatelle. Shaved cepes with an exquisite sauce. A chocolate-hazelnut mousse drizzled with tiramisu “soup.”
Was it because, at 10 pm, we were starving? Hardly. The appetizers served outside would ordinarily have fed us on an evening, not counting the meat ones. No. Food in Spain is now Interesting.
(For a fulsome and very elaborate account of a different kind of Spanish meal, see Ethan’s Barcelona Extravaganza.)
14 September 06
Ribena and Friends
As a remedy for my cold I was introduced to what was basically a Swedish version of Ribena. Not that I knew about Ribena before, but mixing this black current syrup in a cupful of hot water makes for a beverage that is very therapeutic, especially before bedtime. I looked for an equivalent yesterday in the Davis food coop, and came up with black cherry concentrate. It too is a success as a hot beverage!
13 September 06
Back on a Bike
We got back late last night, jetlagged and disoriented. There are many sketches to upload, still.
We somehow made it to work and we both rode our bikes. We were impressed with how many cyclists there were in London, not just the courier professionals but ordinary commuters.
My favorite? The Museum of Garden History, an oddball gem tucked in behind Lambeth Palace. I’ve never seen a dodo’s head before, for instance.
My own garden is in need of serious attention, but not tonight—if I were a cartoon my eyes would be x’s.
27 August 06
Packed and Ready
No kitchen sink, either. Some twenty-one hours after we leave the house we should be arriving in Madrid. My book to read on the plane is The Canterbury Tales, though part of me is just saying wake me up when the journey’s all over.
23 August 06
Packing Light
This is going to be entertaining. We just came up with the challenge of getting everything I need for our upcoming two-week trip to Europe in one slightly largish day pack. Such a feat will certainly make the logistics a lot simpler, if it’s possible. The bottleneck (emptied of all liquids, of course) is flying through the UK, where we are currently allowed one carryon measuring 45×35 x 16 cm. I’ve got my art stuff figured out though—it all fits in my Pajaro field bag. And hey, my pack will be two pounds lighter because I won’t have a full water bottle, like I always would carry before.
22 August 06
To the Smoke
“Smoking is not a crime,” said the bumper sticker on the car parked on the levee as I was biking home tonight. “Still smoking” was the afterthought.
It’s so rare, now, in Davis, to even run across anyone smoking. We are insulated from tobacco to an almost absurd degree—I have some sympathy for the defiant few. But next week it will be everywhere: between courses at restaurants in Madrid; inside, outside, everywhere. Black tobacco or blond. We’ll not escape it. I’m trying to get myself used to the idea.
18 August 06
Pig 'n' Popcorn
The two odors mingle. Shrieking children on rides and five different loudspeakers with different musics blare as loud as the lights, some of them powered by generators. So diesel fumes are part of the odiferous mix, too.
We just got back from the Yolo County Fair, where we bought some cinammon-roasted almonds, saw pigs being shunted around an arena by children with walking-sticks, and waited in vain for a demonstration of newspaper mulching.
One of my Armenian cucumbers would have given the prize-winners a run for their money, though. And marrows, though I’m getting better at cutting them early…
10 August 06
Ponderings on August 10
So I have to confess the thing that got me the most was the bit about not taking a book on the plane with me, I mean I can live without hairmousse for crissakes but no book? And I just ordered two from Powells, this and this .
But then I remembered what day it was, again, a day when three years ago we danced around a maypole together. It is a day to remember that. And to be thankful that the worst thing that happened at Heathrow today was that people got fed up.