Enamored Armor

When I was eighteen, I plunged into self-reliance with no guidance or foresight. You know, the good American way: off you go now, into the real world - you figure it out. It was glorious.

I remember settling into our college town in Northern California, my brother and I, just happy to be there, on the blink of our brand new journey, not owning much, not even a means of transportation (we soon got bikes). We built our life from scratch, just a little over a week before classes started, a piece at a time, from kitchenware to underwear.

In the latter category, I was all about the cotton comfort of Hanes. (I adored the "Can't wait to get our Hanes on you" campaign.) I may have delved into Fruit of the Loom for fun (it does sound more adventurous, doesn't it?). That probably lasted longer than a decade. Then came my designer brand/outlet-shopping phase a.k.a. the I'm-so-vain period when all I'd wear was Calvin Klein and DKNY. In my thirties, embracing my sexuality and knowing how and when to "work it", I was all about Victoria's Secret, Felina, and Jezebel. In my late thirties I threw in a little Honeydew and the Pink line under VS (targeted clientele are college-aged) as good measure to hang on to my youth. Recently i found myself eyeing Candies, then noticed the word "junior" on the display and decided that was off limits.

Brand identity. Gotta luv it. It makes the world go 'round.

What i ended up buying was Maidenform. Like a trusted friend (my first bra was Maidenform and so is my current one. And trust me, i have been around the block). Thongs, so not totally matriarchal and boring. In cotton though. Ah, in the panties realm, i've come full circle.

Depression Redux Redux

I could've titled this "Depression Redux 2", but this is funnier.

My mother finally writes back after over a week. She explains that she's been busy studying her stocks. I don't even know what that means. But it's typical that i don't come first.

She has more questions, most of which start with "Why". All these why's are overwhelming. I am so sick of explaining myself. That's how i've felt with her all my life. I explain, and explain, and explain. And still she doesn't get me. You'd think close to four decades of explaining would finally do it. I don't see why either of us should keep this up. We're very different people. If we weren't related, we wouldn't be friends. I am just... so... tired.

I buy myself some time by projecting that i won't be home a lot in the next few days, and ask to be given till Thursday. She cheerfully replies, "Fine as long as you have explained why [you're gonna be busy]." There it is again, "explaining". I feel defenseless.

To aggravate matters, there is a good chance my parents will be visiting in June. The logistics of it all and the mounting fear is paralyzing.

I sink into depression.

The day is long when i can't get out of the house. Running out of things to kill time with.

In the last hour, I've considered replying to my mother and getting it over with. But that would require rereading her emails. That alone is dreadful.

I tell RJ my mother's emails are poison that kills me slowly.

So i watch an episode of House instead. Very behind since my VCR broke about three years ago. Yeah, i know, i can be such a dinosaur.

No clever anecdote today. I'm all out.

RJ Makes Dinner 23

Fricassée with Japanese eggplant and chicken

On rigatoni

My Fourth Food Truck Experience

Decent Asian fusion.

I've read that a lot of chefs hear "Asian" paired with "fusion" and instantly shudder due to a period of abuse of the term in the 90's. I agree: I too am disgusted when i read a recipe loosely associated with an ethnic group just by throwing in a couple of familiar ingredients in this casual and thoughtless spirit (ginger? Chinese! Lemongrass? Why, it's Vietnamese!)

But the following is passable in my book. There are no fast and hard rules and I'm sure it's an art, not a science.

Sweet and spicy deep-fried wings

Hari Cari (Cari = Curry in Hindi)

Five-spice slow-cooked pulled pork

RJ Makes Dinner 22

Tartine Cordon Bleu with chicken and Black Forest ham, topped with crisped onion.

Alley Gets Another Bow

From the Groomer.

New Attire

About Town 12

This alley is nothing but hip restaurants.

Eatz 7

Finally a chip that delivers promised heat!

Lobstah roll. My third food truck experience. Can't beat lobster on wheels indeed.

Dolsot bibimbap

It's like discovering a treasure under the egg!

Feta-filled puff pastries with caramelized onion.

Berry Daiquiri

With raspberries, blueberries, mint and a dash of lime and grapefruit juice.

Eatz 6

Turkey Laap served on endive leaves.

RJ roasts chicken again. Always a pretty sight. Bonus: i won the wishbone game.

The most visually pleasing homemade chicken stock!

Minced seafood bread dip and gazpacho with capers and a drizzle of olive oil. Simple things can be so incredibly tasty.

My first paella: Fideua Negre, noodle paella with prawns, squids, sepia squid ink with a generous dollop of allioli. The umami was amazing! One of the most memorable al fresco dining experiences.

Shuffle

Mark Makhoul, the guy made famous for being sued by Benihaha in Kuwait for writing a scathing review, tweeted four hours ago (and no, it wasn't 2:48 a.m. Ha, ha) on spotting a sign that read:

You are not stuck in traffic. You are traffic.

Huh. There's something very zen about that.

Seekers

In today's advice column in The Chronicle, Diners' Dilemma explains to Abby that she and her husband are both raised differently such that, instead of putting food on a serving plate, they help themselves in the kitchen and take their plates out to consume in another room.

(First off, i didn't know that the serving plate was the norm.)

The dilemma: she was taught that the hostess/cook helps herself last, and he was brought up with "ladies first".

Really? This is the problem? The one big issue worth writing about and begs to be printed, so it can be settled, once and for all? In a space usually occupied by a lamenting widow whose newlywed son has disowned her, or a desperate single father who feels like he can't reach out to his suicidal teenage daughter?

Know what Sia would say?

Some people have REAL problems.

Quote 252

We remember moments. Not days.

- Anonymous

Revelation 30

It just occurred to me that, in Farsi, zende (alive) rhymes with jende (whore).

Depression Redux

This may not be quite aptly titled. It wasn't like: depression hit once, and here it is again.

Depression has never left, however long it's been since I've written about it.

A week or so ago, it hit harder than in a while. RJ suggested that i take St. John's Wort, which seems to "life the weight off [his] chest", as he puts it.

I did. And i felt better. Couldn't be sure if it was circumstantial. After all, there was no control group or placebo.

This morning, as soon as i felt the onset of depression, i popped one. I didn't wind up descending into a really dark place, but that darkness is there.

Maybe this holistic remedy is like Ecstasy. The first time blows your mind. Subsequent encounters will never even come close.

I theorize that there is always a moment from which i "spiral down" (if i allow myself), as the psychotherapists say. Sometimes i can't quite pinpoint that moment.

It's often a mix-bag of events.

I was reading. I've mentioned how Sunday has become my reading day, and i've found bliss in that. Today i seemed to be reminded of how other people have lives and are outside living them. I have none, outside or not.

A non-fiction article by Brooke Rinehart in The New York Times which mentioned "fantasizing about accidental deaths (of self)" resonated with me. I was fighting back tears before i knew it.

Estrangement from my brother and his has, of course, not helped. In fact it's been plaguing me, turning each day a worse shade of desperation than the previous.

Denisse has her own issues to deal with. Between the puppy and the beau, she's one busy woman.

Sherry, now unemployed, has to watch her spending. As should i, really.

I've developed a phobia of driving on freeways, and even on surface streets i feel comfortable only with familiar routes, and anything farther than 20 minutes away is touch-and-go. I know it's an irrational fear, but the physical symptoms are literally paralyzing. Having had such debilitating episodes only feeds the paranoia. Depression stems from this two ways: (1) The feeling of isolation and helplessness. (2) The depreciation of self-worth for having had this mental condition aggravated to this ridiculous point.

Then, of course, the mother lode. (Pun intended.)

Last week, my mother expressed concern over my relationship with my brother and the fam, as i call them. It was very painful to respond immediately. So i promised a full reply in a few days (i named the specific foreseen day because I knew what would be occupying my time in the course of the next few days). My mother was joyous about my prompt response. In the next two days there was chit chat; i replied to that. Again she expressed in ernest her anticipation of receiving my promised long letter.

Over the next two days, as the deadline drew near, i literally lost sleep over this, drafting the important letter in my head, choosing my words carefully so as to explain the situation succinctly without causing her heartache. Cuz Lord knows i always manage to do one of two things: hurt her feelings, or make her worry. Or both.

So came Tuesday, and the self-appointed good daughter that was i hit "Send".

That was five days ago.

Typical of humans perhaps. When they want something from you, it's "Chop chop!" Once you've filled their needs, not a peep from them.

I guess my mother is human. Why would i expect otherwise?

Gaulden's Cauldron

Yesterday i had a taste of soul food for the first time. When Soul Food came out in 1997, i'd never even heard of this term. I thought it was a contemporary catchy title for a movie.

Only in the past 3 years or so have i studied a bit the tradition and the history behind the cuisine. The learning happened to have coincided with a lengthy period of an extremely restrained diet. It ended fairly recently, but i didn't find it necessary to travel 50 miles to the closest soul food restaurant. Then, out of the blue, one opened within a 10-mile radius.

RJ thought the barbecued brisket was too sweet for his taste. Well, to each his own. Can't really argue with personal preference. Brown sugar apparently is used abundantly in many such recipes.

But that's what you do for generations: you make sure your food is sweet. Even if life isn't.

Lunch with Riley 2

Fish taco and lengua taco. That's right: tongue. And i actually enjoyed the latter more remarkably. I noticed after the fact that they had beef cheek, too. Doh! I would've tried it. Oh well, next time.

Carne asada tostada

Braised Chicken Thighs with Indian Spices

RJ's done it again!

About Town 11

About Town 10

Eatz 5

This bread dip is irresistible to me even if it is as simple as olive oil, garlic and herbs (rosemary included).

Cacciucco



Italian herbs

Quote 251

I would rather spend my life close to the birds than waste it wishing I had wings.

- Lou, "Dying Changes Everything", House M.D.

Vignette 26

It's 1:09 p.m. and I'm not hungry.

"I'm not hungry," I tell RJ. "That's weird."

"Are you sick?" Asked RJ.

"Must be," I replied.

Snippet 201

RJ:
[On Transformers, the movie]
It's based on a comic but it's well-constructed, like other Spielburg films, like Close Encounters of the Third Kind.

V:
OK, but it still involves vehicles that turn into robots.