Patio Days

The spring/summer patio in all its camping-geared glory. The random green bin is going to be our master composting spot. Once we get a lid and get it straightened out.

To the left are our mizuna starts and an herb pot with sage, cilantro, parsley, and dill. To the left are the plants that require some space of their own: rosemary and chives. The two empty pots wil hopefully hold the beginnings of carrots and fennel.

Our pea starts are already growing... about a half inch last night alone!

You can just see the tiny tendril of a brave pea shoot setting his anchor to the hanging wire, preparing for a long climb.

Our lovely outdoor table and the new geraniums that can be seen from indoors as well. At night, the string lights and candles make a lovely light by which to enjoy a fine take out meal from Cha Cha Cha or a round of speed Scrabble.


My tiny gardening table made from cinderblocks and a pretty piece of recyled glass from SCRAP*. And yes, those are mini-kegs in the recycling bin. Mr.Mr. loves himself a mini-keg. The white pail will be used for food scraps to be composted. YAY!

*SCRAP is quite possibly, the best place ever. Please check it out.

p.s. I'm posting this from the patio to be as authentic as possible. Got to love the laptops.

Jet setting with Salty (Part III)

Day three of San Francisco brought in the characteristic fog of the city. Getting a late start to the day after a lazy morning and delicious breakfast of cranberry clafoutis, we headed south on Route 1 to Pescadero.

We pulled into the parking lot at San Gregorio beach to check our map when we realized we were on empty- and quite possibly miles from the nearest gas station. This cozy couple hid from the drizzle under their umbrella as they walked the path watching the waves roll.

Unable to discern our exact distance from our destination, we popped into the San Gregorio Post Office. We didn't stay long but this cute little all-in-one bar and general store was absolutely charming. As icing on the cake, there was a four piece band playing to a small audience of bundled up locals enjoying beer, coffee, and snacks. With a few twirling kids peppering the audience, I think this is exactly the kind of place I'd want to be on a foggy fall day.


Destination: Harley Farms. American Cheese Society award winners for the last five years, Harley Farms offers a variety of tasty and attractive goat cheeses in their small shop adjacent to the farm. Since we took a while to get there, we missed our opportunity to get a tour of the farm and cheese-making process. But that didn't stop us... okay, me from sampling as much sweet, sweet, goat cheese as humanly possible in the last twenty minutes before the shop closed. I enjoyed their edible flower-adorned, tomato basil, cranberry walnut, and apricot pistachio "tortes." I also tasted their herbes de provence, peppercorn, and dill versions.


Sadly, I missed my opportunity to try their feta and chevre in oil but I did get a few toothpicks of their subtle, dry ricotta salata. We considered buying some to add to the subsequent night's dinner menu of fresh pasta and roasted chicken, but ultimately decided a small tub of their pumpkin spread and a log of their chive chevre would suit us well for pre-dinner noshing. And did it ever! The pumpkin spread was delicious with plain water crackers and would have made an excellent ravioli filling on its own.


Dinner brought us to Ebisu, a favorite sushi joint of Mr.Mr.'s and his brother, conveniently located only a few blocks from the latter's apartment. Sitting away from the bustle of the sushi bar, we enjoyed our meal in the tatami room, sitting cross-legged, shoe-less on small, soft pads. Given that Mr.Mr. and I eat a majority of our meals at the living room coffee table, the casual style of the tatami room feels a bit like home to us. While he and his brother indulged in such oddities as fresh scallop, spider rolls, and things with eels in them- I stuck to a tempura vegetable and california roll. If you look closely, you can read Mr.Mr.'s brother's t-shirt from 826 Valencia. It reads, "Canons don't sink ships. Pirates with canons sink ships." So ridiculously clever.

After dinner we rented a couple of movies from the local video store and sat down together in the glow of an 11" laptop screen (Mr.Mr.'s brother has no tv) to enjoy Mrs. Pettigrew Lives for a Day. Described on the case as a "delightful, champagne of a comedy" or some such nonsense- I worried it might be too fluffy for my male cohorts... and my concerns were confirmed when, forty minutes in, I was voted off the island and we began In the Valley of Elah instead.

The former was, (just as described), a pure sno-cone type treat of a movie with lush interiors, fabulous wardrobes and a perfect portrayal of fictitious movie star of the minute, Delysia Lafosse by Amy Adams. In stark contrast, the latter was a dark, raw, and disturbing perspective on the war in Iraq and the reach of its destructive, malignant wake. What struck me most about In the Valley of Elah was its portrayal of the veterans of war and how the violence experienced, first hand or otherwise, becomes an unshakable memory. Worse, how sometimes that memory becomes ghost-like... completely separate or removed from the actual act and the implication(s) of participation in those acts.

... Part IV to follow shortly.

Jet setting with Salty (Part I)

Did you miss me? I missed you. But I'm back now from our trip to San Francisco and do I have some treasures to share, or what? No really, I do. Mr.Mr. and I spent five days in the city gallivanting about the various neighborhoods, enjoying food, family, and pretty things. Having never been to San Francisco before, I knew only to expect high quality cuisine, good humored conversation, and plenty of fog. But surprise, surprise, we only had one day of seriously bad weather, and the sun came out in spades every other say... nary a wisp of cloud in sight.

While I took over 150 photos on the trip, I know the average time spent on this site is little more than five minutes. So I've picked only my favorite places and will break it down into days, focusing on the pictures and adding a bit of description for each. Now sit back, relax, and enjoy an in flight beverage.

"Make loaves not war." This is the motto at Arizmendi Bakery in Inner Sunset.

This small, co-op bakery and cafe offers a number of sweet breakfast-y treats, breads, and savory bites like focaccia and pizza. It happens to be a hop, skip, and a jump from Mr.Mr.'s brother's apartment and the friendly staff make conversation when it's not too busy. Traveller's beware- this popular spot has little seating and when the stroller brigade comes through, it gets a little dicey. My advice: dash in, dash out, tip your server with a smile (they don't accept cash or coins as a policy), and enjoy your cherry cornmeal muffin on your walk to to the MUNI.

Or, better yet- take a stroll through the Botanical Garden at Strybing Arboretum while you nibble on a flaky shortbread cookie. This beautiful place was filled with a massive variety of local and foreign trees, flowers, and plant life. We worked our way through half a mid-morning pizza at the edge of the duck pond and enjoyed the free entertainment provided by a flock of [casually] uniformed school children.

Xanthorrhoea Sp. native to Australia, looks like a modern art installation made entirely of wooden coffee stirrers. Also know as the grass tree, it had an odd, monochromatic progression of living to dead leaves that created a really striking, all-over sort of pattern.

This little jewel has no name- or at least none that I made record of at the time. It reminded me of a sea anemone with its brightly colored spray.

Having travelled at an early hour to make it to San Francisco by mid-morning, Mr.Mr. and I napped for a bit after our walk in the sun and then headed out for dinner to RNM in the Lower Haight. Sadly, I have no pictures to share but suffice to say, it was a fantastic meal. We started with one of their two rotating salads and their charcuterie plate (pâté, duck rillettes, smoked prosciutto, coppa salami, house made andouille, marinated olives, dijon and upland cress) which were both delicious. (I had to remind myself not to think about what pâté is made of a few times, but the taste worked wonders on my mental efforts.) After that, we moved on to split a creamy polenta entree and a braised lamb dish that left us scraping the plate and bowl respectively.

Mr.Mr. and his brother enjoyed martinis made with Junipero gin that earned high marks from both for its uniquely clean flavor. For dessert we enjoyed a lemon panna cotta garnished with blackberries soaked in some sort of potent alcohol. For my part, I would have skipped the garnish as it contrasted the lemon too strongly and detracted from the dish. If I had my druthers, I'd be hitting RNM as often as possible for their prix fixe menu offered Tuesday through Saturday, 5:30pm - 7:30pm. What a steal.

Stay tuned for Part II.

The grass is always greener

...At the house of the unemployed. In an earlier post I mentioned Mr.Mr. and I are the proud new owners of a small dirt patch behind our apartment. Having relocated from the land of third-floor apartments, the seemingly limitless potential for a green space of our own couldn't be passed up, and within a couple weeks we purchased a bag of grass seed and I began a sowin.' Or, mostly tossing, more accurately. For about thirteen bucks I didn't expect great results, especially after reading on the bag that the manufacturer expected me to rake, fertilize, and water non-stop our budding lawn. (I know, I was like, "for real?" too.) But lo and behold,* after a week of watering the lawn using the water we'd normally waste waiting for the shower to heat up, grass sprang forth like a mini-miracle oasis.

Since then I've worked on two more 4 x 8 sections (only one left to go), carefully tending my verdant gems and coaxing them into a [reasonably] well manicured plot. And with a heft of time on my hands, I've become borderline obsessive about raking our tiny lawn. I'm like my grade school neighbor, Mr. Daviero, who would spend all day raking, mowing, and watering his lawn on the weekends. It wasn't rare to see him as fall approached, out on his lawn to pick up an errant leaf marring the pristine sea of green. One. Leaf.

And now, I'm that guy.

Worse yet is the lack of foresight exercised early on in this project. Because while my grass is growing into a lush, thick carpet- I have absolutely no way to mow it. And. AND. It would require me to reach a brand new level of crazy to get out there with a pair of kitchen shears. I will not be that guy. I have better things to do. I swear.

*I had to look this up because all of a sudden I realized that I had absolutely no clue where this expression came from. It turns out, the word 'lo' as used is a shortening of 'look.' So, lo and behold! means look! - behold! Pffft. A little redundant if you ask me.

Roasty toasty

Now that we have our very own patio with a complimentary dirt patch, I can't stop daydreaming of infinite ways to throw money down the drain at outdoor amenities and seasonal decor. First it was grass- which mostly worked until I realized buying tike-sized garden tools did save me money... but not enough to account for the push-mower I'd need once the grass actually grew. Then it was the hammock- which quickly went out of style when I realized we might pull down the fence with the weight of one body.

Now, I want this little ditty to heat up those gusty fall nights and satisfy my year-round cravings for smores. Not to mention the smell of a real fire gives a girl a nice, outdoorsy je ne sais quoi, non? So my real question is- does being unemployed give me a one-time pass to buy the cheapo version offered at... eh- gasp! Walmart? I know, I know. I swear to god I haven't shopped there since Bonne Bell lip gloss was the "it" thing on my list, but really... a girl's gotta be spend thrifty, right?

Okay, some of you are furrowing your brows, hands on hips, just waiting to point out that in an economic pinch, an outdoor fire pit would absolutely qualify as an unjustified expense. And I agree. Except that it would be so cool, right? I mean, come on. Think of it this way- if we go completely broke and can barely pay our rent but can't afford electricity to heat our apartment... problem solved, right?