Coast Highway Holiday

There are a million places this post could begin. The trip to Paris that didn't happen. The appeal to friends that reminded me, yet again, what a wide range of truly interesting people I'm lucky to know. Then again, it could just as well start in a dorm room on the sixth floor of Dykstra Hall on an otherwise uneventful night in 1996, when, from the room next door, an unfamiliar voice authoritatively yelled out the answer to my question of how many cups is a stick of butter. It's not unusual for me to get mired in options (maybe this is why it's taken me so long to post this damn thing!).

But I'll get to the point. My winter holiday was everything a vacation should be: a restful break enjoying perfect California Christmastime weather with best friends, close family (peppered with a few choice solo moments), and what seems like an unfair amount of laughter. And through all this, I somehow managed to trace the contour of the California coast: the 'big trip' consisted of four days in sweet, cozy Cambria, including a drive up Highway 1 through Big Sur to Monterey, then back through Salinas, home of both John Steinbeck and the best cornbread I've ever had (Seriously amazing stuff. I got a full order for dessert). I came home just in time to drive down to Laguna Beach (delicious dinner party that culminated with the whole house crammed in one room dancing to their own karaoke-ing voices, then beach walk, art gallery, and Zinc Cafe -- really, doesn't suck), then a few days later piled into the car with the parents, the sister, the brother-in-law, and three kiddies, for a day at the Santa Barbara Zoo. It was like a week-and-a-half-long game of peek-a-boo with the Pacific ocean!

But, let's focus on the Cambria part, shall we? So, for as long as I've known my friend Brad (eleven years and counting...aww), I've heard stories about his idyllic youth in the small coastal town. Thanks to his generous invitation, and his darling mom's kind hospitality, Rachel -- another close college friend -- and I spent a few days in his childhood home, hanging out with his mom and sister and having a grand old time. It turns out that Brad's family is a self-contained comedy act: whether we were taking walks through the bluffs overlooking the beach, rolling from winery to winery , opening 'presents' on Christmas morning (Which lucky one did Santa leave a stick of gum for? Who got the bottle of Excedrin?!), or just lounging on the couch, indulgently poring through back issues of Sunset Magazine, we were cracking up the whole time. Who needs expensive spas and retreats? For true relaxation, all you need is a laughing vacation.

We also learned that Brad and his family know every single person in Cambria. From every waiter at cozy Robin's restaurant, to the mailman at the Cambria Pines Lodge -- home of the town's only bar -- everyone is on a first-name, how's-the-family, basis. In fact, when we visited Main Street Grill, the setting of many of Brad's stories of his formative first job (for which I am personally thankful: after all, it is here that he learned the skills that led to my first, glorious encounter with barbecued beef ribs, on the rickety balcony of a dingy college apartment so many summers ago), Brad was so busy schmoozing we hardly saw him at the table.

It was fun to learn a bit about Brad's history: his mom told us stories of her youth in Illinois (how's this math: 2 parents + 6 kids + 2 pies = 1/4 pie per person), and how the family made its way to the west coast. She must have been tickled to be spending her Christmas vacation wowing two Jewish girls from the city with tales from the hog farm -- 4-H and all. And Brad was more than happy to share his more recent past with us -- by way of walking around in his Letterman jacket, along with the biggest grin I've ever seen.

We even managed to fit in some excursions: an afternoon in downtown San Luis Obispo offered a trip to the city's eponymous mission and to the local art gallery, with its awesome exhibit of photos of California's migrant workers. We even made it to the Monterey Bay Aquarium. Good lord those otters are cute! One was obsessed with grooming her face and kept smooshing it into adorable expressions.

It's kind of a unique phenomenon: you've heard so much about a place, and the people in it over so many years that it nearly becomes part of your own story. Cambria has long been a member of our circle of friends. Nice to finally spend some quality time.

Come for the Sandwiches, Stay for the Debauchery

Once upon a time, in a dark crowded bar, the following conversation happened:

A: You know what I really really love?

H: What?

A: Sandwiches.

H: Oh my God, me too! I love sandwiches! You know what would be really great? If we had a club where we would go to each other's houses, and eat sandwiches!

In that moment, a a new era of history began. The era of Club Sandwich.

Since February of 2004, once a month, we go to the home of a member, who has made us the sandwich of his or her choice. We eat said sandwiches. Then we engage in some activities. The first meeting of this epic union of bread and innards hit it off. We met at Heather's apartment in Koreatown for some fine sandwich cameraderie. Followed by flaming sambuca shots (that's where the debauchery comes in. Er, that's where it starts). Then we walked it off as we headed to the Escape Room, the finest dive bar in Koreatown that no longer exists (I mean, dance floor (that we dominated, literally and figuratively), solid jukebox, friendly barstaff, and erotic photo hunt. What else is there?). It was a magical night. Somehow the spirit of sandwich goodness lasted through the wee hours as we danced the night away. Something delicious was abrew.

The Very First Club Sandwich

Since then, we've had countless sandwich adventures. When Alon hosted, he offered a table full of peanut butter and everything associated with peanut butter sandwiches -- the requisite jelly, of course, but also, fluff, pickles, mayonnaise, Nutella, MnM's, and so much more. We had a contest for most creative sandwich, and then we went to his local dive for karaoke (It was here that Neil Diamond's Sweet Caroline became the unofficial anthem of our motley sandwich crew). Sometimes the vibe is mellower, as we dish about relationships and seek advice from our fellow sandwichers. And we always manage to crack each other up.

Curry Chicken Salad Sandwich

We've had barbecue sandwiches, Cuban sandwiches, muffaletta sandwiches, veggie sandwiches, panini, sandwich cookies, ice cream sandwiches, Bay Cities' godmothers on the beach, and baloney sandwiches on the playground (complete with some very potent juice boxes, if you catch my drift). For Christmas each person brought a sandwich, wrapped in festive paper and bows, and we had a Secret Sant-wich gift exchange. Our resident schoolteacher offered sandwiches that have been crushed for three hours under the weight of a juice box. Last month, Maya made her triumphant return after recovering from surgery (after which her head was held together with staples. serious Frankenstein stuff going on.) with curry chicken salad sandwiches -- crunchy and spicy-sweet with apples, cashews, and celery. See? Always delicious.

Celebrating Two Years of Sandwiches

We've established a bit of a cult following. One of our members was stranded in Cairo, where they don't even have sandwiches, for the first year of the Club's existence. Depressed for missing out on the festivities, she regaled us with songs like "Unbreak My Heart (Sandwich)", and "Nothing Compares to You (Sandwich)". When she finally came home, she brought back Club Sandwich t-shirts made especially for us in Egyptland. Our New York correspondent has never been to Club Sandwich, but does some pretty good work on her own. We've even had imitators -- rumors of Club Noodle and Club Taco abound. Cute (ahem).

Giving the Gift of Sandwich

This month's Club Sandwich was at the home of our resident grillmaster Brad. It ranked up there as one of the best. Tell me this is not the perfect summer day: nachos, swimming in the ocean, barbecue, margaritas. Amazing! Brad lives in Manhattan Beach, about half a block from the beach. The house has 3 balconies, all with an ocean view. Brad whipped us up a batch of nachos to whet our appetites, then all 10 of us headed to the beach.

Sandwich Spread

There's this sound that I make in moments of extreme joy. It's a sort of low-pitched guttural roar. It's kind of embarrassing, and usually only comes out in private moments -- most often when I'm driving fast on the freeway, the sun is shining bright in a clear blue sky, and yet another favorite song pours out of the radio. As we swam through cool salty waves that were big enough to be interesting, small enough to be inviting, I couldn't help myself. It was that good.

Sandwich-to-be

As if that wasn't enough, we went back to the house to tri-tip sandwiches with grilled vegetables. This Brad, he knows his stuff with the barbecue. He makes it seem effortless every time. Which is to say, he's basically the Brian Boitano of grilling. On second thought, not just of grilling.

Ah sandwiches, you bring so much joy to our world!

Blog Action Day

Today is Blog Action Day. Fifteen thousand blogs all over the world will publish a post about the environment today. Tiny blogs like mine, as well as behemoths like Lifehacker, the Google blog, and my own of-late-neglected WiseBread will contribute their unique voices to inundate the internet with a common message. Pretty cool, and pretty important.

Here at All Kinds of Yum, I bring you two posts. I will ramble on about how all the cool kids, including my mother, are going green. But I'm more excited to report, we have a guest blogger today! My dear friend Brad Brauer, an engineer who may someday use his expertise to make environmentally friendly stuff, has done the hard-hitting research, and offers us a a really informative post about what's behind the momevent towards local, organic foods. We've all heard the buzzwords -- local, organic, sustainable -- but Brad gives us the reasons behind the buzz. Thanks Brad!!

Getting Our Nacho On

[Apparently none of you cares about the chickens, so we're trying something a little easier today: sweet, glorious nachos.]

I don't know if we've talked about it here, but I love nachos. I do. But not as much as my friend Brad does. When Brad told me that yesterday, October 21, is the International Day of the Nacho, obviously we had to celebrate.

It had to be at Lotería because they have the best nachos in town, and I'm a loyalist having gone to the Farmer's Market one five thousand times, but this time we went a bit out of our way to check out to the new Lotería Grill in Hollywood because, well, they have margaritas. So we rounded up our people, and alit on Lotería. They didn't know what hit them (mainly because they didn't know about the International Day of the Nacho. For shame!) Here are some numbers for you:

- people in our party: 13
- ginormous plates of nachos, piled on with black beans, cheese, green salsa, scallions, tomatoes, optional meats, and delicious broily goodness: 7
- times the stories of Ignacio Ayana -- the inventor of nachos, and Carmen Rocha -- the Nacho Queen of El Cholo, responsible for bringing the fantastic stuff to LA (who sadly, passed away last week, just missing the holiday that celebrates her calling), were told or mistold: 4
- frighteningly strong margaritas, palomas (that's right kids, it's like a margarita, but with Squirt. Classy!), and Bohemias: lost count at 11
- micheladas ordered, despite fascinating variations like the the one with Worcestershire and Maggi sauce, and the spicy michelada enchilada: 0
- bus boys that sang along with me when "Oye Mi Amor" came on, then hit on me incoherently en español: 1
- depressing Aimee Mann songs that came on in between the mix of fun Spanish pop: 1
- sad little Mini Coopers that got towed(!) from the deceptively amazing spot around the corner from the restaurant: 1, mine.

The moral of the story, other than that nachos are good and we should eat them often, is that the new Lotería Grill is a Good Thing. I love a place where I can get a really tasty meal (along with the all the menu items from the Farmer's Market stand, they also had awesome-sounding specials like Veracruz-style red snapper and 2 kinds of shrimp tacos) and a cocktail for not too much money, in a casual, but really energized setting that's not at all a scene, from a friendly team of servers. It seems simple, but it's hard to find. I just wish the Hollywood that surrounded it, and its obnoxious parking pitfalls, didn't suck so bad.

But still, go there! (Park carefully!) Eat nachos!

Loteria Grill is at 6627 Hollywood Blvd., just east of Cherokee.

The BSE!!

This year has been a pretty busy one so far. I've had more responsibility at work than I've ever had, our family had a couple milestones (one very happy, one very sad) that took a lot of time and energy, and I've been taking a class that has been taking up more of my time than I expected it would. Somehow life has just seemed more hectic than I recall it being. So, whiling away hours in front of the office at work, I've been dreaming of summer lately. I'm ready for the lazy hazy days like never before. Summer is by far my favorite season. I love the hot weather, and recall spending nearly every day in the pool when I was a kid.

Somehow this year, I've been putting a lot of weight on summer. And it appears I'm not the only one. I was talking to my sister about it, and she felt the same way -- planning to indulge in barbecues, ice cream, and finding the perfect beach. My cousin Sam in Chicago told me it's going to be the "Summer of Sam". And I recently visited my friend Brad at his new home in Manhattan Beach, and he told me he decided it's going to be the Best Summer Ever. I concur. Bring on the outdoor dinners, pool parties, thick slices of watermelon (although, I don't really like watermelon... but it just feels right), nighttime walks! People are ready.

You know what's great about the Best Summer Ever? It's four months long! It's already started. Some BSE activities that have occurred already:

- Margarita at Pancho's in Manhattan Beach (margaritas ARE summer, and this place was airy and bright and perfect) last week, followed by a beachside walk on The Strand. Brad's new house is a block away from the water. 3 ocean-view balconies. Doesn't suck. He also happens to be a master barbecuer (He's responsible for introducing me to the glorious world of barbecued beef ribs back in college). I intend to spend lots of quality time with him this summer.

- Stealing away from the office to buy some sandwiches from The Cow's End in Marina Del Rey and eat them on the sand (it was very hard for us to peel ourselves away and go back to work after that one).

- Last night at the bar at Tart, the new restaurant at the Farmer's Daughter Motel (on Fairfax, just north of Third), I had a glass of pinot noir. I know nothing about wine except that I like it a lot, but our resident know-it-all told me that pinot noir was a lighter fruitier wine than, say, his cabernet, and therefore perfect for the Best Summer Ever. He also told me he's really into mouthfeel now as far as wine is concerned. Earnestly. This is beyond my scope. But, I'll buy the pinot noir thing.

- Today, I went to the beach! We bypassed the Venice boardwalk madness by meeting at the end of Washington Blvd. instead, and it was great. The ocean isn't quite aware yet that the BSE is 4 months long, so it was pretty freezing, but our resulting numb feet and legs didn't stop us from splashing around in the waves, and it just made the sun seem that much warmer when we finally got out. Ended the day with sweet cream ice cream with fresh raspberries. Hello -- yum!

And there's a lot more to come -- barbecues, more margaritas, salady meals, sundresses. I hope everyone will join in the effort to make the BSE a reality, and here's why: You know what's the best thing about the Best Summer Ever? It makes you realize how lucky you are. I needed that.

It takes a village

I should start here: I had a barbecue, I invited my family as well as my friends, and my dad took tequila shots with my friends and me. There. I'm not even sure there's any more to write. But of course I'm gonna.

It takes a village to have a barbecue, to celebrate a birthday, to close out the Best Summer Ever, to reluctantly ring in the beginning of fall. I love having friends and family over at my home, but sometimes I fear I've bitten off more than I can chew. I could go two ways at this point: stress out and plan every detail down to the second, or shrug my shoulders and assume it'll work out fine.

I always opt for the latter, and it always works out fine. I know I'm not the most organized party planner, and the fact is I can only do so much: I have high hopes, but don't always think about implementation. Besides, there's only one of me. But the places where I let things slide, friends manage to catch the slack. In the end, everything runs smoothly enough, and everyone has a really great time. It really shouldn't worry me: it's a party, right? It's about getting good people together, and having fun. The rest, we can figure out.

Last Friday was my birthday, and I chose to celebrate with a barbecue. At some point in the planning, I completely lost my mind and decided it would be a good idea to invite my mom and dad, my sister (who has her own account of the event), my brother-in-law, and their three kids to hang out with twenty or so of my closest friends. I figured, this isn't a wild kegger, we're all grown-ups now, my friends and family are all good people, how can this be bad? (Of course, there are tons of potential answers to that question.) I was kind of amazed at myself -- this kind of circle-merging is unprecedented -- but in the back of my head I was confident it would be a fun, albeit a little insanity-inducing, experiment. The very idea made me smile.

So for days, my sister, mother, and father had been asking me questions:

"What should we wear?"

"Is it okay if I wear shorts?"

"What should we bring?"

"No really, tell us, exactly, what should we bring?"

"Well, what do your friends eat?"

As if my friends are a different breed of human than the garden variety (well, actually they are, but not in that way). Turns out, they eat food. This went on and on. After much deliberation, the day arrived. I woke up early, ran around to do much shopping and preparation, and then guests started trickling in.

I feel like I was rescued over and over. In the early hours, how could I have moved tables and barbecues across the backyard without Julie? More importantly, how could I have taken out the potentially cockroachy trash that had been staring me down intimidatingly all day, without her moral support?

Then came the parents. Saeed was happy to help. New social situations take a little effort from him, so I had a perfect task waiting for him the minute he walked in the door: string extension cords downstairs through the living room window, so we can have music outside. He was all over that.

Meanwhile, things got interesting in the kitchen. A couple early arrivers were asking my mom all sorts of questions, but I needed her help. You see, I love the idea of a whole fish, stuffed with fresh herbs and lemon slices, and grilled. We had done this once before at my parent's house, and it was a delicious preparation. So, on Sunday morning, I went to the market and got a whole striped bass. The fishmonger scaled it, wrapped it in paper, and handed it to me. When I unwrapped it in the afternoon, I noticed that it was different than the fish we had grilled that long-ago day at Violet's: it was still intact. Not only was the head still attached, which I expected, but also it had things like guts inside. Yucky!

mom is rad

This was the first occasion of the day where I realized my mother was a genius, and also a badass. She calmly put on her gloves (she had brought her own), and proceeded to behead, disembowel, and phlebotomize this poor fish. It was incredible. Who knew that my mother knew the details of fish anatomy? Wow. I was deeply humbled.

It was funny having my parents take such an active role. Our approaches are very different: they were constantly asking me for detailed tasks, wanting to know what time things would occur. I guess I hadn't really thought of these things. They were kind of harried, but while I was running around, up and down the stairs at least 500 times over the course of the day, I was never really stressed. It was a party, everyone was here to have a good time, and they did. Dad was worried about running out of food and drink, but everyone contributed generously, we had food leftover, and right now, I have about 15 bottles of wine, hefty amounts of margarita fixings, and a cooler full of beer that I don't know where in my apartment to fit. No one went hungry or thirsty.

Julia hanging with the big kids

Some amazing things happened. 6-year-old Julia, who has been branded as a bona fide introvert, was socializing with the grownups! Initiating conversations with the ones she knew, getting friendly with ones she had never met before. At first she wanted to cling to me, and admittedly, it was kind of hard: I simply couldn't make refrigerator magnet sentences with her at that moment. But eventually she was working the crowd, spelling words with my coworker Reid, talking to another friend about the boy she had a crush on in kindergarten (!!). Such the little charmer.

taking the kumquat challenge

Saeed also shone bright in the charm department. Who knew our sweet little grump had it in him to be so fun and friendly! It started out with a challenge for a couple kids to eat super-sour kumquats straight from our tree. This was fun to watch, and I was amazed at my dad, but it was just the beginning. Brad had spearheaded the margarita making process. Saeed, who can smell tequila from miles away, approached young Brad and began tutoring him on how real men drink tequila. Soon, shot glasses came out, Reid joined the fold, and the real manly drinking began. I joined them for the first one, but this continued through the course of the night. I overheard him teaching them how to toast in Persian, and later on, he greeted them with a nonchalant "Hello, ladies..." Turns out, Saeed is a master trash talker.


Tons of food were consumed: just on the grill, we had Korean barbecue chicken skewers, grilled corn with lime and cotija, smokey grilled portobellos, asparagus, and red onions, carne asada. Torreh made a delicious blue cheese dip, and Violet brought a huge refreshing Shirazi salad -- diced tomatoes and cucumbers with generous lime juice and fresh parsley. Tons of drink was drunk: all sorts of beer, the rehashed vodka spa tonic recipe, wine in red, white, and rose, and more. And when it came time to clean it up, everyone helped out, making light work of getting the building back to normal.

The night ended with me and 3 old friends lazing on the couch. We were all at least half asleep, very cozy, and able to engage in conversation at the lowest level. Such a great highlight though, after all the people, the mess, the cleanup, the running around, to just share a simple moment with dear old friends like I haven't had in years.

There were a few friends unfortunately and conspicuously absent, but it still was a great night. I knew it would work out, but I couldn't have done it without my people.

Blog Action Day: Why Go Local and Organic?

Being a friend of Tannaz means reading about food. Sometimes I try to give her suggestions about articles to write, mostly because I want her to cook for me. But she threw me for a loop when I told her about Blog Action Day.

You see, this was a one-way facet of our relationship, and I was happy to continue in that vein, but this time she asked if I wanted to be her second guest blogger. Realizing that saying no was tantamount to self-induced exile from Persia (in the cuisine sense at least), I set about trying to figure out an appropriate post. The conclusion is a short list of reasons why there is such a big fuss over local organic farming. This post is by no means inclusive -- if anyone has more specific info, or differing opinions, I would be very interested in hearing about it.

I think there are a lot of misconceptions about organic farming, both local and far, but there are a few simple reasons why it is such an attractive alternative to our current food system:

Close Food vs. Far Food

Transportation costs. This is a fairly easy one, just think of the salad you ate today: was the lettuce grown in a huge corporate farm in Salinas or a small farm in Corona? The distance between these to locations is roughly 350 miles. It is not hard to imagine further distances, especially when food is imported to (and from) other countries. Transportation uses energy, which contributes to air pollution and other bad ecological problems.

Locally adapted varieties. Most corporate farms use the same varieties that maximize yields. Losing local varieties decreases genetic diversity, which could result in losing important beneficial traits between varieties. From a taste perspective, this means the homogenization of fruits and vegetables (imagine if there were only one kind of apple?).

Organic vs. Non-organic

Pesticides. Organic farming, especially polyculture, reduces the needs for pesticides. Also, there is the energy cost to produce the pesticides (especially nitrogen, which must go through an intense heating process).

Sustainable Agriculture. Organic farming usually implies (although this is not universally true) more sustainable agriculture practices. Farms and soil are better taken care of in order to decrease the effects of soil erosion, and degradation of soil health. One popular method of sustainable agriculture is to rotate different crops; planting crops for sale on the market and other crops that naturally replenish nutrients in the soil. Polyculture takes it another step forward by planting complementary crops at the same time.

Farming Techniques. Another exciting benefit of small organic farms is that they are able to experiment with farming techniques on a smaller scale that might not be feasible on a larger farm. Polyculture is one example, but other methods include planting more trees to increase soil stability and shade, and to provide a habitat for birds.

Costs

A major reason that people do not consume as much local organic produce is that the prevailing wisdom is that is much more expensive than “regular” produce. In a sense this is true; if your local supermarkets stocks organics they are typically about 10% more expensive than the same non-organic varieties. Farm subsidies artificially keep our food costs down, and until the subsidies are the same for the small farmer as they are for the large, then it will be harder for local organics to achieve the same price performance.

So what’s the takeaway? Our food system is not built for everyone to start buying 100% organic food at their local Farmer’s Market. But the next time you’re at Ralphs or Whole Foods, notice that they have a lot of organic options. The more you buy, the more they sell, and more will be available in the future. And if you’re at a Farmer’s Market, you don’t have to insist on organic. By supporting local farmers you are helping decrease the energy cost of agriculture. The best of both worlds is buying local organic produce. But you know what’s even better? Getting Tannaz to cook it for you.

Note: This note was brought to you by Brad Brauer. I (Tannaz) was too lazy to set up an account for him, but really, he wrote it, not me.

[Thanks (nz)dave for the photo.]