Pink Saturday - Girls Night Out

Pink Saturday - Beverly, at the blog "How Sweet the Sound" hosts Pink Saturday. Let the color pink inspire you!

Do you ever wonder what the perfect gift would be for that bachelorette party for that Bridezilla friend of yours, for that Girls' Night Out, or to celebrate your divorce?

Well, you don't need to worry anymore about finding the perfect gift, because now you can get Bitch Wine.

I found a display of Bitch Wine at a local gourmet food and wine store. The placard says "For that SPECIAL SOMEONE in all our lives."

Bottled in Australia, this is a light red wine made from Grenache grapes. One dealer describes it as "Ripe quince and lifted spice with a rich juicy concentration, along with intensely perfumed characters come from the sandy loam soil, and dark berry characters from the heavier red-brown soils. Life may be a bitch, but this wine will keep the complaints away, at least while you're drinking it!"

Or is that Whine?

Bad dream

You know how it is after you awake from a bad dream - one so disturbing and yet so vivid that it takes a moment to regain your balance and realize it isn't real.

I awoke this morning from a dream that was all-encompassing and epic in proportion. In it, I drop through trap-doors into claustrophobic passageways I have to navigate in the dark to emerge in the open air. I re-live the loss of a dear loved one. My house is in disarray, a jumble of overturned furniture and boxes. As I watch torrents of water began to flood in - I still have an image of streams rolling down wooden basement steps, the soft wood spongey as it soaked. In seeking for the source of the flood I look to the hills where Spanish tile mansions burst into flame - ah, yes, the water was from firefighters. And we have to leave now! The wild animals are fleeing down the canyon - I can see them galloping. My companions are not listening to me and I can't find my laptop.

And yes, as in all my bad dreams, I am improperly shod - I have one flipflop on and can't find the other, can't find sturdier shoes. I awake in a sweat.

I've been told by those familiar with the language of dreams that a fear of being caught without shoes indicates a fear of being unprepared.

It's always about shoes. I can't imagine why.

What themes recur in your dreams?

Top photo is a detail from Simon Rodia's masterpiece sculpture Watts Towers - not really a nightmare at all, but a wonderful dreamscape.

Thematic Photographic - Dusk

Every week Carmi at Written, Inc. poses a theme for photographic inspiration. This week's theme is DUSK.

A stormy sky at dusk in Santa Monica. The sun is setting beyond the palm trees and high-rise hotels near the beach. It's an active sky, the wind is tossing the clouds, rain is about to fall. On the street, a PT Cruiser glides past.

It's a story we haven't read yet. A mystery. What's the plot? What's going on?

Miss Hattie's true love

My father's Aunt Hattie led an interesting and fulfilling life. She made a big impact on her community, and people in her circle.

But one of the most interesting things about Aunt Hattie is her private life.

In 1919, Hattie, at the age of 30, became engaged to a man who was the love of her life. His name was George T. Moore, and although they had met decades earlier when her father preached at Shearn Methodist Church in Houston, they met again, fell in love, and pledged themselves to one another in 1919.

Only there was a hitch.

George's mother had died when he was young, and he'd been raised by his aunt, Miss Mollie. Miss Mollie could not bear to think of George leaving her, and so the couple decided to keep their engagement - their entire relationship, even - a secret from her. Once she passed away, they reasoned, they could marry.

Well, Miss Mollie was a healthy old thing. Hattie threw herself into her church work while she waited for George, spending years in San Antonio, Abilene, Austin and in West Dallas, ministering to people, helping the poor, advocating for people without a voice, and inserting herself into peoples' lives in general.

A woman with the drive and energy to overcome resistance and to venture into difficult situations can also be a woman with an annoying tendency toward bossiness, especially toward members of her own family. While Hattie directed her romantic frustrations toward the poor and downtrodden, she also bossed her sisters around, especially her baby sister, my grandmother. My mother later told tales of Hattie's meddling in Ruth's shaky marriage.

In 1937, Miss Mollie passed away, and finally George and Hattie were free to marry. She quit her good works, and joined him in Houston. He was sixty-five, she was fifty-seven.

Were they happy? It's hard to know. I wonder whether they got used to being single for so long. Was it a big adjustment, to finally live together in holy matrimony? And Hattie, of course, gave up her work, which meant so much to her. That's what women did, in those days.

In her scrapbook, I found two valentines they exchanged - one from George to Hattie. It's an off-the-rack card, with slogans and a poem to "My Wife," but it is without a signature. Not a man of many words, George.

Hattie kept her valentine to George, too - another off-the-rack card, with a sentimental poem. Which she signed, "Your Hattie."

George passed away only four years after they married, in 1941. I hope that he and Hattie enjoyed their time together, finally.

Thematic Photographic - Dusk

Every week Carmi at Written, Inc. poses a theme for photographic inspiration. This week's theme is DUSK.

This is one of my favorite views. The Santa Monica Pier, with the new ferris wheel alight, viewed at dusk from a bay window at the Casa del Mar Hotel bar. Preferably, with a nice drink on the table.

Whenever I see the pier and the ferris wheel, it always makes me hear this song in my head:

"Sandy, the aurora is risin' behind us
Those pier lights, our carnival life forever
Oh, love me tonight and I promise I'll love you forever
Oh, I mean it Sandy girl,
My baby...."

- Bruce Springsteen
"Fourth of July, Asbury Park (Sandy)"

For Thematic Photographic-ers, I kept the photo big enough to enlarge if you click. It's nice to see the detail.

Dancing in the parking lot

This weekend we returned to East Los Angeles's Boyle Heights, seeking the wonderful street food served at a kind of unofficial street fair by the Big Buy Foods store at Breed Street and Cesar Chavez. If you didn't read the earlier post click on the link if you have time, but otherwise - just know that this is a totally unofficial assembly of street food vendors that regularly occurs on weekend evenings in East L.A.

When we arrived at 7:10 on a Sunday evening, it was in full swing, and we went immediately to Nina's, a vendor set up in the City of L.A. parking lot with a hot comal and a deep fat fryer, making huaraches, sopes, quesadillas and pambazos from fresh masa. We ordered sopes and a quesadilla frita.

While we waited for it to cook I explored. The barbacoa stand was there, so I got a taco and took it back to share. The meat was lamb or goat - good and savory with a gamy rich taste.

A small TV was set up before Nina's stand and in the parking lot beyond people sat on folding chairs, eating and watching the futbol game. There were good-natured catcalls and whistles if someone blocked the view by mistake. To the side, a vendor selling CDs and videos had the music cranked up, playing rancheras, cumbia, merenge. Small children darted among the grownups; one little girl in a velveteen dress and a sparkly hair clip twirled and danced.

Our food was wonderful. Each plate was topped with crema, chopped cabbage and crumbled cotija cheese. You could add to this from an assortment of salsas, chopped onions and cilantro, pickled red onions, nopales and radishes. We opted for a salsa de semilla, a condiment of mixed peanuts, sesame seeds, and pumpkin seeds mixed with herbs and deep red chiles. It was fiercely hot, but delicious, and with a wonderful crunchy-salty texture unlike any other salsa.

My photos were not very good - and it's difficult taking photos at this street happening, since recording devices make people nervous. So all I have is one shot of my sope de huitlachoche with a scoop of that wonderful nutty salsa on the side - a little blurred. We sat on the curb with a couple of bottled Mexican cokes (real cane sugar).

The evening was slightly cool, so I tried a cup of champurrado from one other vendors on the sidewalk. Champurrado is a warm, creamy drink made from toasted masa mixed with hot water, flavored with piloncillo sugar and cinnamon.

We were so tempted to eat other things, but soon our tummies were full! [The Man I Love] had another barbacoa taco, and our son had a fresa - a drink made with fresh strawberries and milk.

I watched one vendor as she made dessert crepes - ladling the thin batter onto the hot comal in spirals, then flipping it with her fingers until they browned. Then she rolled them, filling them with fruit and cream. They smelled and looked so good we had to try them.

By this time, evening had fallen. Lights clipped under the umbrellas lit up the cooking food. Extension cords snaked through the parked cars to sputtering generators, hidden away to hide the noise. A guy selling battery-lit toys strolled through the darkened lot, his wares spinning and flashing, glowing and chasing.

The futbol game had ended, and the mariachi music was cranked higher. Suddenly from one of the folding chairs, a couple got to their feet and began dancing to the music. The children ran around. The young woman from the quesadilla stand ran out from behind the table and took a man's hand, then spun around in a twirl. "I love to dance!" said the lady at the crepe stand, and dashed out to take a quick turn herself while her daughter tended the pancakes.

You could hear the laughter, hands clapping. Someone from the other side of the parking lot honked an air horn. The dancing crowd was lit by headlights as cars patiently eased their way past the crowds, dancers' shadows spinning in the beams

My crepe was brushed with butter and topped with chopped strawberries and kiwi. [The Man I Love] had the especial - thin crepes rolled with cream cheese, fruit and cajeta - a tan caramel syrup made from concentrated sweetened goats milk.

The pancakes were sweet and tender, melting in our mouths, and the evening air was cool and fragrant. Although we could barely speak a common word, everyone smiled back at us. It was Sunday night in spring under the stars in East L.A., there was laughter and music, dancing and food. What could be better?

Thematic Photographic - Single

Every week Carmi at Written, Inc. poses a theme for photographic inspiration. This week's theme is SINGLE.








Ichiro hits a single.

Summer, 2003. Seattle Mariners playing at San Diego.

Skid Row Fish Fry

This spring an article came out in a magazine called Coastal Living, featuring the Best Seafood Dives, 2009. The Southern California section listed a lot of places I've been too. They list one along the beach in Malibu that I enjoy quite a lot. And they also list a couple of places that are pretty touristy and not-so-great.

They left out one of the best seafood dives in L.A. But I think I know why. Because this seafood dive is a real dive. This seafood dive is in Skid Row.

Fisherman's Outlet is on Central Avenue in downtown Los Angeles, in the wholesale district, which is between San Pedro and Alameda Streets and includes cold storage facilities, wholesale produce distributors, and wholesale seafood distributors. It also includes many homeless shelters, missions, and social services providers, and it is not uncommon to see folks who are down on their luck on the street here.


Fisherman's Outlet is a low, red-brick building set among parking lots in a wedge-shaped block bordered by Central, Sixth, and Ceres Streets. The challenges of the neighborhood are made clear by the wrought iron fences and gates that ring the store and its patio dining area. It's only open during the day for lunch - Skid Row is not a place to venture after dark.

There are two entries - one to the "restaurant" side and one to the "market" side. On the restaurant side, the line often stretches out the door. Savvy customers know there's a second line that feeds through the market side. If the restaurant side line gets too long, the staff will let you in on the secret.

The market side - much less crazy than the fried counter

When we went there the first time, the line stretched out into the dining area. As we stood there, we could hear an incredible din from inside - shouts back and forth and voices rising. For a moment I wondered what was going on. But soon I heard the laughter and good spirits and realized - that's just how it is here.


The line moves pretty fast, and it's actually good to be in it if you have to decide what you want. When it's your turn, you better know what you want - the countermen are impatient. Orders are taken with lightning speed, and the food is placed on your orange cafeteria tray in seconds. You can buy an American soda, an Orange Bang, or a beer to drink with your meal.

It's cash only, too - no credit cards. But they do have an ATM onsite. For $9 each we got a fried combo - I got fish and shrimp, [The Man I Love] got shrimp and scallops. If you prefer healthier seafood, you can get grilled or broiled selections, chowders, seafood bisque, salads and ceviche. They serve rice, if you prefer healthier sides.

But at a seafood joint like this, I like me some fried fish. Portions are generous, and it comes with french fries, a cup of cole slaw, a lemon wedge and tubs of tartar sauce and cocktail sauce.

The food was perfect. Fresh fish and shrimp, piping hot and fried to perfection, not a bit greasy. The shrimp were succulent and lovely. The fish itself was juicy and flaked perfectly cooked. the french fries were the skinny kind, crisp.

You can sit under the umbrellas outside at a stone table. The place is always full, and signs encourage you to share your table. You'll rub elbows with all kinds of downtown workers during the week, and lots of families on Saturdays.

We struck up a conversation with a couple next to us. He was a mechanic, and she worked for the school district. They've been regulars for years. They were having a bite of lunch, and picking up some fresh shrimp from the market side to take home for later.

The prices are pretty good, too, since it's in the wholesale district. And the quality is superb. Our friends said that despite the appearance of chaos in the kitchen, the countermen never get your order wrong.

Fisherman's Outlet has been around since 1961, and it has the feel of a place with traditions. Since going there, I've mentioned it to friends who are long-time Angelenos, and many of them remember going there as a kid with a dad or an uncle.

Even though downtown is starting to become gentrified, the wholesale district is still a little too raw for hipness. Fisherman's Outlet is the kind of place you'd never see a tourist. When you meet someone else who knows about it, their eyes light up, like you're members of a secret club. And because they remember that first delicious taste of crispy fried fish.

If you're a brave adventurer, next time you're in L.A. - come on down to Skid Row for the tastiest seafood in town!

Acanthus

The capital of a Corinthian column is decorated with a repeating leaf-like motif - deeply toothed leaves rise vertically around the top of the column like a crown, their tips curving down. This decorative motif was said to have been first used by the Greek architect and sculptor Callimachus - who, according to the story, was inspired at the sight of an acanthus plant growing on a grave, its leaves growing through and around a votive basket left for the departed.

Or at least, that's the story told by Claude Perrault, a French architect of the 17th century, to explain how he was inspired by ancient classical architecture to use the acanthus leaf motif for a colonnade along the eastern facade of the Palais de Louvre.

Perrault wasn't the first modern designer to be inspired by Callimachus, nor was he to be the last. The Romans copied the Greeks, the Italians continued the practice. And Americans, wanting to add a classical dignity to our national buildings, used it too. Columns at the United States Capitol are crowned with acanthus-leaf decorations.

The facade of the Los Angeles Theatre, on South Broadway in downtown Los Angeles, boasts Corinthian columns with acanthus leaf capitals. The French-inspired interior also features pilasters and friezes decorated with acanthus leaf motifs.

I think I first heard the word "acanthus" in high school history, where we learned about Greek architecture. But it didn't mean too much to me, and I certainly didn't think of it as something I would actually plant in my garden.

But here in California, I have acanthus plants in bloom right now. And whenever I look at classic-inspired architecture, I know exactly what inspired Callimachus.

The most commonly grown acanthus is Acanthus mollis. Huge boldly-cut toothed leaves curve up from a central crown in early spring. By early summer, a strong stem rises up above the leaves. White tubular flowers brushed with violet open, starting at the bottom of the stem first.

They are somewhat tender - enjoying, as they do, a so-called "Mediterranean climate" like that of Greece or Italy - or California. They thrive in dry shade - making them a wonderful addition to a drought-tolerant garden.

As the summer goes on, the flower spike ages and then fades. Then the leaves themselves yellow, shrivel and fade, and by autumn disappear entirely. They emerge again in spring.

Perhaps because of its habit, the ancient Greeks associated the plant with death and rebirth, and used it to decorate tombs and memorials.

It has become one of the most commonly recognized decorative motifs in architecture and design.

Here, it decorates a cheap boudoir lamp I bought at Big Lots for $5.00.

Here it's mixed with many other motifs on the elaborately decorated Million Dollar Theatre building in downtown Los Angeles.

On Grand Street in Los Angeles, the acanthus motif, along with wreaths and the equally classic Greek key motif, grace the entry of what once was an elegant residence hotel in downtown Los Angeles, now a down-at-heel fleabag.

Here, at the John Ford House at Heritage Square in Los Angeles, the wood-carver who created these exhuberant decorations used the acanthus motif on column capitals, corbels, and even on the underside of dentils that support the eaves of the roof.

The design can also be found very stylized and spare - its lobed and curling shape only a hint.

Here noted architect Julia Morgan uses a much simpler version of it at the front door of Marion Davies' guest cottage at her fantastic estate on Santa Monica Beach, now the Guest House at the Annenberg Community Beach House.

The classical ornament is so common that it's hard to find fresh and new interpretations of the acanthus, although some designers have tried.

Photo from www.artfulhome.com

Here furniture and fabric designers Mariah Wren and Mark Cooper have a more natural take on the leaf. You can see their other designs at the website Artful Home.


The acanthus plant makes as bold a statement in the woodland garden as it does in decor. You don't need classical colonnades to enjoy this wonderful plant.