foodwinesex

Where it begins....

foodwinesex. There's something in there for everyone. When my marriage began disintegrating at the beginning of the year I sought something to occupy my free time...a challenge. I came across Michael Bauer's (food critic SF Chronicle) list and embarked on a mission (with several friends in tow) to eat my way through all 100. Since I do a bit of business traveling I'll also eat at the best restaurants in the cities I visit as well as occasional pilgrimages to gustatory shrines overseas. I am now about half-way through Bauer's list and have eaten at 3 of the 4 Michelin three-star restaurants in NYC (Per Se, Alain Ducasse, Jean Georges). I've eaten at Fat Duck in London (well Bray actually) and at any number of good/great places off the published lists. I'll try to touch on all of them going forward.

Now, the sex part. It's all too easy to lump everything together under the banner of satisfying appetites...too glib. I find the enjoyment of food and wine to be heightened when enjoyed in the company of others. When that "company" is an interesting woman, food takes on added dimensions. Lingering over a bordeaux and enjoying conversation heightens anticipation.

I don't know if I'll make every restaurant on the list. I dont know who I'll meet along the way and who'll join me for dinner. I will report on all of it for anybody interested.

g

Boston Uncommon

Weatherwise, we got lucky in Boston. This time of year precipitation usually means snow. For this trip it just means light drizzle and pea-soup fog. The locals are grateful. Fortunately I came prepared...umbrella and my long black Armani trenchcoat. I don't get much of an opportunity to wear it and I love it. Win-win. I arrived Saturday evening and had a reservation for dinner at Sorellina. I've been looking forward to this dinner for several weeks...since reading about it in Esquire's article on the twenty best new restaurants in the US. I've dined at good restaurants here many times before (Radius, Teatro, L'Espalier) but always felt they came up short compared to NY and SF. Esquire also listed Junnoon in Palo Alto in the twenty best and they certainly got that right (although they should have chosen Bushi-tei easily over Bongsu which is really warmed over Tamarine). After three visits (including last Tuesday as a going away dinner for GNP who is moving into the fast-paced world of renewable energy) Junnoon is a personal fave. Hopes were high.

I arrived 30 minutes before my 8PM reservation and took to the bar and a Belvedere martini done right. This was my first meal of the day (no airline box today) and the martini settled in quickly. My dinner companion, FJH, is the account director for the client I was in town to visit. As I downed the last of my martini he walked in the door and we were shown to our table. The decor was reminiscent of Moo in Barcelona...expansive floorspace, cork floors, dark wood and white linens, large white plates with a silhouette of a leafless tree across the center, tables arranged to offer enough privacy for conversation but not so removed as to feel isolated. The ambiance was contemporary yet warm. One wall was entirely occupied with a back-lit monochrome photo mural on glass of rows of pine trees on a hill. If the food and service matched the ambiance we were in for a great meal.

Our waitress came by and offered the menus (contemporary Italian) and wine list. Everything looked appetizing and the choices were tough. For openers I ordered Tuna - hand-cut raw, spicy mostarda aioli and chili vinegar and FJH ordered Crudo - raw sliced yellowtail, citrus, hot peppers and sea salt. We also split an order of Maccheroncelli with American kobe beef meatballs, barolo sauce and parmigiano. For entrees I went with Niman Ranch Berkshire pork chop, barley “risotto”, braised pork belly and dried fruit mostarda. FJH went with Chicken - natural, herb roasted, potatoes and olive harvest ragu. Our eyes being much bigger than our stomach (this was my only meal of the day) allowed us to order sides of sweet corn polenta and truffled fries with parmigiano. Lots of food coming. We ordered a bottle of Truchard Pinot Noir to wash it all down.

Looking back, the easiest way to review the meal is to just say "Wow!" This turned out to be one hell of a meal where every single thing we tried was best of class. The tuna openers...mine had a nice bite to it due to the chili vinegar but it was the freshness of the tuna that I really noticed. Damn good. FJH's crudo was velvety smooth and translucently thin. The citrus and peppers gave it a pungency that couldn't mask the freshness of the yellowtail. I couldn't choose which was more perfect. Then came the meatballs. This dish was called out in the Esquire article and I can see why. I could eat this every night. The Barolo sauce was just a bit sweet and very rich. Ultra comfort food. Again, damn good. I'd have been happy to pay full tab for just what we'd had up to now but the best was yet to come. The pork chop and chicken arrived followed by the polenta and the fries. Now...being an American I've eaten fries all over the country...all styles...thick cut style, garlic fries and so on (although I would never fucking order something called Freedom Fries). I have never, ever had fries that were this good. Long, thin cut potatoes generously salted with sea salt, a light dusting of parmigiano and specks of black truffles created one of the great, simple dishes I've ever eaten. Goddamn these were good. I can still taste them a day later. The chicken and pork were spectacular. The chicken fell off the bone and the pork chop was perfectly cooked and seasoned. The pork belly was rich and tasty. The polenta was perfect. I asked our waitress to compliment the enitre kitchen.

I know I'm a lucky man when over the course of a week I can eat great meals at Limon (Ceviche de Pescado and truffled mac and cheese with Pumpkin Bundino for dessert down the street at Delfina), Junnoon, Kiss, Bushi-tei and Sorellina. I can't recall ever having a run like this over the course of a week (except Barcellona but I had to travel ten thousand miles to get it). At Sorellina the food and wine were so good that I almost forgot about the sex part. Almost. ChP and I are on the outs right now (and I'm away in Boston) but that's another story altogether.

g.

El Bulli

foodwinesex. OK. This is why I'm here. Called the "best restaurant in the world" (alternately with The Fat Duck), El Bulli is our goal. We've essentially come ten thousand miles for dinner. Stories about this place, and it's chef Ferran Adrià, are easy to come by. The world's best chefs come to Barcelona to his ultra-modern, Dr. No-like facility with sliding walls, backlit ingredients, state of the art equipment and full staff of devotees tucked away in a vast renaissance-era place in the Old City to learn from the master. The restaurant closes six months every year for a period of experimentation only to repoen six months later with a menu transformed. We knew all this and it was tucked into the backs of our heads as we woke up and headed to the gym. On the way out the door I stopped to chat with the fellow behind the desk. "Excuse me...we have reservations for El Bulli this evening and I'd like to reserve a cab. Can you call the cab company?" He looked at me like I had two heads. "Señor...but El Bulli is in Roses...three hours outside the city. A cab is not possible." I immediately regretted not paying more attention to the logistical details of this part of our trip. "A train?" "I'll check señor." On to the gym.

Good workout. ChP again put me to shame but I was just a bit preoccupied. When arriving back at the hotel we heard the news...the trains shut down too early to get back. A car rental it would be and our hotelier would attend to the details. Clean up, bite to eat, dress and a walk. The car arrived that afternoon, a funky Fiat with the spongiest clutch I've ever driven, and we were in shape. The last detail was a set of written instructions we received from our satisfied hotel clerk. We climbed in and with ChP navigating we drove away.

The countryside was beautiful and conversation was fun but it didn't take long for us to realize that the directions we were given left something to be desired. We perambulated the highways and got onto the main artery to the north of Catalonia. The drive was pleasant and uneventful until we started getting closer to Roses. Given the labeling of the highways, many of them similarly named, and the sketchy directions we weren't all too surprised when we found ourselves one exit from the French border. Thank god we left 4 hours early for a 2.5 hour drive. Ha. Long story short...we stopped off at a gas station and picked up a Michelin map of Catalonia, found our way back to Roses and found the little mountain road which led from town to El Bulli. Yes, the little mountain road...the one that was this narrow with no lighting, guard rails (very precipitous drops) or signs to indicate if and when you might get to the restaurant. Twenty minutes later we found ourselves pulling into a parking lot in a beautiful little glade. There was an alpine lake behind a long, low-slung building with a single illuminated sign saying simply, El Bulli. We made it with minutes to spare. Let the fun begin.

An army of tuxedos. This was my first impression of El Bulli. Upon entering we were greeted warmly and asked if we had reservations. Of course. The name is Manolo Cabos. Ah, thank you señor. Would you like a tour of the kitchen? But of course. Now, for anybody who's seen Anthony Bourdain's DVD titled Decoding Ferran Adria, you'll get a very good idea of what we saw as well. Impeccable. Humming busy and not chaotic busy. Intent but not intense. We were instructed that there were 40 chefs on staff this evening...this for a single seating of 55 diners. I had little doubt we were in good hands. Heads buzzing a bit with anticipation, we were shown to our table. The interior was understated and elegant. Stacked stone walls, white linen tablecloths, windows looking out to the lovely surroundings...all very relaxing. Perhaps the only thing up to this point that was offputting at all was the appearance of many of our fellow diners. Very few were dressed well. Rolled up sleeves and absence of jackets I found disappointing. I was in Armani with a (Memphis) tie and ChP looked phenomenal in black dress with a plunging neckline. She was wearing a silver necklace, very contemporary, that we found in a little jewelry store in the Old City the day before. Yum.

Shortly after we were seated and served water, etc. the fun began. I ordered a bottle of wine, a 1996 Volnay Santenots du Milieu. We would have loved to do a pairing but knowing we had to drive back down that mountain road (and all the way back to Barcelona) precluded us from indulging. We were instructed (in English) that each course would come with instruction on how it should be eaten. Cool. The service began. Now...I won't go through every course since there were a total of 30...yes, 30 courses served. The second course was the famous olive. A plate was brought containing two small spoons. On each spoon was a single, perfect olive. Or was it? We were instructed to eat it with one bite. OK. As I bit down on the olive, it literally exploded in my mouth. As I discovered later, Adria uses a special technique his team developed called spherication, a result of three years of experimentation resulting in an olive that is entirely liquid but held together in an imperceptable microskin. This pureed olive, strained and formed to take the shape of an olive just barely holds its shape until you bite it. Then you get to taste the perfect essence of olive exploding in your mouth. Extraordinary.

Courses kept coming over the course of the next three hours. Highlights? One course was a plate of seeds...fruit, vegetable, nuts. There was no listing of what they were but in almost all cases the flavor of the seeds was intense enough to leave little doubt of what we were eating. Another dish was a gin and tonic soup with cucumber. The gin and tonic were frozen very quickly using liquid nitrogen. When eating the soup the solid snow-like soup changed state instantly in my mouth. Delicious. Another memorable dish was the sheepcheese with sheep's wool. Together. The wool is so integrated into the dish that the immediate reaction to what you think the texture might be is completely wrong. Again, delicious. More. Virtual tomato soup (with virtual Iberian ham) which appears as yellow, gelatinous strings across a plate. Here's a wild one..."nitro-strawberries" covered in a white coating. Instructed to eat in two bites, the first bite comes off as a sweet berry with a salty trail but the second bite reveals the taste of parmesan cheese which explodes in my mouth. Or parmesan wontons that we drop into basil foam and then remove to eat in a single bite. A perfect anchovy surrounded by many types of raisins. A ham fat pita with veal marrow. Sheep brains served in three small dollops, each resembling a brain. Yow! It was all incredible. All the small courses, the wine, the service...all spectacular, inventive, unforgettable. Even the servingware used to deliver the courses...each piece was custom designed by an industrial designer, part of Adria's team. I've never experienced anything like this before and I doubt I will again until I return to El Bulli.

We finished dinner, quite full, and got into the spongy Fiat. Three hours later we were back in Barcelona heading out to a rather strange Karaoke bar. I never got my head into the bar as I was still living in the circus I'd experienced a few hours earlier. Just fucking amazing.

g.

Recalibrating

foodwinesex. Hot and muggy. Occasional breeze. Recalibrating my sweating point. Sunday. Everything is closed on Sunday like when I was a kid. Catholic country. Recalibrating my expectations, but hold on...not so fast. Just walking around, this looks like a prosperous, stylish city. Very cosmopolitan. Restaurants are everywhere. People are crowding sidewalk cafes with a glass of San Miguel or a rioja and perhaps a bocadillo. The pace is quick but perhaps not as fast as San Francisco. Could be the weather or could be the internal clocks run on a different crystal. Could also be that the days are much longer. I'm getting on their speed quickly. My internal clock needs recalibrating and nothing like food, wine and sex to help get it there. Part of the whole clock thing is the schedule of life here. Dinner rarely starts before 10 PM and the streets are more crowded at 2 AM than at 11 PM.

We slept late, woke up and decided to walk over to the Museu Picasso. The day was the type of day you don't want to fight cause its gonna beat you every time. Hot and muggy. We took our time walking and passed under the Arc de Triomf. The boulevard it crowned was filled with men playing bocce and board games, families cavorting, kids with soccer balls practicing their footwork and people walking dogs. Lots of dogs in this city. We found our pace and wound up in the Old City section of town.

The first Sunday of every month means free admission at the Meseu Picasso and given the length of the queue in front of the place people took advantage of the subsidy vigorously. This reminded me of my trip to NY a few weeks ago with MOMA entry underwritten on Friday evenings by Target. I must be lucky. No matter, the line moved quickly and we were inside the museum within fifteen minutes. The museum itself was a string of small medieval mansions made into a common building. It was beautifully done. As we entered, I wasn't sure what I was seeing at first. Fine draftsmanship signed by Pablo Ruiz. It started coming back quickly. Picasso was Pablo Ruiz Picasso and his earliest works, the stuff he did before becoming serious about art, was signed Pablo Ruiz. Some of this was done as he was spending time near the art school where his father taught...it was in the blood. This was his earliest work and they had a lot of it. Wow. I've seen many Picasso exhibitions and have visited the Musée Picasso in Paris but have never seen anything like this. This was the missing link that drew the evolution to the Picasso that began amazing Paris (Blue Period, Rose Period) in the early twentieth century.

The crowd was all over the place. Some were art students. Others were tourists who wanted to check off a box in their "things to do" list. Others were there to meet people and yet others were locals who just wanted a free ticket to see the work of a native son. Despite the heat, long line to get in and a somewhat indifferent audience, this was a great show to see for anybody who appreciates the work of Picasso. Highly recommended.

On the walk back to our hotel, ChP and I stopped and had a glass of wine in a plaza. We made peace with the heat and humidity and then had a second glass of wine. Ahhhh...this is how the locals cope with a hot, muggy weekend. This works fine. When we got back to the hotel we realized that to go out to one of the better restaurants you definitely need reservations. On top of that, most major restaurants are closed on Sunday. We ended up skipping dinner but went out late looking for a cocktail. We wound up at a small club that was half filled and was notable for an area of the place that had sofas hanging from the ceiling. Couples sat and swung back and forth slowly. After two attempts we realized we were not gonna get a martini here. As it turned out, we were not going to get a martini anywhere in Barcelona. Vodka and ice in a glass was as close as it was gonna get so fine...we can deal. Besides, everything was back open tomorrow and the whole city was ours to discover.

g.

Eating the Apple

Been looking forward to this for a while. K is heading back to school in a few weeks and so we decided to head to NY to visit her grandparents out on Long Island and to do some shopping in the Big Apple. After all, a gal’s gotta look good when she shows up at school. We started with the shopping.

Friday was shopping day for K. First stop? Lounge on Broadway in SOHO, her favorite store in NY. The stuff there is pricey but also has the cachet of being unique. When she shows up at Cal Poly she can be reasonably sure she’ll be the only one around with the jeans she bought there. I chatted with the woman’s buyer for the store - young, attractive and friendly. Lounge carries men’s and women’s clothing plus a great collection of house music CDs with a live DJ at the front of the store. They carry a huge inventory but seem to go through it quickly. A stack on jeans on Friday was completely gone by Saturday. After picking up a pair of Robin's Jean jeans, K and I kicked around SOHO then headed downtown to Century 21. For those who’ve never shopped there, C21 can be quite an overwhelming experience the first time. The place is filled with bargains galore and with the type of bargain-shoppers that define the aggressive, savvy, New York shopper. You can buy haute couture for 70% (or more) off the original retail. Before going in we stopped across the street at Steve’s Pizza for a couple of slices of the world’s best pizza. Fortified by our pizza bliss we walked over and headed into mayhem. While there, I picked up a beautiful Giorgio Armani suede sports jacket, which originally sold for $1599 for $99. This is a bit better than the typical price reduction but you can find phenomenal deals there. I also grabbed a Jean-Paul Gaultier sweater for a third of the original price. Like I said, great deals.

As evening drew closer we headed over to MOMA to check out the Dada exhibit currently showing. This is the first time this show has run in the US and we were excited to check it out. (We’re both big Jean Arp fans. I have a lithograph of his hanging in my bedroom.) As we got closer we noticed a huge crowd queueing up along the side of the building. As it turns out, Friday night is Target night…free entrance to MOMA sponsored by Target. The crowd engulfed the museum and we decided to not try to fight the craziness and passed. Too bad. We wandered uptown a bit then headed back to freshen up for dinner. I grabbed a martini at the Cafe Nicole in the Novotel on 8th Avenue before heading off.

Tonight, dinner was at BLT Fish (Bistro Laurent Tourondel) on West 17th Street. We had no reservations but called and lucked out - a table at 10:00. Got there early and they took us. We had a really good meal. I started with the Manhattan clam chowder and K had the Lobster Bisque. The table was served their signature cheddar-chive biscuits with sea-salted butter and a touch of maple syrup. I would have been happy with just that for dinner. For entrees I ordered the Yellowfin tuna served with rice and shaved fennel salad (seeing a lot of fennel in restaurants just now) and K ordered the salmon, also with rice and salad. We ordered a side of the onion strings and I had a glass of the pinot noir. We shared a mud pie for dessert. The food is just the best ingredients served in the least fussy manner possible perfectly prepared. My rare tuna was served perfectly rare.

Saturday morning we had a post-workout brunch at Balthazar on Spring Street down in SOHO. First time I’ve had brunch there. K had the Hazelnut, sour cream waffles with fresh berries and I had the brioche French toast with bacon. Damn, the bacon tasted like bacon for the first time in a long time. Naturally we did a final turn at Lounge and found a second pair of jeans. Picked up some truffles from Vosges on Spring Street as a gift for my folks (and got a box of the Gaudi collection for us) and we headed off to the train for the wilds of Long Island and my sister’s “Patriotic Party”. Hmmmm.

g.

Home again, naturally

New place last night...not on the list though. I was flying solo and had some time to kill before my daughter arrived back from her European jaunt. I headed to SOMA and wound up on 4th Street. I had a vague notion I'd pick up some groceries from Whole Foods but decided to check out Zuppa for dinner.

I'd driven past the place plenty of times and often wondered why somebody would open a soup restaurant (Zuppa is Italian for soup...reminded me instantly of the Seinfeld episodes with the Soup Nazi). Well...I decided to check it out and was quite pleasantly surprised. The interior was well lit through a wall of windows and had a simultaneously contemporary and rustic interior with plenty of concrete and stone. Counters (where I sat) lined the front of the kitchen area. I settled in at my seat and was immediately presented with the menu. Both having good, fast service and being pretty hungry I ordered quickly. For an opener I ordered the Insalata Croccante (Romaine and shaved fennel with a lemon vinagrette and thinly sliced watermelon radishes).For my entrée I went with the Rombo all' Acqua Pazza (Pan seared halibut in crazy water). I flirted with the waitress, "I'm all over any dish with crazy water." More halibut...they gotta be running. I went with a nice red...Nebbiolo, "Bricco Manzoni", Rocche dei Manzoni, 1998, by the glass. (A note - The chef, Joseph Manzare, was a James Beard award nominee and had spent time at Spago, Postrio, San Domenico and Granita.)

The salad was lovely. The shaved fennel, something I don't see too often in salads, was very light in flavor and offered a nice crunch. Similarly the watermelon radish slices were mild as well. The vinagrette was well balanced and kept the salad alive. Stronger radish or fennel would have resulted in a cacaphony of flavor. The halibut was terrific as well. Mild while still flavorful and as I said, any dish with crazy water wins with me. Dinner went quickly. I was in and out and over to Whole Foods to pick up some groceries for my vegetarian daughter.

K was coming home after nearly a month in Europe. She and her school friend Stephanie (two 17 year-old girls hitting the continent with backpacks and ATM cards) were on a summer adventure through Spain and Portugal. I'd heard small bits of stories via the scarce emails I'd received. To actually know if they were still alive I couldn't rely on occasional email so I went to a more reliable source...the ATM trail through my on-line bank records. Ahh...Tuesday in Sevilla, Friday in Cordoba, etc. Her flight arrived 20 minutes early and her luggage (she had checked her backpack) was early out of the gate. We hit the highway and were home in ten minutes. There, I was regaled with stories better heard after the trip...sleeping on the street outside the bus station one night, one hostel infested with bugs, the sangria, the cutest boys in Madrid, and so on. The kind of stuff that adds up to an unforgettable summer adventure. After 200 or so pictures I was just glad to have her home for the last few weeks before college starts. One final quick trip to NYC later this month and then I deliver her to school. Last night I slept the way a parent sleeps when they know their kid is safe at home. A deep sleep.

g.

The Alchemist (no pain, no gain)

Limon. I'd been having foodporn fantasies about their Cervice de Pescado since I'd been there back in early June. BK's solo this week and he suggested checking it out having heard about my previous visit. Limon is a Peruvian place in the Mission...kinda loud, good service, funky tables and a wine-only bar. I was heading over a little early and planned to grab a martini at Blondies, a couple of doors down. As I began looking for parking (and I always feel nervous about leaving a convertible on the street in this area) I got a call from my daughter. "Dad? Yeah honey, what's up? I know you're working on Thursday but I need some help...can I get some time from you? Of course...can your mom help? She's out of town for the next nine days. Where? Long pause. Where? Uhhh...Argentina. Argentina? Very long pause. Yeah."

I hadn't expected this. I started feeling chemicals being released in my brain...one at a time...some kind of alchemist, hidden, resident, releasing emotions that I tried to analyze in real time as they were rushing through my bloodstream...behind my eyes...in my stomach. Shit. Argentina? We'd been to Buenos Aries for the holidays in 2004 and had a great time...warm people, great food, wine...a lovely time. She went back to Argentina? Who'd she go with? Processing...processing...I'd had suspicions she'd been seeing somebody for a long time. Processing...processing...hold on a second...I didn't care anymore...cool. Tick, tick, tick...but she took off and left our daughter dangling here. That totally sucks. Wait...X is a good mom and I'm sure she had things lined up...maybe not with me, jeez, but K should be fine. Hey..wait a second...its a bit of a pain in the ass but I'm OK with this. Deep dizzy breath. Liberation. I hope X is happy.

I'd replay this in my head several times like echoes of an earthquake or some crazy damped emotional-harmonic motion and each time come to the same conclusion. I was really done with my marriage and good with it. The martini at Blondies was a large pour and I was grateful. BK had arrived, we finished our drinks and headed over to the siren ceviche.

The Cervice de Pescado was as good as I'd remembered it. BK ordered the Ceviche Limón and was as pleased with his choice as I was with mine. I passed on wine and BK ordered a glass of the house sangria. For entree we both got the Pargo Rojo (Deep fried whole red snapper basket, served with stir fried coconut rice and rocoto curry sauce). The presentation was dramatic with the skeleton and head of the fried fish forming an arc rising from the plate protecting the diced fish. The neighboring table was oohing and ahhing. Crisp, fresh and fried very hot so that the crust had just the right texture while the fish was moist and flaky. Highly recommended.

Describing our dinner conversation took on fractal qualities. I began recounting reactions I'd been getting to the contents of this blog. They were all over the board and I was starting to see trends across demographics and some interesting idiosyncratic responses. Much of what I've written over the last week or two had already been well known to my closest friends...BK, GP, V...all heard this stuff in real time. I was far more curious about the responses of the women who read me. Reactions were all over the board..."Fucking Brilliant", "I find some of the entries worrisome", "I LOVE it, G! It’s like the grown-up restaurant version of “The Julie/Julia Project,” but with a way more intriguing cast of characters". I had a few face-to-face discussions as well, including one particularly concerned reaction. A woman I know has parents my age navigating the dissolution of their marriage. She is concerned for them. I was touched that she feared her dad might experience some of the emotional turmoil that I've been reporting (and it instantly takes me to what K must be feeling...our daughters get bruised as much as their parents).

On the whole, women tend to react at a deeper level. Younger women have more trouble with it than older women (my biggest fans). Men relate to the those facets that reflect what they've found true in their own personal experience. Everybody focuses on the sex part of the writing (which is the smallest part of the content and by far the least detailed in description). The sexual writing is a ganzfeld onto which readers project their own prejudices and predilections. (What does the quote, "European men don't do that" mean to the reader anyway?) The emotional subtext of the reactions stem from a couple of phenomena I've begun to understand. When an individual exposes themselves nakedly and publicly, people have a hard time not looking while not looking away. It hits them at a very visceral level. Voyeurism is titillating but I would never let myself be so exposed. Emotional confusion. Another insight...people think they know me. There is a persona that everyone we know has built up around us as a shorthand to understanding who we are and to anticipate interpersonal reactions. When a dissonance, maybe a huge dissonance, is discovered some level of discomfort (or panic) ensues. I thought I knew him. My first reaction is to say "if this offends you, turn it off." Too glib. Instead I'll explain that this is the most basic stuff of my creative life. As I process the changes, turmoil, pain, exhilaration of where I am today, I want to use it to build something, to spin straw into gold. Alchemy.

I take it all in but let none of it editorialize my perspective. Tomorrow night will be my last visit to Winterland. Just got word that it's closing this week for good.

g.

I love LA (we love it!)

Back at the gym again this morning. Can't miss a day...the discipline is one of the reasons for being there. The post-workout endorphin buzz is another. When I re-entered the dating world I decided that I didn't want to be embarassed when I took my shirt off. A fourth benefit came as a bit of a surprise to me. The week before last I was with B. I lifted her off the bed and flipped her over in a fluid motion with one arm. Wow. I don't plan on missing the gym again.

BK is back in town after a week and a half with the family in Oregon. CH is off to a friend's wedding in Amsterdam and the two of us are at dinner at Firefly. Gives us an opportunity to knock another restaurant off Bauer's Top 100. I got there first, sat at the bar and ordered a glass of the Sunstone Syrah, Santa Barbara. Nice big red. Chocolate, tobacco, long finish. BK arrived a moment later and we sat to order. Our dinner conversations tend to stay away from work issues and focus on food, wine, sex, women, the nature of relationships, restaurants, sports, music, technology, philosophy, books, etc. Firefly was, as BK characterized it, a good neighborhood place...good for families but not much of a singles scene. It is a temple of comfort food with good wines and a guy behind the (wine only) bar who knows his stuff. I started off with White Corn and Pasilla Pepper Chowder with Polenta Croutons. Great soup. The corn was, if anything, a bit undercooked...crunchy and very fresh tasting. Well done. For the next course I went with Grilled Pork Rib Chop with Spicy Porter Jus, Bacon, Grilled Corn off the Cob and Creamy Grits. This particular chop was good...better than Nopa, not as good as Town Hall. (A brief aside...JK assures me his experience with the Pork Chop at Nopa was very different than mine. "I had it. Was fantastic. While not huge, it was still very moist and tender. Really just perfectly cooked. Any less it would have been too rare." I must have just been there on an off night. I'll give it another shot.) BK ordered the Firefly’s Old School Meatloaf with Crimini Mushroom Gravy, Mashed Potatoes and Blue Lake Beans. By the looks of his plate he liked it quite a bit. Dessert for me was Watermelon-Chai Spice Sorbet and Lemon Granita with Fresh Passion Fruit. Very tasty mix of fruit. BK got the Brebiou Cheese with Almond Crisps, Blueberries and Honey Comb. Firefly is the once-and-done type of place for me.

BK reminded me we have tickets for the upcoming Raconteurs show at the Warfield on the 23rd. He picked them up shortly after our trip to LA over Memorial Day weekend. (Hazy interlude with wild sound effects indicating we are traveling back in time to Memorial Day Weekend.) We headed out of Dodge for a little R&R in SoCal. We ended up staying at the Sunset Marquis. The first morning there I was working out at the tiny gym up in the back by the guest houses and I saw Jack White (of the White Stripes) and Brendan Benson walk by to their cottages. They were dressed in the same outfits as they wore on the cover of their single, Steady, As She Goes...my fave rock single of the year so far. Over the next day or so we saw the band kicking around, doing interviews, etc. Unlike most rockers, Jack White is a big guy. He's gotta be 6' 3" or more. I can see how he might do damage in some of his bar fights that you read about.

Indulging in the full LA experience had us heading out that Saturday evening to LAX, the hottest club in town. I had been assured by Brooke that this was the place to party. Once inside the door we realized that while this was the hip place for Brooke and company, I definitely skewed old here. I'm definitely not looking to party with the beautiful 20-somethings ten deep at the bar. If anything, I'm far more interested in spending time with women much closer to my own age. Boredom set in quickly and we were out of there and heading back to the hotel kicking it in the bar with a dry one.

Sunday in Beverly Hills was sunny and warm. Killing time, BK decided he wanted to buy a suit so we headed over to Armani. As me walked in we were greeted by Alain. I realized there was a pre-sale going on and inquired about it. He asked me how I knew about it (unpublicized) and I assured him I was an Armani guy. He tested me...who was my salesguy in SF? Dude...Dennis of course...you know him? We were in. Now, Alain had some uhhhh...preconceptions about BK and I coming in together. Since it was a bit busy, would we mind sharing a dressing room. Confident in our sexuality we said no problem. Hell...we just left the door open and came and went in various stages of dress. Alain racked up a big sale and was happy as hell when he asked us if he should send everything to the same address. We suggested different addresses. (It wasn't until a couple of weeks later when we spoke on the phone and asked how BK was that I suggested his wife would know better than I. He then asked me what I did for a living and shortly began pitching software ideas to me. Quick on his feet.)

Heading out of Armani, I noticed a Taschen store down the street. Being a big fan of their books we headed in. There was a book signing in the back of the store for Leroy Grannis and his book of surf photography. The store owner introduced himself and we chatted a bit about some obscure design titles. Seeing how much we appreciated his products, he invited us up to the roof where there was a private party in progress. Mexican food, margaritas and lots of beautiful people everywhere. The sun and tequila were lightly toasting everything. Perfect...

g.

Very different kinds of chemistry

Heston Blumenthal, owner and chef of the Fat Duck may be the best-known practitioner of molecular gastronomy today. He examines food at the most granular level and searches for a nexus between seemingly irreconcilable ingredients. (He of the infamous bacon and egg ice cream or the snail porridge.) The combinations sound surprising and to many, off-putting. The revelation is in the tasting. I was fortunate enough to eat in this quaint little reconstructed inn back in February. The restaurant is in the village of Bray (which required a train ride and a cab to eventually get to the door). The interior was pleasant but nothing that might indicate the quality of the dinner and service I was about to enjoy.

The first thing I noticed was that all the service was French and uniformly excellent. Shortly after perusing the menu, our waiter brought us over an Amuse-Bouche which consisted of a whole-grain Pomerol mustard ice cream in a red cabbage gazpacho. I was waiting for the wild pairings to begin and was not disappointed. The temperature of the soup served to tame the edginess of the flavors and the experience was quite unlike anything I've tasted before. Frankly I think the language required to describe this kind of thing needs to be rethought. My next course was the Cauliflower Risotto with Carpaccio of cauliflower and chocolate jelly. I think this was just a bit less successful than the gazpacho but still caused my taste buds to ask what the hell was going on.

I called for the sommelier who was friendly and helpful. I ordered the Venison as my entreé (Saddle of Venison - Celeriac, marron glacé, sauce poivrade, civet of venison with pearl barley and red wine; venison and frankincense tea - yes, that's right - tea) and asked for a pairing. He immediately suggested Jim Barry, The Armagh, Clare Valley 1997. He did the full decanting and let it open. The wine, in a word, was phenomenal. Inky, large, chocolate with long finish. (When I got home I found 2 bottles of the 1996 at the Jug Shop in SF...one signed by Jim Barry himself.) The venison was magnificent...wild but not gamey. The wine supported it quite well (except perhaps the tea). X had the Pot Roast Best End Of Pork with gratin of truffled macaroni (fancy macaroni and cheese with black truffles). The macaroni dish remains one of the best things I've ever eaten - the definition of comfort food. Desert for me was an assortment of local cheeses and for X was the Délice of Chocolate, Chocolate sorbet, cumin caramel. All perfect.

This meal started me on my current ruminations on chemistry. This was the best meal I'd ever eaten. Does a similar phenomenon involving the unexpected nexus occur with humans? Do we just not see it for what it is? We frequently see evidently happy couples and wonder what it is they could have in common or question how nature works in such strange ways. Putting a microscope on the relationship is probably not going to explain the connection but moving it to examine some strange, hidden chemical pairings might render answers to the mysteries I'm feeling these days. Why or how is it that I find a woman's nose to be one of the most important aspects of her appearance? Why is it that I am partial to the type of nose that might be thought to be "imperfect"...you know a nose that you won't find on the wall of a plastic surgeon's office? Why do I find myself drawn to smaller-breasted women (and so few of them believe I actually like them that way)? Brunettes? Why do I find Jewish women appealing on a level I can't explore intellectually (and believe me I've tried)? Why is one type of sexual act more preferable with one woman while another is more obviously enjoyable with another? Might is simply be the way they taste or smell? We traditionally suggest there is something "psychological" in determining taste and predilection. I think it might be more causal. Feel free to let me know what you think and I'll continue seeking answers.

g.