Party Like It's 1999

Carmel-by-the-Sea, California

And so, we came to Carmel, driving up late last Saturday night in a fairly light rain. We drove out through Westlake Village and Thousand Oaks, passing the off ramps for both salsa clubs where I regularly dance. I would be leaving salsa behind me, mas o menos, as I concentrated on taking long walks with Billy, working on a writing project, and spending as much time as possible with good, close friends. Truly the object of the exercise, and starting with Todd, Christopher, and Carole who arrived earlier on Saturday.

Billy and I hit the ground running on Sunday after I attended Mass, getting our Trader Joe's and Safeway marketing out of the way before we all went to an early happy hour at Rio Grill, then back to their house for an improvised salmon dinner. Christopher's parents are also here, staying in the guesthouse of the home Todd and Christopher rent. The guesthouse is called The Dog House (the big house being called, The Big House -- don't blame me I don't make this stuff up).

Todd & Christopher's older black lab, Cole, took the next morning off, while the rest of us watched Frenzy, their indomitable goldendoodle, steal as many balls as she could get her paws on while running and jumping on the leash-free dog beach, in the brilliant sunshine of a post-rainy day in Carmel.

On Christmas Eve the seven of us had a celebratory dinner at Montrio in Monterey. Billy and I stayed up late watching A Christmas Story until we fell asleep. We raced out of bed in the morning and off to Mass. The first carol was a Latin-themed one which I loved, this and all the rest of the music with the choir augmented by ten or so pieces of strings and brass. Afterwards, we went home to bake two cakes (really) and roast a ham (seriously). We brought those three items to their home, plus a balloon-modeling kit and the Christmas crackers which I was supposed to bring to the restaurant the night before. A lucky oversight, as the crackers contained numbered whistles in different pitches which we used to play a variety of Christmas carols according to the numbered score which was enclosed. This conducted, quite competently, by Todd. Imagine the extra accompaniment of howling laughter. Christopher had prepared poached halibut osso bucco with gremolata and whipped potatoes with herbs. I'm not kidding. His composed roasted pear and frisee salad with hazelnuts and blue cheese was amazing. My chocolate ganache cake (minus the ganache) and Mission Cake made with cranberries (recipe available here in a post entitled When In Rome -- while supplies last so hurry) rounded out the meal. The balloon-modeling kit came with instructions so that you could create animals. Carole and Christopher actually accomplished this, while others twisted together the long balloons into hats, creating headpieces worthy of The 500 Hats of Bartholomew Cubbins. More laughter, of course.

We saw Lincoln (the movie, not the late president as that would be creepy) at the Del Monte cinemas the following day. It was raining again, so the theaters were heavily populated. Afterwards, as Christopher's parents stayed home that evening, and Carole had already left for her home in Twain Harte earlier in the day, T&C brought dinner which Christopher cooked at our house -- lobster ravioli with brown butter and parsley. Billy and I had picked up a loaf of sourdough bread, and, as usual, good wine was flowing (and a bit of vodka at the start). The following day, we went to The Bench at The Lodge at Pebble Beach for lunch before Todd, Christopher, and I repaired to the Spa at Pebble Beach for massages.

And now we are approaching the end of the year, New Year's Eve, and the following day departure of Todd and Christopher. What a really great time we have had here both hanging about in the two rental homes, and going out to some really fun and fine restaurants. I am so grateful that the four of us, like many of our friends, are of the same mind about memory-making. There cannot be anything more important to the feeding of our souls than to spend time creating memories with friends who have become our family.

John and Sandra will not be able to visit us on this trip, as Sandra is undergoing  a difficult course of treatment during this time. She is the first person in my mind when I attend Mass here. And, I am sure, in Billy's mind as well. But my list is long, with myself at the bottom asking on my own behalf for understanding, comprehension, and peace. I don't want for much, but can always use a little more of those things with regard to our planet, mankind, and my own complicated soul.

Lastly, and luckily, I have my favorite girls returning to Carmel later in January. This year they are flying up, which I applaud. Why waste time on the road when you can fly in the night before, even if late the night before? It's the 21st century, after all! After they leave, Twain Harte Carole will be returning for a few nights so that we can check out the Monterey salsa club scene. I was hoping my salsa friend, Carol(without an e) could also come, but she has a pesky court date to settle things with her soon-to-be-ex. If not, I bet she would come in a shot. She's another one of us memory-makers.

I know how fortunate we are to have the friends we have, and to spend time with a few of them here. I know how lucky I am that when I am out of town, my salsera friend, Carol, texts a photo of herself and three other salseros to let me know I'm not forgotten. I am so grateful that Lydia and I text and talk regularly, even though both of our present days are full. And I am thankful that I am here, in this beautiful place, staying in this wonderful house. I am writing this in the great room by a roaring fire, while Billy watches Young Frankenstein for the bizillionth time. And so, I wish you all health, happiness, safety, and peace in the new year. I wish you lots of opportunities to make memories with the friends and family you love. And don't forget the best memory-maker of all--don't forget to dance, and to party like it's 1999! Happy New Year, and thank you all for reading my blog! 

The End of the World As We Know It

Los Angeles, California

Yes, it's that time again. Winter solstice us upon us, and all the druids and new- agers (who I wish would just go take a place together in the country) are hopped up in the way that druids and new-agers get. And, on top of that, the Mayans are weighing in with a prognostication of...wait for it...the end of the world. That old chestnut.

Temperatures were in the thirties here in sunny So Cal. Last night, I was dancing at Bogie's in Westlake Village and this was the talk of the dance floor. People coming in saying...it's thirty-eight degrees outside. I should have been thinking about all the bougainvilleas we have here at Casa Healy which whither in a frost, but no...I was dancing for the last time of the year. Or maybe even...ever?

We're leaving for Carmel Saturday night, so I find the timing of this Mayan thing a bit problematic. Not that I would wish for the end of the world at any other more convenient time, it's just that the rental is fully paid for and I would hate to not be able to get my money's worth.

And if the world doesn't end, we still have to contend with a rain forecast in Carmel -- hell (pardon the expression) a rain forecast all across the state. I track weather on my iPhone in a variety of places; the region in Los Angeles where we live, Santa Monica, Carmel, Fair Oaks (Sandra's town), Thousand Oaks (where I dance), and New York City (where my friend Max is, mas o menos). Looks like rain and snow just about everywhere. Not only am I not dreaming of a white Christmas, but I'm also not dreaming of a wet Christmas. But, alas, I will take what I can get in Carmel.


As I've written before, we've had some crazy weather while we've been staying in Carmel, but last year... last year, le sigh... the weather was perfecto. It must have rained a bit, but over the holidays it was gorgeous and pretty warm. I was hoping for a repeat of that, but that was before the Mayans got into the act. So I guess I should just be appreciative that the world won't end and we will get to Carmel and whatever weather shall occur. Besides, there's a lot to be said for lounging around by the fire in pajamas. I haven't done much of that lately (like, at all).

So as the boxes and luggage continue to fill, I hang up my dancing shoes for the year! Hard to believe, but there you have it. Still, I'm looking at this as a half-full, not half-empty, glass. After all, if the Mayans had their way, I'd be hanging them up, like, forever. Thank you for reading my blog. Beware of flaming asteroids...

Emotional Velcro

Los Angeles, California

The holidays are upon us, and, as can happen at any time of year, the planets in my universe are not aligned. Holidays can bring their own out-of-whackness, but other things are random and can happen whenever. We can rail about the unfairness of that, if we like. Or accept it as one of the vagaries of life. I write that, but I still struggle with it.

Recently I wrote to my friend, Max, that I was feeling like emotional velcro. He wrote back that he thought I had coined a great name for a rock band. In the course of tussling a bit about claiming this terminology, I knew I would use it as a blog post. I'm surprised I didn't come up with it earlier as it describes an aspect of my nature to a T. Tell me that you've got a migraine and I will instantly feel a throb in my temple. My mom is currently dealing with skin lesions, and I am now itching all over. When Billy's back goes out, I find myself hobbling with low back pain even though I never have any back problems as a rule.

We all take our place in our family's structure, and Billy has often said that I am the sin-eater for my family. But my family barely exists anymore. There is only my mom and she has been dwindling for several years with blessedly slow-progressing dementia. So now, with my frister Lydia suffering from an interminable bout of vertigo, I find myself dizzy and disoriented. Or maybe that is the state I would find myself in anyway, given recent news.

Sandra, my frister especial and blog namesake, meets the challenge of a second go-round of difficult treatment starting late this week. She got through the first round two years ago, and was still recuperating from that and putting weight back on when this news hit. She is the strongest and best woman I know. She is in so many ways who I strive to be and that is the reason I named my blog What Would Sandra Do? She is the reason I attend Mass in Carmel which has put me on a spiritual quest that I have yet to completely conceptualize but that has brought a great deal of meaning to my life. And, she is the most wickedly fun person I know. She brings out the best in everyone, and I feel profoundly fortunate to have her in my life. We have a history that includes masks and funny hats, face-painting, Halloween jewelry that lights up, toys -- including wind up cars that we raced around the groove in the Bora Bora Bar at the Kona Village Resort. There was no stopping us at the Village and everyone gave up trying (we just dragged them down with us). We have spent ten of my birthdays together at the Kona Village Resort, and have traveled and spent time together together in Tahiti, Panama, Las Vegas, Napa, San Diego, Lake Tahoe, and Carmel.

Strong girl that she is, with all the family and friend support that she has, I still think she could use some extra wind beneath her wings right now, and I ask you to think of her and send prayers, good thoughts, meditations, whatever you've got - in her direction. I believe our lives are about good work, the choices we make, and the friends and family in our circle. But at times life is also about the fight. Sandra's up for this. And so am I. So, please throw what you can her way. I believe in the power of prayer and positive thoughts, and especially in the strength in numbers. This, as much as I believe in her.

The holidays can be tough for many. They stir up all kinds of feelings and memories. My friend, Lydia, and I had a tender heart-to-heart recently when she expressed how she now felt during the holidays, after losing both her parents. It reminded me of my mom saying that every time she started to bake bread (the special Christmas bread that my grandmother, mother, and I have baked -- a photo of which you can see in the post entitled A Loaf of Bread, A Glass of Scotch, and Thou which is available here throughout this holiday season...and beyond) she would sit down and have a good cry because she missed my grandmother. Holidays can do that to you. And even with all the good in my life, and with our impending trip to Carmel, the longing, and the missing, are just barely below the surface.

So let us enjoy the season. Let us think of those we love, and cherish them or their memories. Let us make merry this Christmas and/or light the Hanukkah candles with a full heart. And let our emotional velcro collect all the joy, all the good, and all of happiness that this season holds. Thank you for reading my blog. Love you, my Frister Especial.

A Goose and a Duck Walk Into a Bar...

Los Angeles, California

And so, it was Thanksgiving, and this year we found ourselves, once again, at loose ends. Not that it is a bad thing to no longer have a tradition in place. It allows you a certain footloose quality that is enticing in its flexibility. There were options . . .

The decision was made to stay at home, and cook our own Thanksgiving. Something I have not done since I was back in college, and cooked a full-on Thanksgiving dinner for my boyfriend (yes, same one I referred to in my last post entitled Flying Solo, available right here on this blog for a limited time). Since we were cooking a deux, and we're truly not turkey people, outside of the ubiquitous lunchtime staple of turkey sandwiches, we decided to roast a chicken. But, need I remind you of our footlooseness? When we got to Gelson's market, we got enticed by other poultry.

Billy decided that he wanted to cook a goose. If not for Thanksgiving, then for the dinner party we were having the following Saturday. The free-range goose in question was $89. Eighty-nine bucks! I told him that if he wanted a goose, he should go over to our nearby golf course and shoot one! I wasn't about to lay down ninety dollars for a frickin' goose, unless it was that fabled one that lays golden eggs [I was pretty sure it wasn't, since this one was DYK (dead, you know)]. My first set of brackets to appear in my blog!!! But, I am so digressing...

And then. And then a duck caught my eye! Also free-range, but only about $35. And next to said duck, were fresh "petite turkeys" ranging from around seven to nine pounds. Need I go on to say we came in for a chicken, dissed a goose, and ended up with a duck and a turkey. A fowl turn of events...

As we all do, we cooked way too much food for Thanksgiving. And, for the first time since college, I baked the pie that I had prepared for my boyfriend on that long-ago Thanksgiving. That is a Shoo-fly Pie; a recipe which called for light molasses. This I could not find at my local market. So I bought the molasses I recall my mom and grandmother buying, which is Brer Rabbit. It said full flavor, and turned out to be way too much dark for this pie. Billy had a few slices and reported that he liked it. But it was a far cry from the Shoo-fly Pies we ate when we lived not far from Pennsylvania Dutch Country, one winter when I was eleven years old.

Everything else turned out quite good. We dry-brined the turkey, then roasted it. With this, we had roasted brussels sprouts; yam puree which was flavored with both orange juice and zest, and bourbon. We had the apple cranberry sauce (see recipe in previous post entitled Flying Solo available...oh, just have on at it). But the real hit of the weekend was the duck. The recipe was from Amanda Hesser's Cooking for Mr. Latte, and it was easy and delicious. Billy's mom was here with us, and we invited his nephew and the girlfriend. Girlfriend, Deanne, is a vegetarian, but she, rather ecumenically I thought, had a bite of the duck. Lucky thing she didn't eat much actually, since I had forgotten how few people a duck serves. In the future I will make it just for Billy and me. The leftover meat will be delicious in duck tacos or tamales, or in a pinch, quesadillas. The duck is cooked with ginger and soy, so I'm totally going for the fusion thing here.

The secondary gain on the duck was in that I got a lot of duck stock, and a nice amount of duck fat. I roasted potatoes in the duck fat, but I'm really jonesing for double-frying-up some frites with it, or maybe doing one of those rosti jobbers. Something with crisp potatoes, duck fat, and salt. Be still my heart...

Ginger Duck

1 duck             (fresh or thawed overnight in the fridge), giblets removed
1 onion,           peeled and cut in half, or 3 shallots, peeled
2 stalks            celery, cut into 3-inch long pieces
2 teaspoons    ground ginger
1/2 cup             sugar
1/2 cup             soy sauce
1 teaspoon       sea salt
1/2 cup              sherry
1 small bunch watercress, washed and trimmed

The day before serving, stuff the duck with the onion and celery. Place it, breast side up, in a large dutch oven, and add enough water to half cover it. Add ginger and bring to a boil. Cover and reduce the heat so that it simmers gently for one hour.

After an hour, flip the guy over. Add sugar, soy sauce and the salt. Continue simmering for another hour. Turn the duck breast side up once again, and simmer for one more hour. Remove from heat and let cool. When you can handle it without scorching the digits, remove it carefully from the pot (I used a large, wide fish spatula that I rarely use for fish but find it comes in handy in other applications such as this). Use care as the duck will want to fall apart after so much cooking. Cover and refrigerate. Pour broth from the pot into a bowl and chill.

The following day, scrape off the layer of fat that has formed on top of the broth. Our friend, Amanda, says to throw it away, but I implore you not to! Set aside; freeze or use within a few days. Remove one cup of the broth to use when roasting the duck; freeze the rest. It is delicious when used to cook rice, or whisked into a 'blond roux', then adding cream, sauteed mushrooms, and slivers of leftover bits of duck or turkey and tossed with pasta (riffing on Turkey Tetrazzini here). But let's get back to the duck.

Bring the duck to room temperature, and place in a roasting pan. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Add the sherry and the one cup of defatted duck broth to the roasting pan; place in the oven. Roast uncovered for 30 to 45 minutes, basting occasionally with the drippings in the pan. The duck is done when it is heated through, and the skin is crisp and a dark chestnut brown.

Transfer duck to a serving platter lined with watercress (using the stems to disguise where legs and wings have fallen off, if that has occurred).

Four servings.

Again, as I wrote above, it was easy; it was delicious. And, it will be made again, probably soon. I haven't used the rest of the broth. When I see it in the freezer, I always think of the Marx Brothers movie, Duck Soup. Groucho said that it was a reference to their mother, Minnie's, cooking. Evidently, she was such a bad cook that when she prepared soup, all the brothers would duck soup. And, on that note... I thank you for reading my blog. Thanksgiving is pau (over, finished, done)... Oh-oh, here it comes! Happy Hanukkah and a very Merry Christmas to you all!