Jennifer Jeffrey, Writer & Editor

Dating Advice for Girls with Pets: a Public Service Announcement

A friend of mine called yesterday to chat about his adventures in online dating.

"I know you're not ready to get back out there," he said, "but when you are, here's a tip: don't post pictures of your dog online if you want to get a date."

He went on to tell me about a perplexing trend he had noticed on a certain matchmaking site he belonged to (eSanctimonious, perhaps? I can't remember) in which women posted photo after photo of themselves with their pets. "It's the opposite of hot," he sighed. "They're all reading 'Eat, Pray, Love,' and they're all holding a cat or a miniature dog. Bleh."

One woman sent him an e-card emblazoned with a photo of her cat Fluffy wearing a pair of bunny ears, inscribed: "Fluffy wishes you a Happy Easter!"

"What was she thinking?!" he groaned. "I hadn't even met her in person yet, and her CAT wishes me a Happy Easter? Dumb, dumb, dumb. I deleted her immediately."

I know that Internet dating sites have helped countless singletons find their happy ever after, but I'm 110% sure they're not for me, so after I finished wiping away the tears of laughter over my friend's story, I said: SO THAT MEANS I CAN POST PICTURES OF MY DOG ALL DAY LONG!

"You go, girl," he replied.

"Because the only other thing I can think of that would be as much fun as dating - online or off - would be handing my heart to a butcher and asking him to run it through a meat grinder a few times."

"Yeah, posting pictures of Petra might be a good idea," my friend replied.

"And then asking the butcher, if he wouldn't mind, to hold a blowtorch to it for a minute or two, to make the raw, pulpy bits nice and crispy."

"Start posting those pictures immediately," he said.

Not that I'm planning on turning my blog into Photo Shrine to Petra, but I could. Hypothetically.

But YOU! If you're Single in San Francisco, and you're thinking about sending out a flirtatious e-card signed "With Hugs &  Smooches From Fluffy and Me" - you might want to scrap those plans in a jiffy.

And swap out "Eat, Pray, Love" with "He's Just Not That Into You."

Couldn't hurt. Might help.

Weekend Report: Watching, Reading, Eating

WATCHING: La Vie En Rose.

When Marion Cotillard won Best Actress for her portrayal of Edith Piaf in La Vie En Rose, I felt slightly miffed on behalf of the American more experienced actresses who had been nominated: Laura Linney. Cate Blanchett.  Julie Christie!

Then, over the weekend, I saw the movie. It was gorgeous. Cotillard the movie star was virtually invisible; all I could see was Edith. Fragile, belligerent, talented, love-starved Edith.

From a scene on the beach in California in the '50's, where a reporter is interviewing Piaf:

What advice do you have for women?

Love.

What advice do you have for young ladies?

Love.

What advice do you have for girls?

Love.

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READING: What is the What, by Dave Eggers.

I've had this book on my must-read list for months. Now it is breaking my heart, one masterfully-written page at at time.

From page 199 (paperback edition):

Death took boys every day, and in a familiar way: quickly and decisively, without much warning or fanfare. These boys were faces to me, boys I had sat next to for a meal, or who I had seen fishing in a river. I began to wonder if they were all the same, if there was any reason one of them would be taken by death while another would not. I began to expect it at any moment. But there were things the dead boys might have done to aid their demise. Perhaps they had eaten the wrong leaves. Perhaps they were lazy. Perhaps they were not as strong as me, not as fast. It was possible that it was not random, that God was taking the weak from the group. Perhaps only the strongest were meant to make it to Ethiopia; there was only enough Ethiopia for the best of the boys.

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EATING: Kumquats. Whole: seeds + skin + all. I can't get enough of their bitter-sour-sweetness. I know I should slice them thinly and toss them in a salad; infuse them into something exotic; make them into a glaze and brush it over a hunk of meat. But they taste too good naked to fuss with them, so I don't.

And with sincere apologies to anyone who thinks that I am Very High Minded All of the Time, I can't help but wonder:

Don't kumquats sort of resemble... boobies?

 

Body Worlds 2: Worth the Trip to San Jose

Last week, when a client scheduled a meeting at their South Bay office, I immediately knew what I was going to do as soon as the meeting ended: drive straight to downtown San Jose, and head for the Body Worlds 2 exhibit at the Tech Museum.

I've been anticipating this exhibit for more than 4 years, after I first saw photos of Gunther von Hagens' stunning work at Peter Menzel and Faith D'Aluisio's home. The images I saw there were of bodies in motion - muscles and tendons and bones made pliable through a process called plastination. The photographs were extraordinary; I couldn't wait to see the exhibit live.

If it sounds odd that someone should be so excited about plastinated human bodies, I should tell you that I love all things anatomical. Back in 1993, after I graduated from college with a plan to attend medical school, I taught human anatomy and physiology to firefighters and EMT's. If these tough, brave people found it strange that a 21-year old woman was explaining the process of bone regeneration, they didn't show it. They were wonderful, and it was a fabulous experience. Even though I ultimately decided not to go the med school route, I'm still drawn to skeletons and skulls and anatomical curiosities.

The Body Worlds exhibit was in Portland earlier this year. Some of my sisters went, and sent back rave reviews. I was jealous, but I knew my turn would come.

On Tuesday, it did.

I wasn't disappointed.

The artistry and craftsmanship involved in the plastination process is nothing short of breathtaking; the process allows the organs to maintain a 3-dimensional shape and invites discovery on a whole new level. I've logged time picking through organs on a cadaver, but this was a completely different animal.

The entire exhibit was phenomenal, and there were some startling surprises, including one called The Expanded Body, in which plastinated body parts were attached to transparent strings and hung like a mobile, creating an incredible 360-degree experience that I still can't stop thinking about. 

Many of the bodies were posed in motion, and one of my favorites was titled The Angel - a woman in a standing pose, arms lifted to the sky,  latissimus dorsi folded back like wings.

I couldn't help but wonder how each of these humans had died, and at what age. Who were they; what were their stories?

Who loved them, and whom did they love?

Before I left, I walked back around the perimeter of the exhibit, scanning the figures one last time. All of a sudden, I felt incredibly moved at the beauty of the shared human experience. We are so different, yet so much the same. Bones and blood, sinew and skin, simultaneously fragile and strong, beautiful and grotesque, we each take the journey from birth to death, not knowing how long the journey will last nor what we will encounter in between.

As trite as it sounds, all that matters is how we treat one another along the way.

Go, if there is any way you possibly can.

** Note:  The picture above is a snapshot of a professional photograph, taken at Peter Menzel and Faith D'Aluisio's home in 2003.

The Best Beeping News a Prius Owner Ever Heard

A few months ago, I watched with tears streaming down my cheeks as my shiny silver BMW convertible drove away with its new owner. Oh, how I loved that car; sleek and fast, it cornered like it was on rails and went from zero to sixty... very, very quickly. I spent many enjoyable hours driving to Napa or zipping along Highway 1, wearing my giant sunglasses and cranking my music through the Harman Kardon speakers.

Unfortunately, Petra didn't fit into my sweet little ride. I tried it once. That trip lasted for two whole blocks before I realized that I was playing with my life and hers. We promptly returned to the garage.

Enter the Prius. Neither sleek nor fast, it corners like... well, let's just say it doesn't do corners. Zero to sixty? You don't want to know. Especially if you're in the car behind me, and you'd like to get to work on time.

But Petra's mama has to do what Petra's mama has to do, and I might be able to handle my new granny status on the road if it wasn't for the beeping.

If you don't already know, let me enlighten you: the Prius is a beeper on wheels. This beeping car beeps constantly; being inside of it is akin to having a front row seat at the Beep Symphony. Start the car: beep, beep. Put the car in reverse: beep, beep, beep, beep. Open the door: beep, beep. Put on your seatbelt: beep, beep. Take off your seatbelt: beep, beep. Set a bag of groceries in the passenger seat: beep, beep, beep, beep.

Perhaps it's a form of new-wave ambient music, a medley of beeps to serenade you as you save the planet. This is how we reduce our dependency upon foreign oil: one beep at a time.

Have I ever mentioned that repetitive noises make me crazy? That hearing a sound repeated more than two or three times in a row can reduce me to tears?

SOMEONE, ANYONE: MAKE IT STOP!!

That's where Zem Joaquin enters the picture. I've long been a Zem fan, from back in the day when she was one of the founders of Splendora. These days, Zem runs the blog ecofabulous, writes about "green" design solutions for House and Garden magazine, and generally lives a stylish, sustainable life.

As if that wasn't wonderful enough, she posted an entry on Wednesday that changed my life: how to turn off the beep on your Prius. As soon as I saw the post, I printed it out, ran straight to the garage, and followed the steps. It worked: Halle-beeping-lujah. I sat in the drivers seat, repeatedly switching into reverse and taking my seatbelt on and off, just to assure myself that it was true. After five long months of near-constant beeping, the silence felt like a benediction.

I am saved!

If it's beeping, you're weeping, so get on over there and hack the beep.

P.S.

To my (former) BMW: I miss you. Sometimes I look at your pictures, and feel sad that I don't get to hang out with you anymore. I hope your new owner knows what a great deal he got.

To BMW Corporate: Make a hybrid, will you please? Preferably one that goes zero to sixty in less than five minutes. That would truly be the Ultimate Driving Machine.

A Little Bit of This, A Little Bit of That

October. The crows circle the park where Petra and I walk, serenading us with hoarse, croaky verse. We step on the acorns scattered in our path, scattering leaves with our feet, walking fast to stave off the chill. I drink a whole pot of tea in the mornings, wrapping my hands around my cup, hoping that its warmth will penetrate my hands.

There is something magical about this time of year; something mysterious, mist-soaked and obscure. This is the season when we honor death, pausing to reflect on the inevitable ending of everything we hold dear, of the richness found in decay and detritus, the promise of newness contained in every fallen leaf and withered stem. I'm planning to make my way back to a little shop I found in Petaluma at this time last year, where they set up a display in their courtyard with the names and pictures of lost family and friends; melty candles flickered around the photos, and rocks and shells and bones clustered around the edges. It was lovely.

October doesn't have the breathless charm of spring, or the bright, blowsy, girl-next-door good looks of summer, but then I've always found beauty in strange places. Just look at the walls in my office, festooned with lithographs of fleas and spiders and a grim-faced eel, next to a set of rusty skeleton keys and a bat skull. No wonder I've  always loved this month...

Here's what else I'm noticing right now:

Purple vegetables. Everywhere I turn at the market, my eyes are falling on gorgeous vegetables in deep, bruised shades of aubergine and amethyst and violet, that shimmering intersection between crimson and blue ~ purple tomatillos, shiny eggplants, crackly-skinned onions, purple basil, cabbage. Full Belly Farms had purple Chinese long beans last Thursday, and I couldn't resist. I haven't cooked them yet; they're so pretty that I can't decide what to do with them. For a quick dinner last week, I made a sauté of purple cabbage, Italian sausage, purple onions and pine nuts, covered with a flurry of basil. Mmm.

Other purple things. Like this flickr shot.

My adventurous readers. Every now and then I get a note from someone who stumbled across my post on making yogurt in a Crock Pot, with a question or two. A few days ago, I got an e-mail from a reader who had the great idea of installing a router to act as a reostat on the Crock Pot instead of splitting the cord and patching in a dimmer switch, like I did.  Brilliant!

My gluten-free readers. I'm astounded by how many people find my blog because of my post on being occasionally gluten-free. If you're in the restaurant business, you might be amazed to discover how many people type in "gluten + free + restaurants + San Francisco".  Celiac disease doesn't appear to be going away, and I hope we'll see more  gluten-free options on menus in the future.

French fries. The crispy, salty French fries at Spruce just might be the best fries in the city.  They're so good that, in the hypothetical  instance that you and I went to Spruce together for a meal, you'd have to order your own, because I wouldn't want to share.

On the chalkboard of my mind today: "When you make that deep internal shift from your problem-solving mind to your truth-knowing mind, you don't need to search for the answers anymore. The search for answers is over and the process of more fully accepting and owning what you already know has begun. All that is not authentically "you" falls away, and you have a new center of being that allows you to see very clearly what is needed to affect changes in your life. You stop trying to fix yourself and start being yourself." - Baron Baptiste, from Journey Into Power.

Happy October.

The Inside Scoop on San Francisco Chefs

Last night, I pressed the send key on the last write-up of the last chef I was assigned to cover for the upcoming issue of San Francisco Chefs. I felt a tinge of sadness hitting that key; the project was one of the highlights of my summer.

Last year, when I read about the publication on Catherine Nash’s blog, I asked for a copy, and eagerly read it from cover to cover. Due in no small part to Catherine’s sharp, witty writing, the pieces were engaging and distinct, a window into the life stories of our local chefs. Even better: the piece benefits St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital, one of the finest institutions dedicated to helping children and their parents cope with life-threatening diseases.

I felt like a kid in a candy store when I got to be involved in the publication this year. Sit down with some of my favorite chefs and talk to them about the creative process? Twist my arm!

From Corey Lee at the French Laundry to Cal Stamenov at Marinus in the Bernardus Lodge in Carmel to Xavier Solomon at The Ritz-Carlton in Half Moon Bay, every single person I sat down with was gracious and engaging.

One of my favorite moments occurred when I was chatting with Ron Siegel at The Dining Room (you know how much I love TDR; big balloon hearts everywhere!), and I got to ask him about how they made my favorite amuse – a perfectly poached quail egg perched atop a glass dish of wood smoke and garnished with brioche croutons and caviar – and he animatedly described the whole process. It was far more involved than I had guessed, and now I’m an even bigger fan, if that is even possible.

You can have a complimentary copy of this year’s edition if you’d like – just send an e-mail to info@sf-chefs.com by October 5 with your name and full mailing address, and you’ll get to read about what inspires these men and women in the kitchen, and what they do when they’re not slaving over a hot stove.

Fear not: your name and address will not be given away, sold or shared. Not for any reason, ever.

If you need a bit more convincing, here’s the full list of chefs included in this year’s edition:

• Acquerello – Suzette Gresham
• Aqua – Laurent Manrique
• Auberge du Soleil – Robert Curry
• Bernardus Lodge – Cal Stamenov      
• Boulevard – Nancy Oakes/Pam Mazzola
• Dry Creek Kitchen – Charlie Palmer/Mike Ellis
• Manresa – David Kinch
• Michael Mina – Michael Mina
• Myth – Sean O’Brien
• Piperade – Gerald Hirigoyen
• Quince – Michael Tusk
• Ritz-Carlton Half Moon Bay – Xavier Salomon
• Silks Mandarin Oriental – Joel Huff
• The Dining Room at the Ritz-Carlton (SF) – Ron Siegel
• The French Laundry – Corey Lee

Go ahead, ask for your own copy... 'cause I'm not parting with mine!

rave: *ubuntu* in downtown napa

I had a marvelous lunch today at a new restaurant- slash- yoga studio in Napa called ubuntu.

Before you sigh at the patent gimmickry involved in combining yoga with food, let me assure you: it works.

The restaurant is located on Main Street in Napa, in a space with exposed concrete walls, soaring ceilings, and bright photo collages that hang on the walls blending global images with provocative thoughts. From the dining room floor, one can look up and glimpse the frosted doors of the yoga studio on the second floor, where classes are held 5 or 6 times a day (the yoga schedule is mouthwatering - candlelight flow on Wednesday nights? Yes, please!), imparting an air of serenity to what is already a visually arresting space.

Star dish: ratatouille with zucchini bread croutons (thick cubes of moist green zucchini bread with a crisp exterior, oh!), garnished with burrata cheese and herbs.  Hours later, I'm still thinking about it. Close second: fig pizza with caramelized shallots.

Chef Jeremy Fox (formerly of Manresa) has created a vegetarian menu, but please discard any notion of austerity or lack - the flavors are sumptuous and decadent, and the ingredients are exquisitely fresh. According to the restaurant web site, "Ubuntu is less about a philosophy of no meat and instead a celebration of our own biodynamic gardens, what shows up at the door, and relationships with the local farms in Napa."

"Celebration" is precisely the word that comes to mind upon dining here.

My mouth is still dancing. I'm already planning my next visit.

Ubuntu
1140 Main St. (near Pearl)
Napa, CA
(707) 251-5656

P.S. Sorry about the absence of pictures; I wish I had taken my camera, because the space is gorgeous.

We Love BBQ Sauce, too!

When I saw Catherine's picture of her apricot jam a couple of weeks ago, I was terribly jealous that hers arrived before mine.

When mine showed up last week,  I was happily surprised to find two beautiful jars of BBQ sauce in the box as well. I had ordered the sauce along with the best apricot jam you have ever tasted, but had since forgotten.

This is some fine sauce... thick, dark and smoky, with a hint of warm spice (cloves, perhaps?), a bit of sweetness (maple syrup?) and something edgy (ginger?) to round out the flavors.

Slathered it on some chicken pieces a few days ago... mmm, good.

Quickies

Going Back for Seconds

In March, after a disappointing birthday dinner at The French Laundry, my sweetheart took me to The Dining Room at the Ritz-Carlton to see if it might restore my spirits. And how! We went again last week (why did we wait so long?), and I can happily report that it was every bit as sigh-worthy and toe-wriggling-ly delicious as the first time. Highlights: butter-poached lobster adorned with shelled peas and a vivid carrot-Szechuan reduction; a tender hunk of veal on a pillow of chanterelle-sweet corn risotto with a crispy sweetbread hat; the hot foie gras; the cheese cart. Ron Siegel, you’re the man.

Feeding My Morocco Fixation

Whenever I start daydreaming about Morocco, I go to My Marrakesh. The fabulously talented Maryam spells Marrakesh differently than I do (I use the ‘c’ spelling) but she LIVES there. She is building a guest house, which I have no doubt will be gorgeous, and which I hope to visit some day (she has peacocks!); perhaps I’ll alternate between here and Ksar Char-Bagh?

You Only Think You’re Committed To Saving the Planet

Yes, I’ve given up bottled water. Yes, I'm increasingly incorporating more planet-friendly measures into my daily life. No, I don't deserve a pat on the back... I'm not quite ready to toss out this common disposable paper product. This same lovely family has a great source for locally grown produce.
 

Divine: My Newest Favorite Chocolate Bar

I'm not much of a breakfast girl. I wake up full of ideas and ambition, and making a mess with eggs or crunching through a bowl of cold cereal sounds like a terrible chore. Instead, I brew myself a pot of tea and sit down at my desk to write for a few hours. I always do my best writing before noon, and I've learned not to put it off.

Mid-way through the morning, I want just one thing: a piece of chocolate.

I keep a variety of chocolate bars around the house for just this reason; sometimes I want something experimental, like one of the Vosges Haut-Chocolate bars (Woolloomooloo is a favorite); other times, I want something sticky-sweet, like the Kalouga bar from Bernachon, a dark chocolate bar that oozes thick, glorious caramel. I'm all out of that one at the moment. Sob.

A couple of weeks ago, I discovered a new favorite: Divine Chocolate, made with cocoa from a farmer's cooperative in Kuapa Kokoo in West Africa. Not only are their chocolate bars wrapped inside a gorgeous label decorated with indigenous African symbols, but they also taste, well... divine. My current favorite is the 70% dark chocolate bar, but I'm also a fan of the Dark Chocolate Mint, which has crunchy bits of mint inside, and is ever-so-yum.

Divine Chocolate is sold at Bittersweet on Fillmore, a shop so full of wonderful things that I might as well hand over my wallet as soon I walk through the door. Have you tried their spicy hot chocolate? It has a high sigh factor.

Bittersweet: the chocolate cafe
2123 Fillmore Street
San Francisco, CA 94115

We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospection. ~ Anais Nin