quinoa & beer

R.I.P. New Order

2007-05-14T18:01:00.000-07:00

Heaven, a gateway, a hope
Just like a feeling inside, it's no joke
And though it hurts me to treat you this way
Betrayed by words, I'd never heard, too hard to say
Up, down, turn around
Please don't let me hit the ground
Tonight I think I'll walk alone
I'll find my soul as I go home.

Each way I turn, I know I'll always try
To break this circle that's been placed around me
From time to time, I find I've lost some need
That was urgent to myself, I do believe
Up, down, turn around
Please don't let me hit the ground
Tonight I think I'll walk alone
I'll find my soul as I go home.

Oh, you've got green eyes
Oh, you've got blue eyes
Oh, you've got gray eyes
Oh, you've got green eyes
Oh, you've got blue eyes
Oh, you've got gray eyes
And I've never seen anyone quite like you before
No, I've never met anyone quite like you before
Thoughts from above hit the people down below
People in this world, we have no place to go
Oh, it's the last time
Oh, I've never met anyone quite like you before

New Order broke up. They were one of the defining bands of my high school soundtrack. When times were tough, when I was sad or contemplative, I turned to New Order. They were electronic and haunting, with their distinctive twangy guitar and bizarre lyrics, so subtle and understated but classic.

Food Blog: Meat vs. Vegan Pt. 2

2007-04-30T22:11:00.000-07:00

Cooking is fun:

Vegan: "Chicken Way" (tofu dipped in olive oil, coated in nutritional yeast & vegetarian powdered chicken broth), sauteed kale, and millet

To begin:

Half cup nutritional yeast and half cup powdered "chicken" broth:

Sliced cutlets firm tofu:

Coat tofu in olive, then dry mix:

Ready for the oven:

Lovely organic dino kale:

Slice, rinse and drain:

Saute with garlic and olive oil:

Who needs McDonald's? Liberally sprinkle greens with ume vinegar for some kick:

Done!

Food Blog: Meat vs. Vegan Pt. 1

2007-04-30T22:03:00.000-07:00

To Begin:

The Meat Dinner:
Chuletas (pork chops), spaghetti with freshly grated pecorino cheese, olive oil and fresh ground pepper, and steamed asparagus.

Pork chops marinating in adobo, orange and lemon juice, garlic and cider vinegar:

Spaghetti & pecorino cheese (okay, this one's a little boring):

So's this one:

A happy customer:

Fin:

Va Bene!

I will post something soon!

2007-04-30T09:57:00.000-07:00

I promise!

The Genius of Six Feet Under

2007-02-14T11:56:00.000-08:00

I am having a major freak out about how amazing Six Feet Under is. I am always so late on the HBO series bandwagon, and am just now watching it. We're about to finish Season 3, and I just don't want it to end. Only two more seasons to go. This show makes me cry. Every single episode, seriously. Last weekend Eric and I watched four episodes in a row and I almost didn't stop crying the entire time. I love every one of the Fishers.
Six Feet Under is heartbreakingly sad, hilarious, sweet, gut-wrenching, subtle, enlightening, and has actually made me think about death in an entirely new way. The last episode I watched ended with Nate sitting in his missing wife's car, on Highway 1, listening to "I Saw the Light" by Todd Rundgren, presumably the last song she heard. But I already have a special attachment to this song, and it made it all the more profound.
Genius.

Buenos Aires

2006-11-25T15:02:00.001-08:00

Guess where we're going this summer?

The Slow Food Movement

2006-10-26T15:56:00.000-07:00

I was watching the Jon Stewart Show the other night, laughing hysterically as usual and feeling overwhelming depressed as usual, when Jon placed a box onto his desk, pulling out the newest product from Jimmy Dean: sausages wrapped in chocolate chip pancakes- on a stick. Microwaveable. Oh GOD.
Today I was talking to a coworker about the Slow Food Movement. It was founded in 1986 by leftist journalist Carlo Petrini in an effort to wage intellectual war on the homogenization of food around the world. You can actually attend the University of Gastronomic Sciences in Italy and get a Masters in Gastronomnic Science and Quality Products. More here: www.slowfood.com.
We have become so disconnected from our food. I try to cook mostly whole foods with the least amount of processing. I'm spoiled living in San Francisco, where there is so much beautiful organic produce and hormone-free meat. But I'm getting progressively more depressed with the state of food in this country- how we connect with food (or don't connect) has implications on the way we lives our lives and how we treat other people. I feel great after a rigorous yoga class if I've eaten well all week. I feel a common bond with my fellow human beings. If I've bent the rules and had soda or other processed food, my yoga classes are tortorous- I'm unable to concentrate and I leave class feeling angry at everyone.
Sausage wrapped in a chocolate chip pancake, on a stick. That sausage is hardly even meat anymore. I can't even begin to picture the animal it came from, much less what part it came from.
I wish I had all the time in the world to spend my entire day creating a delicious, beautiful, and healthy meal. I don't. And I would love to move to Italy and get my Masters in Gastronomic Science, but that can't happen for awhile. But no way in hell would I ever eat a sausage wrapped in a chocolate chip pancake.

I miss my best ladies

2006-07-03T11:31:00.000-07:00

Berry (lives in Pittsburgh, PA), and Christina (lives in Brooklyn, NY). I haven't seen either of them in so long! Thankfully I'll get to see Christina when I go to NYC this August. This is from mine and Eric's rehearsal dinner in Oct. 2003. I wish I could get married all over again, just so all these wonderful people could be in the same room.

Pete Ellis Dodge, Long Beach Freeway, Firestone Exit, Southgate!

2006-06-14T12:52:00.000-07:00

I am having a serious problem with nostalgia, specifically for local LA commercials from the 80's. Anyone remember Federated Frederated Appliances? Or the Pete Ellis Dodge commercial, with the bouncing ball over the words being sung?
Or my favorite: "It's Cal Worthington and his dog Spot!" Cal Worthington was a car salesman, and would appear with a different animal as his "dog Spot", although they were never dogs. Sometimes an elephant, sometimes a goat, sometimes a tiger, but never a dog. The song was sung to the tune of "if you're happy and you know it". Everyone I knew at the time thought the words were "Pussycow", instead of "Go See Cal". I would pay top dollar to see some of those again. I loved being sick during the week, relaxing at my Grandma Negrete's house, eating chorizo and tortillas, watching bad daytime tv, and loving those commercials.

I also loved those REALLY low budget television shows, that I'm sure were being made right down the street from her house in Santa Fe Springs, probably somewhere in the City of Industry, or more appropriately, the City of Commerce. The Froozles, Powerhouse, and who could forget the New Zoo Revue?

Boonville Birthday, Part 2 (Anthony & Elena)

2006-04-07T11:45:00.000-07:00

R.I.P.

2006-03-26T12:39:00.000-08:00

Late Friday night, Eric and I had just finished Chinese takeout and "Dodgeball". We stumbled upstairs to go to sleep at about 11:30- a mellow Friday night. We both heard popping noises as we fell asleep, Eric heard shouting. Eric thought people were celebrating the UCLA victory. I thought it was a little odd, seeing as it had been raining all evening. The next morning an altar popped up one VERY short block away from us. Someone named Little Chino had been shot and killed. Burned out flares scattered the surrounding streets. By Saturday afternoon when I walked past the corner of 25th and Capp Street on my way to yoga, there was a huge crowd of people, mostly younger gathered on the corner. Three girls were sitting on the corner surrounding the growing altar of bottles of liquor, votive candles, balloons, flowers, and red bandanas. The girls were sobbing and screaming and I started crying as I walked past with my yoga mat.
Today I found this:

SAN FRANCISCO Man, 21, fatally shot in Mission District - Marianne CostantinouSunday, March 26, 2006
A 21-year-old was fatally shot early Saturday as he walked around San Francisco's Mission District with a group of friends, police said.
The victim, identified as Rolando Valladares of San Francisco, was declared dead at 12:22 a.m., upon arrival at San Francisco General Hospital, according to the medical examiner's office.
The shooting occurred on the corner of 25th and Capp streets, Homicide Inspector Michael Johnson said. Five or six shots were fired from a semiautomatic handgun, he said. No one else was injured.
Police believe Valladares was the intended victim, Johnson said.
The assailant may have fired from inside a dark SUV that the victim's girlfriend noticed drive up just as the shooting began, Johnson said. Upon hearing the gunfire, the girlfriend told police, she dropped to the ground. She said that she did not witness the shooting or the gunman.
No motive was known as of Saturday afternoon, he said.

One block from our house. We heard it.

I'm addicted to Glint.

2006-03-02T16:03:00.000-08:00

My Friends Came for a Visit...

2005-12-04T19:04:00.000-08:00

I'm sad...I miss my friends...they can only visit once a year.

Wait! I hear a knock at the door...

"Come on in! Good to see you!"

We started to catch up and have a few drinks...

Swap some gossip...

"Oh no he didn't!!"

But time flies when you're having fun, and soon it was time for them to go.

"Alright then, peep ya later."

Bye friends! See you next Christmas.

Daisy!

2005-10-09T14:30:00.000-07:00

Look! It's me with my hero, Daisy Martinez from Daisy Cooks! You can watch her cooking show on KQED Channel 9 on Saturdays at 9:30. She's fabulous.

Barcelona

2005-08-03T15:22:00.000-07:00

Catalan graffiti:

The roof of La Pedrera (Gaudi):

I love Barcelona!

A Europe Teaser

2005-07-27T14:35:00.000-07:00

Volastra, Italy

Rome, Italy

I Heart Jerri

2005-05-18T11:49:00.000-07:00

"You could be saying 'No!No!No!', and all they hear is 'who wants cake?' Let me tell you something, they all do. They all want cake."

Further Proof that Moby is a Boob.

2005-04-20T17:24:00.000-07:00

Why is it that every time I visit gawker.com I get a Senior Friend Finder pop up ad? Anyway, I found this gawker stalker heeelarious, as well as good ammo for anyone who actually likes him (at this point, it's down to one):

"My friend Danh and I saw Moby the other night, Saturday I think, outside his tea place, Teany. It was very late, around 2:30 am I think and Teany was closed. He was standing with this little girl who looked maybe 6 years old. My friend Danh and I were talking sort of non-stop and kind of loud about Melinda and Melinda, but when we passed by Moby, when we were right adjacent to him, we stopped talking all of sudden. We didn’t plan it, it just happened. And we heard Moby say to the little girl, and he whispered this, leaned over and looking level at the little girl’s face (and somehow it was really quiet everywhere and we heard him whisper really clearly): “Don’t ever say that Teany is Shitty. Don’t ever say that.” My friend Danh and I both heard it the same."

Wouldn't you be?

2005-04-14T14:17:00.000-07:00

"Jurors were in a jovial mood as they returned from a break after the head-licking testimony."

Lovely Vancouver, B.C.

2005-03-09T07:40:00.000-08:00

canada 052
Originally uploaded by elenak.

My Great Great Uncle. And a Hatfield.

2004-08-26T17:16:00.000-07:00

devilanse
Originally uploaded by elenak.

This man is named Devil Anse Hatfield. He is the OG of the Hatfield clan, and hails from Western Virginia/Kentucky. He was an alcoholic and a murderer. He is my great great uncle.

Washington, DC and Brilliance

2004-08-25T16:31:00.000-07:00

I am missing DC a lot these days, mainly because it's August but here in SF it feels like December. I think today is the first day I've seen the sun since the first week of August. No joke.

DC summers were so muggy and gross, but you definitely understood the seasons. And it snowed in the winter, which I definitely miss. But there was something really beautiful about the summers there. DC was so lush, especially in my neighborhood. Summer was a time when you really felt like you were living in the South: tons of fireflies, sitting on the porch at night drinking beer, listening to frogs and crickets, daily thunderstorms that lasted like, 5 minutes. I heard this song today by the Softies and I wanted to be transported to my old house on 19th Street. The house next door to mine was a big punk rock house. Ian Mackaye was always coming and going, I think some members of Fugazi and the MakeUp lived there. They were rather unfriendly, but it was definitely exciting.

In other news, today I learned my husband is a genius, for reals. He took the GRE today and scored an almost perfect score. He'll definitely get into Berkeley for sure. Damn.

lydia the tattooed lady

2004-05-18T14:56:00.000-07:00

So my darlin' got me an hour and a half long massage for my birthday this year- soooo needed after months of not being able to turn my head completely without a sharp pain shooting down my back. There was only one hitch- the massage was at this place called Osento, a communal, women-only hot tub place in the Mission. I'd heard friends talk about going there together on Friday nights, and when they'd invite me, I'd nod my head, "totally, totally", then back out at the last minute. They made it sound like so much fun, but I was not fooled- I would've rather sat in the dark alone on a Friday night. But this time there was no turning back: I would have to be completely naked in front of total strangers, my worst nightmare. I figured I could just get my massage and leave, but the whispery woman on the phone told me to come in a half an hour early to "get in the tub and loosen up".

Friends tried to comfort me by telling me how it was no big deal, all of us "had the same things" while looking at me like I was so repressed and had missed out on years of fun and female bonding, splashing around naked in hot tubs, pouring lavendar oil onto hot rocks. Please.
The day before the massage my stomach started to knot up and I considered backing out. But imagining hands massaging my twisted, gnarled back and neck won out, and at noon the next day I was ringing the bell at Osento.
The half hour of "loosening up" was pretty uneventful, since the place had just opened and there weren't any naked ladies to dodge yet.
As I sat in the tub waiting for my massage, the door from the main office swung open, and in walked a tall, tattooed woman, unsmiling and determined, with hair half piled on top of her head, messy yet masterful. She immediately stripped down, and took a shower in the communal outside shower- so brazen! I pretended to flip through an abandoned Woman's Day magazine, pages wrinkled from the heat and water. Holy shit- would she be massaging me naked? Would this be a 100% naked experience? Just as I contemplated crying, she walked in, and spoke only two words: "I'm ready".

For the next hour and a half I was in and out of consciousness. She dug her elbows into my knots, she massaged my face, and I fell blissfully in love. I tried peppering her with questions: were my muscles tight? Did a lot of her clients fall asleep while she massaged them? What did she think about pilates? She answered with the minimum number of words, making her seem even more mysterious. She was tough too- one of her tattoos was of a bluebird being pierced by a sword, blood and feathers flying.

After the massage was over, she whispered, "have a good afternoon", and left. My heart sank. I got dressed and went looking for her, only to find her at the shared communal sink, scrubbing her fingernails with a brush. I guess it hadn't been such a magical experience for her, judging from how rigorously she scrubbed out my dead skin from under her nails.

On my way home, I finally did start crying after two men told me how much they appreciated my breasts, then wished me a happy mother's day.