I noticed something this summer. It’s something I kept hearing from the college kids who returned home for break. Well, besides the footfalls on the front porch which came with much greater frequency when my daughter Margaret – my college freshman – was home. From my perch in my bedroom – I noticed there was a lot more traffic out there on the porch. It started with the footsteps – quick energetic ones – and then the door bell would ring. Our bell is a bit old and anemic so if you’re not used to it you’d never know it’s the door bell, but we do. After the bell, I would see the kids. And from them I heard a chorus – so happy to be back in Oakland and so excited to get to their favorite places and enjoy their favorite foods – food they’re not finding in their college towns. In fact One of my Favorite Girls of All Time looked at me when I asked her how much she loves Villanova – she said, “Well, the food isn’t good.” Continue reading
per·fect: [pur-fikt; per-fekt]
I looked up the word perfect in the dictionary and definition number three went like this: Exactly fitting the need in a certain situation or for a certain purpose. And that is exactly the kind of culinary experience I had the other night in San Francisco.
It all started with a text from my friend Debbie in the late afternoon. I was at work. She was barreling up the 101 with her two boys for her annual trip to Northern California. She visits the Bay Area just about every year between Christmas and New Year’s Eve. It’s usually a combo trip – a little Oakland and Berkeley, a night or two at our house, a dinner, a trip to Cole Coffee, her favorite, a stop at Bake Sale Betty’s, maybe a stroll through Berkeley Bowl– and then we pack them off to the city. But this trip they lost time on the road, with a blow out. They were just barely going to make their hotel reservations in San Francisco so we decided to meet them there. Continue reading