In my husband's stocking

Remember my fig vodka experiment? That's ok. You can read about it here and here.

Fast forward a few months, and we are here:

I feel like a scientist! I love cheesecloth almost as much as waxed paper—a lot.

I think my magic potion looks delicious, and it has a wonderful earthy aroma. We will keep it in the freezer and sip it over ice.

Once Husband notices that there is something in his stocking. As if the fact that I did not buy anything at the Lori Bonn jewelry sale last night were not enough. It must be the season.

Like I said . . .

Last night my girlfriends and I set out on our annual holiday trek to the Lori Bonn friend and family sale followed by dinner. 

As in previous years, I tagged along mostly for the fun, company, and food, claiming to be "not much of a jewelry person." (I'm also not much of a make-up, hair style, or clothing person either, which goes a long ways to explain the mess I usually am.)

I saw and tried on lots of pretty things and admired the pieces the girls picked out, but I just did not see anything that I felt would significantly improve my life. It was a lovely event though, and if I ever need jewelry I will buy it from Lori Bonn. They are the nicest people ever. When I arrived, one of the Lovely Lori Bonn Ladies greeted me, remembering my blog posts about them from past years and immediately pouring me a glass of prosecco.  When I left empty handed, she graciously noted that they consider it a compliment that I wear a single piece of Lori Bonn jewelry since I am "not much of a jewelry person." Nice that she remembers that. And even nicer that she seemed to think that was ok. 

For dinner, we too advantage of the fact that Oakland is becoming quite the mecca for dining (a recent local magazine declared Berkeley and San Francisco "done") and repaired to a new place at Jack London Square.

Bocanova is billed as pan-American grill, and like other restaurants in the area has retooled an old industrial space. This building used to be an ice house. 

I love that they've taken a complete U-turn from the ice idea and decorated in warm tones with soft lighting.

Liked: The food.

The menu is all small plates—perfect for the indecisive. The halibut ceviche was particularly good. I'm fussy about fish or meat I perceive to be raw or rare, and even I liked it. I'm also fussy about scallops if they're the least bit chewy or gritty, and I thought these were perfect. The curry sauce was nicely balanced, not overpowering the way curries can be.

Endive, hearts of palm, avocado with a sherry vinaigrette

Dungeness crab deviled eggs with chipotle aioli

Sea of Cortez scallops with Brazilian curry sauce

Tasty, generous portions for a small-plates menu. We liked.

Not so much: The service.

Since the wine list is composed of mostly obscure Spanish and Portuguese wines, they thoughtfully sent over a man who identified himself as "the wine buyer" and then proceeded to interview us on our wine tastes. I refrained from explaining I like almost anything that is not really awful. But seriously, we had not even looked at the menu, so what we more or less told him was that we needed a wine that would go with anything and wasn't too anything (fruity, large, etc.). So much for pairing. I can't remember what we allowed him to bring us, but it was fine. 

Things went downhill in my mind with the waitress, who introduced herself as being there to "take care of us." God, I hate this. She is there to take our order and bring us our food. If she wants to take care of me, she can start with figuring out how to pay for my kid's braces, how to work in three physical therapy appointments a week and still get to the gym, and how to deal with my mother and the Christmas holidays. She claimed to be there to help us. I do not need help ordering food from a menu. After we insisted on being allowed to look at the menu for a few minutes by ourselves, she popped back asking if we had any ideas and reported that she yet put in an order. Of course not given that we had not yet ordered anything.  It was also annoying that she thought it necessary to explain the small-plates concept as if we had not eaten out in the past five years. Small plates are different but hardly unique, and we are not stupid.

But as much as we enjoyed the ambiance and food, I was particularly thrilled with the high-velocity hand dryer in the restroom. It blew air so hard that it rippled your skin so it looked like melting plastic. Cool! If I had had a video camera, you would be watching a YouTube video of this. My girlfriend Janine tells me there is one at Brower Center in Berkeley where you put your hand between rays of light. I've got to check that out. Call me easily amused. 

I am well taken care of

Husband got me all tucked in this morning and then even came home from work to have lunch with me. Well really, he ate his lunch while I nodded off on the couch. But before he left, he laid a fire for me in the woodstove, so all I have to do is strike a match.

And he left me my medicine in a little cup, which is so much nicer than getting it myself out of a bottle.

He also stationed a small spotted kitten to supervise the resting.

But the very best was the note Sophie left me. We've come a long ways from when I would awake from post-surgical rest to find her staring at me in her Fisher-Price doctor costume, waiting patiently to "doctor me up." These days she can get herself ready for school, help Husband with the animals, and fix breakfast all so quietly that I don't wake up at all.

Last night when she gave me this bell she said "If you call me in the night and I am awake, I will come right away. If I am asleep, you can ring this bell and wake me up. If you ring the bell and I do not wake up, then I am sorry!"

I am sore and sleepy from the pain medication but am making a good recovery. Thanks for all the good wishes and thoughts!

Frozen green peas

They're probably the best of frozen vegetables.

And not only for eating. I'll be piling them on my shoulder starting this afternoon.

My Thanksgiving obsession was a great distraction from thinking about the shoulder surgery I'm scheduled to have this afternoon. I hate surgeries scheduled in the afternoon—more time to think about how much I want the bowl of cereal and cup of coffee that I can't have. But this doesn't sound bad as a surgery goes. I'm going to have arthroscopic surgery to repair a torn labrum. I was hit from behind by a skier going way too fast (I'm not known for picking my way down a mountain slowly) and completely out of control. I was thrown head-first down the mountain, with my right arm pulled back. Almost a year of rest, ice, Advil, physical therapy, and I've said "uncle." My surgeon says he can fix it. "Do it," I said.

I've had so much surgery that I'm not particularly nervous, but I'm really not looking forward to the time robbery. It's not like when you go to sleep and wake up and feel like some time has passed. You're laying there chatting with the nurses (if they ask me if I'm worried, I say "yes!" so they give me the really good drugs and I drift off thinking not everything about being a drug addict is so bad. . . .) and whammo "Cindy, Cindy—can you hear me? How are you feeling? Don't move anything!" There's no subconscious regrouping like there is in sleep. I'm never ready, and it doesn't feel right.

I'll have a long road of physical therapy ahead of me, but at least there's hope that someday I'll once again do a downward-facing dog and a decent plank, that I'll be able to put a ponytail smack in the middle of my head, that I'll regain range of movement and symmetry with the other side of my body.

In the meantime, it's peas. I passed on the $175 device that you strap on your shoulder and plug into the wall to circulate chilly water and make a noise I've been told is wonderful to fall asleep to. It sounds lovely, but insurance didn't cover a cent of it, and as I pointed out to my doctor "I have peas!"

Back soon.

The best entertaining tip ever

Remember, you heard it here.


Start every party with an empty dishwasher. That way dirty dishes won't pile up on the counter and in the sink. Even if they're dishes that need to be handwashed, you can hide them in the dishwasher to keep them out of the way while you are entertaining.

Happy Thanksgiving from sunny northern California.

Thanksgiving eve

So, how are you doing? Ready?

I've ticked a few things off my list.

Two pies down, one to do in the morning (crust is made).

Linens ironed. Table set.

It will look so much better tomorrow with people around it.

The only hitch: Tomorrow is a bay area "spare the air" day, when we are not allowed to burn any wood. We heat our house with a woodstove and have no central heating. We have two elderly women who are easily cold coming to dinner. Do we go for the fire and risk our first official warning and the wrath of our politically correct neighbors or do we plug in every electric heating device we can find? It's always something. . . .

Time out for a Thanksgiving meltdown

Never let it be said this is a blog devoted to depicting an unrealistic depiction of a perfect life. We now take a break from the Thanksgiving countdown to bring you . . . a Thanksgiving MELTDOWN.

The Symptoms

I wake in the middle of the night and worry: What if my turkey sucks? What if I forget some key ingredient? What if I leave one of my dishes or appetizers in the refrigerator and forget to ever bring it out? (This happened to my mom once.) What if people start flinging ambrosia at me?

I continue in my wakened state to do stupid things like count silverware in my head.

I obsess over the fact that in my Thanksgiving countdown, the numbers of the posts are going UP! Isn't this sort of a logical problem?

I focus exclusively on what I have NOT done. Let's run through that list:

Made my pie crusts. This is an obvious do-ahead, but I've just run out of gas every night. I'll probably end up cranking them out as I bake my pies tomorrow afternoon.

Ironed table linens. This is huge. They have been laundered for a week and just sitting there. Gaaahhhhhh!!!!

Thought about my centerpieces. I know—what kind of hostess am I?????

Cleaned the house. My house cleaner comes Wednesday morning, but she doesn't deal with the miles of piles, which are my main problem. We might have to resort to the strategy I used when I hosted a friend's wedding: Everything in the closets! At least Sophie is old enough now that I can coach her not to tell anyone who remarks on how nice the house looks "Just do not open any of the closets!!"

I know, I know. What an idiot I am. I should get a friggin' life already. It is, after all, just a dinner. Right. OK.

So back to the version of my life where I have it all together. Presenting . . .

The Menu!

APPETIZERS
sliced baguettes w/ duck rillettes & cornichon
pita chips with smoked trout pate & basil leaf
goat cheese phyllo tarts
baby carrots
green onions
radishes with butter and salt
stuffed mushrooms (Jim's bringing)

DINNER
roast turkey and gravy
sausage chantrelle stuffing
buttermilk mashed potatoes
whole cranberry sauce
spicy cranberry relish (Lisa's bringing)
smoked salmon (Jim's bringing)
corn pudding
sauteed fennel with white wine and parmesan
sauteed green beans (Matt's bringing)

DESSERT
apple crumb pie
pumpkin pie
bourbon-pecan tart
sweetened vanilla whipped cream

The Bright Spots in All of This

This is my favorite new prepared food item. It is truly the bomb. I like the idea of pate but eschew all organ meats solely on the yuck factor. This is made with just duck breast, duck skin, and duck fat and has a rich roasted duck taste. Sophie would probably eat the entire jar if I would let her. Once I am past the holidays, I want to learn to make my own, but until then I am ridiculously happy with this. You can order it from amazon.com.

These pretty organic miniature colored carrots. If we can't have fall-colored leaves in California, at least we can have fall-colored carrots.

These beautiful yellow chantrelles. This time of year we usually have the standard orange chantrelles, but these yellow ones are a nice change and will enliven my stuffing.

But the real bright spots will be my guests who share my Thanksgiving with me on Thursday.

I Think It's All Going To Be OK