My Fond Farewell to California

“California Soul (Diplo / Mad Decent Remix)” Marlena Shaw and Diplo

I decided to end my time in California by doing something exclusive to this large and mostly sunny state. I headed up the coast to Napa, the first seriously taken wine region in the country, with some of my closest friends for some good ole winetasting. We visited Artesa, Domaine Chandon, Cakebread, Mumm, Duckhorn, and a random tasting room in downtown Napa; we also had dinner at Bistro Jeanty, a yummy French eatery in Yountville.

In true California fashion, and leading up to this winetasting trip, I managed to fit in a few other Cali-isms: dinner at the Hotel Bel-Air; wine at Primitivo, a cozy tapas and wine bistro; beer at the Otheroom, a dark, LA-trendy beer/wine joint in Venice; homemade margaritas on the sand in Hermosa Beach (thanks, U and W); dancing at Sharkeez, a frat-row-type bar, and karaoke at Fat Face Fenner’s Fishack, a dive-y seafood joint, both in Hermosa. I even managed cocktails at the ever-growing popular J Lounge, a new Asian fusion resto-lounge known for its $3-Grey Goose martinis before 3 p.m. (after 3 p.m. the price adjusts to about $20 each) in downtown LA, and I was able to sneak in a last Super 8 dinner at Rush St., a modern quasi-sports bar/resto that recently hosted a French Tuesday, located in Culver City, the new hot spot for restaurants in LA.

Hmmmm…. My intention right now is not to provide a laundry list of what I’m grateful for in California or what or who I’ll miss. Don’t know how long (or short) that list would be anyway, and I’m not in a mood to get nostalgic right now and confront my last ten-some-odd years. Admittedly I am feeling a little jaded right now. I have a head cold (which I’m sure I can attribute to lack of sleep mixed with a little bit of stress), and I am sitting in an airport waiting to head back east for a permanent time. I am actually thinking that I am homeless right now. I do not officially move into my new place in DC until this weekend, and in the interim I will be staying with family in the south. For the next four days I will be living out of three suitcases and settling final arrangements for my perma-reloke to the east coast.

Honestly, if I were to think about what I’m leaving behind as I head back east I might start to seriously reconsider what I’m doing. Well, no, I take it back. I wouldn’t. I’m very conscientiously making this decision, and without regret. I could wax on about how excited I am to have seasons again and live in an area where mass transit is taken seriously. I could, but again, I won’t.

Instead…if you will forgive me for reneging on my earlier statement about not getting nostalgic, I can’t help but smile as I fondly remember just a few of my favorite Cali-patois, and thus give myself the closure that every girl needs in a long relationship that has finally ended…hopefully healthily. Much of these are most likely targeted at southern California, Los Angeles, to be specific, a city where most of its residents are not homegrown, but from everywhere else, and a city where these same residents both love and hate it…with a decided passion--and yet they find themselves unable to leave it. My move is not unprecedented, but it is still infrequent enough to be considered unusual.

Okay already. I bid adieu to some of my Cali-faves: al fresco dining—year-round, the best resto wine lists west of the Rockies (probably east, too), sunshine 350 days of the year, an underrated music scene, beach volleyball nets as far as the eye can see, tailgating with one of the top college football programs ever, seeing movies before anyone else does, valet parking, beautiful people everywhere, a respectably growing resto/foodie scene (that includes two of my fave chefs: Govind Armstrong and Suzanne Goin), Pinkberry, the ability to snowboard and surf in the same day, Vegas close enough to be an occasional playground, the 6-Man Beach Volleyball tournament, my hula family, really good Mexican food (even though I’m not a big fan of Mexican), really good sushi (and I am a big fan of sushi), earthquakes, the strongest business school network I’ve ever come across, Peter Pans (young and old), movie studios, talent agencies (a la CAA and Endeavor), area codes making an impression, carpooling, multiple social hubs, multiple business hubs, awards ceremonies, beach cities, In-n-Out served protein-style-animal-style, the Hollywood Bowl, late-night Roscoe’s chicken and waffles.

I need to stop and take a breath…and go ahead and end this by (I think) aptly borrowing from the classic George Burns and his wife Gracie Allen: “Say goodnight, Gracie. Goodnight.”…oh, and include one of my favorite flavor combos (burrata, tomatoes, and basil), done best by one of my favorite chefs.

Govind Armstrong's Burrata, Japanese Tomatoes, Panzanella, Wild Arugula

1 cup plus 2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, plus more for drizzling

3 sprigs thyme

1 large clove garlic, smashed

3 slices rustic sourdough bread, torn into tiny pieces

Sea salt and cracked black pepper to taste

2 tablespoons white balsamic vinegar or red wine vinegar

2 pints mini Japanese heirloom tomatoes, blanched and shocked, then peeled

1/4 hothouse cucumber, split lengthwise, seeded and very thinly sliced

1/2 small red onion, thinly julienned

3 sprigs flat-leaf parsley, leaves only

1 sprig basil, leaves only

4 medium-ripe Japanese beefsteak/heirloom tomatoes, thinly sliced in rounds and kept together

1 (16-ounce) tub fresh burrata cheese

1 large bunch (about 6 ounces) wild or baby arugula

Begin by preparing the olive-oil-fried croutons. Heat a heavy-bottomed sauté pan over medium-high heat. Add 1 cup of the olive oil, the thyme, and garlic. Once the oil has been seasoned for approximately 1 minute, remove the herbs. Add the torn bread, and gently fry while stirring occasionally until thoroughly golden brown and crisp, about 5 minutes. Using a slotted spoon, remove the bread from the pan, drain completely on paper towels to keep the croutons from becoming soggy, and season with salt and pepper. (You may reserve the oil for up to two weeks for similar uses.)

In a small bowl, whisk the vinegar with a small pinch of salt until dissolved, then whisk in the 2 tablespoons of olive oil and set aside.

Just before serving, to keep the bread salad from becoming soggy, place the peeled mini tomatoes in a small bowl, add the cucumber, red onion (to your liking), parsley leaves, basil, and the croutons. Dress the salad with approximately 3 tablespoons of the vinaigrette.

Fan a few of the sliced tomatoes just to the left of the center of each of 8 small plates. Drizzle the slices with some of the remaining vinaigrette, then place a small pile of the marinated mini tomatoes to the right of the slices. Spoon out the burrata right between the two, fluffing the plate with the arugula as garnish around the outside. Drizzle the burrata with extra-virgin olive oil, and season the plate with sea salt and a few turns of the pepper mill.

N.B. To blanch and peel tomatoes, first cut an X in the end opposite the stem, then immerse in boiling water 10 to 15 seconds. Transfer to a bowl of ice and cold water, then peel.

Year of the Eight

“Overnight Star” by Flosstradamus

I had to recognize the Beijing Olympics and Michael Phelps (the song suggestion). The song is not to say that Phelps has become an overnight star; he has been one for a while. If anything, he has solidified his place in history now because of these Games. MP (as his sisters call him) sometimes listens to the original version of this song by Twista called “Overnight Celebrity” on his iPod before a swim (or so says Bob Costas) to pump himself up for the competition. But I really, really heart this remix by the two-man duo out of Chicago, Josh Young (aka J2K) and Curt Cameruci (aka Autobot), better known as Flosstradamus. The music they spin behind the rap has this positive vibe to it that makes me smile and nod my head. Kind of how I felt while watching this year’s Olympics.

The final weekend of the Games, Mzzz. Faboo (from A Midsummer Weeknight’s Dream) invited me to join her in San Francisco for a classic “faboo” experience that included a little bit of this (Radiohead at Golden Gate Park) and a little bit of that (a day at the Ferry Plaza Farmer’s Market), a pinch of this (dinner at Foreign Cinema) and a dash of that (apre-dinner activities at the Revolution Café and the Make-Out Room). My short NorCal weekender turned into a sort of Olympian feat in and of itself...in the sporting events of little sleep and alotta stamina.

Friday Night Itinerary

Catch short flight to SF; cab to hotel; check in; unsuccessfully try to flag down taxi while walking streets of SF because cab line was hopelessly long; give up and walk into another hotel; ask concierge for easiest route to GG Park; head below ground and hop MUNI to GG Park; break down six blocks from Park and set out on foot to finish journey; arrive at GG Park and get completely lost in woods; have guardian angel appear (Nezz, Hawaiian Filipino Spanish clothing designer for the likes of Sean John and Ralph Lauren) with his entourage; allow him to be escort through woods and to concert; arrive right as Radiohead starts; join Mzzz. Faboo at Visa Signature Lounge for drinks and better view of stage; head to Irish bar after show; vehemently deny possibility of doing Irish car bomb; give in and do Irish car bomb; hop in unmarked cab with Iver Collins (Irish cutie actually from Ireland with accent, wispy brown hair, and flushed, rosy skin to boot); head to Mission; get back to hotel at one point; fall fast asleep.

Saturday Play-By-Play

Wake up fairly leisurely; nurse blisters on feet from night before; shower, head to Ferry Plaza Farmers Market; sample everything (succulent, sweet fruits, rich honeys, dark chocolates, pure, green olive oils, savory headcheese, freshly shucked oysters, etc.); break fast with SF Fish Company crab breakfast burrito and Mistral French café lamb stew; wash down with Pellegrino; take TONS of food pics; stop at Wine Merchant; enjoy four-varietal wine flight; buy Montepulciano, boucheret, and Acme bread for afternoon siesta; head back to hotel; siesta with wine and cheese.

Saturday Night Gameplan

Cab to Laszlo’s for pre-din cocktails (Santa Ynez Valley Pinot Noir, Central Coast Cabernet); dine at Foreign Cinema (four kinds of oysters, tuna crudo, sole niçoise, roasted quail, fig galette, ganache tart, with Pouilly-Fuissé Chardonnay, Scherrer Zinfandel, Alexander Valley); pitstop at The Revolution Café (amazing candied ginger latte); dance at Make-Out Room (Hoegaarden).

Sunday

Catch early flight back to LA; sleep on plane; dream about ginger lattes.

Ginger Latte

1 1/4 cups 2% milk
2 tablespoons ginger-flavored syrup (recipe below)
1 (1.5 fluid ounce) jigger brewed espresso

Steam milk to 145 degrees F to 165 degrees F (65 to 70 degrees C) using the steaming wand. Measure flavored syrup into large coffee mug. Brew espresso, add to mug. Pour steamed milk into mug, using spoon to hold back the foam. Spoon foam over top.

Ginger-Flavored Syrup

fresh ginger (2 1/2 to 3 inches long); 2 cups sugar; 1 cup water

Peel fresh ginger and chop into approximately ½-inch pieces. Cut pieces into thin strips. Pour water and sugar into small saucepan. Add cut up ginger pieces to saucepan. Heat mixture until it comes to gentle boil over medium heat. Lower heat and simmer ginger mixture for approximately 2 to 3 minutes until all sugar dissolves. Make sure to stir mixture gently during this time as it thickens. Remove ginger syrup from heat and take out pieces of ginger from syrup. Discard ginger pieces or refrigerate them for later use in cooking. Allow ginger syrup to cool slightly, then strain in it into a storage container with a lid that closes securely.

East Meets West Meets East

“Mahina O Hoku/Aloha Wau Ia ‘Oe” by Natalie Ai Kamauu

Once again I've just returned from traveling, but this time only from across the country, the east coast, where we recently celebrated a significant birthday for my mother. It was heartfelt and hard work, but every bit worth the effort. And, more importantly, it was a family affair.

My Samoan mother is the eldest of 11 siblings, and most of them are local to her. Her father joined the military to get his relatively impoverished family out of the poor Samoan islands. He eventually retired in the last coastal town he was stationed at, Wilmington, North Carolina.

Wilmington is this beautiful boutique beach and golf course community off of the Intracoastal Waterway, considered to be right in the center of Hurricane Alley. Its southeastern coastline unapologetically juts out into the ocean just tempting the Atlantic to strike at it every year with a myriad of tropical storms and smaller hurricanes that fizzle into depressions as they hit the Carolina coast. Sometimes these storms do not weaken, and, in fact, severely punish the peaceful shores of Wilmington and its neighboring coastal communities.

This is not to deter from the beauty of Wilmington, however. I used to visit frequently as a child during the summers and most major holidays. Its winters are mild, although its summers are unforgiving, thick with humidity and flying insects. But its landscape is lush and green with rivers, sounds, and beaches seeming to be strategically situated throughout the city limits.

Likewise, my parents live in a lush, green neighborhood, a golf course community, which is not uncommon. Their backyard is where we decided to celebrate my mother's birthday…Polynesian-style. This is where most people are intrigued, that a large Samoan family has settled in a very southern coastal town.

My mother's Samoan side of the family is large, very large. I am one of about 36 first cousins. We celebrate graduations and major life accomplishments within the family by hosting luaus, where we invite friends not familiar with Samoan custom to eat, drink, and dance with us (it has become a cultural experience for many…as well as a time to celebrate for all). And actually, upon my arrival into Wilmington this time, my family had successfully hosted three luaus in the three weekends prior to my mother's birthday celebration. With a family this size, you can imagine how many special events can happen in a given year.

So, this celebration was not unusual; it reminded me of how appreciative I am to have my large, Polynesian family. My sisters and I flew in to town for the weekend (we are all situated in different states). My parents were putting up about 21 family members at their place, while other out-of-towners stayed with other local family for the weekend. And each day, family would come over to help in the kitchen, play suipi (the national Samoan card game), or break out the guitars and sing until late in the evening. It was shaping up to be exactly how I remembered family gatherings to be like in my childhood. Except this time I was taking a more active role.

In the thick of things I was in and out of the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, hair pulled back, beside my sisters and cousins, preparing dishes like sapasui (bean curd noodles with vegetables, meat, soy sauce, and garlic) and oka (sashimi-grade fish in coconut milk, lemon juice, onions, tomatoes and cucumbers) while children ran underfoot. We had rolled over one hundred spring rolls (for frying) the night before, and I was making my fourth large batch of sushi rice. One of my uncles was prepping the umu (the underground oven) for the pua’a (the pig) with large banana leaves and rocks. He was going small this time with a 65-pound pig. We didn’t expect more than 100 guests at the luau because we hadn’t invited as many as we normally would (yes, they do get larger, much larger; both the luaus and the pigs).

My mother had marinated the chicken the night before, and another one of my uncles was hauling his large grill into the backyard with his truck to barbeque the chicken. Another one of my uncles had assembled a separate food station, complete with portable burners and woks, on a table under a tree outside so that he could prepare the pancit and fry the spring rolls. One of my aunts was preparing her famous banana poi (overripe mashed bananas, coconut milk or cream, and lemon juice served like you would a pudding). I can taste the banana poi in my mouth right now.

So, where exactly am I going with this? Well, all this is to say that, although I don’t really mention my Samoan half that much (I am also half German), I still very much identify with my Polynesian roots. And although most of my immediate Samoan family is not close by, and I only get to see them several times a year, I still hold them close and dear to my heart like a cherished hula that plays over and over in my head. Fortunately, I still have plenty of Polynesian family spread out all over, especially in California, Hawaii, and Samoa. And my roommate and good friend, a Hawaiian herself, and I are also in a halau (a hula school) in southern California, so we are dancing regularly and plugged into the Polynesian community somewhat still.

Of course, it is always in the little things that I am able to feed my nostalgia. Like listening to that familiar hula, or...enjoying this recipe, one of my favorite Samoan dishes that one of my uncles makes better than anyone I know.

Oka

1 1/2 lbs. sushi-grade Ahi tuna, cut into 1/2" cubes
1/2 cup Lime juice (or Lemon juice)
1/4 cup Coconut milk
1 Cucumber peeled, seeded, cut into 1/2" cubes
1 Tomato seeds removed, diced
3-4 Scallions chopped
Kosher or sea salt (big pinch)
Fresh ground pepper (pinch)

Mix all ingredients together well. Let marinate 10-20 minutes. Adjust seasoning to taste. Drain excess liquid. Garnish with some freshly chopped scallions and serve. Variations include: using other fish like halibut, snapper, or swordfish, and/or adding diced red onion, cubed red peppers, grated carrots, or minced garlic.

Greek Mythology

“I’m Good, I’m Gone (Fred Falke Remix)” by Lykke Li

Perhaps it is not so obvious that I just got back from a whirlwind trip to Greece--Athens, specifically, as well as some of its neighboring beaches and Aegina, one of the Saronic Islands--slideshow to the right notwithstanding. My appreciation for Greek Mythology has grown rapidly, exploded actually…insomuch as I tasted foods befitting the gods. I witnessed the turn of humankind in architecture still standing after two thousand years, and marveled at its breathtaking tenacity. I walked cozied narrow streets lined with inviting shops, al fresco dining, and ivy-covered townhomes, and was greeted with a friendly smile or wave. I ate dinner after 9:30 p.m. virtually every night, and followed the dining with drinking and being merry until the early morning hours. I even enjoyed the company of a Greek god who showed me his country from a very different perspective (thank you, Dimitris).

Yes, the pleasures of Greece come in so many unexpected (and some very expected) packages.

One of the more unexpected packages was in this soup, perfect to enjoy when returning home from a night of too much being merry, with lemon juice and chicken and rice, that was so satisfying. I’ve scoured the Internet looking for a recipe so that I can replicate what I enjoyed, but none of them seem to bring about what I believe my experience to have been. Finally, I stumbled upon one purely by happenstance.

I was looking on Epicurious.com for more versions of the recipe, and, again, I came across a version that seemed to miss the mark, but I noticed over 60 reviews of the recipe. Thinking this to be impossible, I started reading the reviews. ‘Lo and behold, one of the early reviewers, a first-generation Greek American from Boston, had graciously reviewed the soup, and then put in her yia-yia’s (her grandmother’s) recipe that she’s been making for years. Every one of the positive reviews was on HER version of the soup, the version embedded in another review. I read it, and I think I have found what I experienced in Greece. I’ve supplied it below…in case you want to have an acute, very Greek, religious experience (granted, without Dimitris).

Soupa Avgolemono

8 c. homemade chicken stock
1 c. orzo
4 eggs/separated
juice of 3 lemons
fresh ground black pepper

Boil broth, add orzo and simmer until tender 20 min. Whip whites until medium peaks, add yolks beating continuously, add juice, beating. Temper eggs with 2 c. broth, adding in constant slow stream while continuing to beat furiously so you do not curdle the eggs. Add egg mixture back to remaining broth and serve. When reheating, do not re-boil - heat slowly until very warm or you may curdle the eggs. Garnish with thinly sliced lemon. Try adding more than the juice of 3 lemons, as the sourness is the best part of the taste! You should taste lemon, richness of eggs, salt of chicken, and starch of rice, in that order and you've made it perfectly. You can also add thin pieces of shredded chicken meat (pull off bone in strips), although classic recipes don't include chicken, vegetables, garlic or any other ingredients.