Breakfast, Part I

Bacon and eggs were not something my parents made for breakfast. Instead, despite my mother being a nutritionist, breakfast in our house included a rotating cast of microwaveable churros, grocery store pumpkin pie and apple strudels, and Toaster Strudels. With the icing packets. Yet no artificially colored cereals! (Which is why I now buy Lucky Charms from time to time.) Or snacks! So no Fruit Roll-Ups or Gushers in my Little Mermaid lunchkit. You might think someone in elementary school would be all over the Toaster Strudel, but for whatever reason I never had an appetite for breakfast (this continued through college) and would convince my dad to let me take it to go (like, on the school bus) and then proceeded to throw my breakfast away at the first trash can I saw. Of course now I feel incredibly guilty.

On weekends, still no bacon and eggs, or pancakes and waffles, obviously, but my mom might make her vinegar and soy sauce eggs or my dad would make a pot of glutinous rice balls filled with sesame paste or his flavorless boiled sweet potato. Yes, my dad cooks. In fact, in my memory, he cooked most weekday nights, whereas my mom cooked more often for special occasions. When we had guests, she was more in the kitchen than at the dining table and eventually reappeared with the shrimp—always the last dish, always hot—and would finally stay a while. Shortly thereafter I would excuse myself and whip out one of my more advanced Chinese phrases, which translated to something like "I'm leaving, but you should stay as long as you want and eat slowly." My parents' friends were always impressed by this.

CECIL BEATON'S SKETCH FOR MY FAIR LADY. IMAGE VIA HATSANDVEILS.NET.

There are so many good classic films I have yet to see and, until this week, My Fair Lady was one of them. Lucky me, I got to see it at The Music Center's Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, which opened the same year the film was released (1964) and where, I'd like to point out, the Oscars were held several times.

So why was My Fair Lady playing at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, and why was I there? Um, because I had Founder's Circle seats "RESERVED FOR CHOU"...But let's back up. The screening was part of the Los Angeles Conservancy's Last Remaining Seats, an annual series of classic film screenings and live entertainment in historic theatres. This particular screening was presented as part of Curating the City: Modern Architecture in L.A., a program developed especially for the Getty initiative Pacific Standard Time Presents: Modern Architecture in L.A. Back in January, the Conservancy hired Design Agency Co to help promote the various Curating the City events. Five months later, as we wrap up our work with the Conservancy (note: the program continues through July), the loverly women with whom we've been working kindly reserved seats for us in the Founder's Circle for My Fair Lady. (Well?? Did I like it? I loved it. Favorite part? Horse race. Not so much Eliza Doolittle's bad behavior but the FASHION. Like something Grace Coddington would style and produce. Perfection, basically.)

Looking back on the last five months, I realize I've learned a lot about Los Angeles and its modern (and not-so-modern) architecture through working with the Conservancy and taking its Modern Skyline and Modern by Moonlight Walking Tours of Bunker Hill. Coincidentally, Design Agency Co is located on Bunker Hill, in the old Subway Terminal Building, and having promoted and taken these tours myself, my experience of the neighborhood is that much more meaningful. With the makeover of Grand Central Market, the City's largest and oldest public market, and Urban Outfitters making a home in the historic Rialto Theatre later this year, it's certainly an interesting time to be working in Downtown LA.

THE LOS ANGELES CONSERVANCY'S MODERN BY MOONLIGHT WALKING TOUR

GRAND CENTRAL MARKET

For Me…or for You?

Twin Peaks Map by Robert Farkas.

When I come across Cool Things (in this case, on Design Milk) like the above TWIN PEAKS MAP (!!), I don't know if I should buy it for myself or for one of my Twin Peaks-obsessed friends. If I bought it for myself I would have a really cool poster. Plus, it would go well with the apartment's Sol LeWitt walls (another post for another time). But if I bought it for a friend, well, that would make me a pretty cool friend.

But now that I've shared it here, chances are I'll neither buy it for myself nor for anyone else. In fact, by the time I publish this post, it will quickly be relegated to the ranks of soon-to-be-forgotten Internet finds. Depressing, I know.

(You can buy it here.)

Barack-oli Tree House

Credit: Brock Davis/Flickr via Slate

Having always liked broccoli's resemblance to trees (I guess that makes cauliflower winter trees) and probably because I went to architecture school, I couldn't resist posting this photo. I came across it in a slideshow that accompanies yesterday's Slate article, "Why Broccoli?" by friend L.V. Anderson, who you may know as the woman behind the blog A Temporary Omnivore in Paris.

The slideshow, which includes a photo of Barbara Bush holding a broccoli stalk around the time her husband declared, "I'm president of the United States, and I'm not going to eat any more broccoli," was compiled to restore our faith in broccoli, should recent broccoli slander have lowered our opinions of the vegetable.

The caption: "Ironically, even when broccoli is being slandered as a socialist, no one cites its housing potential for the needy and very tiny."

Anyway, read L.V. Anderson's article.

Signing off, A.M. Chou.

Bánh Mì of the Month

East Borough Spring Roll

COSTA MESA - A foodie or gourmet I am not. A gourmand—perhaps. Mostly because I enjoy eating and tend to overeat.

Take this afternoon, for example: I wasn't particularly hungry but because it was on the way home, I stopped at East Borough at The Camp and ordered not one, but two items from the menu. Having already tried the Vietnamese Ham Bánh Mì (with pâté, which you have to request) and Bò Kho Beef Stew Baguette—consecutively and in that order—I opted for the Vietnamese Pork Loaf Bánh Mì and, because I can never order just one thing, the Tofu Spring Roll. And lucky me (and you and everyone else), if you check in on Yelp!, you get two dollars off one of their bevs. According to the cashier, as long as I keep checking in, I can keep getting the discount. If you're a social media zombie, you'd probably appreciate their entire webpage dedicated to social media, including Instagram. Smart, since their food is photogenic.

Right, the food. It's all been good thus far. The Bò Kho Beef Stew Baguette, one of their three Signature Baguettes, was the perfect marriage between a Bánh Mì and my mom's winter beef stew, complete with the bite-size chunks of potato and carrot. While I have yet to compare East Borough's sandwiches to those in Westminster and Garden Grove, the mother of all Little Saigons, and Houston, of course, I have no complaints about this place, except for the FRAÎCHE VIETNAMESE slogan (?). Would have been better SANS.

East Borough assumes you want jalapeño, so if you don't (I don't), remember to ask them to leave it out. I've forgotten both times and have had to dissect my sandwich, which only prolongs the wait for that first bite.

PHOTO VIA EAST BOROUGH.

One Bouquet, Four Rooms

For the most part I don't like grocery store bouquets. But in trying to break away from my purist if somewhat bland choices, I purchased Trader Joe's $5.99 "Designer Mix" and broke it up into four different arrangements for four rooms in the apartment. The arrangement above, on the kitchen table, is the largest of the four and my favorite. The glass cylinder, from Vons, doesn't distract the eye. Evocative of an English garden, the small, languid bouquet has an effortless appeal. If the flowers were hair they would be the messy ponytail.In the bathroom I've placed a small bunch of daisies in a small cup that until today has been collecting dust for years. I think it's a Seletti cup, the ceramic or porcelain cup that looks crumpled, but it was a gift so I'm not sure. In the bedroom, I've placed a couple of lilies that have yet to bloom in a square glass vase. And in the living room, a couple of unidentified violet flowers in a sake bottle add a touch of color to the white coffee table.

An Introduction

Later this month I'm moving to Costa Mesa, within walking distance from the "SoBECA District." "SoBECA" is an acronym for "South on Bristol Entertainment, Culture and Arts," which doesn't really make sense. But moving on.

SoBECA's two big features are The LAB ("Little American Business") and The CAMP, which are located across from each other along South Bristol and anchor this Orange County anomaly. And I can't figure out what I think of them.

A self-proclaimed "antimall," The LAB is out to combat retail monotony, but with an Urban Outfitters. The CAMP is out to bliss you out, as evidenced by the white painted messages in every parking space, which are a bit too...cutesy.

And unfortunately for these two landmarks, The LAB's website design smells of my sister's old Sassy magazines, and The CAMP's could be a website for Fair Trade coffee circa 2002.

The Best Kind of [Street] Closure

LOS ANGELES - This week I finally got a better look at that green thing on Griffith Park Boulevard that I've driven past countless times since I began working in Silver Lake. First of all, it has a name: Sunset Triangle Plaza. And, lucky for Silver Lake residents, it's Los Angeles' first street-turned-pedestrian-plaza. On Wednesday the organization de LaB, which hosts an event once a month (or more) centered around a particular designer, invited some of the people behind this project to speak on its who-what-when-where-why. These people include Streets for People's Margot Ocañas and Anna Peccianti, Frank Clementi of Rios Clementi Hale Studios, and the president of the Los Angeles City Planning Commission, Bill Roschen. Interestingly, Streets for People is an initiative of the planning commission with the County Department of Public Health, who, obviously, promotes health and well being for LA County. So, aside from the fact that the plaza appeals to the eye (although some beg to differ), its purpose is to get people, including myself, moving a bit more. Considering that it opened more than a month ago, and I work less than a mile away, I could have walked there on one of my lunch breaks long ago…

In addition to the beckoning field of polka dots, Sunset Triangle features a line of potted plants at each end, like opposing rows of pieces on a chessboard; a basketball goal; the same tried and true moveable tables and chairs as the ones used in New York's pedestrian plazas; and only the second bike corral installed by LADOT. Wednesday's speakers confirmed that, since its unveiling on March 4, the space has been well received and, at least anecdotally, a boon to the shops that front the plaza. Apparently the kids like it too; a young girl was spotted hopscotching from one polka dot to the next. Cute.

As for the choice of green (Behr's Lemon Grass and Grape Green, for those who care), it was the result of a process of elimination, No Parking Red being one of the first eliminated.

The plaza is supposed to disappear in a year, but I wouldn't be surprised if it stays, as I think it should. If Angelenos can circumvent this street for a year, I don't see why they can't give it up for good—and for a good cause.

Frank Clementi of Clementi Hale Studios (far left) and Marissa Gluck of de LaB (center).

On Terry Gross

I finally Googled Terry Gross today. I've been curious about what she looks like for a while now. Of course she isn't at all what I imagined. In any case, her radio show, Fresh Air,  has significantly improved my hour to two-hour drives. Last night Terry interviewed Maya Rudolph. While I'm not that into her, the clip of her as Beyoncé telling LL Cool J about the birth of Blue Ivy made me laugh out loud, which I'm not prone to do alone in my car. Later I tried to reenact this for my boyfriend with little success. He and I have a lot of things in common, but "If I Were a Boy" is not one of them. Without further ado…

On Improv

Last night I received the following fortune in a fortune cookie:

Better is the enemy of good.

This fortune was appropriate for me for a number of reasons, but because I had my fourth improv class today, I will somehow relate the two in this post. To the two followers of my blog, be warned that, as an exercise, I am writing as quickly as I can while maintaining some kind of logic. My tendency is to spend a very very very long time on a post, but for what?

Improv. Improvisation. I was given the gift of improvisation—in the form of seven classes at iO West in Hollywood—literally, as a gift certificate, and I have gone to four out of five classes (you can miss two). I have learned a lot and realize every week that improv is very, very hard. There are moments in class where I just marvel at the art form, yes, I just called it an art form, and I want you to know why. Why it's an art form, and why I marvel at it. First of all, all you need is yourself and another person. Sure, a few more is good, but you only need two people to make this art form happen. My instructor Levin describes it as us, the improvisers, sharing with the audience part of something that is already going on somewhere in the world. I like to think of what's happening on stage as a parallel universe, and for however many minutes, the audience gets to be a voyeur into it. It reminds me of Belle's mirror in Beauty and the Beast ("Show me the beast!") But there is so much more to it.

What has been most challenging for me is letting go of my ego. I never really understood ego, but I think I'm finally beginning to. People who have interacted with me to some degree might see me as sarcastic, self-deprecating, hopefully funny. All of those things are not helpful in improv. Which is partly why improv is so hard for me. It is not about being funny. It is not about who has the best joke on stage. Rather, believable scenes played out on stage will, if we trust ourselves and our partner(s), be funny, because, as the book we were all given at the beginning of class says, "The truth is funny." Flashes of scenes are running through my mind as I write this. Flashes of scenes that were acted on the black stage of The Loft at iO, by various pairings and combinations of my fellow classmates, one week after the next, scenes that only existed in the flesh in that moment, at, say, 2:17pm on a Sunday afternoon, and never again, except in our memories, to be remembered later among ourselves and our instructors, but probably not even that. But back to my ego. The best way I can describe it is, I'm in a scene with you. We are to act out a scene, or rather, allow a scene to unfold. I might already be, for whatever reason, imagining a scene in which I'm playing a stewardess, and you a passenger. Because I think that is a manageable scene. Somehow I've managed to create an entire scene in a matter of seconds, but we are given a suggestion of "lawnmower" and suddenly the scene I had prepared is not right for "lawnmower." While I'm readjusting my mind to envision a lawnmower in my mind and generate associations with the word, the image, whatever, you have begun the scene (because I'm silently reorganizing my thoughts) and you say, "I know what to get Dad for his birthday!" And BAM—you are my sister or my daughter and our dad or my husband has a birthday coming up, and it could be lawnmower (or not at all), and what do I say now? Sure, I can say, "Great! What is it?" but now I am in this scene and I have to commit to whatever you give me, and man, we are nowhere near the airplane that I was envisioning earlier. I have no idea what you're going to say, but I have to listen very closely so that I respond, instead of exclaiming something fabulous that I thought of earlier, because then, I'm not being fair to you and only trying to make myself look good or inventive or whatever. But in improv, it's not about me, it's about you and me.

Over and over again, in trying to do something better—better than myself from five minutes ago, better than you, better than the group, I overlook doing something good or even doing anything at all.

Drafts

I don’t consider myself a blogger, but I do have a blog, and it’s a new year—such a new year, in fact, that it’s still okay to send new year cards…right?—so why not start blogging again, even if it’s only every three months?

I began Sit, Billy in September 2007 and since then have accumulated a number of draft posts, some of which I thought I would share, so I can delete them, finally.

Untitled (Excerpts from a chat session with “Megan F.” at j2 Global online support) (2008)
{Megan F.} I am sorry to hear that you wish to cancel. Can you please provide me with your Fax number which you wish to cancel and PIN for verification?
{Megan F.} I am waiting for your response.
{Megan F.} Ann, are you online with me?
{Ann} Sorry!
{Ann} OK

{Ann} I cannot be credited at all?
{Megan F.} I am sorry as per the records there is no refund applicable.
{Ann} (Are you a robot?)
{Ann} OK please just cancel my account.
{Megan F.} As per your request I will cancel your account with us immediately.

Laughing Out Loud (2009)
Living alone has been great. Living sans roommate also means lots of firsts, such as laughing out loud—alone. Which, in my opinion, is one of the best feelings in the world. So what's making me laugh out loud these days? A few things.
Ronna and Bev

Three Months Later (2010)
Yesterday I drove east to Upland to visit my best friend, who is visiting her parents. I met my friend and her parents in Claremont for lunch at Walter's Restaurant, where I ordered "bolawnies"—ground beef, potatoes and onions stuffed in a thin dough, deep-fried and served with fresh yogurt sauce—and a salad of fresh red beets, goat cheese and toasted walnuts in a raspberry citrus vinaigrette, both of which were good.

Fall Resolutions (2010)
Go to the Santa Monica farmers' market
Have my right bicycle pedal repaired
Finish the books I started

This made me chuckle.

Seems Whole Foods Venice has a secret copyeditor. Or could use a real one.

P.S. Avocado, milk, ice, and a pinch of sugar are all the ingredients you need for an avocado smoothie. No need for "Coconut water, Coconut nectar, Agave" if you ask me.

Staple Foods

Today, nearly 80 degrees and sunny, seemed like a good day to be outside (especially after reading about the hazards of the couch). So I finally went back to the Sunday Santa Monica Farmers' Market. I had been once before with my parents who were visiting for the first time since my move. The first time was of course novel and somewhat overwhelming. Surrounded by piles of watermelon radishes, fluffy omelets in the making and organic cotton onesies, I felt not unlike a tourist at a gift shop with an inexplicable need for a lighthouse or lobster magnet. This time, however, I had shed my tourist goggles and was able to amble more or less unaffected under the winter sun and leave with some staple foods, like fresh bread (a classic sourdough boule and French baguette from Ca’d’Oro Bakery) and chicken (two legs, two thighs). Which means one less trip to Whole Foods, which is always a good thing.

Some days...

eating a microwaved Filet-O-Fish is okay.
you just want to untag yourself from Facebook photos.
Morning Becomes Eclectic is too eclectic.
you forget to mail your Netflix disc.
you remember to mail your Netflix but haven't updated your queue.
the computer screen is too bright.
time zones are hard.
all lowercase seems more appropriate.
you want to clean your Gmail inbox, which is impossible.
you just don't know.

Bacon can be very distracting

For an easy and delicious breakfast try making this sandwich, inspired by one of my old Houston haunts, Brasil. Fry some bacon, fry an egg—in the bacon grease, naturally—and set aside. Cut a couple slices of sourdough bread; in this case I used a sourdough bâtard—a thicker, wider baguette—from Whole Foods. On the sourdough, slather as little or as much mayonnaise as you'd like. Top with a bed of arugula, the fried egg, the strips of bacon, and thinly sliced red onion. You're done. This sandwich goes well with black coffee (in this case, a cup of some kind of Venice blend from Groundwork Coffee Company) but then again I can't think of any Western breakfast foods off the top of my head that don't go well with coffee.

I'm already thinking about different takes on this sandwich. Instead of mayonnaise, aioli (mayonnaise seasoned with garlic)…instead of bacon, swordfish…

Phoenix

Hollywood Bowl, September 18, 2o10

A flask for fall

Not only does my go-to liquor store have a great wine selection, it carries Recycle-A-Flask. It comes with a funnel. Here is the press release from the company's website, www.recycle-a-flask.com:

RECYCLE-A-FLASK IS MORE THAN JUST A FLASK WITH A TASK

Los Angeles, California – February 11, 2010 – Recycle-A-Flask takes the nation by storm and launches its recyclable flasks in stores across the country. The reaction so far – people love it!

Two things the consumer has been leaning towards over the last year – going green and saving money. Recycle-A-Flask achieves both goals. With its FDA-approved plastic, these flasks are safe to drink out of and are safe for the environment because it is recyclable.

With such a low price point, Recycle-A-Flask is very affordable for all types of consumers, whether a user is looking to fill it with alcohol, or even the hiker that needs a light, compact unit to tote juice or water.

Sure, it holds the same amount of liquid as does a metal flask and weighs slightly lighter, but if you lose this flask, it’s not such a big deal because it was so cheap and likely had no sentimental value attached to it. This is not a replacement for that metal flask with your initials engraved on it – well, it just may be if you got your metal flask confiscated – rather, Recycle-A-Flask is an affordable, usable, green-happy alternative.

Jarred Shiffman, President of Recycle-A-Flask and quickly becoming known in California blog communities as The Flask Man, says, “It’s just amazing – the feedback we’re getting from readers of blogs and magazines, store owners, even people I walk by on the street. People love to tell me their stories of how they use our flasks. It’s pretty exciting. Everyone from the college student going to a football game to a skier going up to Mammoth for the weekend – people are definitely imaginative and come up with an endless number of uses for their flasks.”

Recycle-A-Flask can be found at your local liquor store (and if not, it will be soon!) For a list of retailers who currently carry Recycle-A-Flask, check the company’s website at www.recycle-a-flask.com. Recycle-A-Flask, a division of 1966 Productions, LLC, is a California-based company.

I hope for your sake that your local liquor store starts carrying these soon.

Summer Show Wrap-up

Since Thursday is the first day of fall, I call this post the Summer Show Wrap-up. It is composed of poor quality concert footage taken with my not-so-smartphone for your viewing and/or listening pleasure. The first show I saw after moving to Los Angeles was Caribou, in May, at the El Rey Theatre, but I was too busy dancing to film it. So we begin with Night Gallery.

Night Gallery are my friend from high school, Adam Griffin, and his musical partner "Aaron-David." They were originally based in Chicago but Aaron-David has since moved to New York. While I don't write about music (I listen to it and recommend it and make the occasional mix CD) I will say that it has a heavy '80s feel and makes you want to wear thin, patterned shirts with shoulder pads and dance on your toes. Think The Knife, but released from the dungeon.

Dead Man's Bones is heartthrob (well that's what he is!) Ryan Gosling's band with Zach Shields. This show, officially called "A Special Evening with Ryan, Zach and the Kids" was one of the best shows I have ever seen. "The Kids," who, on this particular night, named themselves something like "A Warm Glass of Milk" are the Silverlake Conservatory Children’s Choir. The venue, the Center for the Arts in Eagle Rock, was decorated like a high school dance, complete with streamers, balloons, and folding tables around the perimeter covered in baked goods, and popcorn and cotton candy machines. The audience was asked to be seated for the duration of the show, which included magicians and puppeteers and of course, Dead Man's Bones' spooky yet exhilarating tunes.

Then there was Leslie Feist on Saturday night at the Hollywood Bowl, floating around on stage with her hands in her skirt pockets, singing "Two Weeks" with Grizzly Bear. This was followed by Phoenix, but like with Caribou, I was too busy dancing—on the bench—to film anything.


Night Gallery, Show Cave, June 20, 2010


"My Body's a Zombie for You," Dead Man's Bones, Center for the Arts, Eagle Rock, June 27, 2010


"Two Weeks," Grizzly Bear with a special appearance by Leslie Feist, Hollywood Bowl, September 18, 2010

Slow Eggs

Until today, I'd always scrambled eggs in a hot skillet—fast. Today I loosely followed Mark Bittman's recipe for Best Scrambled Eggs and found that this (much) slower version—an estimated 40 minutes—over low heat, produces a much softer and creamier scramble. By the way, this recipe is from the original How to Cook Everything, or The Big Yellow Book. It has been rewritten and is now The Big Red Book.

I used to follow recipes religiously. If I didn't have all of the ingredients or equipment exactly as specified, I wouldn't do it. But one of my roommates, who makes cookies without an electric mixer and substitutes this for that has inspired me to be more flexible. For this recipe, because I was cooking for one, I used 3 eggs instead of 5, kosher salt because I love it, skipped the tarragon because I don't have it and used a tablespoon of milk instead of 2 tablespoons of cream because I don't have that either.

Best Scrambled Eggs

Makes 2 servings

2 to 4 tablespoons butter

5 eggs

Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

1 teaspoon minced fresh tarragon leaves or 1/4 teaspoon dried tarragon

2 tablespoons cream

1. Place a medium skillet, preferably non-stick, over medium heat for about 1 minute. Add the butter and swirl it around the plan. After the butter melts, but before it foams, turn the heat to low.

2. Beat the eggs with the remaining ingredients and pour into the skillet. Cook over low heat, stirring occasionally with a wooden spoon. At first nothing will happen; after 10 minutes or so, the eggs will begin to form curds. Do not lose patience: Keep stirring, breaking up the curds as they form, until the mixture is a mass of soft curds. This will take 30 minutes or more. Serve immediately, with lots toast.

Did you misread "toast" as "roast" like I did? Mark Bittman's writing sounds like a friend in the kitchen: "At first nothing will happen," "Do not lose patience."

The time it takes for the eggs to form curds is good for pan frying a few slices of Trader Joe's organic polenta with some olive oil on a neighboring burner. 4-5 minutes on each side is sufficient. A dollop of sour cream goes well with both the polenta and the eggs, and a sprig of basil looks good in photos.

Summer Plans

Ronna and Beverly with John Slattery and Justin Kirk

June 25

Dead Man's Bones
June 27

The Passage talk and signing
July 21