Tuesday is Music Day!

"A stroke, you unbrookable ninny. The only stroke I have ever had is one of genius!!" - Mr. Edward Magorium.

Recently, I had a stroke of UNMITIGATED GENIUS. I decided to take guitar lessons. I have had a classical guitar in my possession for a few years now, but have never really learned how to play it. Sure, I say I am "trying to teach myself guitar" but let's get real here. If you want to learn an instrument, it takes discipline. It takes practice. It takes the guilt and the threat of potential embarassment of showing up to class without having practiced and TOTALLY SUCKING.

Needless to say, I needed the structure a class could provide.

Enter Zambaleta. This place is awesome team. If you live ANYWHERE in San Francisco, I strongly encourage you to check it out. It's got everything from Guitar 1 to Turkish singing to yoga to Haitian Kanaval dance.

It's so affordable that even I can handle it. In 5 classes I can pretty much play this:

• Mad World by Gary Jules

More Gary Jules music on iLike

TOMORROW I PLAY THIS:

Ok, not really. BUT THAT WOULD BE PRETTY SWEET.

Kirk out.

Notes from Today (and possibly earlier)

I offer the following:

For your edification:

On another note:

I've been OBSESSED with this video (and kinetic typography in general) for a while. Love.

Finally, a scene from our sponsors:

Roommate I enters apartment, chattering gaily about dim sum while raving about the condition of Fell post B2B.

Roommate II commiserates with story of LITERALLY THE UGLIEST TATTOO EVER (seen below)

Roommate I moves toward rear of apartment to change clothes, opens door and SHRIEKS, then falls over, roaring with laughter.

Roommate II, knowing what Roommate I has discovered, giggles like a friggin' LOON.

Enter innocent bystander (McDeezy) who peers curiously into Roommate I's room, then startles back, discovering THIS SITTING UP IN BED.

The End.

Fantastic News

Attention all: The De Facto Publishing site has launched! Our fearless leader intends to "commission a tee-shirt that says PREZ immediately, as well as ring Barack posthaste about forming some sort of guild".

Sounds like a good plan to me.

There's even a new fan page on Facebook. CHECK IT OUT.

But the best part? THE BEST PART IS THAT WE ARE ALREADY ACCEPTING SUBMISSIONS FOR A NEW BOOK. Yes people. A book that will be PUBLISHED. In hard copy. It's pretty amazing.

De Facto Publishing is an independent, non-profit publishing house located in San Francisco, California. We are currently accepting submissions for a compilation of short stories.

We are looking for short stories centered around women in their twenties in California, those qualifications being the only limits for subject matter. We are interested in stories about work, families, homes, cooking, friends, relationships, sunglasses, your dog, new shoes--any sort of subject matter, as long as it pertains to the human experience of being a woman in her twenties in California. Your age doesn't matter, your gender doesn't matter- the point is to write a story that relates to being a woman in her twenties in California, whether it's personal experience, a witness account, a theory about it, or what you anticipate.

This is not a paid gig! This publishing house, as a non-profit company in an industry where the bulk of the revenue is generated by the top 50 publishing houses in the industry, exists to promote literature! What you will get is industry recognition and something for your portfolio.

Submissions are accepted in physical form only. Keep the story 10-20 pages, print it, and send it in a manila envelope with your contact information on the first page to:

PO Box 26367
San Francisco, CA
94126

Website: www.defactopublishing.com
Twitter @DeFactoPub
Blog: www.defactopublishing.blogspot.com

A Dinner Party

The Menu:
Macaroni in an Extra Sharp Cheddar and Gruyere sauce with nutmeg and paprika
Mushrooms in a Marsala Reduction
Pao de Queijo
Green Salad with Blood Oranges & Apples with a fresh vinagrette
BV's Rutherford Cabernet Sauvignon

The Company:
3 neuroscientists, a professor of economics at Johns Hopkins, an entrepreneur, and (for the purposes of this post) an editor.

The Music:

Classical Violin

This sounds pretty impressive right? RIGHT

Everything else:
We ran out of dining chairs, and so 2 of our illustrious company were camping out on office chairs. The boys decided it would be fancier if we ate in the living room so we crammed the table in between the couch and the stereo. This meant that we were constantly clambering over the couch. We also ran out of plates...and one person jerry-rigged a "plate" out of a pot lid upended over a bowl. We didn't have enough wine, so people resorted to PBR.

It's like...we know what class is...and we aspire to it! We just couldn't...quite...make it.

Dinner was awesomely fun though. And delicious.

PS. I love that I am tagging this as both "Awesome" and "Fail"

Bicycles

Queen - Bicycle Race

Via Flickr - Troy Holden

I did something magnificently impressive this weekend! I RODE A BICYCLE IN THE CITY.

Yes. You are impressed. I couldn't agree more - I am impressed too.

It was fairly terrifying (I got honked at, and stuck behind a bus) but TOTALLY WORTH IT. I now have a much better understanding of WHY The Man gets so frustrated with public transportation. If it's really all you have, there is really no point in getting upset, but when you KNOW there are alternative means and are STUCK taking public transit and its total lack of efficiency, one is bound to get a lil frustrated.

As you know, I consume vast amounts of images and information through my Reader, which over the years has hooked me up with interesting little niblets re two wheeled transport. Like so:

Whatever this is.

Something like this would be pretty wild and awesome if I loved in a city with NO HILLS AT ALL. Not the most practical here, but I can see how these can be immensely attractive in Europe.

Also, this:

Via Oh Joy

Stunning. Unfortch, a fixed gear. It's a CRUISING bike, horror of horrors. Entirely appropriate for cruising in Venice or Davis, but perhaps not for navigating terrain, buses, and traffic between Cole Valley and North Beach.

I suppose I will have to work my way up to being truly bad ass enough to ride to work every day. But the HILLS. O the HILLS.

The Importance of Traditions

Friends,

This is a Public Service Announcement.

The Westin St. Francis...has ruined Christmas.

EVERY YEAR. For as long as I can remember, my family and I would always ride the elevators at the St. Francis for my birthday.

Tonight, in accordance with that tradition, we approached the rear of the hotel - laughing, joyful, spreading good cheer. We go past the gingerbread castle, and the tree with electronic icicles. We turn the corner, and are confronted with a SECURITY GUARD, demanding to see a room key before we can go past.

Are you serious? I demand.

...he looks a little frightened. "I need to see your room key"

But I do this every year! For my whole life. IT'S MY BIRTHDAY!

...he meekly apologizes, and insists that he needs a key.

I lay into him: "You, sir, have RUINED CHRISTMAS. EVERY YEAR FOR 25 YEARS. TRADITIONS ARE IMPORTANT"...at this point my dad starts dragging me away. He consoles me by offering to collapse, as a distraction, thereby enabling me to sneak away to my elevators.

I should have cried.

On...Plants?

Yes. Completely random, considering I have absolutely zero skill with plants. Seriously, I think I have killed my succulents. That's right! Built to survive Los Angeles, and I manage to kill them.

Ridiculous.

Actually, per the usj, you can blame this one entirely on Apartment Therapy for bringing SteamedGlass to my attention.

Specifically, Professor Alexander's Botanical Vasculum:

Yes, It's $200. But it. is. so. awesome.

So that of course kicked off a craving for terrariums of all kinds. And really - they have been all over the design blogs like cheap suits:

and

and

...You get the picture. You could even go whimsical! If you have whimsical tendencies (as I do):

And for the grand finale - you could go all out. Hard Core. The Real McCoy - except that I suppose these aren't technically terrariums, and in fact are closer to aquariums. The Man is attempting this. And you will all join me in admiration:

You know what you call this? You call this proof that the Chron is worth something, for supporting these men and their business:

I don't even have to SAY it - I can hear you all thinking it from here.

That's the sweetness.

The HELL Are We Gonna Do with THESE

Well.

We have had a busy night here at Chez Sweetness. I stroll out of work to discover that, unbeknownst to me, it has begun to...mist. It's not rain, it's not drizzle, it's mist - that peculiarly San Francisco fog bank that comes into town EXPRESSLY to frizz hair.

It is extremely aggravating.

At any rate, I am due in Cole Valley to meet up with the Blonde, who has elected to come up from the dredges of F.C. and gallavant about The City. But first, she is coming to visit. I decide to kill two birds with one stone and do something productive, while she primps etc. And does this:

.

I don't know what this is.

At any rate, I decide to cook the what-the-hell-are-we-gonna-do-with-these shortribs.

They shall hence forth be known simply as The Ribs.

After the travesty of the last Cal game, I had gone to BBQ in Berkeley. Spareribs are not the most tidy of meals, and I had brought the leftovers (bones) to gnaw on in the privacy of my apartment. The Mav was duly jealous, and I picked up some ribs the next time I went grocery shopping.

NEEDLESS TO SAY. I picked up shortribs by accident. NO I DON'T have a slow cooker. Or a grill. Or any BBQ sauce handy.

So I did what The Sweetness does best when it comes to cooking. "Meh - looks about right" and lots of "Whatevs - close enough"

I made this: Braised Shortribs.

And to respond to the inevitable question of whether or not I made the accompanying horseradish gremolata and pumpkin orzo...Judging from the rest of the content on this blog, what do YOU think?

I set right to work, and you know what team? Turned out pretty friggin tasty! Sure there were some hiccups...like realizing that I had not taken them out this morning to defrost:

Yes, I needed a hammer.

Or getting distracted by these:

How are these even LEGAL.

But at the end of the night, I had a pretty delicious stew with The Ribs. I can do stew. Remind me sometime to tell you about my venison stew. Pretty delicious.

Well, I could tell you. But then I would have to kill you.

Tomorrow - SYTYCD...LIVE!!!

Stay tuned.

Noodles, and Broth, and Tripe - Oh, My!

Full disclosure: this post was written with the help of The McDeezy.

McDeezy, the Mav and I just came back from Vietnamese food in The Sunset. We typically hit up Kevin's Noodle House for our soup noodle needs, and we came back just as expected. More than slightly sloshy - in fact, McDeezy claims to have a water tank where his belly used to be.

That's because bowls of pho tend to look like this:

That is to say, obscenely and awkwardly large. This picture actually looks to be a small bowl of pho. And it is STILL more than any one person could reasonably eat.

Unless you happen to be The Mav and/or The McDeezy. In that case, one would feel a sort of civic duty to finish your hugely enormous bowl of soup, noodles, tripe, beef, tendon, and maybe a veggie or three.

McDeezy is also puzzled by the fact that there must be a specific pronunciation of the word "pho". You can see this in the innumerable word plays available online. For example:

Nyuk Nyuk Nyuk.

Doubtless The Observer would have some thoughts regarding the level of foodiocy in this post. I would rate it a 8.76, mostly for sticking the landing with a solid inclusion of the words "nyuk nyuk nyuk"

Let the Wild Rumpus Start

...with a RAWR.

Ahem. Sorry.

Let it be said at the beginning that I haven't seen Where the Wild Things Are. It looks beautifully done, but I just haven't been in the mood.

HOWEVER, Katastrophic and I did go see the Maurice Sendak exhibit that has been advertised all over the city at the Contemporary Jewish Museum off Yerba Buena Park in SOMA.

Team, it was charming! Perhaps this is a feeling that is shared by every generation, but I feel like the quality picture books that I knew and loved are simply not around anymore. I find myself thinking that when it comes time to be buying picture books again, I will most likely look to things that I read when I was small. And hang up posters like so:

Also side note: The Contemporary Jewish Museum is GORGEOUS. Check it out on Thursdays - its $5 after 5:00pm. Katastrophic and I hit up the Sendak and Jews on Vinyl exhibits (which was awesome: we chilled and chatted on classy MCM furniture listening to The Temptations do Fiddler on the Roof)

It was lovely - they displayed final drawings and concepts for many of Sendak's books, including The Night Kitchen which was always my favorite:

A lot of Sendak's work is politically motivated, which I didn't know. Down in the Dumps with Jack and Guy (1983) takes place in the homeless lots of the Great Depression, where kidnapping fears from the Lindhberg case are combines with Sendak's fears of the 1980s AIDS crisis.

WHO KNEW.

I leave you with the last image from Kitchen.

That's the sweetness.

San Francisco Ferry Building Farmer's Market

Saturday was a happy happy day. Got to meet up with The Big for the first time in MONTHS. Honestly, the way medical school destroys relationships is almost offensive. An unexpected trip to the Bay just in time for the Game (49-17 GO BEARS) meant that we got to meet up for brekkers.

Being a genius, I volunteered the Farmer's Market as an excellent source of pre-game nourishment.

Instead of being smart and healthy young people, investing in our future with colorful veggies:

we instead opted for the delicious Golden Gate Breakfast Muffin. With Bacon. Duh.

We walked and chatted, and sat and chatted, and ate and chatted. When you go months without speaking to people, you tend to have a lot to catch up on.

Appropriately spirited flowers:

We both kind of wished we liked egg plant more after seeing the color on these puppies. But...they are gross! And kind of rubbery!

Tomatoes...I can get behind. However, at the end of the summer, you have had enough caprese to tide you over till the next June.

Instead, we have harvest season:

Side note - late season harvest was last week for Simi. Delicious.

I actually had an ulterior motive in dragging The Big to the farmer's market:

That's right. Apple Cider. Fresh apple cider. For Apple Cider Doughnuts.

THAT'S RIGHT.

I don't even need to say it. You already KNOW how sweet it is.

Ok So Here's What Happened

This post has multiple parts:

Thursday - Chez Panisse

Friday - ZOMBIELAND

Saturday - Alternative Press Expo

Sunday - Chaja

CLEARLY ITS BEEN A BUSY COUPLE DAYS.

So Thursday - it is the Man and my 1-year anniversary (balloons). I'll wait while you go throw up from emotional overload.

...

Although the two of us are both very bright, we are both very broke, so choosing to go to Chez Panisse was kind of a big deal. Luckily, Ms. Waters totes delivered. I had never been to this excessively fancy restaurant before, but I was well pleased. It's a very warm room - the lighting almost reddish, reflecting off the hammered copper lamp shades and sconces. We sat in the back corner against what looked like a mirrored wall, and the light shone off the sconces and lampshades and warm polished wood and made the food look amazing.

First was pate de campagne, with mustard and carrots and beets and green beans and cornichons. My experience with pate is...limited, and my palette is comically inadequate but it reminded me of the way you kind of always wished cured salumi would taste - wild, but softer.

I screwed up my courage and took pictures for the rest of the courses with my dinky lil point and shoot camera:

This was probably my favorite - 3 soups combined into one awesome party: spinach, corn, and pepper. Now, looking at that list o soups, you would think they would be all jostling for attention: corn is always sweet, and spinach is unmistakeable, and pepper is...pepper. Instead it was like they all came to the party and were like "hey, what's up..." and that was IT. They MELDED and as you swallowed they made themselves heard in different parts of your tongue. Also, HOORAY FOR MARBLING.

Ok, so main course: Grilled Sonoma Liberty duck breast au poivre with chanterelle mushrooms and gratin dauphinois. A fairly traditional way to do au poivre, but the duck was perfect. Melting meat is a curious sensation, but there you are. The potatoes were delicious - not heavy at all (quite the feat for gratin) and sort of tangy. It was awesome to have au poivre a different way, seeing as the Sinks usually rock the venison au poivre (only in our family its venison + black goop. Yeah.)

To finish up, a Tarte Tatin with the first Pink Ladies of the season, with a scoop of housemade creme fraiche ice cream.

Yum.

Dissecting a meal like this is definitely out of the ordinary for Sweetness (I am sooo not Ruth Reichl), but it was a special occasion.

This post is getting long, so I will leave you with these one liners:

Friday - ZOMBIELAND. Go see it. Rule #32 Yo.

Saturday - Alternative Press Expo. I got the BEST ART EVER. I love meeting creative people, even though this is how most of the conversations went:

Artist - Thanks for checking out my stuff! You guys artists too?

B - I draw on the side, but I mostly do a lot of writing.

F - Nope, just jealous.

I suppose I have baking. I have reasonable assertions that I'm pretty good at it, despite the incomprehensible messes.

Sunday - Chaja. Dad's birthday + Excuse for making DECADENT Brazilian dessert. Unfortunately, this is really not a dessert suited for photography. Like, at all. In the words of the Mav, it's a hot mess. But it has dulce de leche! And that is enough for me. Recipe will be posted after it has been translated from the odd blend of Portuguese and Spanish that is the peculiar language of the Fernandez-O'Keeffe's.

I love it when my life has the sweetness.

Re: The Alameda Flea + HSB

I know right? You had to do a double take because you thought HSB = HSM = High School Musical, and your head almost exploded. I would have freaked out too.

Instead, HSB stands for Hardly Strictly Bluegrass, which was FANTASTIC but more on that later. Allow me to expound on the TOTAL AWESOME that is the Alameda Antiques Fair, known by those of us...in the know...as the Alameda Flea.

This place has everything you didn't know you needed (or wanted) and maybe more. For example, how much do you TOTALLY want a new phone? With a rotary dial? IN GREEN?

I KNOW ME TOO.

Next up, we have vintage London bus rolls. I really don't have any desire to live in an overly expensive SOMA loft (although I wouldn't mind living in an old warehouse. With brick siding. ahem) I could probably make these right? With relevant Bus lines? Maybe not...

Walking around the corner, I am jolted to a stop by this:

Now, I know what you are thinking. A marquis frame (lights included and working!) surrounding the Batman Forever movie poster. I know I speak for a definite minority of people when I say that Jim Carrey's Riddler was hilarious, and that I found Tommy Lee Jones hysterically unbalanced, but even I realize the folly of this sales move.

Farm animals. Made out of tin. And then piled haphazardly on one another. Need I say more?

I think not.

Some of you, seeing this next picture will gravitate toward disparate parts of the photo.

Some to the cool ashtray, some to the vintage oval coffee table, and still others to the avocado green circle bench. I myself took this picture for the GIANT FISH. BECAUSE OMG GIANT FISH.

and also... FOR THE PILE OF WOODEN DUCKS.

Because, c'mon. How often do you see a jumbled pile of wooden ducks?! I can't really imagine that it's all that often. Unless you are a duck hunter. And these are your decoys. In which case I would tell you that they clearly need some TLC. No self respecting duck is going to be fooled by this amount of chipping paint, and then who is gonna be sorry come dinner time? Not the duck my friend.

And finally, I will end this with jewelry.

Because this is my blog. And we all know that's just how I roll.

A brief note on Hardly Strictly Bluegrass. After a MASTERFUL effort of trying to get into the park (seriously, took us 3 hours) we arrived! And got to briefly hear Neko Case! And were offered miscellany by several different strangers!

I love San Francisco.

And before you ask, I did indeed pick up a few things for myself at the Flea. One, a blue and white china tea cup that is inscribed with Made in Occupied Japan. And a skeleton. Made of wood. And gold leaf.

He hangs next to my bed and leers at you when you walk in the door.

I love him. His name is Tomas "El Dulce" Molina. He oh so totally has the sweetness.

The Wilds of North Beach

Team:

While I am not actually disgruntled, I am far from being gruntled.

I work in a very beautiful part of San Francisco. I get to enjoy a nice little stroll down the Embarcadero in the wee hours of the morn. Birds chirp. The old fashioned rail cars clang cheerily as they roll pass. The smell of the sewers is even pretty negligible. And after months of moping around Cole Valley, and months before that moping around Downtown Oakland, you must understand it is almost like Camelot.

Ha. I come to find out to find out, it is in fact a very silly place indeed.

I receive an email from Security today, informing us that they had received word of an armed gunman in the neighborhood, and would be locking the door for the rest of the day. Employees were advised to not venture outside.

I'm sorry. What?

I worked in Oakland during the Bart riots this winter. I would leave work long after dark, and we would walk in groups the two blocks to the Bart station. I never received company warning of armed gunmen in the neighborhood.

Then again perhaps this was to be taken for granted.

A gunman? In the shadow of Coit Tower? What does one say? In the words of one of my favorite authors, "Very good", I say coldly. "In that case, tinkerty-tonk".

And I mean it to sting.

An Encounter with Parrots

Today I grabbed my book to head out to have lunch on the Terrace. Taking advantage of what minimal good weather San Francisco provides during the "summer" is obligatory, especially considering Cole Valley doesn't believe in summer. It believes in fog.

ANYWAY.

I took the current read, Captain Blood, by Rafael Sabatini and the Roasted Tomato and Mozz. sammich out to read upon the terrace. I thought to also listen to Ye Olde Ipod. I was, however, cruelly thwarted by the NOISE.

I peer around the shading umbrella, and BIRDS are creating this racket. GREEN BIRDS WITH RED HEADS. I know what you are thinking. Frances, old bean, you have clearly lost what few marbles you have. But it's true!

HARK AT YOU THEN:

"What?" you ask.

"Are those...parrots?" you demand.

Why yes. Yes they are. Apparently the wild parrots are, like, a thing. Enough that Mark Bittner actually made a movie, the crazy man.

Now that's what you call the sweetness.