Dawn is reading The China Study by Dr. T. Colin Campbell and Thomas M. Campbell II. In it, the authors proffer that dairy and meat are bad for our health and should be omitted from our diets, and support their opinions with science. Now, those of you that know Dawn know that she’s already a quasi-vegetarian — she eats no beef, pork or lamb — but now she’s leaning toward following the authors’ recommendations and becoming “fully fledged”. That means no more chicken or turkey. What does it mean for me? Well, unless we want to be preparing separate meals, it looks like I’ll be joining her.

It doesn’t really bother me. I mean, I’m all for healthy eating and a healthy lifestyle. In fact, we’ve already begun eating brown rice — processed foods, like white rice, are taboo — and an assortment of whole grains and organic fruits and vegetables. Most fish are “good” foods, too. And the vegetarian meals we’ve enjoyed so far have been great. However, the authors warn that some of the foods will take some getting used to since we’re not used to digesting them. The aforementioned brown rice comes immediately to mind. But we’re told that, after a couple of weeks, our bodies will be on track.

We’ve been grocery shopping at El Dorado Hills’ new Nugget Market and found their fresh veggies and fruits to be wonderful. And Randall Munroe came up with this funny yet handy Fruit Chart I’m using to help with fruit selection, so we’re off and running. I’ve reserved the right to enjoy an occasional steak or a good buffalo burger from time to time, but I’m giving this the old college try. I’ll keep you posted!

I love a good sandwich. I mean, it’s nature’s perfect meal, right? So I was drawn to this article in Esquire purporting to have done the research and determined which were the very best and where we could enjoy them. So here, unranked, unimpeachable and incomplete, is Esquire’s coast-to-coast list of the finest meals on sliced bread. No burgers allowed. Sadly, none of the recommendations are in my local area… except one:

You can get a chicken sandwich anywhere, which may explain your low expectations. Boneless breast. Bun. Blah. But down south, there lives an eye-opener. A come-to-Jesus sandwich. The Chick-fil-A. Seasoned, breaded breast served on a toasted buttered bun with dill-pickle slices. No mayo. No sauce at all. Deceptively simple, yet transcendent. The hook is the breading: spicy, with an intoxicating crunch. The meat is always juicy, never chewy. The bun is like lingerie — there, but not, providing delicious support without obscuring the main flavor. The first bite changes everything you think you know about chicken. And about the need for condiments.

Check the Esquire website for the rest. Included are the Cuban Meat Sandwich at Paseo in Seattle, the Italian Beef at Al’s #1 Italian Beef in Chicago, and the Cubano at Latin America Cafeteria in Miami.

Hungry now? Me too!

Leave it to San Francisco to experiment with a new way to brew the perfect cup of java. Coffee nervana? Perhaps, if you can believe the publicity.

Called a siphon bar, it was imported from Japan by San Francisco’s newly opened Blue Bottle Café at a total cost of more than $20,000. The cafe has the only halogen-powered model in the United States, and getting it here required years of elliptical discussions with its importer, Jay Egami of the Ueshima Coffee Company.

Professionals have long been willing to pay prices in the five figures for the perfect espresso machine, but the siphon bar doesn’t make espresso - It makes brewed coffee. Here’s how it works: A siphon pot has two stacked glass globes. As water vapor forces water into the upper globe, the coffee grounds are stirred by hand with a bamboo paddle. The goal is to create a deep whirlpool in no more than four turns without touching the glass.

Siphon coffee has a brewing cycle of 45 to 90 seconds. Is it really “all that?” James Freeman, owner of the Blue Bottle, is betting it is. And he may be right. Another system, the $11,000 Clover, has been gaining in popularity. Still something of a cult object with just over 200 machines scattered around the world, it makes one cup at a time. But it might soon become a common sight: Starbucks has just bought two.

Dawn and I plan on dropping by the Blue Bottle next time we’re in the City. I’ll let you know if we think the siphon bar really brews the perfect cuppa.

Are you just too dog tired in the morning to make pancakes or waffles from scratch? I understand. It’s a big job mixing five dry and two wet ingredients to make great flapjacks! And even those packaged mixes are too much work, right? Pouring all that powder and water in a bowl and all that stirring. I feel your pain!

Well, fret no more ‘cause good ol’ American ingenuity has solved your dilemma. Introducing the amazing Organic Batter Blaster!” Just point, blast and cook! Batter Blaster Makes Breakfast a Blast!”

I know what you’re thinking: Why didn’t someone invent this years ago? I dunno.

I should probably mention that the race car driving in Las Vegas a few weeks ago was Sisko’s birthday gift from Michael last year. This year, on the heals of the dinner celebration at Marrakesh, he procured a limousine and whisked us all — he and Sisko, friends Larry and Pat, and Dawn and me — off to Arco Arena to see Trans-Siberian Orchestra. To make the evening even more special, we had the use of a suite, and Dawn and I provided food and wine services. So we nibbled, sipped wine and enjoyed the performance in grand style and supreme comfort!

Of course, we enjoyed champagne in the limo to and from the stadium, even snapped photos of one another (ours didn’t come out too well) during the drive. This is definitely the way to go to a concert! Our driver dropped us at the door and returned after the concert to pick us up. Doesn’t get any more convenient than that.

If you’re not familiar with Trans-Siberian Orchestra (TSO), it was formed in 1996 by composers Paul O’Neill and Robert Kinkel, and Savatage lead singer Jon Oliva, not as another progressive metal band but more as a rock opera orchestra. It transcends the term “concert” by combining great musicians and writers into a seasonal musical journey. It tells a story and keeps the audience mesmerized and amazed as it builds to its dramatic conclusion. A laser show, smoke and pyrotechnics serve to emphasize parts of the story rather than simply provide visual and sound effects. It’s a highly orchestrated and coordinated movement that can only be described as an amazing experience. And perhaps that’s what separates TSO from traditional rock and metal bands. You don’t go to a TSO concert; you experience TSO!

The production company was very specific about cameras. They’re not allowed, and they check before allowing you entry so we left ours in the limo. It’s not surprising; they don’t want you using images of their performances for commercial purposes and this is the only way to assure that control. They do allow cell phones, though. I guess they recognize that little 2-megapixel cell phone cameras won’t produce commercial quality images. So I grabbed this one with Dawn’s iPhone. It’s not great, of course, but tit gives you an idea of the scale and spectacle of the performance.

This is our second concert - Michael and Sisko go every year - and we hope to make it an annual outing as well. It’s a one night annual gig in Sacramento and sort of kicks off the holiday season for us. Catch it next year if you get the chance!

Good friends and good times. It’s a good life!

Dawn and I had dinner a couple weekends ago with friends at Marrakesh, a Moroccan restaurant on Fulton Avenue. We were celebrating Dawn’s and Sisko’s birthdays and so someone decided that sitting on the floor and eating with our fingers would be fun. Did I mention they had belly dancers?

                 Click to enlargeIt’s not that I don’t enjoy Moroccan food - I’ve eaten monkey in the Amazon jungle for Pete’s sake - but my old bones don’t bend as easily as they once did, and sitting on a cushion on the floor was, shall we say, challenging, at least the getting up part and the turning around to watch the belly dancer. Did I mention that? There was a belly dancer!

Anyway, we were among friends, twelve of us altogether, so stuffing couscous and shish kabob into our mouths with our fingers was acceptable and the resulting snickering was in jest. But there was at least one in our group who couldn’t quite get into it. I won’t mention any names, but I think the idea of couscous and lamb fat under her freshly French-manicured nails and the whole “messiness” of it all may have harpooned her appetite.

                 Click to enlargeI should mention that the Casablanca Moroccan beer was good as was the floor show! Belly dancing, can you believe it? And it was a little different than I remembered from last time. I guess the establishment wants their dancers to be a little more classy - belly dancing is, after all, an art form - than they used to be, so tipping is now done in a special head-balanced tip jar rather than dollar bills being strategically tucked in the dancers’ costumes by drunken male diners. How tacky, right? They’re not strippers, after all! Was I disappointed? A little. What can I say, I’m a creature of habit.

I’ll have to do a little research to understand why they sprinkled rose water all over us after our meal. Kind of a surprise when you don’t see it coming. Maybe it’s customary in the desert to help distinguish you from the camels. Anyway, it was a delightful evening with dear friends who, no matter how messy the food may get, will always be there to wipe your chin for you. It doesn’t get any better than that.

Dawn had lunch Wednesday with Pete, our company’s insurance broker, at a midtown restaurant frequented by California Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger. She’d hoped to get a photo of him and, sure enough, there was a “sighting” just as Pete had all but promised.

Now, it probably goes without saying that Arnold doesn’t enter through the restaurant’s front door. No, the restaurant owners built a special room at the rear of the restaurant for the Governor’s private use and he enters through the rear entrance. But not before his security detail — the guys with the telltale earphones and whispering into their sleeves — walked the room checking, I suppose, for suspicious and unsavory diners.

But try as she did, Dawn was unprepared for Arnold’s brisk post-lunch exit and her big photo op. First, she’d forgotten her camera. But, quick thinker that she is, she grabbed her iPhone, fired it up, and got a shot of Arnold as he was leaving the restaurant. He walked right by her!

Unfortunately, by the time she got the iPhone cranked up, he was nearly out the door. Determined to get a better photo, she ran outside and grabbed this shot of Arnold’s SUV… speeding away.

She, of course, didn’t want me to post the photos. I, of course, couldn’t resist. But she’s been a good sport about all the teasing - “Are you sure that’s Arnold?” - I’ve heaped upon her. “Next time,” I assured her.

Who knew being an underpaid (but much loved and appreciated) paparazzi would be so difficult?

Those of you living in the Sacramento area are probably familiar with Apple Hill, an association of small working ranches, farms and wineries just off Highway 50 near Placerville. From March to December, but especially during the fall season, thousands of locals visit more than fifty small ranches to buy apples, enjoy delicious fruit pies, drink home made apple cider, picnic and relish a step back in time to a simpler life many of us remember with fondness. There are even Christmas Tree farms!

So, as we try to do at least once every year, Dawn and I made the short drive up the hill this passed Columbus Day. The weather was perfect, everything was in bloom — it was a beautiful day! Dawn had decided we would alter our usual route and visit some of the farms we’ve missed on previous trips. And she’d done a little research into a rare treat that had somehow eluded us all these years — apple cider donuts! According to her research (on her iPhone while I drove), the very best are those made fresh at Rainbow Orchards, so that was one of our first stops. Here’s the quote by Andy P. that led us there:

“Apple cider doughnuts from Rainbow Orchards. As you bite into one of these warm doughnuts, while smelling the subtle aroma of wood smoke from the cabins and homes in the area wafting down through the pines of the mountains, an incredibly pleasant, indelible memory will be created; a memory that your subconscious will beg for you to re-create year after year.”

Our verdict? Oh my God, they’re delicious! Probably the best donuts we’ve ever tasted! The secret, we concluded, is to get them hot, the minute they’re made if possible. What an amazing discovery! Other farms offer these guilty pleasures; I’m told Abel’s Apple Acres, on the main road and perhaps easier to find, offers donuts just as good. If you do nothing else in Apple Hill, you must try these heavenly delights!

We shopped for gifts, bought some jams and other condiments and, naturally, picked up a fresh apple-strawberry-rhubarb pie. There was even a scarecrow contest featuring creations by local Scout troops! We finished at Primus Vineyards, one of our local favorites, enjoyed some barrel tasting and took home a little wine. It was a wonderfully relaxing day.

We’d brought our cameras so we snapped several images as we meandered through farm country; I’ve posted some of them in an album for your perusal and enjoyment. As always, your constructive comments are welcome.

If you’ve never visited Apple Hill, there’s still time this season and it’s well worth the short drive from Sacramento. Maybe we’ll see you there — in the apple cider donut line at Rainbow Orchards or Abel’s!

It was the Columbus Day weekend, so Dawn and I joined friends Michael & Sisko and Doug & Candy and headed off to Las Vegas to celebrate Sisko’s birthday. It was a “big one” so Michael had arranged for her to drive an Indy-style race car on the Las Vegas Motor Speedway, a long-time fantasy. We were all invited to be part of the event and I brought along my camera to photograph it all.

Needless to say, Dawn and I took lots of photos, too many for one album, so I’ve divided some of my favorites into two groups. The first album, linked to this post, contains images taken in the hotel (Paris) and along the strip; at the Wynn where we enjoyed 6th row center seats for Spamalot, a hilarious musical based on Monty Python and the Holy Grail; and at dinner after the race as guests of friend Doug Roberts at Lowery’s Prime Rib. The next post will link to images taken at Las Vegas Motor Speedway before, during and after Sisko’s 143 mph streak around the track!

In 1984, President Ronald Reagan declared the month of July as National Ice Cream Month. In the proclamation, he called for all people of the United States to observe these events with “appropriate ceremonies and activities.” So, by presidential order, pass the scoop and dig in!

But before you head over to your favorite ice cream emporium, you might be interested in knowing  that, according to the International Dairy Foods Association in Washington, D.C., the five most popular ice cream flavors are vanilla (26%), chocolate (12.9%), Neapolitan (4.8%), strawberry (4.3%), and cookies ‘n’ cream (4%). If you’re doing the math, that’s 52%, so I’d assume the remaining 48% includes “Chunky Monkey”, “Cherry Garcia” and all other hybrid flavors.

You might also be surprised to learn that Sacramento rates 10th in a Yahoo survey of U.S. regions that most love ice cream! Top honors go to Los Angeles, New York, Houston, Philadelphia, the San Francisco Bay Area, Chicago, Dallas-Fort Worth, Washington, D.C. and Atlanta. I’m not sure what correlations, if any, can be drawn from that factoid, but hey, you’ll at least be able to impress your kids or your honey over a double chocolate sundae.

So, do as President Reagan asked. Be a good American. Eat ice cream! Think of it as your civic duty. And for a little more fun (Is that possible?), find out what your favorite ice cream flavor says about you.

Here’s a little quiz aimed at determining which wine,  based on your answers to five questions,  best describes your personality . I’m apparently a “Chardonnay” personality (I’m not particularly fond of most chards - Go figure!) Interestingly, by changing one answer (I was on the fence) I become a “Pinot Noir”! Give it a try and see what you learn about yourself.

You Are Chardonnay

Fresh, spirited, and classic - you have many facets to your personality. You can be sweet and light. Or deep and complex. You have a little bit of something to offer everyone… no wonder you’re so popular. Approachable and never smug, you are easy to get to know (and love!). Deep down you are: Dependable and modest Your partying style: Understated and polite Your company is enjoyed best with: Cold or wild meat

Another thing great about America is our apple pie. It’s what our country and flag are “as American as”, right? Since the earliest colonial days, apple pies have been enjoyed in America for breakfast, as an entrée and for dinner. Colonists wrote home about them and foreign visitors noted apple pie as one of our first culinary specialties.

We’ve all heard or used the expression, “As American as apple pie” to refer to things we know to have originated in America or otherwise associate with Americana. So you might be surprised to learn that apple pie may not have actually been invented here, at least according to Wikipedia and a few other sources that point out that apple trees weren’t indigenous to the colonies and had to be imported as saplings, and that Europeans made all sorts of pies before the colonies were even established.

“We may have taken (apple pie) to our hearts, but it is neither our invention nor even indigenous to our country. In fact, the apple pie predates our country’s settlement by hundreds of years,” writes Lee Edwards Benning in Cook’s Tales.

Yet there are American apple-pie recipes, both manuscript and printed, from the eighteenth century, and it has since become a very popular dessert. And if the food-loving Pennsylvania Dutch people didn’t invent apple pie, they certainly perfected it. Evan Jones in American Food, The Gastronomic Story writes:

“Some social chroniclers seem convinced that fruit pies, as Americans now know them, were invented by the Pennsylvania Dutch. Potters in the southeastern counties of the state were making pie plates in the early eighteenth century, and cooks had begun to envelop with crisp crusts every fruit that grew in the region. ‘It may be,’ Frederick Klees asserts, ‘that, during the Revolution, men from the other colonies came to know this dish in Pennsylvania and carried this knowledge back home to establish apple and other fruit pies as the great American dessert.’”

Personally, I stand with Jones. Europeans may have invented something they called apple pie, but I’d wager that the colonists, particularly the Pennsylvania Dutch, reinvented whatever it was and made it as American as, well, apple pie! And whenever I enjoy a slice of warmed Dutch apple, usually with a dollop of vanilla ice cream on top, I heartily thank those early Dutch settlers!

I guess what I’m saying, in a somewhat roundabout way, is that I’m really proud of America and her wonderful all American apple pie. So the next time you refer to the cotton gin, the telephone, jazz, the iPod or any of the myriad things we Americans have invented throughout our short history, go ahead and say, with well deserved pride, that they’re “as American as apple pie” because, after all, they really are.

Check out the patriots taking this journey with me: JimK, Scott, Larry, Drumwaster, and Cosmicbabe.

Michael sent this advise concerning, well, read on.

Spring has been wonderful and we’ll soon be into summer… and BBQ season! So it’s important that we brush up on the etiquette of this sublime outdoor cooking activity as it’s the only type of cooking a “real” man will do, probably because there’s an element of danger involved. When a man volunteers to do the BBQing, the following chain of events are put into motion:

Routine stuff…

• The woman buys the food.
• The woman makes the salad, prepares the vegetables, and makes the dessert.
• The woman prepares the meat for cooking, places it on a tray along with the necessary cooking utensils, spices and sauces, and takes it to the man who is lounging beside the grill, beer in hand.

Now, here comes the important part…

• THE MAN PLACES THE MEAT ON THE GRILL.

More routine stuff…

• The woman goes inside to organize the plates and cutlery.
• The woman comes out to tell the man that the meat is burning. He thanks her and asks if she will bring him another beer while he deals with the situation.

Very important step…

• THE MAN TAKES THE MEAT OFF THE GRILL AND HANDS IT TO THE WOMAN.

More routine blah blah blah…

• The woman prepares the plates, salad, bread, utensils, napkins, sauces, and brings them to the table.
• After eating,the woman clears the table and does the dishes.

Finally, and most important of all…

• Everyone praises the man and thanks him for his cooking efforts.
• The man asks the woman how she enjoyed her “night off” and, upon seeing her annoyed reaction, concludes that there’s just no pleasing some women.

Happy BBQing!

                Pig GrillTraeger Industries of Mt. Angel, Oregon, perfected the wood pellet barbeque grill and has gained a following for even temperature grilling of virtually any kind of food. Dawn took one look at one of their two custom grills and decided it would look great on our back deck. Those of you that know her will have no difficulty recognizing her choice.

On the other hand, I explained, we already have a built-in grilling station. We’ll see if logic prevails…

Another Randall Munroe ‘toon…