Mazatlan: My Favorite Things...

Please meet Lety. She is the matriarch and namesake of our favorite spot in Mazatlan. Actually, Lety's isn't in Mazatlan proper, but rather a quick, cheap boatride across a narrow shipping and cruise-ship canal to Stone Island. Which, again, isn't actually an island, but a long, gorgeous, unspoiled-by-development, coconut grove peninsula upon which several families have built restaurant concessions for visitors like us. We originally discovered Lety's by recommendation from the realty people from whom we bought our little casita in Mazatlan. Stone Island seemed to be mostly a secret among the locals. Lety once told us a story where an English speaking friend of hers feared she wouldn't get a lot of business except for the locals. Hilariously, while Lety's English is quite fluent, she understood her friend to say that her only clientele would be the "locos". You can imagine her indignation until the misunderstanding was ironed out. The whole story played out like the famous "Who's on first" joke.

Lety welcomes her guests as if they are family to her. Indeed, her family surrounds her; cooking, serving, making their guests feel comfortable and welcome. And that's just the service part. The food is incredible. It is fresh, made the way you want it, and served with a sense of pride. This was our fish platter--no tomato sauce and just a sprinkle of salt.

I just love the orange slices with the lime halves making up the fish's eyes. The Fish-for-Two was grilled to perfection and served with several different salsas, including our new favorite--a dark vinegar and garlic and jalapeño sauce I wanted to drink right out of the bowl. Add to that a fabulous margarita (secret ingredient: a splash of Sprite added as a finish) and fresh, warm tortillas wrapped in a cloth napkin. I wanted them to adopt me.

Lety's does very little marketing of her fabulous restaurant on Stone Island. I know some cruise-lines recommend Stone Island and charge their captive audience a lot more than is necessary to get there. On your own, it's only $2 roundtrip for the boat to the "Island" and Lety's (about mid-beach--keep going till you see her sign) is nothing if not a great value where you will have a fantastic afternoon and become part of her family.

Oh, and the beach is out of this world. Indeed, Lety lives in paradise and I envy her and love her, too.

A wonderful and memorable Thanksgiving

I would imagine that most people have a general idea where their Thanksgiving holiday of the year will take place. Maybe not. I suppose there are many who don't really celebrate this holiday. Or maybe they get invited to someone's home as Thanksgiving approaches, but had no prior plans. I don't remember any unhappy Thanksgivings, even during the very lean years when I first moved to expensive San Francisco and held temp jobs (where the agency took 50% of my earning power--yet, they did give me a job when I needed one desperately).

This year we hosted Thanksgiving on Surrey Street for the first time since 1996. I'll admit I was a bit nervous because, frankly, I was out of practice,Thanksgiving-wise-- having enjoyed other people's cooking, or chefs' offerings in restaurants (American and Mexican) for the past 13 years.

Now we're doing Thanksgiving at our own house. Naturally, I wasn't going to pull this off alone. My husband had it all planned out-- listed, timed, organized. This, above all, was the reason that, on THE day, it all came together with the least amount of stress we've ever had planning a get-together. Here's the recipe we followed for a great Thanksgiving that we shall not soon forget:

1) Don't stress the "we have to clean the house from top to bottom" instinct. We figure everyone loves us and won't care that we didn't repaint, retile, replace everything we should or would or could. "We'll bedazzle their other senses" someone once said.

2) Buy the turkey at least five, if not six days before Thanksgiving. Thaw it in the refrigerator for three or four days, brine it in a large plastic (garbage) bag for one day. Chill-air dry one day in the refrigerator, uncovered. Put it in the oven early, (8 am latest). Roast at 350 degrees for four (4) hours. When the thigh temperature reaches 170 degrees, remove, tent with foil, rest for at least an hour. Carve and plate.* (*it can't possibly be done *it IS *are you sure?, i'm not! *the recipe said 'it is done' OK?)

3) Commit to only a fixed amount of side dishes, and once decided, do not cave into the "we don't have enough food, we have to add ......." syndrome. This was the hard part. As we planned, we both had to remind each other of this rule. At the end of the day, we were right to hold fast to this tenet. Just go with the traditions, right?--Stuffing/Dressing, Potatoes (we had scalloped potato this year), cranberry sauce, green beans, yams or sweet potatoes, beets (not for everyone, I know, some like Brussel sprouts, eh?), and of course Turkey and Gravy. We made a pumpkin pie to which Iva gave her imprimatur and everyone enjoyed a one of a kind pumpkin pie-see above.

4) Tell everyone else they can bring us dessert. And if they bring anything comparable to my sister's RUM BUNDT --the only solid food you can get drunk on--

they go to the head of the class.

If you get yours, I get mine and so do my children and so on and so on...

I haven't updated my blog for a long time and certainly not during the month of November which is National Blog Posting Month, or something.

I feel guilty. I'm not measuring up.

I was apathetic.

Something Has Changed Within Me--

Something Is Not The Same.......

Except, my dog knows the difference, and I trust him...

The Witch's Forbidding Castle surrounded by a moat, Take one...

Another actress who doesn't know her lines. Well, the shoes fit...let's go to Take Two.

Ding Dong the Witch is...

fed..........up with everyone condoning the outrageous theft of her rightful inheritance. Those Ruby Slippers are mine, um, hers. Really, Dorothy had no right to them and most certainly provoked the Witch of the West (that's what Glinda called her, not the Wicked Witch of the West) by resolutely keeping tight inside them. It is entirely possible that, if Glinda hadn't so blithely thrown Dorothy under the bus by publicly stealing the Witch of the East's Ruby Slippers and slipping them on Dorothy (there they are and there they'll stay) the Witch of the West might have believed Dorothy's story and believed in her innocence in the accidental death of her sister, from whom she would had just inherited a very powerful pair of magical objects. If Glinda hadn't decided Dorothy's fate for her in that moment, who knows what might have happened. Maybe the Witch of the West, by virtue of her power and magic should have been the ruler in Oz. Instead, she was assassinated for simply wanting what was rightfully hers.

San Francisco's youngest pizza maker

Introducing Alex, 7, a real up-and -coming talent in the cutthroat world of pizza making. Having an adult party where only one kid is invited presents a challenge of sorts. How to keep the kid occupied while the adults have their, well, adult and uninteresting to kids conversations. Our idea was to put Alex to work rolling out and then assembling the pizzas for our dinner. Well, this went over way better than we could have hoped. With minimal instruction, Alex took over his job with enthusiasm, patience, and an eye to aesthetics, the likes of which we hadn't ever seen in a kid his age. The results were unbelievably excellent. Look out all you expert pizza chefs, you've got some real competition looming on the horizon. Here are some more images of Alex in Action...actually, I can't figure out how to post these images below, they keep appearing above, so this post is a bit disorganized, in direct contrast to Alex's pizza-making style.

Vegetable Soup tonight

with some steak added. Well, if you love the movie "My Big Fat Greek Wedding" as much as I do, then your favorite line of the movie was Tulla's claim that "He is a Vegetarian" so, Auntie says... "OK, he can eat lamb, no problem",---how do you get out of that? Now, you would love my husband's recipe for Vegetable Soup, which he can't remember when I ask him (so he says) , so, I can't tell you. But, it's a recipe that starts with the honest intention of being completely vegetarian--incorporating carrots, celery, potatoes, green beans, tomatoes, peas, corn, lima beans. Obviously, we got off-track when the (gently simmered, excess fat removed, and delicately seasoned) broth from the left-over steakbone was added to the soup...Vegetarian was sooo a moment ago, now, not so much.

The Best Chicken Ever!

Inspired by my dear friend Ann at Forest Street Kitchen, I not only took my own advice and photographed the finished deal, but I also decided to give it a go and write about it. Normally, I would brine chicken and grill it by spatchcocking it (another really fabulous word I took from a post at Forest Street Kitchen). This time, no brining as I was roasting it over a bed of vegetables. All the green, red, yellow, orange and green (green is good) you need to thrive. Another good cook-friend Anna K. taught me this recipe on a snowy night when a roasting chicken is possibly the most delicious smell in the world. And it's incredibly easy. My favorite part is tying the chicken legs together to hold in the lemon and thyme. So "Barefoot Contessa".

20 Brussel Sprouts-stems pared off, outer leaves discarded

3 Celery stalks-lightly peeled to remove tough outer threads, cut into chunky-1" pieces

6 Carrots-peeled and similarly cut like the celery-1"

12 tiny Red skinned potatoes- OR 3 large potatoes-cut into quarters

1 Fennel bulb-stem pared, green removed, cut into quarters and dissembled

1 Onion-peeled, quartered, dissembled

8 garlic cloves-husk removed, whole

Lightly coat with olive oil---very lightly--quick spray if you have it, toss and...

Roast 20 minutes at 450

Chicken is washed, patted dry.

Sprinkle cavity with Kosher salt and pepper.

Stuff with one lemon cut in half and sprig of thyme.

Tie legs together with string.

The "Julia Child" secret: rub butter all over the chicken skin and end by tucking a couple lumps under the skin over the breast.

Reduce oven temperature to 350.

Place chicken on top of the vegetable bed and roast for at least one hour and, of course, longer if the chicken is big. Better to roast it longer than not. Baste every 15 minutes with turkey baster as skin begins to brown. Ready when juices from the thigh-skin cut open, run clear.

Mmmmmmm!

Pizza Party

We had the recent good fortune of a visit from my father and his wife. It had been way too long since their last visit. As is natural, a lot of hope, excitement, expectation and planning on both sides were piled onto this visit. Some highlights were expected: fabulous seats for Wicked, my sister's recent engagement, meeting "the new dog"-see prior post--but the unexpected highlights turned out to be the most lasting and priceless. A little backstory...

My dad loves to cook. He's had a lot of experience with what works, what doesn't and knows that staying with the "tried and true signature" dishes is the way to go. I totally agree with this philosophy. So imagine the fun and hilarity that ensued when we decided to give each family member a ball of fresh pizza dough*, assorted pizza toppings and made it a "contest" for the best pizza.

My dad had never made home-made pizza before (or so he claimed). Of the six of us present, we ended up making five pizzas (the last dough-ball was saved for the pizza in the picture above) Four of the five pizzas were consumed that night. The fifth was lunch the next day-(and. it. was. fabulous.) Here are the entries--I regret now that I didn't take pictures. I know better now.

Pizza #1--mine--fresh mozzarella slices, fresh pizza sauce, shredded mozzarella

Pizza #2-- a combined effort from our spouses(mine and my dad's)-fresh pesto sauce, parmesan, light dusting of fine mozzarella

Pizza #3-- Dad's--fresh tomato sauce, mozzarella, onion, prosciutto, olive, green pepper, tomato, rolled out with gusto and proudly served.

Pizza #4--sister's fiancé--fresh tomato sauce, fresh heirloom tomatoes, mozzarella and olives (if I recall correctly).

Pizza #5--collective effort--all the leftover toppings were used up, but since we were all chock-full of pizza by then, we stuck the last one in the fridge for lunch the next day.

Of course, they were all great. My dad's pizza and the Pesto Pizza were really close in our opinion and it was really hard to decide which was the winner (although my dad felt his was a run-away, more so in that it was his first attempt, so I'm inclined to give him the benefit of doubt, or at least beginner's luck).

Making home-made pizza is a great dinner concept--everyone loves pizza and you can tailor the toppings to each person's individual tastes. The secret is fresh pizza dough and a pizza stone which somewhat compensates for the lower temperatures of a conventional oven versus a real pizza oven. I put an asterisk next to fresh pizza dough so I would remember to tell you that, if you live in San Francisco, the best place to get fresh, authentic and cheap pizza dough is Lucca Ravioli on Valencia street. Three dollars for enough dough to make three pizzas. Of course I picked up the pizza sauce, mozzarella, pesto, prosciutto and parmesan there, too.

A simple salad and ice cream for dessert! A dinner party where everyone participates. That's a priceless memory! Have fun and Buon Appetito! Don't forget to have enough wine on hand, neither!

When Greyhounds collide...

...they snarl at each other. So we found out on a gorgeous Sunday afternoon at Ocean Beach. Taking your dogs to the beach is a treat in so many ways. Obviously the best is the unbridled joy the dogs find running down the beach, loving every second of sight, sound and smell. Today was the most crowded the beach has been in more than twenty-six years of wonderful experience with sunny days and San Francisco's most popular beach. And there were more dogs of every size, type and temperament--each one intent on doing his or her favorite thing: chasing sticks or balls, running into the water, faithfully following his or her owner--or in the case of our dog Argie, (pictured above)--chasing other dogs. As a recent and beloved addition (see earlier post: The new dog) we're just discovering Argie's potential when he gets a good clip going. We've only been able to speculate at Argie's bloodline. Even to casual observers, it's clear that there's a lot of "greyhound" going on. There's obviously some "sight-hound", too. That's why Argie spotted him first.

The black breyhound was cantering toward us: the black dog's eyes locked on his owner, craning his neck as the owner was trying to keep up. Argie froze and fixated on the approaching dog. The moment the black greyhound spotted Argie, it was Game ON!

"I think we got ourselves a race-track here, Folks!" The two dogs gave themselves over to their genetic inheritance and raced each other in ever-tightening circles to the delight of some, the horror of others. The absolutely jaw-dropping demonstration of how fast Greyhounds can run and avoid obstacles was on display for everyone to see. As their last lap was coming to a close, they collided slightly with each other and both let out a ferocious snarl before trotting happily back to their owners with a genuine look of "did ya see me beat him there???"

Dogs show us our truest nature...just watch how easily they go with theirs.

Jesus...you're big!

One of the few truly indelible memories of my life will always be the "reveal" of this unexpected and breath-stealing moment. Our local friend got us inside this still-being-built church on a high hill in central Mazatlan. Our local friend led us into this domed room, the Crucifixion was hidden behind the blue curtain. She stepped up to the base, and yanked a rope. We were stunned into silence. It lasted a long time. I felt tiny. Our friend in the lower left-hand corner is a graphic representation of my own self-awareness at this unveiling. A beautiful, terrible, mysterious and redemptive "quality" fell over the room. The pews hadn't yet been built-the room was still cavernous, but what struck me was that Jesus was already here and HE WAS BIG. I think if I had come into this church as a little kid for the first time, I might have been scared shitless by this huge, overwhelming, bloody, tortured, dying man on a cross. One thing is for sure, I will never, ever forget it. Now, when we went to the lower level, there was a collection of the various Latin American Incarnations of the Blessed Virgin...stay tuned...

The Cat Overlord

This is the photo we took when we were taken on the tour of the house. This cat is still part of the house and kitchen, just hidden beneath a very thin coat of white paint. Not visible, but still there...for sure. Even, or I should say, because of Buster, our dog, we knew that the cat was still looking, looking, looking...

How to buy a house in Mexico

People think we're crazy. Mostly, I think, they're right. Sometimes it takes a long time to see that there's a gray area, where they're right, but you (we) are right, too. My husband said to me some many months (more than 2 years) ago, "I need a hobby" and I told him to redo the backyard if he suddenly had all this energy and ambition to commit to a hobby. "No," with a thoughtful glance to the ceiling and his index finger balancing his chin, "I found this cute little house in Mazatlan Mexico on a website called "buyinmazatlan.com". WTF? I thought such silly thoughts at that moment-like "OOOOO KAY, so, what are we gonna have for dinner?". I was in for such a crazy ride (even though I had no clue in those last moments before my future was -already decided-revealed to me.) He had already planned the first reconnaissance trip--we flew to Mazatlan on a Saturday morning very early (8am I think), landed in LAX, a short lay-over and then on to Mazatlan, about 3 hours, arriving at 4pm local time (one hour later time change). The plan was to meet the realtor, see the house, see a couple others so we could compare, go back to the hotel-(La Siesta-a whole blog about that later). Have dinner and drinks. Talk about it to death. Wake up. Go see it again--(ok, I had no idea where it was, but my husband, with his innate homing-pigeon compass walked us more than 10 blocks in completely new territory right back to the house, approaching it from the opposite direction -see pic above). "This could be ours, if we just had the courage to go for it". We walked back to the hotel, drank the best margaritas I've had in Mazatlan, got our taxi to the airport. We got home at 11pm on Sunday. We were gone and back in a little more than 24 hours. We even caught the Oscars in LAX. We had a lot to talk about in the next days.....

Right Turn...Mazatlan, Mexico

I'll come clean. It took me a long time to muster the courage to commit to writing a blog. I've watched, lurked, commented on my dear friend Ann at Forest Street Kitchen. I admired her for doing her dream. Yet I felt a tug each time I read her blog or those she recommended. I could do that. I wanted to do that, or something like it. It took seeing the movie Julie and Julia to realize that the whole "tugging"* was really about writing a diary. Of course, it's public, but that's actually a great ground-rule--it makes you think first and proof-read--so you can live with yourself after you hit the "there's no return SUBMIT" button. *puh-leez!

Right Turn, Mazatlan Mexico--I was looking through my photo library and picked this picture we took at Olas Altas Playa in Centro, Mazatlan Mexico. We've been to Mazatlan several times and to this day, I can't tell you how this city in Mexico, surrounded and overshadowed by so many other far more famous cities happened to capture our attention and hearts. I wish I could really figure it out, but, as it happens, we invested ourselves and bought a sweet little house in Old Mazatlan. I will tell you all right now--Mexico is a wonderful, friendly, beautiful, enormous, mysterious and extremely afforable country and neighbor. More to come....(I'll keep you hangin' on)

The new dog

This is Argie. Named for his country of birth, Argentina, he is, as far as we know, without pedigree. However, he does have a certain cachet in that he is foreign-born. This he shares with his "elder" brother, Buster, who was born in England and does have a bit of a pedigree (tell you about that later). Now, since the two cats who live here were both born in the USA and really couldn't care less about the airs the dogs put on being "foreign and all that"(then again, maybe that's just being a cat) there wasn't any sort of American-born "critter buffer" when Argie came to live with us. Buster had met Argie before, but only when Argie was part of a pack that Buster only visited every once in a while. Though I tend to anthropomorphize as far as our puppies are concerned, I can't help but think that Buster must have been thinking "what the hell are you doing in my house?" when we adopted Argie as our own. Buster and Argie have made peace. It didn't really take that long. Frivolously, we chalked the early altercations up to some leftover "Falklands Islands" misunderstanding. It wasn't until we translated for Argie that Buster meant "Las Malvinas" that he finally understood we felt his pain. Both Buster and Argie just want our love, as unconditionally as they both offer it to us.

Dogs instinctively know and lead us down the path to peace. We just have to pay attention.

Buster and Duckie

Who says cats and dogs don't get along. Anyone with both species in their household knows that this is a myth. At left are two best friends, Buster and Duckie. They met, not as puppy and kitten, but as adults. Maybe because their previous owners each had, in Buster's case, cats in the house, and in Duck's case, dogs, that these two took to each other right away. It is not uncommon to find them sleeping side-by-side. Nor is it strange to see the affection each has for the other. I gotta tell you, sometimes I prefer their company to that of human beings.

US Open Wrap-up

It's over. Monday night. There's no roof yet over the main stadium at the US Open, Flushing Meadows, NY...the rain came at the end of the tournament, instead of the first five rounds, as usual. The unexpected champions--Kim Clijsters, unseeded, wildcard--well, you know what happened on her journey back. And then there's Juan...and then there's Juan. The big guy smacked his way, fearlessly, into the final, then a chance to win and then...he won! In the tennis world, there's one language--English. If you don't speak it as your mother tongue, then that's just one more thing you have to master if you're going to break into the top echelon and give "winner" interviews. Now this is why I decided, after my husband reported the same, that I don't like Dick Enberg anymore...because of a time constraint, Dick Enberg gave short shrift to the 2009 US Open Men's Singles Champion, Juan Martin del Potro who only wanted to give a quick shout-out IN SPANISH to his Argentine audience. He (Dick Enberg) would never have cut Roger Federer off from giving a quick "thank you" in Swiss German or French or any other language to his world-wide tennis fans--in fact, the runner-up from the Women's Singles competition, Caroline Wozniacki was given the microphone to speak both Danish and Polish to her fans...what a shame and an embarrassment, Dick Enberg, really--the US Open Champion deserves way more respect from us mere mortals (and the Big Network) than you gave him in the name of "network constraints". That's why I love Tennis Channel and Jimmy, Martina and Leif. They get it. You don't. Pity.

Serena Williams-an afterthought

By now, the video footage of Serena Williams berating the lineswoman for calling a footfault on Serena's second serve at 15-30 in, what turned out to be, the final game of the match against Kim Clijsters in the Semi-final of the 2009 US Open, has been seen around the world and debated by all manner of journalists, TV talk show hosts and the blogosphere at large. I would add my two-cents as well. First, the footfault call was atrocious-it wasn't even clear on replays whether Serena actually did commit a footfault. Secondly, the timing was terrible--I felt like the official was inserting herself into the match--especially as it was not an egregious fault (if it was a fault at all) and Serena is not a player who is known for foot-faulting. That said, I cannot believe Serena went after this defenseless linesperson with the vitriol and intimidation that was seen by the entire Arthur Ashe crowd and recorded for the entire world to see. Get a grip, Serena--take it up with the umpire, if anything. Serena robbed Kim Clijsters of her victory and tarnished her own reputation. I have seen that Serena has now apologized to her blog audience, but her post-match interview and subsequent statement hardly constituted remorse, contrition or anything close to owning her outlandish behavior. I don't agree with Mary Carillo that Serena should be suspended from competing, but I do feel that all prize money earned in her singles result should be forfeited. And she should apologize publicly to the lineswoman (who should be given a desk job now!).

Congratulations to Kim Clijsters for her Championship. Our new Tennis Queen Mother.

I cannot believe what I saw happen just now. Serena was not serene. She could have won. She should have won. Kim deserves her win. God, I love tennis. Anything can happen, and , usually does, after a fashion. A Belgian Mother and a Danish Teen for the 2009 US Open title.

Pizza Dough---make your own favorite

Fresh pizza dough....you can do anything with it.--I will post a picture of each home-made pizza on this posting. Starting now...

We back now.

Saw some dolphins off Ocean Beach--Dolphins--Really!!!

http://sfist.com/2007/08/08/sfist_photo_the_6.php

Copy and Paste this one--it was FABULOUS.