Have you ever had Mandarin Islamic Chinese food? Did you know there are an estimated 20 million Muslims who live in China? These questions percolated as my taste buds marveled at the unusual combinations of lamb, cumin and other spice mixtures that seemed so new to me. I was first taken to Old Mandarin Islamic by a mom on my son’s soccer team. It was a rainy fall day and the boys and spectators were soaked and chilled. The hot pot beckoned, and I was up for an adventure. Way out in the Sunset district in San Francisco near the beach, this small hole in the wall offers not only a unique culinary experience but a geography and culture lesson in Chinese history. I returned this Sunday to pick up takeout and once again I was blown away. Signs in Arabic welcome the diners as well as the Chinese Sabado Gigante-esque/ quasi American idol show playing in the corner on the big screen TV. Familiar was the standard Chinese restaurant decorations, but unusual were the plaques with sayings from the Koran (I assume). Of course there is no pork on the menu and the lamb is Halal. It seems like the whole family is cooking in the back kitchen and you can see them in action as you traipse through to go to the restroom. The hot pot is a fun diner participation dish, much like fondue or Korean BBQ. Continue reading »
Maybe I am feeling like a fish with the rain pouring down or maybe I am just having my monthly fish taco frenzy, whatever the reason I am fast becoming a connoisseur of the tasty Mexican treat.
I love Mexican food, but sometimes all the rice and beans and heavy meat can weigh you down. Don’t get me wrong, I love burritos, but I have a hard time not finishing a whole one in a sitting, as much as I’d like to take half home for lunch the next day.
As an East Coast friend said when she first visited me in San Francisco in the early ’90s when our burritos arrived: “That looks like an infant.” She proceeded to place the wrapped burrito by her toned dancer’s belly and question how all that would fit in there. Miraculously it all fit! Continue reading »
As rain pours down, I know the dry creeks and reservoirs, thirsty plants and animals are all happy, as are the avid skiers in Northern California. The slopes may be less crowded this year, but for many, even if the economy is taking a beating, the call of the snow is just too powerful.
I have skied downhill many times and do love the thrill, but have come to appreciate cross country skiing greatly, particularly since having kids. When they were young I pulled both my boys in sleds, wrapping them in blankets, like little Russian Princes, with snacks and toys in the sled. They both took naps while I, in a complete sweat, trudged through the glorious snow; I absolutely loved that feeling.
Now they are a bit older and are interested in skiing on their own. Recently, I read an online missive in one of my mom’s groups. The message linked to an article by Gigi Stahl about skiing with your preschooler or kindergartener and I thought it was quite helpful and funny. Continue reading »
Who wouldn’t want to hike a trail with such a reputation? Where might this place be? Favorite hikes of mine include Nepal’s Mt. Everest Base Camp and Kala Patthar trek via Namche Bazaar; the network of trails around Switzerland’s Lauterbrunnen Valley and Grindelwald; backpacking trails in California’s Marble Mountain Wilderness, the Sierra Nevada, and Yosemite.
I’ve been tempted by the Overland Track in Tasmania. But Robert D. Hershey Jr. extols the virtues of the Milford Track in New Zealand in a recent story in The New York Times. As far back as 1908 this 33.5-mile trail was called the finest walk in the world and many hikers feel it’s true today.
After reading Hershey’s story I’m ready to start planning a trip south. How about you?
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My friend’s birthday fell on Inauguration Day so she really wanted to celebrate this year for many reasons. The weather was so glorious and we were headed to this resort called Seascape in Aptos, California. Just a few minutes south of Santa Cruz, this lovely spot is a great respite from the frantic city life I call my existence.
Five moms were headed to this condo to celebrate our good friend’s momentous birthday. The trip started out like some AbFab meets Sex in the City moment with three of us in a Volvo in heels, driving down Highway 1 at 10 p.m. It was pitch black and we were jabbering away about the economy when I thought I heard a plane crashing (the USAIR flight crash landing on the Hudson River fresh in my mind). Turns out, the front tire blew. It was terrifying…. Continue reading »
For years my wife and I have talked about spending a night or two in a local hostel, but until this weekend we didn’t find the time to do so. But a pre-New Year’s hike in the Marin Headlands just north of San Francisco, where we live, took Paula into the hostel to see what was available and voila, we were booked for two nights in early January. Continue reading »
“Every picture tells a story,” goes the Rod Stewart song from 1971, and how true that is when you add a little context to an image that grounds it in its historical place. Chris Epting makes a habit of finding spots in the United States notable for cultural incidents—both earth-shaking and privately meaningful—and capturing them in intriguing photographs that become all the more compelling when he adds his thoughts about the image, incident, and location.
What’s that photo mean of the intersection of Highways 41 and 46 in Cholame, California? What are the Trona Pinnacles in Trona, California? What significance do the front steps of the Elmira Shelton house in Richmond, Virginia have? Continue reading »
Every year in December, my husband and I have the discussion about a tree. I have this vision, as a young girl, of going to New Jersey to cut one down every year. This was quite a trek from Manhattan and made for great memories. It’s a bit of a Laura Ingalls Wilder fantasy but, hey, could be worse. So we argue about “killing a tree” for Christmas, something that didn’t occur to me in the twentieth century.
I understand and share the concern for the planet but I also love the whole ritual of setting up the fresh tree. As a compromise, for the last few years we’ve bought a live tree in a pot and put it outside for the rest of the year, the idea being we would re-use it again the next year. Well, for the first time in four years, our tree survived the year and is resplendent in our living room trimmed and beautiful. So, when I suggested we go to this fabulous Christmas tree farm for a day of fun, giant swings, wreath-making, picnic, tractor ride, bonfire and marshmallows, like every year I got the same grumpy answer. I persevered.
It was the day after Thanksgiving and with stretched out bellies we threw our camping gear in our car, made sure we had hats, gloves, plenty of cocoa and we headed out of the city towards the Sonoma Coast. My husband had to work so I was initially reluctant to join our friends on the impromptu trip. I’m loath to admit it, but despite my claims of equality and the notion that I can do most anything I put my mind to, I usually wind up caring for the kids and organizing food when we go camping. Sometimes I over-think the food and this time I just raided the fridge and cabinets and grabbed what we had.
I live in San Francisco, so when I think about skiing my thoughts never stray far beyond Lake Tahoe. After all, I can get there in three hours (if I time my departure to avoid heavy traffic), resorts such as Squaw Valley, Alpine Meadows, Heavenly Valley, Northstar, and others offer slopes and facilities as appealing as just about anywhere (Squaw Valley, certainly, is recognized around the world as a great ski resort), and I have friends there to visit.
If it’s Nordic skiing I want rather than alpine, the Tahoe Cross Country Ski Area near Tahoe City on the north shore has 40 miles of groomed trails, fabulous views of the lake, trailside warming huts, and everything you’d expect in facilities. Many of the downhill resorts also have cross-country options, so why would I go anywhere else? Continue reading »