Sitting pretty

Earlier this week, Zoomie asked folks what they had on their tables. Easy question for me to answer -- a bowl and plate I retrieved from my aunt's house right before I moved. Some days it contains fruit or veggies. Today it holds nothing.


I could have posted this earlier in the week but the thing is that I got to thinking. Once I had selected the light fixture for my dining area, I had decided that my table and chairs would not do. I have spent months looking for a set that I loved. A few weeks ago I found this. I just couldn't get myself motivated to go to the store. But Wednesday I bit the bullet and this morning it all showed up.

And finally I could take the photo of what sits upon my table.

Playing with fire

This weekend I had to go out and make yet another purchase. Because me and the propane were just not getting along. I needed charcoal.


And so tonight I fired up the new grill to try it out. And to see if I could still get some coals going. The mahi-mahi turned out wonderfully. And for a different taste, I topped it with a plantain-pineapple chutney.

Now what to grill next...

Motivated

What does it take for y'all to get motivated? When it comes to career stuff, I have to get angry. Tears streaming down my face angry. Household chores? All I need to know is that folks will be heading over.

I have a little under three weeks until folks will descend upon my new place for my housewarming/birthday party. Think this would motivate me to do some more unpacking? Hell no. I still have at least two more weeks to deal with that crap. But tomorrow the HVAC guy is showing up to replace my furnace. (Thank you Obama for making this possible.) The furnace is reached via my bedroom closet. This would be the 8' by 10' walk-in that my mother proclaimed to be a room except that it can't be called one since it doesn't have a window. One can hide a lot of crap in that kind of space. But I thought that perhaps the guy should have a clear path and so I finally got motivated to deal with the closet.

Stashed in the closet was my luggage from my recent trip to NYC. It was mostly unpacked though. It was just those items that really belong elsewhere.


Months ago I picked up this piece of furniture from my aunt's house. The question has always been what to put into it. As I started the unpacking, it came to me. I have been a tea drinker since age 9 or so. As such over the years I have collected a number of teapots. And I realized that I just didn't have the cabinet space for all of my teapots. But they didn't actually make it into the cabinet until after my trip. When I picked up a new teapot at Pearl River. As you can see, there is still room for more.


And I was in need of nourishment after all that unpacking. I thought about dining on takeout but then I remembered that cod filet that needed to be cooked. In a beer batter. Always Newcastle Ale. And instead of fries I went with onion rings. It will be dinner tomorrow night as well. Because a single cod filet? Huge.

Getting settled

Thursday night I officially stopped being a resident of Berkeley. That's when I finished cleaning the old place and turned in my keys.


This was the first thing I saw as I got in my car to leave the apartment that last time. For some reason, I thought of Cookiecrumb.

So over the weekend, I decided to start doing some exploring. And by exploring, I mean checking out grocery stores. While Berkeley Bowl really isn't that far away, I thought it was time to become more familiar with stores closer to home.

In my travels, I discovered that there is a Safeway on Redwood Road. Kind of strange though. Like they have gift cards but no greeting cards. (I had to pick both up for Sista Locks's graduation on Sunday from Berkeley. I know that she will be a fantastic principal.) They also only have beer and wine. No other alcohol. It was kind of strange. Made me think I had landed back in Virginia somehow.

I was on Redwood because when you head down the hill, it becomes 35th. And that's where you find Little Joe's. I will be stopping there at least a couple of times a month since they have the Emmentaler and the "crack cheese" that I love so much. And so on Sunday, the kitchen officially reopened.

Mussel-fennel bisque -- again.
This was followed by this week's flavor.


Banana-walnut ice cream

Now if I could just get Natasha to eat something other than her old food. Because the closest places that sell that stuff are in Alameda and Berkeley.

Gratis

So the other day after running errands, I decided to stop at the grocery store in the nearby fancy neighborhood. I was thrilled to death when I saw blue crab meat in the seafood department and so I asked for a pound.

I kept thinking that my bill seemed a little high. Then tonight I pulled out the crab meat to start cooking. That's when I noticed the label. They had charged ten times as much as they should have per pound! I threw the package of crab meat into a bag and grabbed my receipt. The manager decided that I could have it for free since I had had to return to the store.

So yeah, that's a crab cake sandwich. Before I topped it with some cole slaw. And some hot sauce. I called my mom the other day to ask for the recipe. Turns out hers is a slight variation of the one you find on the side of Old Bay seasoning.

Crab Cakes

1 pound crab meat (I used regular blue crab but blue crab lump is the preferred way to go.)
1/4 small bell pepper, finely diced
2 tablespoons mayonnaise
2 teaspoons Old Bay seasoning
1 egg, beaten
1/4 cup of bread crumbs

Mix all of the ingredients together in a bowl. Form into patties. Lightly coat patties in additional bread crumbs. Fry in oil over medium high heat until browned on both sides. Drain on paper towels.

Meltdown

My nerves have been on edge as of late. And so I found myself dropping my car off on Saturday morning to get it serviced -- finally. Tune-up, timing belt replacement and something else. I took a deep breath when they gave me the estimate and told them to proceed. I then took a seat in the waiting area waiting for a shuttle ride home. Seems that they forgot about me though. I was there for an hour and that shuttle is supposed to run once every half hour. Just as well. My phone rang. It was the service rep. Seems that one of those things that keeps your engine from moving around was broken. Probably was broken in the first accident in January. The good folks of Honda could repair it for an additional $200. I called my insurance company. They want an adjuster to look at it before the repair is made. That will be on Monday. So yes, once more I am in a rental car.

Another half hour of waiting around at the dealership. Did I mention that I was half asleep when I arrived there? My original plan was that I would return home, get a little food, and then take a nap. But no. And have you ever tried to get a rental car on a Saturday? Not much selection. I ended up with the smallest thing they had at the time -- a Pontiac Vibe. That thing feels like a boat compared to my Civic. But it was better than the minivan. I was also thrilled by the fact that once more I'd have to shell out some money for a rental car because my insurance does not cover the full amount. Let's not mention the car I turned in last week -- that I actually kind of liked. I'm still waiting for reimbursement for the rental in January. And then I went to drive off and the friggin steering wheel was in my lap -- literally. And I couldn't figure out to adjust it. May have something to do with food and sleep deprivation. Oh yeah, and the pain in my left shoulder had returned full force. Because part of my plan upon returning home was to take some more pills. (And I did call the doctor about it. They said maybe it was time for an MRI.)

Finally I got out of there and got the boat back to my neighborhood. And that's when I lost it. I had to park this thing on the street in my neighborhood. And that's when I hit full meltdown. There was lots of crying and screaming with my insurance company while I sat double-parked waiting for a space to open up. Hopefully we have reached an understanding by now. All I know is that it looks like I won't be seeing my own car until middle of this week at the earliest.


Thankfully I had made a couple of stops on my way home -- BevMo, Office Depot for boxes... But the really important stop was to Seabreeze. (Thank you, Zoomie, for the reminder.) I started with the fried calamari. And some clam chowder.


Then it was onto the main attraction -- garlic crab. It seemed like a no-brainer. I was supposed to have been going to a crab feed last night but I found out Friday night that that would not be happening. After I had been dreaming of crab all week.

And so I felt a little better.

A crazy thing happened this weekend. I left the house. And now I have so much to tell y'all but I think it's too much for one post so let me split it all up.

The fun began Friday night. After my aunt's death, family members asked me if there was anything of hers that I wanted. There was -- this one piece of furniture. The problem was how to safely transport it to my place. A couple of weeks ago my dad's cousin let me know that she knew a guy who could. She didn't have his phone number with her at the time. And then I sat back and waited. Until Wednesday.

Now remember how I went to Arby's? Well, that was not my primary reason for being in that part of town. This item that I had seen on Pier One's website was.


Yes, I already had a bed. But that one was crap. The frame was barely in one piece and I never was that thrilled with the headboard. I had wanted a bed like this at the time I bought the other one. I just couldn't afford it then. Funny thing is that this one only cost me $15 more than the other one due to the great sale.

So I called the hauling guy when I got back to the office. He met me at the store Friday night to pick up the bed and then we headed to my aunt's house. Basically everything else had already been cleaned out from the house. It seemed strange and surreal.


I was greatly relieved to see the piece arrive safely in Berkeley. Now the only question is what to put inside of it.

Jealous no more

This morning I happened to be perusing the internet, updating my private wishlist (Things I wish I had and intend to buy for myself one day), when I discovered the Pier One was having a huge clearance sale. And one of the items on my list was something like 75% off. I decided that meant an early lunch. And then I decided to check to see what restaurants were near the store.

Imagine my elation to discover that there was an Arby's nearby. Some of y'all might not understand but sometimes I get real jealous hearing David go on and on about his Arby's feast. See, I thought they were no longer in the area.

I used to be a roast beef sandwich with horsey sauce and curly fries dipped in Arby's sauce kind of girl. Today I ventured out. I tried the jalapeno bites and the loaded potato bites. Next time I'm going to skip the jalapenos and go for a larger order of the potato bites. Now if you're not familiar with those little mouthfuls of loveliness, they are like a small deep-fried hash brown triangle -- that have been stuffed with cheddar cheese and bacon. I think I have found my new fast food favorite.

Oh, and I'm no longer jealous of David, because I can get my Arby's on all the time now.

P, b.

A red wine kind of night

Silly me thought that I wouldn't have any blog posts after last night's for many days to come. That's what happens when I think.

Yeah, that's my baby. I was making my way across town from work to the freeway when suddenly a woman made a left turn into me. I'm OK. But look at my poor car. And now I have to deal with getting a rental car until it is repaired. Because the cops told me that they thought I should only drive it on the streets. Something about freeway speeds may cause the wheel well to rub the tire and puncture it. So yeah, I had a nice scenic drive home through the streets of East Oakland and other picturesque parts of the East Bay.

I had planned to stop at the grocery store on my way home because I needed cat litter. I was drained and wanted to go straight home at that point. But I didn't. Instead I stopped at the store for the litter. And a bottle of red wine.

The year to come

Being the child of Southerners, there are some superstitions that I have not been able to escape. Many of them center around New Year's Day.

Last night I did not make it to midnight. I was bone tired.

See, when I realized that I was going to have to run all those errands for my mother, I decided that I may as well load the laundry basket into the car. I like to do laundry in El Cerrito so that I can multitask. Throw the clothes in the washer. Walk over to Trader Joe's. Throw the clothes in the dryer. Walk to Lucky. Then there was a stop at Andronico's on the way home. (I needed olives and only their olive bar would do.)

I arrived home with groceries and clean clothes -- and a messy apartment. So I set to cleaning the kitchen. I mean really cleaning. The bathroom didn't require as much work. But the living room? A hot mess. And how I could I put my clean clothes away when there were all these clothes I no longer wear? So in the midst of cleaning, I did a wardrobe purge. Fresh linens for the bed. And by eight, I was able to settle in with my tray of food.

Why all this activity? Because I was determined to wake up today to a clean apartment. My mother told me that whatever you do on New Year's Day sets the tone for the rest of the year. So I was able to get up and dine on leftover crab, salmon, pate, cheeses, and olives. And to watch TV and read books. All the while I didn't have the feeling that I really should be doing something else (like cleaning).


This was the best part of it all. I was adamant when I was apartment hunting years ago that it had to have a tub. I rarely avail myself of this pleasure though. Just always feel too rushed. Too many other things to do. Not today. I used the unscented bubble bath from Body Time and add my personal blend of essential oils to the water -- jasmine, rose, ylang ylang, and musk. I keep the oil blend stored in a cobalt blue glass bottle. Don't ask me for proportions. Years ago I used to measure but now I go by smell. And that reminds me. I must remember to pick up one of those overflow covers from Body Time so that I can put more water in the tub.


The other thing I have not been able to give up is my combination of black eyed peas, greens and pork. (Yeah, I know that most folks have rice and cornbread as well. Guess what? I don't really like rice. And I didn't have any cornmeal around.) There have been years that I have missed out on getting my requisite combo at the start of the year. I try not to remember those years. And although last year had some definite low points, the high points were exceedingly so. Now that things seem to be back on-track, I just don't want to tempt fate.

2009 is already starting to look better.

Where to shop

A few weeks ago, the Zombie couple picked up rings to celebrate their tenth anniversary at the mall near where I grew up. I go to this mall occasionally but for the most part I stopped shopping there years ago.

Why? I am the daughter of the shopaholic fashionista. The mall in our neighborhood? Over time it became known as being too "ethnic." Go into the Macy's there and ask for certain designer stuff that you know that the Macy's in most other locations in the Bay Area have and you get a blank stare. Or the recommendation to go to one of the other stores.

My aunt hated this shit. Why should she have to leave her community to buy the stuff that she wanted? My aunt lived in Oakland and was big on spending her dollars in Oakland. But often the major retailers just didn't have the level of things that she wanted. Because us ethnic folks just don't have the money to spend. Never mind the studies that say that African Americans spend a higher percentage of their disposable income on things like clothing than other groups. Nope. They just don't have as much money so they can't possibly be spending it on clothing and what not.

I spent many years being dragged around by my mom to malls in Marin County and eastern Contra Costa County. Why? Because the populations in these areas had a higher white percentage. And guess what? The higher the white percentage in an area, the higher the likelihood of finding "upscale" stuff in the stores.

But my favorite was back in the late 80s when my stepmother insisted upon giving me a Dooney and Bourke bag every year for Christmas. She would buy me these huge purses while I tend to prefer smaller ones. Besides I was a starving student at the time. So each year, I would go to Macy's -- where she purchased the bags -- to exchange them for something smaller. The first year I went to my local Macy's. I could not do the exchange without a receipt. I explained that it had been a gift. They told me that I should ask my stepmother for the receipt. (I guess this is why some stores now do gift receipts.) How could I ask my stepmother for the receipt? I took my bag back and went to the San Francisco store the next day. Instead of hearing, "Do you have a receipt?" I heard, "Have you selected which bag you would rather have?" This is when I stopped shopping at Macy's as much as I had in the past.

I could also tell tales about my years of living in Williamsburg. There was a local department store in town. A well known fact amongst the African American community was that you either needed to look like a professional or a student to get any service in the store. (Perhaps this is a bit off point but it feels like the same shit, if you ask me.) If I was not in business attire, then I made it a point to have a backpack with me when I entered this store. One time I was dressed casually and did not have my backpack with me. I was invisible. Until this one saleslady saw me and remembered me from my mother's visit to town a few months earlier. Because she remembered that I was a student. But what a load of crap.

Back in 2003, I went to Virginia for Christmas. Women there are closer to the average size for women than they are in California -- or at least that's my perception. I went shopping the day after Christmas with my aunt. At that time I wore a size 2 or 4. (I'm now firmly a size 4.) I finally found one size 4 in a store. My aunt looked at me like I was insane to be looking for anything under a size 8. Because the stores in Tidewater seem to start at size 8 is what I discovered. From what I gathered in my time living in this part of the U.S., size 8 is considered to be tiny. If you wear a smaller size than that, then you need to eat more.

Of course, a great deal of this is colored by my family experiences. My aunt with whom I went shopping is maybe a size 8. She is the smallest woman in our family, other than myself. My mom is about a size 12 while her mother is a size 22. At least that's the size that my grandmother wore the last time we shopped together. And from what I remember of that shopping trip was that she had plenty of choices. OK. So they were old lady choices. Because my Pentecostal grandma is super conservative in what she wears. But my mom's older sister, who is one of the most beautiful women I know, is often rocking something quite stylish. And except for height, she and grandma are pretty close in size.

And this is why I've always thought that the "black" stores carry larger sizes. I've always felt that we have been able to see the beauty in a woman regardless of her size more so than other groups. And maybe that's because many of us have never been the definition of what is beautiful in the dominant society over history. We set our own standards for beauty as a result. In my family, I at a size 4 or so am just as beautiful as the women who wear size 12 or 22. How could we not be? Look at our faces and you will see the same woman.

Oh, and in case you're wondering, these women -- my grandmother and my aunt -- are both emotional eaters. They'll tell you otherwise but I have witnessed it firsthand. I just happened to be blessed with a quicker metabolism. Otherwise, I would be them. My grandmother has complained for years about walking -- as in walking through the mall. It's because of this that I have mentioned losing weight to her. Shopping should not be a physically demanding activity in this way in my mind. And although she's 85, I'd like to keep her around a little longer. She's my sole living grandparent at this point.

Bottom line -- yes, I get pissed off with certain stores. And then I vow to never shop in them again. And I tell my friends about my experiences. I figure that if the store have enough of a drop in their earnings, then maybe they'll start to listen.

I did it!

Saturday morning I awoke bright and early per usual. This time, for the first time in weeks, I did not go back to sleep though. I had an appointment to get to. And then I was home slightly before noon. I was up, dressed, and had energy. So I set to some cleaning.

The cleaning is not complete but it's at least good enough that I actually feel like doing stuff other than watching TV and reading. And wouldn't you know it? The latest issue of "Bon Appetit" showed up in my mailbox on Saturday.

I did some other errands on Sunday, made a brief stop at the Zombie household and then took the plunge. Berkeley Bowl on a Sunday afternoon can turn me into an evil shrew. Fortunately the parking lot was much worse than the store.

And I was really glad to have my new parking space when I got home. I double-parked in front of my building to unload because folks were parked all fucked up -- per usual. But this time I was able to pull into my space behind the building instead of circling incessantly looking for a space.

A little more cleaning. A little bit of wanting to throttle the neighbor who let their clothes sit in the dryer for over a half hour.

And in between I made up a pot of Mussel and Fennel Bisque. (Hmmmm. Apparently this recipe is not posted on Epicurious. And while I have more energy, I don't think I have enough to type the whole recipe right now. If you really want it, email me.) Normally I would have gone for the clam juice but this time I used the chicken broth. I just wasn't in the mood for something that fishy. I know. Me. The woman who loves just about everything that lives in water not wanting something to be too fishy. Doesn't matter though. It was great. Paired with half a small baguette and a salad and it was heaven.

Single serving

I had thought about saving this post until tomorrow. OK. So I meant to post it last night but my belly was full and... Well, you get the picture.

Why couldn't this wait? Because it seems that this weekend all the grocery stores around here have the ever so fabulous Dungeness crab on sale. At the bigger chain, they're $2.99 a pound while at Astronomico's, they are $3.99 a pound. That baby came from Astronomico's. Why? Because while chatting with "Mom" on the way to the store, she asked, "Where do those ones in the big chain come from? You know the ones at Astronomico's are going to be local. The last time I had a non-local crab, it just wasn't as sweet." "Mom" knows best. Sometimes it's best to pay a little extra. The crabs at Astronomico's were indeed local.

Oh, and yes that is the crab at home. Because I never have them clean and crack them at the store. That's part of the fun for me. Besides for those times when I am need of crab meat, I have found that I can clean and pick a whole crab in about 15 minutes.

A single crab only feeds multiple folks if it is being used in a dish, in my opinion. That's right. I believe in one crab per person -- unless you're talking blue crabs. In that case, you might need about a half dozen or so per person. Usually I go with butter for dipping purposes but this time I went with an association from childhood. Thousand Island dressing always screams crab meat to me. (And somehow the cats didn't lose their minds while I dined. I'm really starting to think that Natasha wants to become a vegetarian.)

So anyway, y'all go out there and get ya some crab. You won't regret it (unless you're allergic to it). I'm heading back to the kitchen to get the other one out of the fridge. And to see if I can clear some freezer space for some more. Or to figure out where I can put a freezer...