The Names We Used to Know

My mom grew up in San Francisco and my parents met here, so I’ve come to San Francisco my whole life. We came for family events or to visit my grandparents or to escape the Summer heat in the foothills. Driving into San Francisco in July where the streets were wet from the thick fog felt like arriving on the moon.

I didn’t learn the layout of the City until I lived here, but my visits to San Francisco and my family’s stories have colored the City I see around me. It’s like a hologram at times: I can see the San Francisco my parents knew from one angle, and when I turn my head, I’m back in the present day version.

Royal Market is on Judah St, but I can still see the used bookstore where I’d buy Nancy Drew mysteries to read while my grandfather watched his beloved Giants on TV. A Russian Orthodox store took over the great gift shop on 9th Avenue, but it still looks like Sunnyside Up to me.

My family’s stories inform my view of the City, even outside the neighborhood where my mom grew up. I know that the McDonalds on Haight St used to be a diner because it’s where my aunt and uncle had their first date, 40 years ago. Every time my dad visits, he points out the house he lived in on 17th Street and tells me how members of Jefferson Airplane lived next door.

I now live in the Castro, which certainly has its own San Francisco history. But although my dad tells me how the Castro Theater’s ceiling used to leak when it rained, I didn’t know much about the way my current neighborhood used to be – at least not until Gus Van Sant came to town.

Gus Van Sant’s movie, “Milk”, is now filming right in the Castro. The movie is about Harvey Milk, who became the first openly gay person to be elected to public office when he was elected to the San Francisco Board of Supervisors in the 1970s.

Thanks to the movie “Milk”, I now get to see what the Castro looked like in Harvey Milk’s time. The set designers are bringing back some of the old signage and storefronts, and walking down Castro Street these days is a chance to walk back in time.

I get to see that a boring old realty office used to be Aquarius Records with colorful records hanging in the windows. A cheesy wine shop was once wood-panelled liquor store.

A sign above one of the forgettable bars on Castro Street now calls the bar Toad Hall. (Photo of the 1970s Toad Hall sign, above, from www.thecastro.net. )

2008 Toad Hall sign for the filming of “Milk”.

Anchor Oyster Bar says they’ve been around for “30 Shucking Years,” but it took “Milk” for me to realize that the restaurant’s front window used to look like the helm of a ship.

All of the Castro Street merchants have posted signs announcing that they are still open for business during the filming, but part of me that wants to turn back the clock for good. My camera needs fixing and I want to take it to Harvey Milk’s camera store while it’s still here.

Rave: Noir City at the Castro Theatre

One thing I look forward to during this grim time of year is Noir City, San Francisco’s Film Noir festival, which starts tonight.

Image from www.noircity.com

I clear my schedule for this festival each year. In fact, I’ve been known to leave a friend’s birthday dinner early and just so I could catch that evening’s double feature.

Noir City has films you won’t find anywhere else. Many of the films aren’t available on DVD, and many of the films haven’t been on the big screen in fifty years or more.

And yet, these are often spectacular movies. They’re suspenseful stories of murder, betrayal, and love gone wrong. They’re set on dark, dangerous streets, and peopled by evil henchmen, loyal detectives and a femme fatale or two. They can be surprisingly funny, sometimes unintentionally (certain comments today mean something quite different than they did in the 1940s).

It’s not just the movies though, it’s the whole experience. Some people come dressed in Noir costumes – men in trench coats and fedoras, women in 40s suits. The audience audibly contributes to the movie experience, hissing at evil characters or politically incorrect statements, and hooting at the fiery dialogue.

What’s more, the festival is at the Castro Theatre, and the Castro is everything the movies promised us life could be: glamorous and unforgettable.

Image from www.castrotheatre.com

The theatre is an ornate, cathedral-like space with walls painted with Mucha-like murals and the sky-high ceiling crowned by a huge Art Deco chandelier. It still has a massive, working pipe organ and most nights (all nights of Noir City), there’s someone there to play it.

You know that the movie is about to start when the organ player launches into “San Francisco, Open Your Golden Gates”. Most of the audience claps along with the song as the organ sinks dramatically down into the stage, and the organist takes a bow.

And the Memory Will Shine

So the holidays are long gone and your Christmas tree has been kicked to the curb (if you’re in SF, perhaps it’s already been made into wood chips and returned to the earth).

And maybe your friends pack up and move to another state — a state that is supposed to be quite rainy, but the rain starts here instead and brings with it some hurricane-force winds.

This wind and weather prevent many farmers from attending the weekly farmers market that is high point in your week. You are in need of a high point right now.

And it’s a minor point, of course, but you can’t help but point out that your boots aren’t waterproof and your feet are wet.

You’re feeling a little low in these admittedly trite circumstances. You know that your troubles pale in comparison to others. Your friends and family members suffered real loss over the holidays, and you’ve lost what, exactly? A tree you’d adorned with felt eggs and bacon, Miss Piggy and Kermit, and a cat angel or two. Your friends and their train-obsessed 2-year-old aren’t gone forever, they’ve just relocated. The rain will go away. Your socks will dry. The farmers will come back to the market. And don’t forget that you have immense love in your life.

You need some perspective and it comes finally, when the sun reappears and you venture out of the City and up to Mt. Tamalpais.

Mt. Tam is usually crowded, but this time you have your choice of parking spots. The windy roads up to Mt. Tam usually make you carsick, but you feel fine this time. And although the hike seems like it will be too long, you start walking.

The trail is littered with bits of trees that the storms have blown down but you can see your way well enough. And eventually, you emerge from the forest into the sun and the view that opens up before you is startling. You can see the City — the little houses in the Sunset, Ocean Beach, the spires of Sutro Tower, and you can also see the coast of Marin — the wide, curve of Stinson Beach and the Bolinas Lagoon.

It feels like this sort of beauty should be impossible, like California is showing off.

The winter sun is almost warm on the side of the mountain. A few gorgeous kestrels stop you in your tracks. And as you walk, you realize that you’d forgotten already what you learned last year: that being outside gives you a sense of calm and an appreciation for the basics, like the sun and the sky.

Towards the end of the hike, a warm, orange-colored light comes through the trees and you’re aware that the sun is setting.

You’re feeling better.

Picky Eater

I never realized I was a picky eater until I started eating meals with Mr. WholeHog. He has practically no food aversions, while at the beginning of our relationship, I avoided olives, bananas, mayonnaise, lamb, figs, beets, and most cheeses. (And that list is just what I came up with off the top of my head. There was likely much more).

No one needs all those cheeses, I’d say when Mr. WholeHog tried to point out what I was missing. Once I declared with embarrassingly certainty that only five cheeses were really necessary for consumption and then I listed off some of the most pedestrian cheeses available: Monterey jack, cheddar, mozzarella, feta…I can’t remember the fifth cheese anymore. Cream cheese? Maybe I went wild and chose Havarti?

Two foods I wouldn’t have eaten a few years ago:
Andante’s fresh goat cheese (marinated in olive oil) with beets.
Photo: Mr. WholeHog

I joked about being picky, but it wasn’t really funny. I like to cook and to try new restaurants and my food aversions limited my options. But as often as I re-introduced a food, hoping I’d take to it, my palate was quite stubborn. I’ve found that it changes, but slowly.

Almost every year, I miraculously develop a taste for a food that I once disliked. And, often, I don’t just grow to tolerate a new food; instead I find that I love it.

Olives made the transition from “Won’t Eat” to “Love to Eat” a few years ago, although my parents still tease me about how I’d hold my nose at Andronico’s, making no secret that I thought their olive bar smelled like a a port-a-potty. But one day, I ate an olive and found it deliciously salty. Now, I love eating olives.

I learned that with some foods, I was picky about how they were prepared. Goat cheese, for instance, always tasted to me like an actual goat, like a barnyard with a hint of urine. But then I tried fresh goat cheese made by Andante, and found their cheese wasn’t goaty at all. I liked it and I liked it even more when Mr. WholeHog baked it and served it on a salad with chunks of bacon and croutons made from Tartine’s amazing bread. (The recipe is from Weir Cooking and it’s a worth the price of the cookbook).

I began to like lamb when I had lamb chops at a restaurant served with lavender salt. Somehow the herb and salt countered the gameyness I had disliked in lamb. After a few tries, I grew to like lamb in nearly any preparation, although this summer, I was partial to the lamb burger.

But olives, goat cheese and lamb are just a few success stories. I’m ashamed to admit that I still can’t really tolerate blue cheese. I still think mayonnaise is an insult to eggs and to olive oil. I haven’t eaten a banana since I was about 6 years old and I don’t plan to start any time soon.

I keep trying, though. In 2007, I tried bone marrow, boudin, and wild boar salame for the first time, but sadly, I only really loved the salame.

I Miss the Innocence I’ve Known

New Years usually feels like much ado about nothing. The New Year feels just like the old year so celebrating often seems pointless to me. But this New Year was different.

It began like a bad dream. We were up at 6 am on New Years Day, fighting tears as we wished our best friends a safe trip and a happy new life in Oregon.

We went back to sleep, but when we woke up again, we suddenly realized how different – how empty — our lives would be without them.

Oregon isn’t very far, of course, and friendships last. But their move changes our lives in small but significant ways. We can’t meet up just for dinner or just because. We can’t pop over to babysit their son, if needed; in fact, we’ll miss his latest developments, his new words and interests.

Our friends’ move is just one of many changes this year. My cousin and her husband will be first-time parents before asparagus is back in season. Two of other friends hope to be pregnant by next Christmas. A friend is wedding planning and others are house hunting. By the next New Year, my sister may be in SF, the first time in 14 years she and I will live in the same City.

These are all expected, positive changes, but in these first few tentative days of 2008, I can’t help but feel nostalgic for the way it was before, nostalgic even for the way things are now.

Year in Review 2007

I used to diligently keep a journal but these day I usually only manage one entry a year: a New Year’s entry. It’s essentially a list of what I loved that particular year: the songs I couldn’t stop listening to, the books that I still think about, the places I traveled, my favorite foods.

Of course much of my travels, meals and interests in 2007 made its way onto this page in some way, like my interest in farmers markets and eating locally, my love of San Francisco, and even a few of the books read.

But my new obsessions in 2007 consisted of:

2007 Discoveries
NY Times Sunday Crosswords
Etsy.com
The Wire
Alameda Flea Market
Mrs. Meyers rose geranium scent (at one point, we had geranium candles, laundry detergent, dryer sheets and hand soap!)
Neti Pot

2007 On The Road
To my surprise, I found that I loved brisk New York City in February. The down jacket I bought for that trip is one of the very best things I’ve ever bought. It’s come in handy many times since NYC.

Portland, OR provided my best hotel experience yet: the Ace Hotel was right up my alley, with its vintage furnishings and the lyrics of Leonard Cohen’s Suzanne on the wall.

Lake Tahoe: always the year’s best trip.

Family Road trip: Atlanta, Savannah, Charleston, Outer Banks, NC, Washington DC.

2007 At the Table
My best meals of the year were at Primavera, eaten outside in sun and in rain, our plates on our laps rather on a table. Delfina Pizzeria kept us sated and happy Sunday through Friday.

2007 was a tremendous year in sweets. Salted licorice! Caramel panna cotta! Chocolate and bacon, together in one freaky bar! It nearly made my whole year to hear one of the employees refer to Mr. WholeHog and I as regulars at Miette Confiserie.

BiRite Creamery was an all-out addiction: cinnamon, salted caramel, malted vanilla with peanut brittle.

2007 Soundtrack
Fiest
Funeral – Band of Horses
The Ride – Joan As Police Woman
Young Folks – Peter Bjorn John

Favorite Show Moment: Yo La Tengo playing Fleetwood Mac’s Rumors at the KUSF Anniversary Show.

2007 Bookmobile
My most miserable year of reading fiction: loved Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close (Jonathan Safran Foer) and enjoyed Then We Came to the End (Joshua Ferris).

Animal Vegetable Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver was a little like a light version of The Omnivore’s Dilemma, but it motivated me to start preserving and canning this year. Our freezer is now stocked with the summer’s corn, tomatoes and berries.

Police Blotters – December 2007

• 4:31 p.m. – A woman called to report a fight between her grandmother and her 12-year-old son. The grandmother allegedly swung a guitar at the juvenile, then both the grandmother and the juvenile started throwing forks.
• 6:47 a.m. – A woman called from a business to report there was a chicken with a broken leg outside the business.
• 7:40 a.m. – A caller reported a man was throwing things at the store and its customers.
• 10:23 p.m. – A caller reported someone called and said they were “going to get it.”
• 8:03 a.m. – A caller reported a nose bleed that wouldn’t stop.
• 12:22 a.m. – A caller from a business reported that a man with dreadlocks had just stolen some beef jerky.
• 7:28 p.m. – A caller reported an older man with a gray beard and wearing a red 49ers’ jacket was yelling and screaming at the top of his lungs. Police contacted the man. He said he was an opera singer.
• 10:41 p.m. – A woman reported someone drove by her residence and threw a pizza slice. It was stuck to her window. Police checked the area and were unable to locate the pizza-thrower.
• 3:45 p.m. – A caller from a store reported that a large, older woman wearing a white beanie was yelling and screaming and ramming shopping carts into parked vehicles.
• 9:15 a.m. – A woman called to report a man who stole her vehicle yesterday just returned it. Police arrested a man on suspicion of automobile theft.
• 2:33 a.m. – A caller reported two subjects were both naked in a minivan parked next to her residence. Officers told the van occupants to move along.