The French Paradox

I remember seeing a segment on “60 Minutes” many years ago that affected me deeply. It was titled “The French Paradox,” and explored why the French — who eat butter, stinky cheeses, duck and other fat-rich foods with Dionysian abandon — had heart disease rates far lower than the United States and other developed countries.

The segment focused on two factors. The first, of course, was wine. The French consume more wine than any other people on earth, and there have been many studies linking lower rates of heart disease with moderate consumption of wine, red wine in particular. But it was the second factor that was even more intriguing to me, and where I had a moment on enlightenment. It was lifestyle. More

What’s Your Week Like?

This morning I was shopping. It’s Monday, and I like to think about what I’ll be cooking throughout the week. Sometimes I have no plan, and open the fridge or freezer in the afternoon to see what’s there. But more often than not, I’ll have at least some sense of where the week is going, culinarily speaking.

Fridge, freezer & pantry — items for the week's dinner

Outside influences sometimes play a part — upcoming dinner parties, the tastes of a guest visiting from out of town, my wife’s craving for Mexican food or my son’s for Japanese. I’ll think about the days and nights ahead, how much preparation time I will have for each (I take my son to tae kwon do two afternoons a week, for example), consider what ingredients I already have, and make a plan. More

Tehrangeles, Pt. II

One of the most extraordinary and exciting things about living in Los Angeles is the diversity of people and cultures you are exposed to. Over the years, I have dated women from Sri Lanka, Japan, Peru and Afghanistan. I’ve had friends from Malaysia, Brazil, Germany, South Africa, Egypt, New Zealand, Morocco, Norway, China, India, Australia, Fiji, Ukraine, Ireland, Israel, Argentina, France and nearly every region of Mexico. And of course, from Iran.

Three generations — Alex, Miles & Reza Tehrani

Sometime after college, while I was living in Santa Monica, I met Roxanna. She was funny and awkward and beautiful and innocent, and she was from Iran. We were not romantic — she dated Iranian men. But people could be forgiven — and often were — for assuming that we were, seeing us leave one another’s apartments late at night. We were, however, only talking. And eating. More

An Unwelcome Guest

I was lunching at a favorite cheap sushi bar recently, when I noticed a serious-looking woman sitting at the end of the bar with a binder open, jotting notes. She was not eating. The restaurant’s owner sat beside her, looking uncomfortable. A short time later a man with a walrusy mustache and suspenders came in the door, his own shiny clipboard and notepad in hand. “Is there a health inspector here?” he said cheerfully, then noticed his colleague in the corner, waved, and joined her.

Inspectors comparing notes at the sushi bar

If you’re a restaurant owner, there’s nothing cheerful about a visit from the health department. Even if your establishment is spotless, they are the adversary. (I am reminded of the feeling of being a teenager and feeling nervous whenever I saw a policeman, even though I had done nothing wrong.) More

How Locavore Can You Go?

I like the locavore movement — I think in general it is a good thing to eat food grown as near you as possible. I’ve had some spirited debates about whether locavore was an elitist, bourgeois movement and how was it going to help feed huge numbers of starving people in the third world. I don’t have answers to that — and it opens an endless pandora’s box of food production and distribution issues. I just believe we could all benefit from choosing produce in season that comes from a little closer than Chile or New Zealand (unless you live in Chile or New Zealand, that is…). Even if for no other reason than, the food tastes so much better if it hasn’t traveled the globe and ripened in transit.

Extreme locavorism

But it does beg the question, how local can you get? For we Southern Californians, is it still local to eat food grown in the huge agricultural Central Valley, an hour or more away? Or should I be eating food grown even closer? There’s not much to eat in Malibu but sea lettuce. More

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