Love Thyself

It was a Sunday morning. My wife had taken the kids to church, and I was alone in the house. I spent some time chasing a guinea fowl in the yard, but failing to catch it, returned inside to do the responsible thing: pick up toys and clutter. I hadn’t gotten far into my chores, however, before the kitchen called.

Lunch with myself

Lunch with myself

Shifting things around in the fridge for inspiration, I remembered some toro and sea urchin I’d purchased at the Japanese market a few days before and hadn’t used yet. With dinner plans for the evening and time running out on the freshness clock, it was now or never. So I got out the short grain rice and began rinsing it. More

A Guerrilla in Skinny Girl Country

If you’re going to spend an afternoon with a guerrilla, what better occasion than Bastille Day — a holiday celebrating the storming of a symbol of monarchal oppression by the common man.

The “guerrilla” we would spend Bastille Day with would not be a camouflaged, gun-toting, beret-crowned rebel, but rather our family wine, Wine Guerrilla — and my mother’s long-time partner, Bruce, producer of the wine and himself often referred to as, “The Wine Guerrilla.” More

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

Thanks. Giving.

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. In addition to being the only holiday that is really ALL about food, it incorporates two of my favorite concepts into its title: thanks and giving.

If I were limited to only two values I could instill my children, it might be those two. To be thankful. And to be giving.

One of the most valuable things I can give is my time. And often I do that by cooking. When friends or loved ones come for a meal, they are not merely chewing and swallowing. They are being honored, served and cherished. And they are sharing in my small effort to make the world a more slow, thoughtful, beautiful place — one meal at a time. More

The Autumn of Our Content

I woke this morning to the first day of autumn. Not the official first day — technically, it’s been fall for a month now. But the first real first day of autumn, where I could feel it in my bones and soul. It’s one of my favorite feelings.

Silvery Autumn morning through the oaks

We in Southern California are less fortunate than our friends in other parts of the country who enjoy spectacular displays of changing foliage. Our poison oak turns kinda pink, which I guess is nice. And typically, when October arrives and those same friends are raking leaves and building fires, we’re out on the deck in shorts and t-shirts, grilling ribs and drinking beer. They envy us, we envy them.

But not today. Today was different. I awakened to a chill, reluctant to emerge from under my pile of covers. Out the window wisps of gossamer fog weaved through the muscular arms of the scrub oaks, softening them. Our silky rooster crowed plaintively, and I could smell coffee that was not yet even brewing. My favorite season had come. More

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