My birthday was last week. Yippee! I've always had great birthdays because my family always made a big deal of them. Come to think of it, my family celebrated every holiday, even Easter, which was an oddity because we aren't Christian. But this year's naissance was even more special because it was marked by the once-in-every-1,200-years Golden Pig, which the Eastern Zodiac deemed to be an extra lucky year. Following the cue of the boar statue that I saw sniffing around a garden in Santa Barbara, Calif., I'm declaring that it's piggy time.
All my friends know about my fascination with food and prose. Erin honored my two interests with not only a book in which I can jot down thoughts on my favorite restaurants, but also dachshund-shaped salt and pepper shakers. The seasonings flow out of the doggies' bottoms.
Emmie told me that I was too normal to inspire a character for her greeting card company. Well, I guess I can't have it all. But I do like the Lupicia green tea and Japanese pitcher that Emmie gave me.
JP gave me blue plastic sporks with clip-on handles. They're perfect for camping! The eating utensils are part of an inside-joke between me and JP. For starters, I don't camp, though I promised JP that I will adapt my urban lifestyle and accompany him on his next trip into the wild. Plus, the last time he and I used sporks was at a former KFC that was converted into a New California bistro called -- what else? -- Spork in San Francisco's Mission District. Imported from Korea, those sporks were very popular with patrons who got sticky fingers after eating the carnitas.
Continuing last year's birthday theme, I told my other friends that I wanted services for my Golden Piggy birthday. Anita gave me a gift certificate for a mani-pedi, as did Max and Josh. JP promised to transport, lodge and feed me on a weekend getaway in Santa Barbara. We had an amazing appetizer at Stella Mare on Saturday night -- sweet lobster medallions balanced on two strips of seared foie gras with brioche toast. On the other hand, the halibut poached in olive oil was bland, and we told the manager so. But the lamb was tasty. The next day, after a drive up Figueroa Mountain Road, where we spotted a bumbling school of quails as well as a dashing kingfisher, and an oh-so-yuppie wine tasting at Kalyra, we grabbed a quick meal at La Super-Rica Taqueria before we hit the road back to Los Angeles. The City of Angels is no dump when it comes to cheap and yummy Mexican food. But La Super-Rica was super buena. Plopped on the nondescript North-of-101 side of Milpas Street, neighboring businesses with names like First Step Immigration, the restaurant was miles and cultures away from chichi State Street near the beach. I tried chile pasilla for the first time. The green chilis were sauteed to soothing softness with onions and melted cheese. A bit sweet, the chile pasilla taco could have passed for a dessert.
I gobbled up the chile pasilla as an amuse-bouche before my hearty bowl of pozole, which was fortified with wholesome hominy, ripe avocado, crunchy red cabbage and mushy pork.
What a work of art.
Pleasing visual aesthetics also formed another theme for my birthday. Here I am modeling a scarf inspired by Mondrian and rendered with Van Gogh's palette, courtesy of Missy and Cory, at La Super-Rica. Scorpios rule!
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