Happy Valentine's Day

Happy Valentine's Day. I'm taking a break from trying to be at least semi-productive before a special brunch at Tilth, followed by a little shopping and a homemade dinner later tonight.

I like Valentine's Day. Always have. Even the ones I've spent without a Valentine (go ahead, roll your eyes, but it's true). I don't like it for the cheesy cards, forced sentiments or the hope of a dozen roses appearing on my doorstep (I prefer lilies).

I like the shape of a heart drawn by hand, and I like the color scheme. I just can't get over this thing I have for the color pink and like the way it looks next to the bold hue of a red. And I like that I think a little longer about how to incorporate one (or both, if I'm feeling funky) into my outfit on Valentine's Day. I like that a good number of people take a second, think and attempt to be creative--whether it's with a great gift, language in a letter or simple, spoken words--in the name of appreciating another person.

And I like it for nostalgic reasons. I like that it reminds me of my mom, who I like to think genuinely enjoyed helping me and my siblings pick out the cartoon-themed cards that we gave our classes with handfuls of chalky Sweetheart candy. Reminds me of her and my dad giving us little boxes of Russell Stover's chocolates when we were little, which kept coming with care packages while I was in college and then with just because boxes post graduation.

OK, enough recollections. I'm off to press my petal cotton pencil pink skirt and ruffled white blouse for my first ever Valentine's brunch.

What are your reasons for loving, or hating, Valentine's Day?

Settling In...

Three weeks in, and I'm finally getting settled into the new place. It feels like a palace compared to the tiny studio apartment I came from. I like that I can fold my laundry on a surface other than a bed. I can sit on the couch and stare out a window (with a fairly decent view I might add) while I sip my morning coffee.

And I love being able to sit at an actual table while I eat dinner. No room for a table in my last place, so I ate at my desk, which usually led to me pulling out my laptop and multi-tasking over dinner the same way I do at lunch. I was eating pretty much every meal in front of a screen. Depressing.

Setting and sitting at a table feels good. It makes dinner feel like a meal and a time to stop, take some time for me and actually enjoy it. The table, while small, makes me feel like more of a grown up and makes the food taste and look better for a reason I can't quite explain. The first meal at the table started with smoked cod with comte cheese and crostini and oysters on the half shell (they're kind of becoming a weekly thing). A blood orange and avocado salad with red jalapeno (yes, a blatant rip off of the one I had at Chez Panisse) came next. And the main attraction was a piece of pan fried sole with a creamy hedgehog sauce coupled with roasted rainbow carrots followed.

That photo doesn't do anything for the fish dish. It looks brown and bland but wasn't. It was savory. And crispy. And juicy. And flaky. And superb. The carrots were simple, tender and salted well. Their color made me happy. Almost as happy as when I cleaned my plate, stopped to look around the new place and realized it was starting to feel a little bit like a home.

Chez Panisse

I spent about half an hour in Whole Foods tonight. Exhausted, wandering around aimlessly and trying to decide what I wanted for dinner. I walked out with a blood orange a baby baguette. I devoured the orange. I'm craving citrus lately. Not sure if it's because it's in season or because I'm getting sick and my body is steering me toward some vitamin C. Let's hope it's the former and not the latter; there's no time for sick right now.

The blood orange reminded me I've yet to post anything from Chez Panisse though. That dinner was pretty much the pinnacle and point of the whole recent trip to San Francisco, so I feel kind of silly for detailing some of the other culinary highlights and neglecting what was actually the peak of the weekend. The night as whole was a momentous occasion. It was not a holiday. Not a birthday, a celebration, or an anniversary. We had nothing in particular to toast to. Other than being removed from the day to day stuff that equals reality and instead tucked away in a cozy corner table with nothing to do but eat, drink and enjoy.

And enjoy we did. The dining room was full but felt open. We ordered well, with our waiter's help, and our dishes were flawless. The wine was wonderful, and the service was subtle perfection. When we sat, our waiter let us know we could and should sit back and take our time with choices and courses, because the table was ours for the rest of the night. He made himself sparse but appeared at just the right times, and we didn't wait for a thing. The timing was perfect. He gave thoughtful, spot on pairing suggestions and sounded genuinely happy to be making recommendations that I doubt were unique but felt as much. For instance, with these guys, he suggested a Lillet blonde:

Perfect. And things only got better. We worked our way through the menu, following the oysters with a salad and Pizzetta with wild nettles and garlic sausage before taking on the must-try Sea Bass and the braised pork.

Blood orange, chervil and avocado salad

Pan-fried sea bass with parsnips, little potatoes and romesco sauce

Maiale al latte: Becker Lane Farm pork braised in milk with lemon, sage, carrots and spinach

The sea bass sounds simple but didn't taste it. The fish was cooked perfectly (not that I expected anything less), the potatoes and parsnips were tender and the romesco was crispy. Which surprised me but pretty much made it. Stand out dish of the night and the trip.

Despite our waiter commenting on our "impressive effort," we got an unnecessary but delicious dessert too ("How often can we eat dessert from Chez Panisse," I think were my exact words). A Sierra Beauty apple tart with wildflower honey-citrus cream. We lingered over it and a round of bubbles for about half an hour before snapping back to reality and remembering we took the BART into Berkeley and were about to miss the last train.

Our hustle out of there was comical. And even funnier was jogging through what I later learned is called the "gourmet ghetto" to the train station in a dress, in the rain, while laughing, after a six course meal. Looking back, that part was up there with the sea bass for me.

Happy Friday.

Story People

I've been moving for pretty much the last week. The new place is most definitely an exciting and much needed upgrade, but right now it just feels like a bunch of rooms full of unpacked boxes. And they're staring me in the face and making me feel both guilty and lazy. I don't want to touch them after long, tough days. The kinds of days that have also ended in me barely wanting to look at my computer when I finally get home let alone boot it. Hence the gaps between posts.

But just a bit ago, while scouring for two socks that came close to patching, I pulled a silver frame out of one of four boxes of clothes in the bedroom. Inside is a little Story People print I love. The words read like so:

"There are things you do because they feel right & they make no sense & they make no money & it may be the real reason we are here: to love each other & to eat each other's cooking & say it was good."

I fell in love with Story People in college when my friend and former roommate Jenna discovered the collection. Since then I've bought prints, books and cards as gifts, using some of my favorite bits in letters and notes to the friends and folks I adore most. The bright colors that fill the funky drawings (check them out here) make me happy, to put it simply, and I love that a couple handfuls of words can leave me with perspective.

This particular one feels right about now. And reminds me that I can't wait to cook something (that may or may not be tasty) up in this lovely new kitchen for my nearest and dearests. Maybe I'll tackle one more box before bed after all.

Have a good week, people.