We just spent three and a half days in LA and San Fran for my hubby's step-brothers' graduations--one from college, one from law school. (Congrats again, guys!) It was a whirlwind tour filled with ceremonies, festivities, and a lot of eating. And just to boost the zany factor even more...We drove between LA and San Fran, encountering lots of food-related stuff along the way. Here's a list of everything foodie from our West Coast celebration:
Fish tacos at Manhattan Beach
Coconut ice cream with fresh mango chunks on top
Duke's Malibu: tiki joint practically in the ocean
Endless orchards
Giant wooden cutouts of farmworkers propped up in the fields along the road
Factory/Industrial farming and animal feeding operations (sadly)
La Bicyclette restaurant, Carmel-by-the-Sea: asparagus and morel lasagna, which I declared at the table to be one of the best things I've ever, EVER consumed
Really tasty and inventive tapas at Andalu, San Fran
Shopping at SF's Rainbow Grocery, scooping up as many beautiful, local vegetables as the cart would hold
Cooking a feast with two of my favorite women in our SF kitchen with a view (below): crudite platter, grilled chicken and salmon, baked portabella mushrooms stuffed with quinoa and veggies, roasted zucchini, and mixed greens salad
A giant orange gummy bear
As much avocado as I could get my hands on
As much CA wine as I could drink
Picking lemons from the tree in our SF garden (thanks for the pic, Mom!)
I was a fishmonger in my past life or maybe I grew artichokes. I'm convinced. It explains my present life's fascination with all things food. I cook like it's my job. I eat as if every meal's my last. I've never been one for cooking contests (I leave that to my champion grandparents and Mom) nor eating competitions (damn that overactive gag reflex). I don't have food critic envy nor do I aspire to chefdom. What I have is clinical. Diagnosis: An all-consuming obsession with consumption. Prescription: Know full well.
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