New Yorker Pizza and a Stone 13th Anniversary Ale, which paired nicely. And no, it wasn't really breakfast.

And to balance out the beer, a bear.



And more found objects:


Alien on a windowsill.


Spotted in Wickersham Park: The ring of books.

Should I feel guilty about having Turkish for lunch on Greek Independence Day? Probably not, but I can't help wondering, and that's just the sort of bleeding-heart knucklehead I am...

That aside, you guessed it. I went back to Real Doner for lunch today, and ended up ordering the same thing as last week. Next time, the Greek salad for certain, even if today might have been more appropriate. This time I managed to take pictures before attacking my food.


Great stuff, really. And the bread...


...right from the oven. Outstanding.


Next time, I have to try their coffee. I feel guilty that I haven't yet. But a proper Turkish coffee isn't a to-go item, so I'm saving that experience for the first time I cajole someone into coming along. I did, however, brew my own approximately-Turkish coffee once I got home: the darkest French roast imaginable, finely ground, brewed in a French press, one packet of Sugar in the Raw added to smooth over the bitter. Aah. And free refills, too (at home, that is). Good stuff... for an imitation.

Maddie paused in the new restaurant’s door as we passed, sniffing. “Hey, let’s go in here,” she said, tugging at her lead. “Something smells good.”

I shook my head. “It’s only 9:30, Maddie” I answered. “Come on.”

“But I’m hungry,” said Maddie, sitting down on the welcome matt and scratching an ear to stall. She twitched her button nose. “And it smells good in here. I smell lamb and beef and—” she paused, sniffing at the doorway. “—chicken, I think.”

“Come on,” I said with a tug. I had to admit, the place smelled good. I walked a few feet, then stopped to read the menu posted in the window:

Real Doner (Gyro)
Mediterranean Turkish Food
We do Excellent Catering

Reading the descriptions, Real Doner's Falafal sounded good, Spinach pie and a big Greek salad sounded better, but that ever popular combination, Hummus and Baba Ganouj, sounded best of all.

But Maddie and I walked home toward home. “It’s too early for lunch,” I explained.

“Oh, foo,” said Maddie, looking up at me as we walked along. “I wanted a Gyro.” She said it as you would gyroscope: jī'rō.

“Say it more like this,” I corrected. “Yee-ro.”

“Gear-o.”

“Yee-ro.”

“Hero?”

“That’s close enough.”

Maddie stopped, held her ground. “That’s it. I’m holding out for a Gyro,” she demanded.

I bent down and scratched Maddie’s ears. “’Til the morning light?”

“Huh?” said Maddie. “I don’t get it.”

“Never mind,” I said, changing the subject. “Just two things you forgot to consider.”

She looked up at me, squinting. “What’d I forget?”

“One, I can easily pick you up and carry you home.”

“And number two?”

I pointed. “Those are our front steps. We’re home.”

“Nuts.” said Maddie.

“Would you settle for some jerky?”

Maddie ascended the stairs. “I guess,” she said, pausing by the door. “But I’m going to pretend it’s a Gyro.”

---

I went back to Real Doner alone at about eleven and ordered the Appetizer Combo Plate ($9.95 – which seems to be the going price for most of their combo plates). To go.

Real Doner’s food is impressive, from first taste to final olive. Everything is attractively presented, fresh, and toothsome, with each flavor complementing the next. The garlicky bite of the hummus (Jennifer's sure to insist I sleep on the couch tonight) is offset by the smokiness of the Baba Ganouj; the spice of the ezme well-balanced by the complexities of the tabouli. The dolmas are tightly wrapped and dripping with flavor. And the bread, a thick, seeded flatbread, is perfect.

Décor-wise, Real Doner has made the best of an odd location, what was previously a long-shuttered liquor store tucked behind an automotive garage near the corner of F Street and Petaluma Boulevard South. A fresh coat of paint, a stereo playing festive Turkish music (loudly), a few posters of scenic Turkey, and the antique shisha holding court on a corner shelf go a long way towards setting the right mood of culinary exoticism that helps make a Mediterranean restaurant fun. The staff is friendly, though I get the sense everybody’s still getting figuring out the finer points of running a restaurant. Opening day was the only 6th, less than two weeks ago, so I’m perfectly willing to cut them slack in this department. Besides, it adds to the homestyle charm.


Hmmm… guess I should have taken a picture before I ate half of it.

It's unavoidable, the passage of time, and, unbelievable as it may seem, today marks the fifth anniversary since Maddie moved in. Yep, you read that right, another year has fleeted past, and it's time for another Maddie-versary!

Maddie's kitchen sense is also unavoidable. Spider-man's Spidey-Sense has nothing on this girl. The moment someone steps into the kitchen, whether to scramble eggs for breakfast, re-heat leftover mac and cheese for lunch, throw together a veggie "meatloaf" for dinner, or merely to read the mail, Maddie knows. And when she knows, she follows her nose straight to the kitchen, tail wagging, asking, "What's cooking?"


"What's cooking? Smells delish."


"What's cooking? Do I get a slice?"


"What's cooking? Is it something for me?"

"But Maddie," I reply, "you don't even like onions."


So here we go again... Happy Maddie-versary! Let's count off five years of Maddie's hair-dos and hair-dont's...

( Maddie-kateer roll call behind the cut... )

I'm finally starting to sort through pictures taken during the holidays. You sure can put an awful lot of pictures on one of those 2GB cards...


Maddie, having just polished off a few bites of baked macaroni and cheese, asks for seconds.

( More behind the cut... )

Maddie wants to steal my cookie.

Independent Publisher Announces Bold New Direction

San Francisco, California
April 1, 2008

Night Shade Books editor-in-chief Jeremy Lassen announced today that the San Francisco-based publisher of science fiction, fantasy, and horror would be moving in a bold new direction this year, opening a chain of Night Shade Books-branded taquerias to be known as "Posseberto's."



"The idea came to me while attending the 2008 World Horror Convention in Salt Lake City," said Mr. Lassen. "We spotted an Alberto's while on the cab ride from the airport. My colleague Ross commented that everybody may not read, but everybody eats. The muse struck in a flash, and I knew right then and there what needed to be done." Mr. Lassen led a contingent of convention attendees pied piper-style to the taqueria that evening. "The 'to Brothers was a good six blocks from the hotel," said Mr. Lassen. "They started complaining at two blocks, but we pressed on. I live in San Francisco, I'm used to walking. But these kids from the Midwest.... By the time we made it down, they were ravenous. But they saw the light."

Posseberto's taquerias will be opening soon in genre convention-hosting cities throughout the United States, bringing quality Mexican food to a hungry nation. "You ever try to get a decent carne asada burrito in Denver?" asks Mr. Lassen. "Rolled tacos in SeaTac? Chorizo in Baltimore? It's damn near impossible. I intend to rectify that."

Forthcoming Night Shade titles are currently being edited to reflect the publisher's new direction. Seamus Cooper's The Mall of Cthulhu will now include scenes of Elder Gods eating fish tacos in the sunken city of R'lyeh; refried beans will feature heavily in Greg Egan's Incandescence; and Mark Teppo's occult thriller Lightbreaker will be retitled Windbreaker.

So I've been seeing a lot of buzz about Red Espresso lately, and since the prospect of a caffeine-free, antioxidant-rich, coffee alternative sounded promising, I figured I'd track some down and give it a shot. If nothing else, a rooibos latte seemed as if it would be a great way to satisfy those late-night coffee cravings.

How wrong I was.


On Thursday night, I decided to brew up a batch while Jennifer watched American Idle. I didn't want to deal with the trouble of breaking out the espresso machine, so I ended up using one of my favorite coffee-prep devices, my Moka Express-style stovetop espresso maker.


Ten minutes later (more or less), I had a rich, steaming, reddish brew, which mixed nicely with Silk Unsweetened (I don't do milk). Sure, it tasted more like tea than coffee, sweet and a bit nutty, but that was expected. I drank it down slowly and easily while reading and relaxing at my desk. "I'd do this again," I thought.

Eventually, it was time for bed. Jennifer crashed out quickly. I, on the other hand spent the better part of Thursday night and Friday morning staring at the ceiling of the darkened bedroom, completely wired, unable to drop off at all.

I read. And tossed and turned. And read a little more. And listened to the harmony of Jennifer's and Maddie's snores. And tossed and turned some more. And got up. And paced. And checked all the doors. And paced a little more. And finally went back to bed, where I tossed and turned until I finally drifted off... mere moments before the 4:45 a.m. alarm sounded.

Ugh.

In short, just because Red Espresso claims it doesn't have caffeine, that doesn't necessarily mean there isn't something in the brew that will make me feel wired and sketchy and sleepless and absolutely miserable the next day. One thing's for certain: I won't be doing any more eight o'clock Red Espresso lattes. At least with coffee, I know where I stand.

Whither Sonoma Taco? Add it to the list of gone-baby-gone. In its place, Taqueria Hacienda, a restaurant filled with unfamiliar faces and an in-your-face plate captain demanding to know whether you plan to eat in or take out before you’ve even managed to assimilate to the changes (including, contrary to all rules of taqueria logic, no posted menu). And why is the crew so evasive when asked whether Taqueria Hacienda is related to the one in Novato?

Wasn’t it just last week that this was still Sonoma Taco, with its smiling, easygoing crew, and its tantalizing offers of all sorts of award-winning food (including the oft-neglected MacDougall lowfat, no oil, vegan menu)? I knew it was coming, I’d seen the liquor license changeover sign, but so soon? So quickly? I must have been in denial. Worst of all, no more number fifteen with black beans smothered in tomatillo y chile arbol salsa. Alas. The more things change, the more things change.

On the bright side, what we ended up ordering, vegetarian burritos and chips, turned out to be pretty decent. But I sure do miss that salsa.

So, what have I been up to this week? Shipping, shipping shipping. A Vintage from Atlantis: The Collected Fantasies Of Clark Ashton Smith Volume 3 showed up in the Night Shade Books warehouse last week, and I managed to get about a quarter of the pre-orders packed and shipped before heading down to San Diego for Thanksgiving, but knew what I'd be returning to... a mountain of orders to process.


A freshly cracked-open case. Ah! That new book smell!


Each copy is carefully bubble-wrapped for safe shipment.


Once a stack is ready...

( More and more, including Maddie at the Merry-Go-Round, behind the cut... )

"I'm having fun in San Diego," says Maddie. "Even if it is a little bit exhausting, going from place to place and meeting people and eating stuff. We drove down on Tuesday. It was a long, long drive, but I slept for a while. Oh, and I've got a new car, which was a big surprise, but those pictures didn't come out so well. It doesn't smell quite right, but I've been rolling around on the back seat, trying to remedy the situation.


"As always, we did make one special stop on the way down. Ross and I waited, while Jennifer ran inside.


"And we waited, and waited, and waited...


"She'd better be bringing me soup and onion cheese bread."

( More of Maddie's adventures behind the cut... )

Last weekend, the Jennifers and I took Maddie to the pumpkin patch. Here's how it all transpired:


“Oh, boy!” exclaimed Maddie. “Pumpkins everywhere. Let’s make pie and jack- o’-lanterns this year!”


“I wonder if this is what a chicken feels like.”


“No room for pumpkins in here,” said Maddie, peering up from the wheelbarrow. “Now push me around, fast.”

( Continued behind the cut... )

“Hey look,” said Maddie, pawing at my leg. “The Halloween Store’s open!” We were downtown, out for our usual Saturday walk, and had just stopped so that Maddie could get a drink in front of Café Zazzle, after having just hit Moreda’s 30th anniversary sale (where Jennifer picked up a new blue Petaluma star hoodie, and I bought a pocketknife) and Copperfield’s.

“Did you want to go check it out?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“Oh please, oh please,” said Maddie. “I love Halloween.” So we tromped across the street to check it out.



“Oh, that’s scary,” said Maddie, spotting the obligatory creepy scarecrow on the way in.

The shop wasn’t officially open yet, the Grand Opening is on Saturday, but Drew was nice enough to let us look around and snap a few pictures.


Drew, from Heebe Jeebe, in the process of getting the Halloween shop ready for Saturday's grand opening. No, she’s not missing an arm, she was just moving so fast that I couldn’t get a non-blurry picture of her.


“Gee,” wondered Maddie. “What am I going to dress up as this year?”
“I thought you wanted to be a pirate this year,” I answered.
“I did,” replied Maddie. “Until I saw all this stuff. Now I can’t decide…”

( The story continues, with pictures, behind the cut... )

What's baba ganouj without it's traditional partner in crime, hummus? And if you thought my baba ganouj recipe was easy, this one practically makes itself.

A handful of garlic cloves
One can chickpeas (garbanzo beans), drained* and rinsed
Up to 3 Tablespoons tahini
Juice of one lemon
One teaspoon salt
A dash of pepper
A dollop of cumin
A drizzle of olive oil

Throw the whole shebang into your food processor and reduce to a lovely paste. Add a quarter cup or so of saved chickpea liquid (or add 1/4 cup water) to the mix after processing and pulse until desired consistency is met. Serve with pita, veggies, crackers, baba ganouj, and olives. Enjoy the good life.


* Retain this liquid!