Turkish Delights

İ thought i would have more opportunities to post while i was out here on my vacation from vacation but it must be a sign of how much fun i am having that i haven`t had a moment until today with one day left in Turkey to even look for an internet cafe. Have just docked from a four day cruise along the Aegean coast line which was one of the greatest trips i`ve ever taken. Keep in mind, this was no Princess Cruise - it was an 8 person boat called a Gulet with a sailing crew of two people: a captain and a cook, one lone speaker hooked up to an ipod, and cabins smaller than a hall closet, so small that everyone just sleeps up top on deck looking at the sky filled wıth stars and the milky way. The first night İ saw four shooting stars in 10 minutes. My luck must be turning around. Hopefully by the time İ get back İ will have been struck by inspiration and will at last understand the meaning of it all...

Turkey and Cutlets

I am departing today on the first leg of my Eurasian adventure to Switzerland and Turkey. Being the responsible traveler that I am, I checked the TSA website for the most updated travel advisory concerning carry-on baggage. As of today:

To ensure the health and welfare of certain air travelers the following items are permitted.

Small amounts of Baby formula and breast milk if a baby or small child is traveling
Liquid prescription medicine with a name that matches the passenger’s ticket
Up to 5 oz. (148ml) of liquid or gel low blood sugar treatment
Up to 4 oz. of essential non-prescription liquid medications
Gel-filled bras and similar prostethics worn for medical reasons

Thank god I read this. How embarrassing would if be for me at security to have to take OFF MY BRA and throw it away. I say this is blatant discrimination. Just because I opted to not go for the surgery and have the gel implanted, I now have to walk around the terminal 3 hours before depature being mistaken from the chest down for a fourteen-year-old girl. Now that I know, I'm going to resort to my tried and true fourteen-year-old tricks and pack my extra socks in my non-gel filled bra.

I love travelling. I really do.

Little Miss Unemployed restaurant review

What would I do with a famous last name I wonder. Would I open a restaurant and not so subtley endow it with said name? I just might if it had a nice americana ring to it and would conjure echoes of California Girls in the ears of patrons in the know. So yes, I suppose I would take a gamble on my famous last name if it was Wilson and not simply because my father is a famous surf-crooner, but because it doesn't hurt to have the association. Or the accolades. I've never eaten at the cult favorite and Chef's alma mater, 5 Dudley, but I have visited it's new incarnation which I found charming and deliciously perfect. Wilson, being born of a partnership between the owners of Piccolo and said hot chef/Beach Boy offspring, sounded like it would be a no brainer-right-up-my-alley kind of place. But Culver City is a new territory for me and I'm just not sure I can handle this new breed of "casual fine dining."
Last friday, RG treated me to dinner at Wilson for a belated thank-you-for-driving-my-ass-to-the-airport-at-7:30am-on your-birthday dinner. Having read some pretty glowing reviews of the restaurant, I decided to wear my brand new blue dress that was my alternate birthday dress (in case I decided the black one I actually wore really did make my hips look wide and accentuated my back flab). I also eagerly perused the menu on the website on Friday afternoon because if I could get a job doing anything, I might just consider becoming a menu reader. Sometimes your imagination can be better than the food and in your imagination you can order the potato & fig tortelli in a bed of parmesan fondue and not worry about the carbs and the fat.
I am very much of the "ambience and attitude add volumes to the dining experience" school of thought and I wouldn't have minded the unflattering flourescent lighting that made everyone's skin look pallid and grey, the schoolyard fence we were seated next to and middle-aged irritated waiter who described the parmesan fondue as a "cheese paste" if I was expecting a meal where my entree didn't cost more than $20. Perhaps my expectations for young chef Wilson were too high, but we felt like we were eating in a cafeteria set up on a Tennis Court with all the accoustics of Washington Blvd enhancing our friendly conversation and the biggest tragedy of the evening: only beer and wine. It just so happens that wine happens to produce that lovely affect of "asian flush" when I drink it and RG seems to have an adverse acid-reflux relationship with beer - but it would have been worse to have nothing.
What we ordered:
RG - Cabernet
Me - Coriander infused Beer: decent for beer but it was no Bud Light

Appetizer: Heirloom tomatoes with goat cheese: I love heirloom tomatoes but these were a bit soft and over macerated with balsamic by the time they reached our table.

Entrees:
RG - slowww roasted pork with african spices, fresh corn polenta & bbq fresh cherry sauce: According to RG there is nothing like SLOWWW roasted pork. I didn't taste it but those extra w's and african spices must really do something. However, the fresh corn polenta was quite yummy with that goldilocks-just-right porridge texture and sweet taste of summer corn.

Me - Home-made tagliolini with truffle butter sauce and shaved black truffles: I have recently developed a soft spot for home-made pasta and having read in the LA Times review that this was the dish to order, I went with it. It was, after all, a birthday celebration. The pasta arrived with all the pomp and circumstance it would require given the portion size and the price (pretty small/quite $$) arriving by way of three people - one to bring the dish, one to hold the basket of fresh black (summer) truffles and a chef who with little precision scraped the knobby back bulbs over a grate on my plate and also a bit on the table. Even so, the pasta was rubbery and thick and the truffle butter sauce under the glare of the tennis stadium lighting really did look like paste. The truffles were good, but not mind-blowing and I don't know if I would order it again. I didn't even finish it.

Verdict: I know new restaurants need the first few months to work out their kinks so I won't say that I will never go back but I think this place is better suited for the business lunch crowd than the birthday dinner crowd. Next time I will definitely request a table inside (although with the open kitchen, I can't imagine how much more intimate conversation would be) and order something less bougie. I will also not get a spec of goat cheese on my new blue dress which I suspect may never come out. I can see how this sounds. You are probably thinking - well, little miss smarty pants, let's see if you can do any better. And truthfully, I can't. I'm just saying when you give people reason to expect a lot from you, you should deliver.

On another note, ironic isnt' it that the author if this tome is not me but and MD:

a caveat

For Dax, the first person who has ever been personally offended by my unemployment.

I apologize if I have caused you any unnecessary stress. In no way am I making a personal attack on you and your lifestyle by choosing to no longer partake in the rat race. In fact, if I could find a way to not despise myself and every waking moment of my life when I am running the great rat race then of course I would because believe you me, aimless boredom is no cake walk either. I find it funny that you think that because I have no occupation, I therefore should not exist. I apologize if I do not subscribe to your dogma of "I work, therefore I am" But yes, I'll cede to you. My existence may seem petty compared to yours. I do not make deals, I do not hand out business cards, I hardly get out of my pajamas. I contribute nothing to world, it is no better or worse a place because of me. These aren't things I am happy about, but I do not measure the value of my existence by this yardstick. However, in a vain attempt to rectify my position I will say this. I do have a job. I am the editor-in-chief of this here blog. How's that for the american dream?

Little Miss Unemployed Movie Review

This is what I do now with all my free time. I escape the heat in dark air-conditioned rooms where I don't have to talk to people and no one notices that I'm still wearing my pajamas. But just because I've been wiling away hours at my local AMC doesn't mean that I would take up prescious internet real estate to talk about just any movie. For example, I won't both to write my thoughts on My Super Ex-Girlfriend or You, Me and Dupree. However, never has a movie simultaneously made me laugh, cry and then cry while laughing like this hilarious and subtlely poignant movie. I could relate to every character and, to me, this is a mark of movie making genius. But really it's an homage to the hyper-dysfunctional and totally insane family - and the realization that being a part of one, while rife with suffering, also makes life more interesting. Go see it and fly that freak flag.

Word

My friend H invited me to go see a movie about crossword puzzlers because he said no one else was interested in seeing it with him. I don't know if he thought that I actually could finish a crossword puzzle, aside from the ones in the back of People Mag, or if he had found out about my secret obsession with trivia and thought this might be right up my alley. Whatever the case, I am so glad I saw Wordplay. It's hilarious with some great cameos of people you actually know like John Stewart and Bill Clinton (both lefties did you know?). This also happens to be a great movie to watch during a down moment when you feel like you just might be the craziest freak in the world because it will definitely make you feel better. It will also make you feel really inept and inadequate because you can't finish the Sunday NY Times crossword puzzle in under 5 minutes (or at all) but at least you have your social skills, decent orthodontal work or contact lenses.
I'm thinking that I should try and create a puzzle with all the new airport codes I've been learning as I try to arrange for my many vacations from my vacation. Yes, I know I live a hard life but really I wonder how long it would take me to memorize all the airport codes in the world.
Puzzle me these:
LAX (obvi), SFO, JFK, LGA, NWK, GVA, CDG, ORY, LHR, EZE, GIG, SZM, IST, FRA, VIE, BUD, PRG, ATH, ZRH, MUC

Age is just a number (finale)

So it am fully one week into my golden year and I don't have much to say for myself. Hopefully this year will amount to more than piecing together a debaucherous evening by asking various friends what happened or in most cases being informed by friends that I've already told them something or they've already told me and so on. You get the picture. In the end the goal technically was to "Party like you're 22" and I think I accomplished that without losing too much dignity. Or if I did, my wonderful friends have been nice enough to not remind me of it. Suffice it to say, I woke up drunk the next morning and didn't reach hangover until midway through my first lunch (which I consequently lost) and then got a voicemail from a friend about a date we had made to go to the MOCA which I still don't ever remember setting. Senility albeit alcohol induced is still a sign of age no?
I usually make all kinds of resolutions on my birthday which is what I usually like to do instead of New Year's resos, but you know how well I stick to resolutions. So in the spirit of being in the moment, and because I dislike compromising my integrity, I am not making any. Besides, this year ahead seems filled with many prospective adventures - mainly weddings in far away fantastic places but also, as my mum so kindly reminds me, the peak of my child-bearing years. And really who wants to hear about a girl's resolve to get hitched and have a kid. yawn.