Wednesday, January 31, 2007

Berkeley bowl

If you live in the San Francisco area, you may have come all the way to Berkeley to shop at the berkeley Bowl....When they opened over 20 years ago, the store replaced an old bowling alley.pins left, name stayed .The parking lot was handkerchief tiny and the aisles so narrow that caddies bumped at each turn.It was time to move to bigger quarters across the street.Everyone looked forward to ampler parking, but to no avail, it is so crowded that you have to take a breath and enter the stage for a little parking ballet....But then, you will be rewarded with the biggest produce section ever,the most fun shopping crowd to watch,the friendliest staff to deal with.So, go with a light heart,and a curious eye and say Hi to Don for me.

Tuesday, January 30, 2007

mc paisley portrait

Mc Paisley,the unique and incredible new singer.go listen to her on
here is the link:

versions of pringlos

O.K.not waiting for answers.I am starting it and seeing where I go.
As I said I was made of gluten ,but also of cheese and wine....
Growing up in France in the sixties, everyone knew the jingle" du pain, du vin et du boursin !",nothing more would do.Of course, if you ever had a crispy warm baguette, a bottle of good red and a slab or that rich, creamy, garliky and herby spread, who would want more ???
So,here are two versions of the first recipe of my cookbook "vins et fromages", it is a parmesan tuile, a dainty but substantial appetizer served with a fresh crispy white to conteract the an Asti Spumante, or a Entre deux Mers from Bordeaux.

Monday, January 29, 2007


Lately, I have come to use that word quite liberally.I mean divine as in perfectly created, where only the touch of a master creator,imbuing the world,would have permitted such perfection.So, what is absolutly perfect........?
So many things of course, trite like nature,the body,art and licorice root.
Last night was a moment where the divine spoke through breath, fingers, wood, horse tails (?),metal tubing,and spirit.Mozart was ascending to the sky("kegelslatt'1786) , but Brahms in this chamber quintet litterally swept me up my feet with his passion and complex tempos of emotions.What spirit inhabited his heart and mind to translate them in such wincing beauty ? a divine intervention is what I think.So, go and close your eyes and listen to Brahms quintet for clarinet and string quartet,op.115 (1891).

Wednesday, January 24, 2007

saint valentin

interestingly, the famed celebration of love is a male. That is in catholic France, where saints give their names to babies ( until the 1980's, it was the law) and to holidays.In America, it has turned into a Valentine,crossing genders,putting women on a glorious red pedestal.for better or for worse.

Wednesday, January 17, 2007

nature techno

The road to Sonoma valley was white.The temparature gauge read 27 and ice was transforming the landscape into a frosty white out.every dried out bush seemed like a mother of pear tinted corral reef. I would have to work outside today.But the sun was shining later and the hills assumed their winter coats.
During a break from barbe queing with gloves on and two jackets, I meandered down a path, and saw a sign.Oh well, I do not know if I want to come back in the heat of summer after all.
Later that day, an opening at the Berkeley Art Museum was taking place.We had tickets to the special hors d'oeuvres thing ,thanks to a friend who works there.The show was for Bruce Nauman, a concept artist who did videos of himself walking in his studio around a square with hips outstretched,or covered in either white or black paint, and worked with resin ( odd long turds ),and neon.Crowd was mostly artsy boomers downing merlots and having to listen to a DJ who was screeching his techno beats.

Monday, January 15, 2007


A friend of significant introduced us to the town of Inverness, north of san francisco,with its unspoiled beauty, and counter culture mist, all that a long time ago,and with it, hidden it is forest,Manka....a brown shingle chalet style restaurant-hotel.Upon pushing the door the first time, and entering its dim,cozy,fireplaced lit living room, I felt that I had come back home.Home to my childhood reverie of swiss summers,home to a place of quietude, far away from the modern world. The comfortable rocking chairs were by the fire,classical music softly playing, Louis,the aging retriever ambling over for a visit and a sigh, and then there was a meal, always magical. the light of the day changing through the branches outside,creating artful shadows. On the plates, food prepared with a vision of local ingredients gathered just so close, and tasting divine. I still remember a broccoli soup that had a secret taste ( truffle ? veal stock ?) it is still best soup I ever had. Manka "was" ( I will come to that) our destination for romantic, special moments. We are so sad that it is gone forever.It was ravaged by a fire after christmas 2006.Yesterday, a party was held in memeorium.A Boat house by the water, also owned by the owners of manka, was the site of the event.Friends, workers, purveyors, all were there to lend their support and show their love and appreciation of what was.A portable wood oven was working hard at feeding crowds pizzas topped with foie gras and onions, wild mushrooms,tuna tartare.... local wines were flowing, tasty cheeses and treats, oysters and tamales could be sampled, stepping outside onto the deck where accordeon music filled the brisk and sunny day.Testimonials had been printed and covered the walls inside the main room and some were very nostalgic and even brought tears to my eyes. It was a nice "party" but I wished for a focus to the grief: what happened, how are they coping, what are the plans, people telling stories of their life with and without manka. We left and went for a walk on the beach close by.The waves were pounding, the sand plain.

Tuesday, January 2, 2007


It is an artist's lair, a place of live and work, a cell for inspiration, a sense of place, of time and of art. From birth to the age of 10, I lived in a true "la Boheme atelier".A painter's loft perhaps, with high ceiling and a wood stove.Now, this is my new atelier,walls as tall or short as I want them,where all is said and done. After my writings with" Lunch with pouke", this is , as of January 2, 2007, the launch of my new experiment.diary of the creative process, the times and the people.stories around my creations.