at the end of the day

it is always amazing how the eye can change. I loved the whole shoulder pad look back then,the silhouette seemed taller, more defiant, more powerful. Then when it went out of style, I learned to despise that look " what was I thinking ?" out went the pads, even from tea shirts or silky robes. Apparently the pads are back in the fashions shows....
I now love the shadows in food images, shadows that used to be erased at all cost for softer, prettier, painterly look.
It is the end of the day at work, the sun is low and I love the new look.

in bloom

The jasmine bushes are flowering outside my bedroom window.After lunch the other day, I felt like a soothing hot drink...jasmine tea ! plucked a few flowers and buds and I had a delicious cup.

delicious day

I had today to look forward to.
The air was on the cold side but the sun was bright and after a morning of pulling out plants and weeds, I was ready for an alfresco lunch with C. You see, I am getting ready to plant my herbs for my micro enterprise of French influenced herbal teas. I am starting with three herbs and they will be beautiful to look at , an experience to sip, and a moment to give yourself to the simple healing powers of such plants.
I had some pretty fennel that I was keeping for bright green feathery garnish, but it was time for it to go.We munched on it with some baba ganoush.Fennel is one of my favorite vegetable, always, relentlessly in France paired with fish. It is a vegetable of Provence, and its licorice sweet flavor goes well with the acidity of lemon slices and the mellow flavor of a wild dorade caught in the Mediterraneum. Once I made a cream of fennnel soup that was amazingly delicious.But again, there are two camps in this world: the licorice hater or the licorice lover, no middle ground . I am in the lover group, hopelessly addicted .
The group show at Eclectrix gallery called "eat it" was fun. First we picked up Dot who offered me a beautiful yellow cala (" for the artiste" she said) and we headed for dinner at one of my faves:Picante, been there for years, always consistent,great margaritas, love their rajas, outdoor patio under heat lamp it was, when Dot pointed out a group sitting close by. The woman who had taken care of Dot at 2, while raising her own two sons, and helped me through my years of free lance work, with a young child. Now, the sons are men, handsome and articulate and Dot is a woman, now all in charge of their destiny.
Dot took the portrait with the painting and on the way back, claimed that she had a book to give us, could we wait outside her place a minute.. she came out carrying the beautiful bouquet of apple blossoms and yellow calas.the single flower had been a ruse, the bouquet was the deal.The deal of the day, of the delicious day of beauty, love and gratitude.

late winter

two weeks in Paris, doesn't that sounds heavenly ? the culture, the food, the trendy neighborhoods,the buildings, the art,the fashion on the street, well yes it is all that.But for me, these days, it is a sad nursing of an elderly mother who, from vibrant and concerned, has become indifferent and lost.So, here I am, in the land of cheese and tarragon,of earthy pleasures and love, running to meet civil servants, electricians, home helpers,corner bankers and the like.This time, no time for friends, just a sense of dread and panic, feeling sucked in and exhausted by the responsibility. But I had to breathe, so I ran out, walked around and snapped a few.




dusk, it was starting to drizzle, I had to rush back.

chocolat......

Berkeley is definitively a unique little town. At a party a couple of weekends ago, after a wonderful concert of Brahms and Beethoven, played by a friend, I talked and reminisced about the old days, the days when I arrived, plucked freshly from the riverside of the Seine. Berkeley was in the throws of hippidom with fabulous stores of natural foods in bulk, a supermarket with a kiddie corral, hot tubs to soak in after dancing to Stevie ,tons of footed birkenstocks, and cheap living. But for French expatriate foodies like me: no croissant but in one lonely bakery,and not very good at that ( they were may be a total of 2 bakeries then),no fresh bread, no artisan style or european cheeses, no good chocolates. All that deprivation weighed hard in my heart until quaint shops started opening,by americans who after trips and internships in France mostly, had learned the fine craft of hand made foods.Cocolat, Pig by the tail, Acme breads, Semiffredi's, Charles chocolates, Shaffenberger, and now Chocolatier Blue., a unique chocolate maker, dedicated to organic seasonal ingredients, with an incredible expertly final touch.No bad for a little town.so far from France.

pink and blue

the soft greenish- pink French tulips opened to a darker shade and revealed their bold center: Aegean blue doilie around fuzzy purple fingers and a bold orange heart.

report from Napa

We were going to have a sense of getting away, and of trying a new place. Yountville, town of sybaritic pleasures, was our" not too far" destination.It is home to many world renowned restaurants and this one, that I didn't know.....We left under sheets of rain that lasted through the day , and I am sure that part of the pleasure of: windowns flung open to the warm air outside, would have added a bit to our experience. Despite the wet and cold, we enjoyed Redd,a restaurant with a minimalist decor in tones of grey and white, with the wall of nice art and cushy flannel banquettes.The food is contemporary Californian, with a casual bistrot style in the presentation. Ingredients are top quality, service is very pleasant, and the A card that I will give it is in the details:warm milk served with coffee, fresh ginger gratings in my bloody mary ....

spring or not

Blossoms are pushed out by the last warm week of January, and then rain, rain, hail, and more rain drench them and scatter them to the ground.This year we had one morning to enjoy them. I picked a small branch thinking I was going to incorporate it in my "spring inspired-time to nest and sing" painting, but afterwards, i decided against it and painted over the flowery branch. Now you can see both.

a tale of wine and house

I am a bit confused. I try to eat local, seasonal,low fat,high fiber,lots of greens,you get the picture.Then, with it , I might indulge ( French after all, and you know what hedonists they are )in a little vino. It is good for the heart and for everything else ( what about that famous reveristrol or something ).The problem is that grapes are the crop with just about the most pesticides known to men.And that is a bit disturbing. It seems that it is kept on the down low, with a minimum of wineries converting to organic grapes and wine. So it seems natural to seek those if you want to stay away from nasty chemicals. It is not an easy prescription as some of the organic wines that I have sampled are either bad or too expensive. But I want to influence, modestly, you might say, by my shopping choice. Will you join me ? Do you know any good organic wines? here is one I drink these days. At least the label is honest.And that is a good thing.



Another thing that we need in life is a roof over our worried heads. I have come to admire a good friend for always coming through in realizing her dreams. Who have you heard say " I want to move to paris and work there ...." but find themselves carried on by the current of life and keeping that vision as a golden fantasy ringed with pink clouds at the end of the day ? Not that friend. Loving architecture and the Modern sensibility, she had always known that she wanted to build a house. Consider it done.
Beautiful, clean lines, a touch of scandinavia meets weathered wooden facades of the West coast, and with a lofty interior with the greatest orange stone kitchen counter : the dream is real and the living gracious. You go,my friend. You are an inspiration.




After leaving the house and driving home, we stopped for a minute on the local beach.It was a cold day.Only a couple of para gliders-surfers were around and we watched them, wondering how they could be bare feet in such cold water...

foodie arty

It was like a siren call from the island of North Berkeley to my home bound desk.The enchanting music and the delicious pizzas were on my mind as I maneuvered my" boat" of a car under a drizzle to its rocky shore.I was not a lonely sailor as I approached the land of good cheap food and wine.There was the usual line, recession proof slice of pizza at $2.50,drinks $1.50.Ahhh, the sourdough crust with the daily changing toppings, Ahhh the Caribbean beat played live that makes your head nod yes, yes and yes.And there is the people watching, the musings at relationships and more.top favorite destination for weekday lunch.hands down. It was time to drop in on my friend C who owns a gallery.The good thing is that you know for sure that she will be there, at her desk, and ready to chat and share a tea.stores are closing around, and the street, for a Friday afternoon seemed a tad deserted.worrisome.