The Kitchen

Stephanie told me, "It's the best food you'll ever eat," and it did not disappoint. No offense to the countless mothers, fathers, and chefs who have prepared food for me in the past, but The Kitchen is really the end-all, be-all for fine dining and culinary showmanship. (I've even heard it trump Napa's renowned French Laundry.) That said, the evening celebrating of my 26th year was a blissful 4-plus hour love affair with food, wine, and the divine.

The Kitchen restaurant is a single-seating establishment. The door opens for 55 or so patrons at 7:00 sharp, and they invite you to stay as long as you like. There's no rush to turn your table, no librarian-esque murmuring, no awkward bill placement; it's an experience made especially for relishing.

First, you meet chef Noah Zonca, a boisterous man busily pacing between appliances and dangling pots, who gives you the run down. January's menu consists of three plates, a self-serve sushi and sashimi break dubbed "intermission," a final protein plate, a white-gloved tea service and coffee session, and the dessert course. All in all, it's a six course wonderland of succulent flavors and savory moments. Because we sat at the bar surrounding the kitchen, we were afforded excellent views of each item's plating.

Below is a recall of the evening. The menu descriptions are included below each dish as it arrived at my place setting.

We started the evening with a Mendocino's Vision Cellars Pinot Noir. Behind is a huge bowl of walnuts and the kitchen.

Chef Noah Zonca parading the Maine lobster I would eventually request seconds of.

Plating the first course.

Opening Dish
The Kitchen 'Pork and Beans' with Local Ham Shanks, Marrow Beans, Parmesan Bread Pudding and Buttered Brussels Sprouts Leaves

Second Plate
A Salad of Winter Oranges and Endives with Arugula, Dungeness Crab, Preserved Meyer Lemon, Herbs and Willapa Bay Oysters.

Adding the broth to, yes, a lobster pot pie.

Third Plate
Maine Lobster-Black Truffle Pot Pie and 'Rice Krispie' Rock Shrimp.

Switching over to Napa's Modus Operandi “Vicarious,” a meritage blend, prior to our sushi and sashimi intermission (not pictured).

Fourth Plate
Mustard Basted Lamb Rack, Oxtail-Cipollini Onion 'Empanada', Creamed Shaved Potatoes, Cabernet and Thyme.

This is the spread for the white glove tea service. You simply approached, asked for a particular flavor, blend or herb, and watched as your choices were cut, shaved, potted, and steeped. We also enjoyed locally grown coffee before...

Dessert is Served
Brioche French Toast with Hazelnut-Maple Jus, Espresso-Cinnamon Butter Ice Cream and Peppered Bacon Brittle.

If you have a fondness for food - whether you cook it or just love eating it - I can't imagine a better location to celebrate your passion. It's not just a pricey restaurant, it's an open kitchen, an unassuming mecca for innovation and purity. The food is local when feasible, fresher than local grocer, and organic and free range. Above all, The Kitchen makes the magic accessible to anyone who, like me, marvels at how so many oddities can collaborate at a particular time, place, and temperature and set the tone for every meal that follows.

The Run to Feed the Hungry, 2008

It wasn't so much about the run itself, Sacramento's premier Thanksgiving Day event, but the plan that infiltrated a seemingly normal tradition. To avoid the hassle of parking at Sac State, the plan was to ride bicycles from the Don-Maben house through the East Sac suburbs. After Stacy and Mike's slow-rolling two seater fell back, I began experiencing some suspicious "bike trouble" of my own. Here's a rundown:

On a knee, waiting for Stephanie to realize what was going on.

The revealing of the presumptuous shirt. I wore this the last mile of the 10K; it was like having a congratulatory cheering section for our engagement.

Quite happy indeed!

Post-race, looking happy and trying not to shiver.

More information on the wedding itself, the wedding party, and some fine Zook/Petty trivia available at our wedding website.

The end of the beginning.

It's Sunday morning before the election. We just gained an extra hour of campaign time--and an hour, as big media insists on telling me, can make or break the election. But as I see, from this round little table in this caffeine hub, the election is already made (and broken, for that matter). If you haven't witnessed what's shaping up on the streets and in the hearts and minds of the populous, if it's not apparent to you yet, the shift is on.

This morning, whether resulting from the coffee or the cleansing rain--or both--the best examples of the shift became apparent. Here's a lackadaisical compilation.

1. Buttons. Buttons! In this fashionista-driven, uber style conscious society, who'd have thought the political button would make a comeback? But they're everywhere, and they're all Obama/Biden aluminium. They make yard signs and bumper stickers look like prehistorical relics. The energy of this campaign has made politics hip again.

2. Political Know-How. For the first time in a long time, political awareness isn't funneled through old and white and seasoned. It isn't about being told what's at stake and choosing between one or the other. This time around it's about being cognizant of the people and what we need out of them. My favorite part about the Obama/Biden ticket is the way it satisfies the needs of expansive democratic base while clearing room for dissatisfaction. People can support the candidate and simultaneously lodge complaints about what they feel still needs to be done. That's what hope does. It doesn't say, "Sacrifice your core beliefs this time around." It says, "I'll offer time to make room for that." I don't find that everyone's absolutely in love with every last word or policy the candidates are offering. I get the impression that we know perfection isn't possible. But I feel like everyone understands the stakes and how charisma and a brain give hope there will always be room to work on those differences.

3. The Self. More importantly, the role of the self. This is actually the reason I decided to make time to blog today. I heard a young man behind me in line professing to a friend that he met an Obama employee in Florida, got his number, and was hoping to find work there in some capacity soon. While he framed his anecdote in the familiar I'm-sought-after-because-I'm-qualified tone, I started thinking about what lies at the core of such a story. What I found was Obama's community organizer spirit and the drive and direction of the country when he enters office. This employee mentioned is a product of an organizer and his belief that through networking and service, every man, woman, and child can make a difference. While I don't doubt the qualifications of the man in line--he might very well be a political juggernaut--I know that same phone number was cast out like a net into the sea. It's realization of the Obama philosophy that everyone is qualified.

I'll be 26 in January. I recently realized this means that I've had a Bush at the helm for 16 years of my life. Sixteen years of a philosophy that not everyone is qualified; that some must decide for all. How can our elders wonder why the youth is so energized about Obama?

Here's how. I'm from a long line of conservative republicans; small-towners who want limited government and less taxes. Such political beliefs are sensible, but they're no longer what constitute being a republican. Republican policies have shifted into specified scare-tactics, a binary us/them mentality that situates every change as a threat. They claim that arguments for global warming threaten our economy of driving and producing (rendering public transit socialism and carbon emission caps as a clamp on free markets); gun control infringes on the God-given right to make food of an animal (and no guns means you're defenseless against pickpockets and terrorists); gay marriage jeopardizes the family (although we shattered that porcelain long ago). Keep running your own list. If you're republican, what aren't you afraid of?

The most puzzling thing is how those who argue for small government can claim to be republican when this is the administration that passed the Patriot Act. That's the biggest, scariest, most involved monster ever created.

Change is unstoppable, real, and constant. But what's left to complain about? Politics is again hip for the masses. Young voters are motivated. Voter turnout will shatter records. A majority of Americans do not want to fight in misbegotten wars. Common citizens are donating their money and their time for a unified cause. A man with a black father and a white mother is running for president. Never before has America looked more American.

Stephanie's Birthday

In somewhat crafty fashion, I whisked Stephanie away for her birthday weekend. Accompanying her birthday card on Wednesday she found a birthday greeting from a caricature of the governor. The next day she found, looming above the caricature, an artist's rendering of a bear. The two were half-assed clues for her birthday trip to the Black Bear Inn in Arnold, California. Here are some pictures from our weekend in the Sequoias of the Calavaras Big Trees.

The Black Bear Inn Bed & Breakfast

Stephanie inverting the once popular "Hug a Tree" slogan.

Me out to prove the legitimacy of the "Big Trees" title.

One of many tree tunnels.

Early settlers cut this in order to lure visitors away from the popular forests of Yosemite.

We enjoyed a terrific weekend. The B&B was both peaceful and elegant, and the amenities were awesome. We took advantage of the afternoon wine and cheese snacks, the on-site spa, the serene yard and private setting, and the close proximity of (quirky) restaurants. The only complaint might be to the trees themselves, who with the help of their sap and pine needles, constructed additional soles for our shoes.

An Open Letter to the GOP

Dear Grand Old Party,

I feel like the use of the word "old" in this letter's title is appropriate because I feel like I'm talking to an ancient version of myself. I mean, we're made of the same blood and bones, but we're just so far apart.

Like this whole Sarah Palin thing you're doing. I'm really happy to see that you've let a women into your fortress, but it isn't really all that groundbreaking when you remember we did it in 1984. It isn't really all that heartwarming to hear you proclaim your excitement, since, well, it just makes you seem old.

Then there's the pro-life/pro-choice debate we've been having. Really? Still? I'm not against a woman choosing to have a child, but I'm not for forcing a rape victim to conceive. Are we still having this conversation? Are you somewhere where they're selling leaded gasoline right now?

Which brings me to this whole "junk science" thing called Global Warming. Are you still denying it's existence? Didn't you put a VP candidate on the ticket who had the fortune of watching the snow and ice melt firsthand? It seems like she'd be a great way to perform your usual bypass of scientific community, no? I know, I know, I'm giving her too much credit by hoping she governed with her eyes open.

And I can't help but think about how this Second Amendment keeps coming up. We don't have any militias, so using the second amendment to justify gun use is archaic. Just wondering, are you arguing by candlelight over there?

And there are so many gay and lesbian men and women giving us firsthand accounts of what it's like to be gay that it's hard to take your curmudgeonly dated account of it. You live in a divorce-ridden country that reinvents daily what constitutes an American family, yet you push an agenda that attempts to define it. I'm having a hard time understanding your logic, old man, or maybe you're being drowned out by the fuzzy reception on your rabbit-eared Panasonic.

We in the blue have decided to take somewhere great, somewhere where you don't have to feel old and alone. It'll okay. It'll be like a vacation. In four years when you start itching to come back, you'll hardly recognize the place. But it's all for the best, because we're going to fix it up and keep it clean for your eventual arrival.

Now go pack your bags and then take your nap. We'll wake you up on a Wednesday in November.

Another Summer in the Books

A few accomplishments this summer went unblogged, and before I return for development days on Monday and Tuesday, before the little buggers come back into the room with big, wide eyes and nothing resembling a clue, I thought I'd share my list of what I've left out.

Work - I know, I know, you're thinking, This little brat has the nerve to parade across my cyberspace with tales of his summer and then leads off his summer wrap-up with work!? But I'm beaming. My summer started with early mornings, coffee until 11 or so, and piece after dynamic piece to build my curriculum. I've taught it before, but this summer I gave it wings. As I said when the summer started, the time to work without distraction is a benefit to the profession.

Leisure - For the first time in my life, I finished a list of books solely for pleasure. Last summer, I only made it through some of Steinbeck's stragglers and Fitzgerald's Gatsby. This summer, I broke off a bigger chunk, and found time to slide some extras in as well. The list and necessary annotations/explanations, presented in order, follows:

The Last Shot by Darcy Frey - I don't have many nonfiction pieces under my belt, and this was one I included on my Advanced English 9 class's summer assignment list. I can't very well ask for something that I haven't read. It's an amazing book I found way too late.

On the Road by Jack Kerouac - Duluoz and I go back and forth. I have to be in the right state of mind to read him. I left about 120 pages of this unfinished back in 2005, but with travel plans set for Wyoming and a visit with Matt for the Pyramid backpacking trip, I needed to rekindle my affair. I finally finished this and went right on to Big Sur, which I ate up on the plane flights and layovers between Sacramento and Jackson and back.

Bird by Bird by Ann Lamott. I took this in bits, and although I'm not finished with it, it doesn't stand as something in need of cover-to-cover completion. Lamot writes with great candor and humor, and for anyone interested in writing fiction, this should be book number 1.

Ape and Essence by Aldous Huxley - I maintain that Brave New World changed my life, so it's appropriate that I picked this up on a whim back in 2004 after reading the jacket. Like so many books I buy, it sat on the shelf. I knocked it out on the plane ride back from Hawaii so that Matt and I had more fodder for our backpacking trip.

Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury - I'm chopping through this right now, but I'm wondering if all the utopian/distopian/futuristic literature is really necessary.

Creativity - The blog has, in truth, become a monster. I didn't foresee the thoughts and ideas that would come up and find their way to the screen. While I'll continue to muse and update here at Erasure Dust, expect the thoughts and ramblings to pick up over a Pop Quiz, my "professional" blog, as well.

In addition to the blog, I completed some short story work. I'll admit, I have a hard time with the investment portion of the work, but I harbor an infatuation with characterization, so the exercise ultimately proves worthwhile. The Lamott book really helped with adding plot, something I almost ignore while in my own cloud of verbosity.

I also continued writing songs, which is probably the most satisfying part of my "creative" flare. Despite any training or talent (or conviction), I winnowed a collection into another disc for friends, family, and interested parties. Unlike previous discs, this time I included a miniature booklet of lyrics to help prop the thing up.

Play - Aside from what I've previously showcased (Pyramid and Jeep Jamboree), Stephanie and I enjoyed a June weekend camping on the West Fork of the Carson River where we hiked part of the Tahoe Rim Trail to Dardanelles Lake. As you've seen, we tallied up the miles in Hawaii as well. Additionally, Stephanie and I are in training for the Cowtown Marathon (well, the half-marathon anyway). I racked up some high altitude miles in Jackson, and have since been seen looping William Land Park on a regular, sweaty basis. We're in incremental training now for the remaining weeks leading up to October's event.

Additionally, I've joined a softball team called the Hunter-Gatherers. We'll be playing in a men's league on Friday nights at the Sacramento Softball Complex on Howe Avenue. You probably won't see us because of our kick-ass uniforms though.

Support - The summer also included/will include plenty of unions. I was a groomsman when my college roommates Brittany and Sol finally tied the knot in Coloma. Friends Sage and Emily are up next, followed by Melissa and Michael, and then Carrie and Scott. The summer of love, indeed.

All in all, it's been another amazing summer. I'm rather sad to see it go, but I'm ready for the challenges and fun ahead.

No News is Good News.

We open this tale with Ken, a naïve middle-schooler who likes to keep to himself. His teachers love his tenacity, how his work, while not the finest in quality, is always timely, dependable, and thorough. Often, Ken lingers after school. He likes watching the 7th grade boy’s basketball games because no one bothers him there. Ken is content; he knows things around him are changing, and he’s okay with letting his adolescent bubble adapt and form to the constraints of the times.

On a day like any other, we find Ken in the gym, catching another basketball game. In strides our antagonist, Bull, a junior in high school with a leather jacket, a fast car, and no business in a middle school gym. But truthfully, his business is the middle school, as the the crowd there represents the largest chunk of his drug sales profit. Naïve Ken doesn’t know Bull—he’s never seen him, in fact.

Bull strides along the out-of-bounds line and steps up into the bleachers and sits just a few feet from Ken. He breaks the proverbial ice and, before too long, wraps Ken around his finger with promises of popularity, girls, and exposure. Never before considering these things available, Ken is dazzled like a customer in a magic shop.

After a taste, Ken is hooked. His work struggles, strays off topic and reads in a rather pedantic tone. His teachers note his increased isolation, but they’re so busy accounting for their other students and duties, they figure he’s just "finding his way."

This goes on well into high school. No one seems to know what Ken is saying when he speaks. They’ve seen him off with Bull—who dropped out during his senior year to sell drugs professionally—throwing and crashing parties with all too confusing enthusiasm.

Flash-forward to adulthood, and while all those who grew up with Ken rush off to their jobs and families and busy schedules, Ken is apart--off in his own universe, feeling self-important and necessary. He’s ultimately ignored now since the masses around him have seen and heard it all before. So Ken, wallowing in the false hope that opportunity knows his address and might one day ring his doorbell, sits and spews his nonsense for any who will listen. Only no one does.

---

And here we are, at the end of a familiar allegory, and even I'm wondering if I've lost you.

As my eyes bounced between the glowing plasma screens at the gym last night, I started thinking about my previous blog concerning the Olympics, the finger-tip accessibility of technology and information, and all the televised news falling in a constant, muted rain on the exercise equipment. I went home and fired up the computer. My handy MacBook dictionary widget defines "news" as newly received or important information, esp. about some important events. I wondered if the definition is modernly true?

Print news, in the traditional and tangible sense, only gets one shot, so the relevancy must hit the mark. Newspapers and weekly magazines find themselves bound to the presentation of information and important events in a self-contained, limited body. And though some might find the black and white print the dying Dunder Mifflin of the news industry, there's still reason to value such a restricted model in an otherwise unrestricted universe.

So I'll fess up. Ken represents CNN, a nice little news organization working hard to present the textbook definition of the news. (Of course, Ken represents all major news organizations, but Ken/CNN is too get to unlink.) Bull stands for cable television(pronounced kay-BULL), a player who convinced Ken and his other newsy buddies they'd be better off with their own channels, 24-hour news desks, and pundit-punching programs.

We all used to like Ken and his kind; before we realized drugs were ruining him, we thought he was pretty cool. He had it going on. We'd turn to him when we needed a dependable fix, some of the good shit. Now we'd rather not, as the ranted puking and mewling is fraught with frivolous polls from countless correspondents adding opinion to open-ended promptings.

So much attention is given to the irony of reality t.v. that conversations about modern news coverage remain silent. We all know that so-called reality television isn't actually reality, per se, but clever editing, handpicked story lines and home-brewed drama. (The paradox of it all is that it's become our reality--but I'll leave that for another time.) But anymore, the televised news isn't giving us important information as much as its documenting the happenings of people for a flickering public spotlight.

I love how old the idea of boring and fabricated news is. I marvel how entertainment value, ratings, and dollars somehow craft what we see. I even like watching the Daily Show every night just to count how many major cable news telecasts Stewart's production crew splices together to compile the repeated "something" made from nothing. I love the fundamental contradictions, how even those camping with attention seekers are contrarily calling for reprieve.

The news-driven political arena and all its gladiators like to think themselves mightier than the nonsense of popular reality-based television programming, despite how recent slandering paints it all the same color.

So Ken is just another burnout reeling in too much Rick James and Miami Vice. Cable news channels are just reality shows set in a studio with a three-camera format.

You thought the allegory was familiar? The moral is worse: "Say No to Drugs."