Left Coast Cowboys

We’re standing by for a couple of friends who have a baby due January 9th. But as of now, we are on elevated baby alert due to some enthusiastic kicking, massive amount of recent weight gain and some possible Braxton-Hicks contractions. Because this is their first baby and because Grandma-to-Be may not arrive from Virginia if things start happening early, we are the back-up troops.

I’m not quite sure what our value will be. Just like Prissy in Gone With the Wind, “I don’t know nuthin’ ’bout birthin’ no babies.” I mean I really know nothing. I have experience with new puppies, so if they need a little crate with soft cuddly toys and a wrapped up alarm clock, I can manage that. All my babysitting experience was confined to older (read potty trained) kids, because 1) it was less messy and 2) I quickly learned that you can actually charge more for older kids, especially the bratty ones that no one else will sit. See, an entrepreneur from an early age.

But back to the baby. I think we are mainly standing by to retrieve things that are forgotten in the rush to the hospital, to sit in the waiting room with a laptop full of DVDs and downloaded movies in case the father-to-be needs a break, or, in the case of my husband, arrive with a full case of cigars which said father-to-be and he can sneak out behind the hospital and smoke.

Butterfly McQueen is my guide here: "Miz Scarlett. I don't know nuthin' 'bout birthin' no babies!"

Anyway, we’re very excited about the whole thing, although my observation so far is that “birthin’ babies” is a lot about hurry up and wait, false alarm and just hang tight. 

I think when things get rolling, we’ll amuse ourselves with coming up with great baby names since the parents are doing this really Old Skool and have no idea of the sex.

My current personal favorite name would be “Johnny Cash” if it’s a boy and “June Carter” if it’s a girl. The mother to be is less than enthusiastic. Or we could go completely California Hippie and give it a Planet/Plant/Color name. How about “Indigo Fern Uranus”. That’ll make her the popular kid in second grade.

Then there’s that old formula for finding your porn star name. What is it, your first pet’s name coupled with the name of the first street you lived on?

Meanwhile, I’m pretty sure that at the point where Mom-to-Be starts calling Dad-to-Be a “Filthy Bastard” that’s when the baby is about to be born. I’ll get the hot water boiling then.

Gee, this baby stuff is a cinch.

NOTE: The darling little gipper above is NOT a computer-generated model of the baby we are waiting for. He’s the progeny of a pair of our Scottish friends and is known as “Wee Andrew” or just “The Wee Man”. But he’s so cute, I couldn’t resist using him for a “generic baby”.

For others who may be facing this same situation, let me offer this handy Baby Care Chart. It should tell you everything you need to know.

It’s been awhile since I’ve posted a technical winemaking post. So here goes.

Andy has perfected the ultimate homemade topping up system for wine for less than $200 for the whole system, which in the winemaking world is a huge bargain.

A bit of background: when your wine is in barrels and resting, you want to make sure as little air as possible can get to it to oxidize it. But you still want to siphon out some for periodic tasting. Which means that you are lowering the volume, therefore introducing more air. What to do? Obviously, you need a methodology for “topping up” your barrels easily and quickly.

Here’s the homemade system Andy devised:

Andy has a selection of every one of our varietals in a separate tank under very low pressure, topped off with nitrogen, similar to Coca Cola in a soda fountain.

So when Andy pulls out some wine from a particular barrel (as he does here with the appropriately named “wine thief”), he can top up the barrel to prevent the air from oxidizing the wine.

Removing some Grenache to mix with the Mourvedre to see how they might meld as a Rhone-style blend.

Now the barrels can be topped up with fresh wine from the pressurized cannisters, thus avoiding the dreaded air contact.

Topping up the barrels.

Dr. FrankenWine mixes Grenache and Mourvedere. Results: very encouraging!

Verdict on the Mourvedre, Grenache and Cabernet: Much better than expected. High hopes for this very first vintage.

I fell down on the job blogging during the Christmas season despite my pledge to blog thirty one times out of thirty one days in December for NaBloPoMo. Bad blogger. BAD.

But despite lapses, it’s not too late for a quick wrap up of some of the highlights of Christmas 2008 in our small corner of San Francisco. I’d have to say, this Christmas counts as one of the best ever. In the past several years, we’ve settled into having the same group around for what one friend calls “The High Holy Holidays” and another calls “The Trifecta”. That includes Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter, where our traditions have coalesced around way too much rich food, lots of merriment in our basement recreation of a British pub and a special movie for the entertainment portion of our evening.

This is NOT the Old Spice Man. Or Kenny Rogers. Or Sean Connery. This is my friend Rob wearing what he insists is proper Christmas gear: a beard and a British paratrooper's sweater.

The fun starts in the planning as there is always a fight between the British contingent of our group and the American contingent. First battle: the Brits never want to concede that an American meal, especially a celebratory meal, is never complete without an orange vegetable. Since the British refuse to recognize any orange vegetable but the carrot, the appearance of squash, pumpkin and sweet potato is always a shock. My eccentric friend Julian has taken to calling this “The Obligatory Orange Vegetable” and every event, he pushes it to the side of his plate. This Christmas, I made sweet potato rounds roasted with olive oil and garlic. Even Julian ate a few and pronounced them “almost good for an orange vegetable.” Then he asked my mother why it was required that there always be an orange vegetable at celebratory dinners. My mother told him: “Because Lisa says so.”

Why are carrots the only orange vegetable Brits will eat? It's the least interesting of the many wonderful Orangey Vegetables of Goodness.

The force feeding of orange vegetables was somewhat mitigated by the centerpiece of grass-fed, organically grown standing rib roast of prime rib provided by the incomparable Sonoma market. Add to that, the fact that my husband drained off the fat and used it to cook the Yorkshire Puddings and roast potatoes to perfection. Everyone was astounded at the flavor and flakiness. And nobody spoiled it for the vegetarians by telling them the secret.

We blew it on the appetizers as everything was on the "Pregnant Lady, Eat This and Your Child Will Die List". Luckily, we palmed the pregnant lady off with jam and bread which is very Sound of Music-y so very seasonally appropriate.

Next up was the Secret Santa give-away which this year was dubbed “Recession Santa”. All gifts were mandated to be under $20 and be in the category of 1) food 2) CDs or 3) DVDs. The winning entry was the CD of “Heavy Metal Christmas” which some Secret Santa bought for me knowing that it was the one hole in my extensive, eclectic and profoundly embarrassing Christmas music collection. It was surprisingly good. Alice Cooper does a very enthusiastic version of “Bring Us a Figgy Pudding (We Wish You a Merry Christmas)”. 

There was a very discreet show and tell of various other Christmas presents, but, as usual, no one could match Julian who each year buys his wife, Vicky, the most extravagant, expensive and fashionable presents possible. This year it was Christian Laboutin shoes. She could just about walk in them and had to be carried into the dining room. But she looked fabulous.

Totally FAB-U-LOS Christian Laboutin shoes which blew away anyone else's Christmas present. As per usual for our expansive friend Julian.

So not really a point to this story except that you can gather good friends, string together a few traditions that you all either agree upon or have fun fighting over and do it year after year and it gets better every time.

Yes, we have the Hula Santa. And we aren't too proud to take him out and let him rock every Christmas!

Hope everyone else’s Christmas and holiday was just as wonderful!

Every year I mean to do photographic justice to San Francisco’s famous “Christmas House”, and every year I fail. The house is just such a popular holiday sight that, if you are driving, you can only cruise by as the streets are filled with families and children and other spectators marveling at the sight. I always mean to hike up out of Noe Valley to the top of the highest hill overlooking the Castro with my camera, and every year I get too busy. So, until next year, when I’ll have these same good intentions, this little photo essay will have to do.

A bit of background: The Christmas House is the creation of two long-time residents of the upper Castro named, appropriately, Tom and Jerry. Rumor always has it that one or both of them were window decorators at Macy’s. I can’t confirm that, but it would make sense. Back in 1973, presumably when they bought this three story Victorian overlooking the City, Tom and Jerry bought a little Norfolk pine as a house plant. It eventually was transferred outside and grew to the size you see now. At some point, twenty or more years ago, Tom and Jerry started creating an ever more elaborate Christmas display around the tree. It’s grown to include animatronic figures, train sets and music. In the last decade at least, they’ve even been hiring a Santa every night in the week before Christmas to wave and talk to the many kiddies whose parents bring them to see the house.

The Christmas House in context.

The 3-story Douglas Fir that is decorated every year.

Christmas House detail.

Tom and Jerry do all this out of their own wallets and will accept no donations, except for corporate donations. Every year, this is their gift to the children (young and old) of the City.

Thanks, Tom and Jerry. You’re one of the reasons San Francisco is Just Possibly the Best City in the World!

P.S. Next year I promise to walk up the hill at night and get your display in all its lit-up glory.

Christmas looks a little different around here. Classic street cars, Canary palms with Christmas bows and lots of sunshine. Happy Holiday Season from San Francisco’s Castro/Noe Valley area.

At the Delancy Street lot.

Most of us get our trees at the lot run by Delancy Street, a locally grown foundation that helps rehabilitate drug addicts and give them job training. This year, Delancy Street is featuring only sustainably farmed trees.

There's always a good selection of tiny "Charlie Brown" trees for apartment dwellers.

And in a neighborhood close to the Hispanic Mission District, some of us enjoy the colorful Latin American Christmas traditions. Like a snuggly Mexican blanket.