Rehoboth Beach Independent Film Festival

Robin and I attended our first RBIFF in 2002, and were looking forward to this year’s event which marked its fifteenth year.  RBIFF has grown considerably over the years.  Last year more than 19,000 individual movie tickets were sold during the festival’s five days. 

RBIFF usually begins on Wednesday of the second week of November and continues through the following Sunday.  This year’s program included more than 55 independently  produced feature and documentary films from the U.S. and elsewhere as well as a substantial number of short films.  Our list of ten films included three from Italy, two from the U.S. and one each from Argentina, Israel, India, Kazakstan and South Africa.

What makes the RBIFF special is that all of the films are screened at the Midway Movie complex on Route 1.  A large tent is set up behind the theaters for film-goers to buy tickets, eat, drink, chat and relax between films.  This is different from most urban film festivals where screenings are held at  a number of different venues throughout the city, and it is unlikely that one will see the same people from film to film.  

At  RBIFF, everyone comes to this one event and keeps coming back until it is over. Some attendees will see more four films each day. Lines begin to form inside about 30 minutes before every film, and most people are amenable to talking about about what one has seen, what was good or bad  or indecipherable.  It’s all about the films, and the conversations Robin and I have with others add immensely to our enjoyment of the festival.  

We had two favorites this year. the first was “Lucky,” where a 10-year old South African boy  leaves his village after his mother dies of AIDs to live with his troubled uncle in a Durban apartment complex.  Lucky encounters an elderly Indian woman, with a deep fear of black South Africans, who lives in the same complex. Their relationship grows  through a series of harrowing incidents even though he does not understand English and she cannot speak his native language. Wonderfully acted by the two protagonists, their ability to understand each other and change grows despite the fact that they cannot talk to  each other.

Our other favorite was a documentary, “Searching for Sugar Man,” the story of Sixto Rodriguez, a rock musician of the early 70s, who never made it in the U.S. but became a tremendous success in South Africa.  Two South African fans undertake to learn what happened to Rodriguez and all of the profits from his albums.  The film has terrific music, of course, and takes some very unusual twist and turns.

RBIFF did not disappoint in 2012, and we are looking forward to next year.

Hudson Valley

Robin and I have wanted to explore the Hudson Valley for some time, and we finally made plans for the week of October 22.  Poughkeepsie, NY was to be our base of operations for the first two days, and we left early Monday morning having targeted the Storm King Art Center as our first stop.  Near Newburgh, NY, the Storm King Art Center displays large sculpture in an outdoor setting of more than 500 acres with meadows and rolling hills. The day was beautiful, we were fortunate that the autumn colors were still there.  We delighted in sculpture by Calder, Moore, Noguchi, Nevelson, and so many others.  Large abstract forms were viewed first from a distance and then close up.  We had never visited a museum of this kind.

It was a short drive to our Poughkeepsie hotel, and we had dinner at an excellent restaurant on Main Street, the “Artist’s Palate.”  On Tuesday the rains began, so we decided to drive north for three miles to visit Hyde Park, the home of FDR.  This is not a mansion like so many of the great estates along the Hudson, but rather a home lived in by a very well-to-do family.  No great reception halls or state dining rooms here, rather comfortable living quarters which were visited from time to time by famous historic figures like Churchill and King George VI of England.  The National Park Service tour is excellent, and we learned many factoids such as the way the staff folded Roosevelt’s legs, removed his braces, and scuffed his shoes when visitors came, to give the impression that he could walk.

For fun we decided to have lunch at the Culinary Institute of America (“CIA”), which was just up the road.  The CIA now has four campuses - Poughkeepsie, Napa Valley, San Antonio and (this year) Singapore.  Here in New York, the CIA has about 3,000 students on campus, all dressed in their checked  pants and white chef-shirts and deeply engrossed in all aspects of food.  They are the chefs for the four CIA restaurants as well as the staff, and one feels the energy and enthusiasm of the students.  The food may sometimes be “off,” but the setting more than compensates.  

Our lunch was at the Apple Pie Bakery Cafe, where we waited in line with others to select items from a menu and a display case of beautifully baked goods.   After our order was taken, we were given a number to be placed on a stand on our table, and waited for the food to be delivered.  Robin’s quiche had a superb crust, but her salad had a vinaigrette without soul (and too much salt).  My turkey sandwich was so cold I needed gloves to hold it.  But wait a minute!! - the desserts.  Robin had the “not an Oreo” which was chocolate sablee pastry crust with white chocolate ganache, and I ordered the lemon merengue tart, which had lemon curd and vanilla pastry cream with a caramelized italian merengue inside a crisp almond tart shell.   Sublime!!  We checked out the Vanderbilt mansion up the road, and then nap time beckoned.

Wednesday we headed north to Bard College to see the Fisher Center for the Performing Arts designed by Frank Gehry.  We were surprised by the very large and beautiful college campus with low-slung buildings surrounded by tall trees.  Gehry has designed a dramatic building from the outside, with large flowing pieces of metal that seem about to move - and then a well-designed concert hall on the inside.  Our next stop was Olana, the home of Frederic Church, one of the major figures in the Hudson River Landscape School of painting, known for the light which emanates from the interior of his paintings.  He designed his home after a trip to the Middle East, and it is an eclectic structure with a strong Persian influence.  Olana is perched on a hill overlooking the Hudson River, and its 300 acres are filled with ponds, trees planted by Church, and walking paths, which he designed as well, that meander through this beautiful  property.

Next, we headed for the town of Hudson, NY, which is rapidly becoming the restaurant capital of the Hudson Valley.  Warren Street has a great many choices, and we selected Cafe Le Perche for its charm, salads and baked goods.  We returned to Rhinebeck, NY where we stayed in the main building at the Beekman Arms, which has been around since 1766.  They claim to be the oldest continuously-operated inn in the United States. 

Dinner that evening was at Escoffier, the top restaurant at the CIA.  Our reservation was for 6:30, and Escoffier has been moved to the St. Andrews building, as its former space is being transformed into a new restaurant to be called “Bocuse.”  Sadly, Escoffier will now only be the name of a  dormitory at the CIA.  As at Apple Pie, the staff was charming and energetic but only moderately skilled and barely knowledgable, such that they had to revert to the two senior maitre d’s for answers to our questions.  Our Kir Royales were the best ever.  The sommelier recommended that I try a glass of sauterne with my pate de fois gras, which was a brilliant suggestion to replace the “champagne goes with everything” response one usually gets.  Robin’s green bean salad was fine, but my braised lamb shoulder in a ginger-carrot puree was over-salted, and Robin’s filet of beef was more well than medium.  However, our friendly sommelier came through again by recommending a glass of Chateaux Trintaudon (2006) which went perfectly with our food.  For dessert, Robin’s tarte tatin was a big lump of baked apple rather than thinly sliced while my pot de creme was so densely chocolate that it consumed my chocolate quota for the next three days.

Our final day was reserved for Dia Beacon, an art museum in a former Nabisco box factory, which overlooks the Hudson River at the town of Beacon, across the river from Newburgh.  The town has been given new life both by the museum itself but also because of a local developer who acquired most of the west end of town and has attracted many small shop owners and new restaurants to the area.   The museum itself is composed of many large spaces with installations of very different post-modern art.  There are wall installations by Sol Lewitt, one of which is composed of 24 squares with interior lines in varying mathematical compositions, repeating but NOT repeating.  Another artist dropped thin lines of thread from the ceiling which give the illusion that they are lucite frames.  (There is even a sign which says “Please don’t lean on the art.”)Also, there are huge dramatic steel installations by Richard Serra.  All of it is so impressive and challenges the expectations of the museum goer.

Our trip concluded with a family visit to Sharon CT, and we were back in DC Friday evening preparing for Sandy.

Rangeley, Maine

I first visited Rangeley, Maine in 1970 at the suggestion of a friend, whose description of large lakes and 3,500 foot mountains reminded me of the Adirondaks where I had gone to camp for many years.  Rangeley is in the northwestern corner of Maine, 50 miles from New Hampshire and 75 miles from Canada, a bit too far for spontaneous travel and gentrification.  So a 1945 picture post card of Main Street looks much the same as today’s Main Street, but with modern automobiles.For me, time stops when I arrive at Rangeley, and memories are vivid. Robin and I have been here together at least seven times since 1987 - alone and together with family and friends.  We always stay at North Camps, a group of twelve very rustic cabins and a main lodge, which have been owned by the Gibson family since the early fifties.  In 1970, Gibby ran the place; and then Sonny (his son, of course) took over in the eighties. Now Gibby’s grandsons, Glen and Fran, are running the place under their father’s careful supervision.

The cabins are nestled among birch and pine trees along 300 feet of shoreline on the north side of Rangeley Lake, which is 12 miles long and 5 miles wide. 

There are the usual amenities - a modest beach, docks, motor boats, canoes, and kayaks and a 40-year old sunfish.  Especially attractive is the centrally located dirt tennis court, which measures differently in length to the serving line from the net on one side from the other and has retaining fences about three steps too close to the serving line - all making for an extra challenge while playing.

This is where my sons learned to play chess and to water ski, where we got lost on the Appalachian Trail looking for Piazza Rock, and where my friend Steve Schwartz and I had ferociously competitive tennis matches.  (I always made sure to win our very last match on Saturday as new people were arriving and stopped to watch the competition.)

Rangeley Lake is connected to five other large lakes, making for a wonderful week-long canoe trip if you are so inclined.  Hiking trails are everywhere, and the vistas are extraordinary.  Saddleback Mountain, at the east end of the lake, has been developed as a family ski resort.  The guests at North Camps are self-selecting and repeaters.  We reinforce each others’ decision in coming to Rangeley by relating our similar experiences and shared memories.

“So what do you do at Rangeley?,” someone might ask.  “It is a very busy time,“ I answer, because there are so many old bases to touch while exploring the new.

• first swim in the lake
• schmooze with Sonny
• Red Onion restaurant for pizza

• shop for food at the IGA
• decision whether to run the Mingo Loop (6.3 miles)
• see your first moose
• ice cream at the Pine Tree Frosty

• visit the Chamber of Commerce to find out the weekly doings
• twin lobster night in the town of Oquossoc
• see what is new at the Alpine Shop
• visit Small’s Falls
• more ice cream at the Gingerbread House
• select hikes for the week

• canoe the Androscoggin River

This year for the first time we learned about a wonderful book, We Took To The Woods, by Louise Dickinson Rich, an autobiographical account of a young woman from the suburbs of Boston who fell in love with a Maine woodsman, whom she met on a summer vacation.  She tells how they married and lived together in the woods, not far from Rangeley. The book was first published in 1942, and is skillfully written.  Each chapter answers a question which might have been asked by an urban friend.  “Don’t you ever get bored?”  “How do you make a living?”  “ Why don’t you write a book?”

This was our newest Rangeley discovery; can’t wait for the next visit.

Too Many Beeps

Is it the refrigerator? Door left ajar.

Is it the alarm system? Low battery.

Is it the washing machine? Laundry ready.

Is it the timer? Dinner ready.

Is it the smoke detector? Need a new battery.

Is it the alarm?  Time to wake up.

Is it the car alarm? Someone out there.

Is it my computer? New email.

Is it my cell phone? New text?

Is it my imagination?????

Parking Lot Dilemma

Robin and I went to the Avalon Theater to see the “The Dark Knight Rises,” and we parked in the lot behind the local branch of the DC Library between McKinley and Patterson Streets.  The lot is narrow with perpendicular parking, a lane for cars and a fire lane which is often lined with parked cars.

As we were leaving the lot, but just before we reached the Patterson Street sidewalk, an older (meaning older than I am) Virginia driver and his wife tried to enter the parking area and drove across the sidewalk.  The fire lane was blocked  by a parked car, so there was no room for two cars to pass. When I motioned to him to back up so that we could leave, he refused to budge and shook his head with a vehement “no.”  

WHAT WOULD YOU  HAVE DONE?

1. Back up and allow him to enter the lot?
2. Shake your head with a vehement “no” and refuse to move?
3. Make a show of writing down his license plate and indicating that you are calling the police?
4. Get out of the car, lock the doors and walk away?
5. Another non-violent option?

The Perfect BLT

On a 100 degree day in Washington what better way to say “summer” than to make a BLT with fresh, hand picked ingredients.  Our Rock Creek garden is finally producing the  heirloom tomatoes we carefully selected in the spring.  I picked up some thick cut, maple wood smoked bacon at the supermarket, and Robin secured a bunch of fresh romaine lettuce.

All we needed was the delivery system. We decided to abandon our traditional Arnold white bread, which had been specifically chosen for its blandness so as not to distract from the flavors of the key ingredients.  A seeded Jewish rye bread from Newark, New Jersey caught our eye, and we ventured into new territory.

The sandwich bread was toasted, slathered with Hellman’s and completed with our bacon, lettuce and tomatoes.  The rye bread added an exciting density and flavor to our other components.

Happy Summer!

Summer Sailing in the Caribbean

I have spent very little time in the Caribbean - a few business trips here and there but never a vacation.  So when my racquetball buddy, Joe, asked me in January if I wanted to join him the first week in July on a friend’s 42 foot catamaran based in Martinique, I jumped at the chance.

Would the waters really be the aquamarine blue color one sees in magazine advertisements? Would the trade winds from the East be constant?  Would I spend more time trying to keep afloat while snorkeling than seeing beautifully colored fish swimming between the rocks and coral?

Joe’s friend had purchased his Lagoon 420 three years ago, making a down payment of a portion of the purchase price with the remainder financed under an agreement to allow the boat to be chartered for five years.  Under the deal, the owner is allowed two weeks of “owner’s time” in July - usually too early for the hurricane season in this part of the Caribbean.

We all met in early June at the owner’s home to agree on a list of provisions for the trip, which would be supplied by the charter company, Sparkling Charters.  Since it was a French company, Sparkling Charters gave us a three page list of wine, beer, and      hors d’oeurves before we got to mundane things like cereal, peanut butter and spaghetti. 

We flew from Baltimore to Miami and then on to Fort de France, the capital of Martinique.  A forty-five minute cab ride took us to Le Marin, a small coastal town to the East where Sparkling and other charterers had their boats in slips at a large marina.  It was quite a sight to see so many million dollar sailboats in one place.  Preparations for departure are lengthy.  We had to check that our provisions were correct, confirm the various boating equipment and other items placed on board by Sparkling Charters, and finally check in with customs using an antiquated system previously on paper and now on a very slow computer.

Once under way, daily rhythms begin to change in so many ways.  The movement of the boat is very different from walking on land, so very quickly one becomes conscious of balance and  hand holds. The wind, or lack thereof, is very important, and the options for choosing shade or sun are limited on a boat.  Changes in sky are noticed immediately.  Are the clouds building to the East?  How long before it will rain?   How different it is for us at home where rolling seas are not an issue; winds are not a concern; air conditioning is available; and rain gear is an option if we choose to go outside in threatening weather.

On a clear day one can see St. Lucia from Martinique, a distance of about twenty miles. However, on both of our passages to and from St. Lucia it was hazy, so that after an hour, we thought we were in the open ocean.  Heading south from Martinique the wind was at our back and the sea was relatively calm with waves of 2-3 feet.  On the return trip it was quite different with the wind heading into us and rough seas.

While in St. Lucia, we selected a different harbor each night.  Rodney Bay was a broad crescent with Pigeon Island at one end and hotels and sand beaches at the other.  The inner (protected) portion of the harbor was filled with luxurious sailboats and was bordered on one side by expensive private homes.   Marigot Bay was a deep sliver, a perfect “hurricane hole” with beautifully designed homes on the hillsides and one of the home bases for another large charter company, Moorings.  Our final harbor was at the town of Soufriere, also the home of Gros Piton and Petit Piton, two very impressive volcanic mountains at the south end of the Bay.

At our various stops, we hiked, snorkeled, visited botanical gardens, swam in warm sulfur springs, and tasted the some of the best local rum.  The weather was very pleasant - around 85 degrees and usually with a good breeze.  Evening were cooler and it rained for an hour or so every night around 2:00 a.m.

As with every adventure, things can happen.  Our dingy motor was very uncertain and finally stopped operating at the very end of the trip.  Two days before returning to Martinique, the main halyard snapped as we were raising the mainsail.  Our refrigerators were very unpredictable when it came to making ice, creating great anxiety as to whether would would have our rum and coke at cocktail time.

I am beginning to think that we should block out some Caribbean sailing time for July 2013.

K Street Reverie

For most of my professional career, K street was the principal location of my offices - 20th between L and M; 19th and K; 1825 K St., 19th and Pennsylvania,  22nd and New Hampshire, 15th and M and finally McPherson Square.  (In the middle years,  there was a 10-year exile to the Flour Mill in Georgetown.)  My memories of K Street are strong - walking East into the sun in the early morning, trudging through snow drifts after leaving the METRO to get to my office in the winter and running into friends and acquaintances during lunch.

It has been three years since I retired, and now I find myself purposely choosing the K Street offices of my doctors rather than their more convenient locations in Friendship Heights. This morning as I walked to and from my most recent medical appointment, I noted the following changes on K Street.  

.  At least two-thirds of the pedestrians were holding smart phones and most of them had ear buds in place.  

.  Less casual attire appears to be the custom - more dresses/skirts than pants and more ties and jackets than open collars and khaki pants.

.  More restaurants offering  burgers and small plates (at the same price of large plates five years ago).

.  There are now almost as many CVS stores as banks.

.  My favorite mens room at the Mayflower Hotel  has retained its old world elegance even though the lobby has undergone an unpleasant modern renovation.

When is my next appointment for a stress test?

Tempting Thai Food

Robin and I had a 6:00 p.m. screening at the Silverdocs Festival held at the AFI theater in Silver Spring.  We had read good reports of a tiny Thai restaurant across the street (8650 Colesville Road), Kao Thai, so of course we seized  on the opportunity after the film was over.

Kao Thai was very busy at 7:45 p.m. on a Friday night. With seating for only twenty-two customers, the place was filled with people from the Discovery Channel, a young family with two small children and filmgoers like ourselves. The servers were efficient; the  food kept coming out from the small kitchen; and the tables turned over and over. 

Having eaten  at most of the Thai restaurants in the metropolitan area, we thought that Kao Thai ranks very near the top.  All of our food had fresh and complex tastes, not being overwhelmed by one strong ingredient.  Each fork-full asked for another, and Robin even refused to share her main course with me after offering me a small initial taste.

We began with a shared green papaya salad ( Som Tum). Shredded papaya was combined with tomato, green pepper and peanuts in a chili lime juice sauce with a dash of Thai fish sauce and sugar. Buried in the salad were slivers of very hot Thai peppers.

Robin’s main course was Dragon Noodles, Kao Thai’s take-off on the traditional drunken noodle dish.  Lo mein noodles were stir fried with string beans, tomato, green pepper in a garlic chili sauce along with several shrimp to make a supremely delicious combination.

My main was Pad Prik Khing, a Thai classic, which I was perfectly willing to share with Robin notwithstanding its incredible layered texture of tastes.  I chose chicken as my “meat,” which was combined with string beans, tomato and kaffir lime in a roasted chili sauce.

Since Robin and I have decided to go “on the wagon” for a couple of weeks, we drank only water with our meal, which came to $30.  Quite a dinner - can’t wait to go back with some friends.

Me and My Meniscus

About nine months ago I noticed that my right knee began to ache minutes after I got behind the wheel of my car and started to drive. I moved my driver’s seat in every possible direction, but gained no relief until I went to cruise control and was able to move my leg  in different directions.  The ache only seemed to arrive when my right knee was in a fixed bent position and didn’t bother me during tennis and raquetball.   

But about a month ago, the pain came on big time whenever I moved, changed positions and even when I slept.  So - off to the orthopod I went, and his diagnosis of a torn meniscus was confirmed by an MRI.   The menisci of the knee joint are two pads of cartilage tissue which act to disperse friction in the knee joint between the lower leg and the thigh.  One of my “pads’ was partially torn and when inflamed, caused the pain I felt.

So what to do?  “Surgery is easy, like clipping a hang nail and leaving the remainder of the meniscus whole,” said my doctor.  But he thought I could postpone surgery with physical therapy, an elastic knee brace, a strong anti-inflammatory medication and icing down my knee after activity.

I have never been very good about stretching either before or after exercise, and when my physical therapist, Beth Ann, began to manipulate my leg during the first hour-long diagnostic visit, she remarked that “We have a lot of work to do.”  She  observed that my right (painful) leg had considerably less movement than my left leg and that the tightness of my tendons and ligaments put more strain on my right knee whenever  I twisted and turned on that leg.  According to Beth Ann, this was one of the principal reasons for the tear. With proper stretching exercises, I can increase the elasticity of my knee joint and thus put less pressure on the meniscus, lessening the likelihood that will become inflamed.

So I am now committed to thirty minutes of stretching in the early morning and find that my knee pain is gone, and tennis and raquetball are back on my agenda.  

Road Trip - Columbus, Indiana

For years I have been clipping articles about Columbus, Indiana and its exciting modern American architecture.  A travel window opened, and we took advantage of a family visit to Pittsburgh to continue west on Route 70 to Indiana.  Columbus, with a population of about 50,000, is about an hour south of Indianapolis.  The city is the home of a Fortune 500 Company -- Cummins, Inc. -- which, among other things, has been manufacturing diesel engines for more than a hundred years.

Since 1957, more than 50 public buildings have been designed and built by architects such as  Eliel Saarinen and his son, Eero, I. M. Pei, Kevin Roche, Cesar Pelli, and Harry Weese (designer of the Washington, D.C. Metro).  The driving force behind this was J. Irwin Miller, Chairman of Cummins from 1951 to 1977.  He established the Cummins Foundation in 1954, which offered to pay the architects’ design fees for public buildings if the architect was chosen from a list prepared by an independent committee.  And so began the development of this extraordinary group of public buildings:  schools, churches, hospital, county jail, fire stations, parking garage, public housing, library and even a bridge.  Along with the architecture came fine public art and exceptional public landscaping.

We stayed at the Inn at Irwin Gardens, now a bed and breakfast, but formerly the Irwin family home, a mansion in the center of town, which was originally built in 1864 and then extensively remodeled in 1910.  Lots of wood, high ceilings, nooks and crannies, and a large garden with different levels, water features, sculpture and a wide variety of plantings.

We scheduled two tours:  first an architectural tour of the city in the morning, and then after lunch, a visit to the J. Irwin Miller residence, which he and his wife built for themselves and their three children.  All tours begin at the Visitors Center, just a block from our mansion. The morning tour began with a short film about the city and its architecture -- introducing us to what was to come.  

Opposite the Visitors Center is the First Christian Church, designed by Eliel Saarinen and built in 1942.  This is one of the first churches of modern design built in the United States, and J. Irwin Miller was a member of the congregation that broke new ground by sponsoring a large rectangular brick church building paired with a 170 foot brick bell tower.  Hidden windows allow plenty of light to enter, and the eye is attracted and directed by the slightly off-center entrance and interior designs.

Diagonally across the street is the Public Library designed by I. M. Pei, with its plaza-like public space in the front.  Offset in the front space of the library is a sculpture, a large arch by Henry Moore.

We boarded the bus and toured the city for another ninety minutes, ending at the North Christian Church designed by Eero Saarinen.  This church is on a very large plot of land surrounded by trees and other landscape, designed by Dan Kiley.  From the parking lot, the congregant can only see the tall needle-like spire as he approaches the church on a path through the trees, allowing him to reflect and meditate as he prepares to enter the church.

After lunch, we visited the Miller residence, which again was designed by Eero Saarinen.  The house is wonderful in its simplicity.  It is a one story rectangle with a flat roof and stone and glass walls.  The focus of attention is a very large center room with a “conversation pit” at one end.  Behind the walls at one side of this room are the utilitarian children’s bedrooms, continuing around to the parents’ bedroom. The other side of the center room opens to the dining room with its glass walls, which bring the outside inside.  And then to the side of the dining room is the large kitchen.  Light colored walls and carpeting of the house contrast with the vivid colors of cushions and art provided by the interior designer, Alexander Girard, who was a favorite of the Miller family.  Extensive gardens, designed by Dan Kiley, surround the house.  

The Columbus architectural heritage is not to be missed.

Whole and Kosher Food

Part I

We were thinking about fish for dinner and, as usual, our local Giant Foods seafood counter was bereft of anything remotely appetizing.  In fact, at 8:30 a.m., there wasn’t even a fishmonger at his station to receive our complaint.  So we crossed River Road to Whole Foods, where the fish is formally presented as if it were a real fish store.  Of course we know now that the fish presenters at Whole Foods have “lite” fishmonger skills because all the scaling and filleting is done at some central location.  You have to special order fish bones from Whole Foods if you want to make your own fish stock.

In any event, I was delighted to see that my favorite fish, Patagonian Toothfish -- I mean Chilean Sea Bass -- is not on the new Whole Foods list of politically incorrect fish to eat.  At $26/lb. I intend to take very small mouthfuls of this meaty flavorful fish, which will be pan seared for two minutes on the skin side and then baked for twelve minutes in a 450 degree oven.  I spied my favorite Vidalia onions, which with some sliced mango, diced yellow grape tomatoes, Thai basil, three small Thai hot peppers, lime juice, and 1/2 Tbs. of Thai fish sauce will make a delicious salsa to spread over the fish.

Part II

Having  planned dinner, I thought it would be fun to take a destination bike ride through Rock Creek Park to the Kosher Mart in Silver Spring.   At twelve miles from home, this would be the perfect distance to whip up an appetite for a pastrami sandwich on rye and a big kosher pickle.  Memories of great pastrami sandwiches flew through my mind as I pedaled from DC into Montgomery County on my way to lunch.

But the Kosher Mart turned my dream into a nightmare with its chewy tasteless meat,  Heinz yellow mustard poured into a Saval plastic bottle, pickles that must have been made from a Mormon recipe and cole slaw without any taste whatsoever.   Perhaps this could be redeemed by something chocolate, and I wandered over to Goldberg’s Bagels seeking to overcome the mistake I had made.  Their choices were limited, and I certainly was not going to opt for the recommended chocolate chip bagel, which seems almost Frankenstinian in concept.  We finally found a chocolate covered biscuit-like pastry with brownie filling and, after one bite, I realized that I had compounded my eating errors at the Kosher Mart.  It wasn’t calorie neutral, but the exercise was fun.

Bandolero Pop-Up

Our neighbors, Jonathan and Bethany Umbel, have teamed up with Top Chef Mike Isabella to bring a new Mexican small plate restaurant to Washington DC to replace  their former Georgetown restaurant, Hook.  Prior to the official opening at its M Street venue, the owners have opened for “spring training” in Cleveland Park at the former Tackle Box restaurant across from the Uptown Theater.

Last night we went with friends to try out this new venture.  We were warmly welcomed by the attractive trio of hostesses and escorted to our table upstairs, which was much calmer than the first floor. 

Dinner was prix fixe at $65 and included four different courses plus dessert, but not cocktails, wine or beer.  Although this was much more food than we would normally eat for dinner, it did give us an opportunity to explore the entire menu and get a good sense of what Chef Isabella was doing in the kitchen.

Our waiter reviewed the enticing list of cocktails, and I selected the Tamarindo, a margarita with curacao, lime and tamarind puree.  It was tart, complex and immediately replaced the caipirinha as my favorite latin cocktail.  The others chose the Our Way margarita (with and without salt) which was made with lime, blood orange, and Grand Marnier - and tequila of course.  It had great pucker and nice depth.

The first course for all of us was a smallish bowl of guacamole which had good flavor  but was a bit too smooth in texture for my liking.  In addition there was a salsa pasilla which had a deeper and slightly spicy flavor and “sikil pak” (a pumpkin seed dip), which was bland and tasteless. The accompanying chicharrones and chips were adequate, but weren’t worthy of a re-fill.

The second course consisted of taquitos, small crisp taco shells with various fillings, tuna ceviche, blue crab and beef tartare.  The presentation on a wooden board was clever as was the black bean paste “glue” holding the taquitos upright.  There did not seem to be enough tuna to give the taquito flavor; the beef tartare was bland; and although the blue crab filling was delicious it lacked any sense of a Mexican origin.

A word to the servers:  it was jarring to be served only one or two plates out of the four that should have come out together.  Perhaps we should have been told at the outset that the courses were served “tapas style”, if that was the intent.  Otherwise, it just seemed that the kitchen couldn’t get its timing right.  

The third course brought tacos, and we selected the mahi mahi, chicken, suckling pig and skirt steak versions.  We  all concluded that the seasoning was timid and the chef was big into bland.  Although the ingredients were excellent, the flavors were one- dimensional.  Indeed, the chicken taco seemed to have been conceived in the Graffiato kitchen with what I thought to be Italian flavors rather than Mexican.

Next came the “traditional” small plates.  The empanada has never been one of Mexico’s premier dishes.  Why put one on the menu and a fried one at that?  The sopes were fine, little corn flower cakes with minced lamb on top.  The enchilada verde did not distinguish itself, but the mole negro on top of short ribs was the best dish of the evening.

Finally came dessert, which unfortunately was not uplifting (or worth the calories).  No chocolate choice!  How come?  Mexicans love chocolate as do we. The tres leches parfait was nothing but a mass of whipped cream and other fluff.  Why try to improve on tres leches cake?  The spicy mango ice cream was fun, but avocado ice cream was tasteless.  Finally, the coconut flan seemed to have lost its coconuts and came topped with too much whipped cream, so the flan’s flavor was lost. 

Bandolero is clearly a work in progress.  I would recommend to the chef the KISS method - Keep It Simple and Spicy.

Zabar’s In-and-Out

It was early Monday morning, and we were on our way back to DC from Sharon, CT.  I asked Robin if she felt the same need I had for special NYC food.  She agreed, and since our Manhattan ETA was 10:30 a.m., we concluded that it would be too early for a pastrami sandwich at Katz’s followed by selective purchases at Russ & Daughters next door.

We hadn’t been to Zabar’s for some time, so that became our destination. We found parking on Broadway a block from the store; and though limited to an hour by the NYC parking meter, we thought we had enough time for targeted purchasing, but not the “museum tour” we had been planning.

A quick visit to the second floor, which is filled with kitchen and other home wares, enabled Robin to pick up some pastry gadgets which would be useful for pottery molds. We scanned the Zabar’s memorabilia shelf, and decided to pass on branded bags, oven mitts, baseball hats and the like.  On to the main floor.

We passed by the extensive cheese counter to the prepared foods section and were very impressed by the offerings. (Should Whole Foods send their chefs to NYC for take-home food training?)  Zabar’s “gourmet stuffed cabbage” is a favorite of ours.  We combined this with their tabbouleh salad, stuffed grape leaves and a tomato and basil tart.  Next we moved to the smoked fish environment and watched the countermen carving paper-thin slices of smoked salmon.  

We selected whitefish salad and chopped liver and moved to the bread counter where a loudspeaker had just told us that fresh rye bread was coming out of the oven.  Surprisingly, no tastes were offered, so no bread was purchased although we could not resist the cinnamon rugalah.  

As we passed the hot sauce, salsa and salad dressing shelf, Robin spotted a new brand of Japanese ginger dressing, which we added to our basket.  We ended by picking out two sandwiches for the trip home made with two different Eli Zabar’s breads (ciabatta and walnut/raisin bread).  We headed for the check-out counter quite pleased with our efficient effort.

All of this adventure for less than $100, and the meter had ten minutes left. 

Eddie, Our Novice Innkeeper

We were visiting family in Sharon, Connecticut, and learned that the former run-down, inhospitable motel and been completely renovated and was newly open for guests.   “Let’s try it,” Robin said rather than go North for a few miles to our favorite local B&B.

As we checked in before our family visit, the young woman at the desk assured us that all would be ready when we returned, and the heat would be on to counter the evening chill.  Jessica said that she was leaving her post shortly but gave us her phone number in case we needed  anything.  When we returned and entered our freshly painted room, the heat was not on nor did the beds have sheets or the pillows have pillow cases.  As I dialed Jessica, Robin went searching the property for someone in authority.

She returned with Eddie, the new owner of the Sharon Inn, which had just opened for business the day before.  He was very apologetic of course and took us to a neighboring room, where the beds were made; and he turned on the heat.  Robin asked if there was a place we could buy some wine, and Eddie said, “Not to worry.  I own a pizza restaurant six miles away; I will send for wine - no charge.”  As we struggled to turn on the TV,  Jessica arrived and the four of us took turns with the remote, finally accessing the cable system for which Eddie pays an exorbitant monthly amount.

Our hosts left, and all was well until Robin went into the bathroom and found that there was no toilet paper.  Back came Eddie, apologizing profusely with two rolls.  We settled in again, but when Robin went to take a shower, she discovered there were no bath towels.  This time Eddie returned with  two bath towels, a bottle of California cabernet, two wine glasses and more “I’m so sorries.”  Since it seemed that he didn’t want to leave at this point, Robin took the opportunity to point out that the table lamp was not plugged in because there was no nearby socket. There ensued a discussion about the failings of contractors and Eddie’s lack of knowledge of renovations.

As he was departing, he pointed out the new red Keurig coffee maker and left us with five additional mini-cups of different coffees, telling us to enjoy our morning wake-up beverage.  Sleep at last.  Nightly visits to the bathroom were challenging because the floor was freezing and we had not brought slippers.  Nevertheless, we awoke with anticipation of our coffee from the new Keurig machine.  Of course, it took the two of us 45 minutes to figure out how to make  coffee, but much to our delight the Sharon Inn coffee mugs were the most perfect mugs we had used in years.

As we left, I told this to Eddie, and he said with a broad smile, “Keep them; on me.”

And “we will be sure to return soon,” - now that we have been schooled in the eccentricities of our novice innkeeper and his new venture.