A week of living slowly

Most of the time, I like living in San Francisco. I do get tired of the crap summers, and sometimes I think it would be nice to live somewhere flat. And sure, the idea of renting until I drop dead because we can't afford to buy a place seems like a bit of a bummer. But most of the time, I like it here. And after 13 years, I feel like a native. I know how to get everywhere, and how the neighborhoods are different, and where to get the best shrimp and leek dumplings (San Tung), tea leaf salad (Burma Superstar), and roast chicken (Zuni, natch). When I go other places, I feel proud to say I'm from San Francisco.

Except for when I go to Kauai. When I go to Kauai, I feel embarrassed by how expensive and materialistic life is here in the Bay Area, and I think how great it would be to live somewhere warm and mellow, where instead of row upon row of buildings, you see hills and ocean and wild chickens. Somewhere where the maximum speed limit is 50 and McDonalds makes a McTeri burger. Yes, as in teriyaki.

My husband always says that much of why I love it there is because everyone sort of looks like me--part Asian and part white, just variations of brown and tan. It's true. I guess it's a bit narcissistic. But everyone's entitled to a little of that, right?

Anyhow, suffice it to say we had a great trip, with loads of swimming and snorkeling and lounging on the sand. We went to bed early and woke up before 7, and spent every day at the beach. The husband bought a little ukelele and plucked out pretty, aimless tunes while we hung out on our lanai and looked out at that blue-green water. We browsed the local stores full of furniture made of koa wood and brightly-colored jewelry. We went to a Matt Costa show. And, of course, we ate.

We went down to Poipu one day, where in addition to having a monk seal swim right by us, its smooth, steely gray body rising and falling with the waves, we checked out the newly famous Puka Dog.

At Puka Dog, you pick your dog (Polish or veggie), how hot you want your garlicky sauce (I chose mild), and which tropical relish you prefer, ranging from mango to pineapple to star fruit. I went with mango, which was surprisingly sweet but a nice counter to the peppery garlic sauce. Next time I'll try star fruit.

Twice we hit Tropical Taco in Hanalei, where I am determined to move someday, with or without the husband. I will sell t-shirts in a hut on the side of the road if I have to. It's happening. Anyway, we both love it there and spent many of our days at the beaches on the north shore, then stopping in Hanalei for lunch.

Tropical Taco used to operate out of a green van but a few years back got some of the precious little retail space in Hanalei. We had fish tacos twice, once with mahi mahi, and once with striped marlin, both delicious.

And of course we got shave ice. I got mine rainbow style, with three flavors (but can't we just admit they're more colors than flavors?)--raspberry, mango, and passionfruit, with a scoop of vanilla ice cream at the bottom. You can also get it with azuki beans, but I'm anti-bean when it comes to dessert. Sorry, Chinese relatives.

We also had lots of poke, sushi, and mixed plate lunches with shoyu chicken and pork adobo, snuggled up to two scoops of rice and mac salad. We even ate ridiculously good teri-burgers out of a gas station in Princeville that I've been fantasizing about ever since. And by some people's standards, we consumed a great deal of alcohol.

Kauai is the only place I've been to that I like better than where I live. Getting on the plane to come home, we both felt sad, knowing it would be awhile before we returned. Luckily, living in California makes getting to Hawaii pretty easy. There are many, many trips in our future, and one, I'm pretty sure, with a one-way ticket.

The Hungry Dog goes on vacation

Although the timing is less than perfect with my little dog not well, we're off to Kauai tomorrow. The trip has been planned for awhile, and while we debated canceling it, she seems to feel fine. So we're crossing our fingers and leaving her with our dear friends who love her like, well, a daughter.

Preparing for Hawaii requires little more than throwing your bathing suit, some flip flops, and a few paperback novels in a bag. That's the beauty of the islands--you need very little to have a good time. But on the homefront, I found myself in a frenzy trying to use up all of the contents of our produce box in a few days. Some stuff will keep for the week we're gone, like onions, and possibly the giant melon. But other things we either use or say adios to.

Yet another sack of cherries awaited me. As you know, I recently had a less than perfect attempt at a cherry-port sauce, and I did not even write about the horrific cherry ice cream I made last week while the husband was away. The first night it was creamy and a gorgeous rosy shade. But by the next day, it was hard, chalky and pale gray. Never even took a photo of that one.

I figured one thing I could do with the cherries was freeze them for future use. I've never done that before but it has to work, right? So I washed, pitted, halved, and froze them on a sheet pan. Once frozen separately so they wouldn't clump together, I put them in a freezer bag and tucked them away in their icy den. Now in a few weeks I can make the cherry morning cake.

I also had some blueberries to use. So I made a batch of blueberry muffins. I used the Barefoot Contessa's recipe for cranberry harvest muffins, but only very loosely. She calls for all kinds of nuts and dried fruits--I believe these are part of the "harvest"--but as I think I've mentioned, I don't like lots of stuff in my muffins or cookies. I like to keep it simple. So I skipped all that stuff.

This is a great recipe and one I have made many times with cranberries. My only edit would be to reduce the amount of sugar--they're a little sweet otherwise. And, I only made a half recipe, which produces an awkward nine muffins, but oh well.

So, my friends, that's my last post for a week or so. I'm off for my Hawaiian dream vacation. When I return I'll have some photos of the great food we plan to eat at old favorites like Hamura Saimin and Tropical Taco, and hopefully of the much-talked about hot dogs at Puka Dog, which is new to us. Aloha!

Comfort me with spaghetti

It's been a rough few weeks Chez Hungry Dog. For one thing, the husband and I have both been dealing with some work stress. I know, we're supposed to be grateful that we have jobs--and we are. But that doesn't mean they don't bug us, and it certainly doesn't mean we can't complain about them.

The other thing is that we discovered our sweet dog is sick again. I can't even write about this, because it's slowly breaking my heart into tiny pieces, but suffice it to say, we've been spending as much time as possible at home with her, soaking up her lovely little essence and trying to be, although it is in neither of our natures, as much "in the moment" as possible.

Unfortunately the husband had to go on a work trip last week. In the nine years we've been together, we've rarely been apart, and that's the way we like it. Some people may call this co-dependent. I call it happy.

The other hungry dog and I got to get in some serious bonding time, which was great, but we were very pleased to see the husband return. Since then, comfort food has been in order.

There are plenty of foods that I'd identify as comfort foods, and it's no surprise that most of them are things that remind me of being a little kid. When I've got a cold, I love steamed chicken with ginger and scallions. My dad would make that when we were under the weather, steaming the chicken with black mushrooms, then serving it with scallions, ginger, and salt doused with a splash of hot oil to take the raw edge off.

I also love my mom's spaghetti. Not the most original comfort food, but an honest one. My recipe is based on hers, but over the years I've made it my own. Somewhere along the line I realized I didn't care much for ground beef (except in hamburgers) and started using ground turkey, usually a combination of light and dark meat. I also like to throw in some sweet Italian sausage. Other than that, the sauce has the usual suspects--onion, celery, carrot, tomatoes, and marjoram, which I prefer to oregano. I use a big glug of wine, and I finish it with fresh herbs, basil and parsley if I can. This time I also threw in some red and yellow heirloom tomatoes that were starting to look a little peaked.

On the night of the husband's return, I found comfort in assembling the sauce and letting it simmer away while we drank wine and he filled me in on his trip. The sauce turned out perfectly, the exact balance of sweet and acidic that I like. We ate steaming bowls of it as the dog sat next to me, her stony gaze switching steadily from the pasta bowl to my face. Give me some. As you know, her voracious appetite is the ultimate comfort to me. As much as I could, I just soaked it up, enjoying the moment. Sometimes that's the best thing you can do.