If you're going to San Francisco...

I might not have worn some flowers in my hair while visiting the Bay Area last weekend, but I did spot a surprisingly high number of flower shops around the city. Not only can I not get that song out of my head, I can't seem to get the coolness of the city off my mind either. While I'll always highly praise Portland to anyone who will listen (and even those who don't care to), my time in SF jeopardized my inclination to call Portland the most hip city on the west coast. Tempted to stay indefinitely, sadly I had to return home on Monday morning, but even so, I think I may have “left my heart in San Francisco.” Well, maybe it wasn't my heart, but I feel like I left something there. Oh who am I kidding, it's probably just the loads of cash spent on bridge tolls, BART tickets, and uh, maybe a little shopping at H&M.

There were so many great aspects of the weekend trip with my brother and sister, but I’ll try to keep my gushing to a minimum. Because this is clatter’s first official travel edition, I’ve even included a few photos to kick it up a notch – just don’t get used to it. Here's a brief(ish) rundown of the trip:

Highlights:

ϕ Observing and experiencing firsthand many of the redeeming qualities of Oakland. (Seriously, stop scoffing – the East Bay is far from being all ghetto!) This included, but is not limited to, the banh mi sandwiches we ate from a Vietnamese hole-in-the-wall in downtown Oakland. Nothing beats a $2.75 sub for lunch, and no, Subway's $5 footlong does NOT count – especially considering how annoying that jingle is. The well-known banh mi is something that I’ve been wanting to try for a while (apparently a food cart in Portland makes a damn good one), so this Oakland treat was the perfect introduction. BBQ pork, cilantro, shredded carrots, pickled something (??), and some kind of sauce (??), all on a crusty roll…mmmmm. The mystery ingredients contained in the sandwich left me curious, but not as much as the highly questionable meats and gelatin-like items being sold at the place as well. Sometimes ignorance really is bliss.

ϕ Viewing the Golden Gate Bridge from every angle known to man (and taking all obligatory photos at each and every one). This included driving through tourist-crazed Sausalito and making fun of all those tourists on their Blazing Saddles rented bikes, trying to make it across the bridge and up through the hills. Instead of bikes, we relied on our trusty ’97 Honda Civic and headed up to North Vista Pointe for incredible views of the Golden Gate above on the bluff. Unfortunately for us, by the time we made it up there, the fog had rolled in just enough to block out any remarkable photo ops. So instead, my sister took a series of pictures of my brother and me chowing down on burritos purchased earlier in the day in a quaint Marin County town called Larkspur. Who needs incredible views of the Golden Gate when you’ve got a delicious carne asada burrito right in front of you?


ϕ Making homemade pizza at my brother’s apartment. Even though there are tons of restaurants in the Bay area that we could have tried, we just couldn’t not cook together one night (as the famous line in our family goes, “It’s who we are, it’s what we do”). I whipped up some pizza dough and we used fresh broccolini and a mixed variety of tomatoes purchased at the farmers market earlier that day and other ingredients from the Berkeley Bowl (my new favorite grocery store). It wouldn't be family cooking without a little competition, so my sister and I battled for "best grilled pizza", although we put our brother in charge of the actual grilling part (he’s a man after all – it’s what they do). We ended up making four different pizzas, grilling two and baking two. I’d like to think that I won the competition, mostly because we made fun of my sister’s looking a little too similar to a Pizza Hut personal pizza (but trust me, it tasted much too good to be Pizza Hut). We tried taking photos of our creations, but the lighting was just not ideal. But here’s one to whet the palate:
I’d wager to say that this evening in the confines of my brother’s OBK (that’s another family term for "one butt kitchen") provided the most fun and the most laughs of the whole weekend.

Other Honorable Mentions:

ϕ Taking the tour of Alcatraz. Most people enjoy the fantastic views of the city from the bay on the boat ride to tour Alcatraz, like this one:

But for me, I could only gawk at this couple sitting directly ahead of and facing us, both on the way to The Rock and on the way back.

My brother and sister didn't think they were anyone special, but I could have sworn they're famous – only I couldn't place them (still can’t). My obsession with unearthing their identities eventually led to my brother taking incognito paparazzi photos. He did this brilliantly, acting as if he were examining his camera lenses at the most opportune of times: just as the woman fed the man yoga chips (case in point for her being famous: only an anorexic Hollywood actress would eat something like that). Anyone able to identify said couple will be awarded by clatter with a year's supply of Yoga Chips.

ϕ Visiting the Berkeley Farmers Market. clatter got much inspiration while perusing the market, especially from the interesting, highly unusual products (I should have been taking notes because now I don't remember anything). The assortment of tomatoes really was impressive, although for my sister and me, we were more focused on getting our brother to ask out the cute girl handing out strawberry samples. How difficult could it possibly be to walk up to the girl and say, "I'll take one basket of strawberries and your number"? Much to his sisters' chagrin, he didn't seize the moment.

ϕ Making the pilgrimage to the Peet's Coffee original store. As a former Peetnik (or is it that I'm a Peetnik for life?), making the journey to the motherland - where all the magic began - on Vine St. in Berkeley was a particularly special moment for me. So much so that we had to document it for posterity.


Lowlights:

ϕ Realizing how out of shape I really am as we climbed the streets of the city in order to reach Coit Tower. It didn’t help to be in the presence of a guy who recently rode his bike from Portland to San Francisco. How do I compete with that? I soon forgot my shortcomings though, because the stunning views of the city and the bay from the tower’s edge had me strategizing how I can one day afford one of the homes we spotted at the top. I’m still working on it.

ϕ Discussions of deadly earthquakes and massive destruction while driving across the Bay Bridge. Not cool.

ϕ Nearly being burned alive while baking pizza. While taking a pizza out of the oven using a dish towel, I failed to protect my entire hand from the incredible heat, causing an ever-so-dramatic dropping of the pan to the bottom of the oven, directly over the burners. I screamed a few expletives and froze (now I know how I react in a state of emergency). While I could have single-handedly (literally, I almost lost a hand in the crisis) ruined the pizza night for us all, my brother rushed in for the rescue, grabbing an oven mitt (oh, is that what I’m supposed to use to protect my hands from third-degree burns?) and procured the pan from the bottom of the oven. Cheers to my brother the hero!

Whew! Well, I think that just about does it for my not-so-brief recap of a great weekend in the Bay area. Until next time, this is your clatter traveler, signing off.

Not All Zombies Are Evil

With most kids returning to school this week, it’s no big surprise that I began to reminisce about my days as a student. I know I make it sound like it’s been forever – and maybe it hasn’t been, since I graduated from law school just last year, but that’s not really what I’m talking about here. I’m talking about the early years of schooling – elementary school. I remember being so excited about taking that annual trip to the store for school supplies – a new package of number two pencils, Pee Chees, wide-ruled spiral notebooks (picking out the right color was always such a tough decision), or even a TRAPPER KEEPER (come on kids of the ‘80s, you know what I’m talking about). But getting new school supplies only begins to describe that excitement of a start of the new school year – I loved to flaunt a brand new backpack and the well-debated first day of school outfit. Of course I also dreaded those annoying first day of school pictures taken in the backyard or in front of the school bus (my mother can vouch that I’m whining to this day about those awful boy haircuts I sported in elementary school.) But oh those glorious school bus days...

I still have nightmares about scary bus driver Peggy, with her intimidating presence and incessant use of the word “tolerate”. I remember she went through a phase where she punished the students by taping off the last three rows of the bus - imagine the riots that followed! Those last few rows were the best place to goof off (or set a firecracker off from. The neighborhood kid would probably deny to this day that he did it. The 20+ year investigation is still pending). We also loved the back of the bus to maximize the bounce factor whenever it would hit a speed bump. (Such adventures to be had on the bus explains why I had a hard time as a young student understanding why Rosa Parks was upset when she was asked to sit in the back of the bus.) But anyway, let’s switch gears now and reflect on the ever-treasured school cafeteria.

While most days in the cafeteria left the kids less than thrilled about their meal prospects (who can possibly get excited about “Mystery Meat Friday”?), there was one menu item that had the kids (including me) dancing in the milk line: the CHEESE ZOMBIE. I don’t know how it got its name or if this is something that was conceived in the Vancouver School District, but none of that really matters – what matters is to express how delicious it really was. The zombie held the essence of a grilled cheese sandwich, but instead of that crispy outside layer, it had a soft, thick, white bread outside, baked until golden. It would be cut into oversized squares, and that thick layer of melted cheese would ooze out each side with every bite. But it’s not just the zombie itself that made those days it was served in the cafeteria the most desired – that bowl of Campbell’s tomato soup completed the meal. A warm, melted cheese sandwich dipped in cream of tomato? Someone please tell me that isn’t the ultimate comfort food!

Circa 1991 may have been the last time I ate a cheese zombie, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t dreamt of the day when I could do it again. While I’ve considered doing lunch out at Harney Elementary, I thought that maybe I could try making it at home instead. My sister came across the recipe a while back for the beloved cheese zombie, and I figured there wasn’t a better time to try it out than during the first week that most schools are back in session.

I have no idea where the recipe came from (it stated it came from “memory”, which in and of itself made me a little nervous), but I figured a simple recipe of flour and other typical yeast bread ingredients couldn’t possibly yield anything horrible. I cut the recipe into a more suitable amount for my household and got to work. As I rolled out the dough for the zombie, I felt the strong urge to tuck my hair behind a hairnet. But then again, no one puts the cool in the hairnet like a lunch lady and to even pretend to be one of them would surely prove to be futile.

You probably already know this about me, but I’m going to say it again: I love cheese (see "A Love Note" post for reiteration purposes). I never thought I’d do this, but in order to complete this clatter “back to school” challenge, I sought out velvetta in the grocery store. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t search for it discreetly - I was even prepared to rearrange other items in my basket to hide it and do the self-checkout. But sadly, the velvetta was nowhere to be found except in the “singles” form (who wants to bet TSTSNBN carries it?), so I decided I needed to change my strategy: I would put my own adult spin on the zombie and use a combo of Tillamook’s extra sharp cheddar and pepper jack instead.

As the sheet of zombies baked in the oven, I reheated my tomato soup on the stove. But here’s the thing: I didn’t use Campbell’s tomato soup. I had made Ina’s roasted tomato basil soup a few days ago and thought this would be a lovely addition. Ok, I know you’re thinking – how would Allison possibly relive those fond memories of her childhood if she’s ruining the very heart of this concept? I understand your concern, and here’s my response to it: throughout my process of reinventing the cherished cheese zombie lunch, I came to a startling realization. There is nothing I could ever do that would bring back the perfection once created in that school cafeteria and served on a plastic tray. And it’s even possible that this lunch menu is only exemplary in hindsight, but there are just some things in life that shouldn’t be messed with – and the cheese zombie happens to be one of them. Life is all about avoiding regrets, and if I tarnished those very memories of the cheese zombie by trying to replicate it exactly and fall short, how could I ever forgive myself!? (Probably through expensive, intense years of therapy.) For the record, however, I’ll have you know that my adult version wasn’t too shabby – in fact it was quite scrumptious… even without a hairnet!