Happy Halloween

It's Halloween in San Francisco. I don't know if you really understand what that means. I said, "IT'S HALLOWEEN IN SAN FRANCISCO!!!!!!!!!" We are talking streets clogged with people from the north bay, the east bay, the south bay, not to mention every single college student who attends school and lives in San Francisco. Did I mention that we have a University of San Francisco (Jesuit run), a San Francisco State University (state run), A University of California San Francisco (medical sciences, state run), Golden Gate University (private, schools of business and law), Hastings College of the Law (state run-sort of), City College of San Francisco (city run junior college), Academy of Art college (private run), and the San Francisco Arts Institute (private run). Guess where a whole bunch of their students are going to be on the night of October 31st? On our streets, that's where.
Halloween used to be the city's premiere gay holiday. The history of gay Halloween is an interesting one. During the fifties, Halloween was the one day that drag queens were legal. That is, the police department wouldn't arrest a guy who dressed up as a woman on Halloween, as long as at midnight, the guy turned into a pumpkin and became invisible. Legend has it that the police chief used to escort the Empress of San Francisco, Jose Sarria, to the Black Cat bar and said "OK Jose, it's your night."
Later, as the Castro district came into it's own as the city's main gay neighborhood, festivities moved over there. Since there was no admission fee to enter the neighborhood, various cool and uncool straight people started to join in the celebration.
The teenage gangs pretty much fucked up Halloween. They drank, they attacked people, they acted like the assholes they were. Today, Halloween requires a massive police presence to make it more or less safe. It is no longer a gay holiday. Talk about getting your culture ripped off by strangers.
Cabbies will have a good night. Also, bars that stay open. There is no alcohol allowed on the street. Forget about getting a cab. Muni is going to be festive/insane. I'll go, since the Castro isn't that far from where I live. But around midnight, I'll walk home. This is not a night to stay out until closing time.

The Birdz

Once during the past several weeks, I walked past the Castro Theater to find a sign in the window advertising a free movie. The free movie was "The Birds" directed by Alfred Hitchcock. And guess what they offered as an added inducement? The star of the film, Tippi Hedren would be there! I got two tickets.
The day of the showing, I got deathly ill and called in sick for work. At 6 I showed up at the Castro and guess what? An old buddy of mine just happened to be at the front of the line. And he just happened to let me in in front of him.
We entered the theater and sat down in the front.. My friend got some popcorn and we waited for Tippi to make an appearance. The Castro has a theater organist, and as he came to his conclusion (which is usually "San Francisco") he played the theme from Alfred Hitchcock Presents. You know, the tv series. And out came a smarmy tv movie host, to be followed by the fabulous Tippi.
I say fabulous because you just know how much queers love old movie stars. The Castro has played host to personal appearances by the likes of Jane Russell, Debbie Reynolds, Elizabeth Taylor, Carol Lynley, and I can't remember who else. Anyway, Tippi came out of the wings, the boys carried on like you cannot believe (a standing ovation with non stop cheering) and Tippi took her place across the table from the the smarmy host.
She must be in her seventies by now, but you'd never know it. She really does look fabulous. Those Hollywood types do a good job of keeping up appearances (of course if I had their money, I could too).
Tippi told us how she got the job. She had been a model, and her face caught Hitchcock's eye. Hitch (as she called him) signed her on even though she had no acting experience. She starred in two of his movies, then called it quits. She was too much of a lady to go into much detail, but it seems that Hitch was something of a perv when it came to dealing with his leading ladies. After two films, Tippi had had enough. Hitch kept her on under contract, but wouldn't let her work for another director, effectively ending her career.
After talking about her work in saving endangered species, especially large cats which she originally kept at home, Tippi left the stage ( to tumultuous applause) and the film began.
What used to be a horror film had become, in the intervening four decades, a camp classic. All the audience had seen The Birds before, and where they should have been shrieking in horror, they were laughing their asses off. It really was a good film. Roddy Mac Dowell is a hunk, Tippi Hedren is a fox, Jessica Tandy is a fine actress, Susan Pleshette smoulders, and the little kid never stops whimpering. A fine night of harmless fun.

Why the deletions?

I've decided to delete a whole bunch of my posts. The reason being that they are about my job, and I don't want to lose it. It's a bummer, but necessary.

This Post Is About Food

The weekend came, the weekend, went, and all I have to show for it are some yummy fish cakes, a killer tomato sauce, a killer pesto, and some poached salmon. Ain't life a bitch?
It started on Saturday with a trip to the farmer's market. The fish lady sold me two bags of fish bones, one bag of salmon bones and one bag of halibut bones. The salmon bones I poached that evening after work, since the longer you let salmon stay uncooked, ...well, it doesn't get any better. The poaching recipe is, two quarts of water, a quarter cup of white wine vinegar, a lemon cut up into wedges, twelve peppercorns, one teaspoon of mustard seeds, and three bay leaves. You may add parsley if you wish (I didn't). Bring to a boil, turn off the heat, add the fish bones, remove when cooked (about five minutes), let the bones cool, then laboriously remove the bones by hand. Oh and don't forget to wash your hands between handling the raw fish and processing, by hand, the cooked fish. Put in a container lined with paper towels and refrigerate immediately. If you don't eat it by the next day, put in plastic bags, put the bags into another container, and freeze.
Sunday I made pesto from the basil and goat cheese parts I bought from the veggie lady and the goat cheese lady, respectively. Four cups fresh basil leaves, one half cup of grated goat cheese (or parmesan), one half cup pine nuts, six cloves of garlic, and one half cup of olive oil. Put in in a food processor and set the processor on chop.
Sunday I poached the halibut bones. Just with water, no seasoning. Sunday night I made fish cakes with the poached halibut. Season with salt and pepper, add an egg, add breadcrumbs, mix by hand, and fry up them puppies in canola oil in an iron skillet. Yummy.
But the most daunting challenge I faced was turning three pounds of San Marino tomatoes into a tomato sauce. I make cross cuts on both sides of the tomatoes, then boil them in water for about 60 seconds. That makes it easier to peel them. Then I chop them up. Heat olive oil in a skillet, add chopped onions and garlic, and stir. Then add the tomatoes, one cup of red wine, some bay leaves, oregano, thyme and basil. Also, salt and pepper. I also added a stick of celery and a large carrot, grated. Also a small can of tomato paste.
The sauce takes hours to cook, and when I tasted it, it seemed unusually acidic. I added a teaspoon of brown sugar, just to sweeten it up a bit. I had it on the stove simmering for at least three hours. Then I put it in the food processor and pureed it, then back on the stove to simmer some more.
Today I make a ratatouille (spell check anyone?). Saute garlic and onions (I have some nice cippolinas-nice and sweet) in olive oil. Ad a few tablespoons of tomato paste. Add all kinds of cut veggies (I'm using tomatoes, squash, celery, sweet peppers, green beans, but no carrots or potatoes!) Also some broccoli (but don't add that till the end).
But the real secret to this dish is something called "herbes de Province". I had never heard of these "herbes" until I decided to make this dish, which I had eaten at Le Mistral, a combination restaurant, take out place located at the Ferry Building in San Francisco. They serve excellent organic vegetables and organically raised meats, cooked in a rotisserie oven for a very reasonable price (under ten dollars for a meat entree and two sides). I asked for the recipe from the lady who works there, because I had some vegetables that were going to die in my fridge if I didn't do something with them, pronto. She gave me a small container of the "herbes", and they really did the trick.
Boil up some pasta, add the homemade tomato sauce, sprinkle it with the goat cheese, bring another container of the ratatouille, and I'll have a great lunch for work ( I go in at 4pm).
It's so nice not to write about Muni for a change. I write about whatever is happening to me on any typical day. Most of the time it's about work, because that's the only thing "happening" in my life on any given day. And if I don't keep a diary of my comings and goings, I won't write about anything at all. I really need the mental energy that comes from putting events and thoughts down on computer. So, enjoy the recipes. I did.

Saturday Night

I'm always pissed that I have to work on Saturday nights. Every Saturday night I tell myself "Fuck it. I'm not doing shit tonight. It's my Friday. Fuck these people. "
And then KALW comes to my rescue. 91.7 on your FM dial if you live in San Francisco. How could I put up with Saturday nights without it?
After listening to KPOO (89.5 on your FM dial) for reggae, promptly at 6:30 pm comes Bluegrass Signals on KALW. I get to hear all that shitkickin' country music (not the modern stuff-I think Travis Tritt should be castrated), but the old timey Bill Monroe and the Bluegrass Boys, Rose Maddox, Flatt and Scruggs, and a whole bunch of fiddling, mandolining, geetar and banjo pickin' whitey music. Gettin' in touch with my inner redneck.
My dad used to listen to the same stuff, and I remember pitying him for his low brow, white working class, terribly unhip tastes. I, on the other hand, listened to college educated folkies who were socially conscious, against racism and war, and who, now that I look back on them, seem like a bunch of pretentious assholes.
There's nothing like barreling down 280 on the way to the Woods or Green division to pick up datapacks and listening to Rose Maddox belting out "If you've got the money, honey, I've got the time."
At 8 pm, the mood shifts. Dore Stein has a program called Tangents, which runs until midnight. It's good American stuff, and good international stuff, and it all comes from Dore Stein's eclectic tastes. You can hear throat singers from central Asia, Bosnian sufis, klezmer, gospel rock, koranic chanting, and stuff that you have never heard before, and probably wouldn't hear, if this program didn't exist.
After Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans, the first two hours of the show were entirely devoted to New Orleans music. Another Saturday, when a charity devoted to the plight of the Roma people (also known as Gypsies) was about to have a benefit in San Francisco's Slavonic Hall, Stein played nothing but Gypsy music from all around the world. From Flemenco to Ottoman to Romanian, to just about everywhere, it was a show not to be missed.
At 11 pm, Stein plays a "mystery artist" and you, the listener, are invited to call in and try to guess the name of the artist, or the country that the artist is from. If you make a correct guess, you can get tickets for any concert that you want, provided that the show is not sold out, or the show is not a benefit. I never win, but I always try. You can only call in three times, (KALW has caller ID) and I've never won yet, but I keep trying.
The BBC news comes in at midnight, but thankfully, that is when my shift is ending, so I don't have to bear it. There is no question that KALW makes my Saturdays go by very nicely.
You should listen in on a Saturday night (you can listen on the web) and if you are so inclined, send a donation. KALW is listener supported.

The Weekend-or Bluegrass up the Kazoo

Went to the Strictly-Hardly-Bluegrass Festival in Golden Gate Park this weekend. Saw Doc Watson and missed Earl Scruggs (had to go to work). Good music, free Gatoraid from the Haight Ashbury Free Clinic Rock Concert Project, good food (my own) and good company. I could have gone to the Castro Street Fair, but I can see queers any day of the week. How often do I get to listen to good music? And it was all free.
Four stages, with four simultaneous concerts all day on both Saturday and Sunday. An orgy of bluegrass music. Joan Baez was at one of the concerts but who needs to see her? Doc Watson was fabulous. Could have seen Dolly Parton and Emmylou Harris, but I don't like either of them, so I didn't bother. Missed Earl Scruggs because I had to go to work on Saturday.
Too tired to go out to collect datapacks (was up late at night preparing food for the festival) so I reviewed video instead. Saw some bloods stomping a guy on a bus. Lousy visuals, so I don't know if the cops will identify them. And now to bed. Ain't life a bitch?