LACMA: A Study in Food Trucks

This week I’ve rekindled a love affair with food trucks. I’ve always loved vendor food. I can think of many sporting events and carnivals of various types that I’ve attended specifically for the vendor food. For some reason, however, I had begun to neglect these valuable purveyors of flavor in recent history. A new wave of creativity in food trucks have put them somewhat en vogue in LA and back into the forefront of my mind. Hurrah! What’s not to like about cheap and tasty eats?

More specifically, however, this week I’ve been taken with the combination of Food Trucks + LACMA. There always seems to be a decent selection of food trucks around this area, probably because there are various large businesses, such as Variety and SAG, in this area, not to mention the foot traffic from visitors to the museum.

LACMA is not at all far from my office – a fact I have not taken nearly enough advantage of in the years that we’ve been here. On Tuesday, my coworker, J.P. noticed on his Twitter feed that several trucks he’s been following were in the area. We ended up choosing one called Skewers on Wheels, another Mexican Asian fusion truck, but at least they're mixing Mexican and Japanese, rather than just doing another Korean/Mexican mix. DELISH! We started out sampling the chicken and meat skewers. Both were very tender and served with a light teriyaki glaze. Every now and again we did encounter little bits of gristle, but overall very tasty. They are served with a small serving of spicy coleslaw. You really can’t beat this at $2 a pop. We also sampled the carne asada tacos which were also very tasty. The guy running the truck was REALLY nice and enthusiastic. On top of the already super reasonable prices, he knocked a few bucks off the total. I think they might be new and are still trying to make a name for themselves in this new world of Tweeting Trucks.

Since we had time left over, J.P. and I decided to cross the street to LACMA and take a walk around the grounds. They have a surprising amount going on outside the museum for which you don’t even have to pay the entrance fee. On the plaza, in between the ticket booths, you are confronted by what looks like a massive curtain of lanterns.

When you get a little closer you realize the curtain is actually made up of hanging Tupperware. It’s bright and colorful and completely coaxes your inner five-year old to run and play, and weave in and out of the hanging plastic. And you’re completely encouraged to do so!

Another installation in the park in back of LACMA is comprised of chain link fences covered with brightly colored plastic “trash” and you are invited to add any plastics you might have to the display. All we had was our plastic water bottles, but hey why not? Better here than in a landfill. Both pieces, which are a part of the current exhibition on Korean Art, are called HappyHappy, by Choi Jeong-Hwa and they really are. Who knew trash and Tupperware could be so much fun!

The next day was another gorgeous LA day, and I took myself on a stroll at lunch. I wound up by LACMA again and I ran into the Kogi truck with absolutely no line. Well, of course I couldn’t pass that up! I ordered the day’s special – a BBQ pork quesadilla with caramelized onions and spicy salsa verde. This may be the best item I’ve tried so far, but I have a lot more ground to cover.

I plopped down with my treasure at a picnic table near the tar pits and feasted on my quesadilla and read a good book. I ran into a fruit cart on my way out and bought some for my walk back to the office. I was a happy girl strolling ing in the California sun with my giant bag of fruit.

You’d think I would have had enough by now, but you’d be wrong. Today is an even more perfect day outside – a few degrees cooler and there’s a light breeze blowing. Heather and I made a plan to grab another food truck lunch and stroll through exhibits at LACMA. Unfortunately, it took a little longer than expected for her to make it over on her bike, so we didn’t have time to go inside. This time we grabbed lunch at Green Truck , which is all organic. The women in charge were about to leave but were nice enough to stick around a few minutes longer to serve us lunch.

It turns out you can get healthy eats at the food trucks. After the last couple of days, I thought that might be the way to go and I ordered a quinoa tabouli salad with mixed veggies and chicken. I would have liked a little more dressing on the mixed greens and I’m not a huge fan of raw mushrooms, which were very present on this salad, but the beets on the salad were delicious. On the whole it was perfect summer food – very light and refreshing, but satiating at the same time.

Heather had a tasty looking chicken pesto wrap with a side of fries – of course I snagged a few of these.

We took our lunch over the picnic area again and found a shady spot. Afterward, while we didn’t have time for LACMA, we did have time to stroll around the top of the Page Museum where we could glimpse down into their coy pond. Another amazing lunch hour!

I’ve never been here and will make a note to come back. Actually, there are so many little museums in the vicinity that I’ve never been to -- – a new museum and a lunch truck for every day of the week. I may have to make a project out of this when we’re back from Oz, especially if I can arrange a few days as gorgeous as today.

I finally gave up my long holdout on Twitter and JP set me up just so that I can follow the food.

LA Bucket List #4: Salsa dancing at Zabumba

So Zabumba. Terrible food and the drinks were almost as bad. Actually, they have the dubious distinction of having served me the worst Kibe I’ve ever had.

But I REALLY wanted to get at least one night of Salsa dancing in before we leave LA, and I had heard that this place was much more chill and laid back than a lot of the more showoffy, pretentious salsa spots in Los Angeles. Plus, I wanted to be able to show the non-dancers of the crew a few steps without having them feel too uncomfortable. For these purposes, this spot proved kind of perfect. There were very few people on Thursday night and the floor was pretty much wide open. The groups who were there could dance really well, but no one seemed to be trying to show off, and they didn’t seem to care that a bunch of newbies had taken over their floor.

A couple of guys even took a couple of us girls out for a spin. I must say Miss Heather held her own very well when escorted to the dance floor by one of the regulars. Mostly, I gave our guys mini lessons (I think Kevin was doing quite well. Definitely on his way to getting it. I’m not convinced Marc is really trying.), and I danced with Johanna while constantly fighting over which of us was leading. Me damn it!

I did squeeze a few dances out Mr. G. This is an ongoing struggle between us. Many, many years ago I forced a drunken promise that he would someday take salsa lessons with me. I reminded him about it for years. When we ultimately decided that we were going to get married in Medellin, he finally gave in. We ended up taking lesson at a place called La Granda in Alhambra. Their lessons are really good and very effective, however, their style might be described as militaristic. I think this drill sergeant style may have permanently killed the joy of dancing salsa for G. He now tolerates it from time to time for my sake. The fact that he doesn’t like it is all the more heartbreaking to me because he’s actually really good! The white boy has rhythm. He actually passed the first dance level much more quickly than I did. (Yeah, there were tests.) This is much more painful to me than if he really sucked, then I might be able to understand a little better. I still contend, however, that sometimes when he forgets that he’s supposed to hate it, he actually kind of likes it. I catch a glimmer in eye from to time that suggest he is actually having a good time.

Or that’s what I have to believe, because I LOVE TO DANCE. Really and truly, I LOVE IT – all kinds. The styles I don’t know, I wish I could learn. I have no shame on the dance floor. I can think of no other place where, as a general rule, I feel less self-conscious than on the dance floor. I don’t know why this is. While I’m a decent dancer, I’m not particularly good, but I am usually completely comfortable in this setting. I rarely need liquid courage to help me get out, I’m often very happy to be the first on the dance floor, I am pretty ok with making a spectacle of myself, and I don’t really care that after dancing for a little while I generally look like a sweaty tomato with frizzy hair. I am also totally aware that I am a queen of the subconscious goofy dancing facial expressions. So be it. Dancing just makes me feel really good. I completely understand why maenads, nymphs, and witches are all so often depicted as dancing. I get a complete lightening of the spirit and a feeling of revelry. I feel this most with the latin dances.

(Somehow, although I'm a Latina woman, I manage a pretty consistent White-man's over bite)

I felt so good after going out dancing that night that the feeling easily carried me through the minor hangover I had the next day. After a few minutes of grogginess I got up popped two Advil and went for a run. The memory of the good feeling even carries me through the pain of seeing my protruding gut in these pictures Heather took. All worth it. I had a great time!

And so I think it was across the board, to some extent. I think the girls all had a blast. (Full disclosure, I guilt tripped Johanna into going when she tried to cancel because she’s a very good dancer. Even so I think she had good time once she was there.) The guys were good sports and tolerated us (and by us, I mean me), the bad drinks, and the food. They went along for the ride, and they certainly get credit for that.

Here’s to hoping that someday they’ll love it almost as much as we do!

(I think there might be a reason that images of dancing revelries more often than not consist of women, even going back to antiquity.)

NYC Beyond the Bea – Rapid Recap

When NYC wasn’t about spending time with little Bea, it was about friends and food – as it always is. Sadly, however, we actually kind of got caught in the moment and didn’t take as many pictures as we normally do. I’m left with little for illustration this time.

Family time was feasting time. Our first night in the city we had a beautiful dinner at a little place near Drew and Suzanne’s apartment called the Paris Commune. Wonderful ambiance and a fantastic deal! They had a $25 prix fixe 3 course menu option. My favorite course was the stuffed walnut crusted brie with caramelized onions. MMMMMMMM!

Subsequent gastronomic blowouts lead us to a pub lunch at The Spotted Pig. I had a lovely prosciutto & ricotta tart, but G’s burger with its heaping mound of shoestring fries was superb. We slurped spicy Thai noodle soups at The Nooch in Chelsea. And we capped off this trip’s eating tour with BBQ at Hill Country and some of the best damned mac and cheese you could want.

In between face stuffing sessions, we covered the town catching-up with friends. First off, we stopped in to see old co-workers of G’s in midtown. (We never lived in the city but he worked closely with the NY office at his old company). He was paraded proudly around the office by one of his old bosses. I was a very proud little wife.

There were many, many drinks had throughout the city. There were beers with Mike and Dan in a great dive bar with a great back patio in Brooklyn. We tried to get pizza afterward, but we were a little too late, having come up with the idea 15 minutes after the closing of nearest pizza joint. I still have an unmet hankering for NY Pizza.

On Sat, I ended up roaming around the city for a bit. I woke up with a bad sore throat and was sequestered from the baby. It ended up being allergies, but better safe than sorry. I didn’t want to be responsible for getting a 3 week-old baby sick. I love walking around the city though, and it gave me the chance to meet up with Lu. She gave me a tour of her apartment and her neighborhood and we got coffee drinks at Cafe Lalo. Apparently, this was the coffee shop featured in a scene from You've Got Mail where Meg Ryan waits to meet the man she's been falling in love with via email, who is actually Tom Hanks, unbeknownst to her. Ok movie, enchanting coffee shop. This was a bitter sweet afternoon in a way, because while we had a lovely time, it also made me wish we lived closer together.

We caught up with lots of old friends from all stages of our lives over many glasses of wine at The Otherroom. Pierre and Dan represented G’s high school years, Lu represented mine. Mike D spanned the high school and college years, along with his girlfriend Celeste, who I also knew in college. For me this one of the best parts of visiting NYC -- we get the chance to see so many people we love and don’t get to see enough of. Very often we also get to reconnect with friends we haven’t seen in years. G’s college roommate Glenn also came out with his lovely girlfriend Annie. We hadn’t seen him since college, although we’d get news of him through the grapevine. They had a chance to catch up and it seemed like not a day had gone by. We ended up bar hopping with these kids across the city late into the night– from the West Village to the Upper West Side. I felt like we had some great new, old friends.

Like that unscratched itch for NY pizza, I’m also left with a general hankering to explore the city as a whole. I haven’t had a chance to just roam NYC aimlessly in years. My mom and I stopped off in the city before heading out on pre-college exploration tour, and we walked up and down the city for days traversing hundreds of blocks. I loved it. As much as I love LA, there is nowhere like New York to just get lost and explore. There is a good chance we’ll be back early next year, and I have my fingers crossed in hopes that’s I’ll get the chance to do just that.

Beautiful Baby Bea

This past weekend G and I headed over to NYC to meet our new niece, Beatrice. This is also the name of my favorite Shakespearean heroin --- so she too is clearly going to grow up to be strong and smart with a rapier wit. She arrived about 3 and half weeks ago to G’s brother Drew, and his wife, Suzanne.

Bea with her Momma . . .


. . . her Pappa . . .


. . . and her grandma . . .

This girl is ridiculously cute, with her already full head of dark hair and gray blue eyes. I know, I know! Everyone says that about every baby, but somehow, little Bea was just that much more irresistible to us. We may be just a little partial, but she seems to have a rose colored glow surrounding her.

G turned to mush the moment he saw her. You could literally see his insides melting into a puddle of love. He didn’t stand a chance. He was wrapped around her teensy little fingers within moments . . . Well, he wasn’t ready so much for poopy diapers or burping, but otherwise, he was putty in her little hands. It was so moving to see. I think girls fall a little more in love with their guys when we see them being good with kids.

Mush. He was complete mush.

I was also enchanted. Pretty much any time she was in sight, we stared at her completely enthralled, even if she was just lying there. She’s endlessly fascinating. Just laying there asleep, not moving, she’s fascinating. Yeah, we were smitten.

I was pretty much mush too.

I think I might have actually felt my biological clock tick for the first time. I think this gorgeous little creature may have given me my first pang of maternal longing!

Now, before anyone (Mom, I’m talking to you here) runs out and starts buying out Babies R Us, let me clarify. I’m not saying I’m ready to have one now, or even in the next couple years, but the time is coming. This is actually kind of a relief in a way. See, I’ve always had this timeline of when we should probably start having the kiddies. This was never based on any emotional pangs, but was arrived at by considering multiple factors such as health, finances, age, work, etc, and calculating when these factors were most likely to optimally align. It’s more a matter of scheduling the calendar of life’s to-do list.

I love kids, and have always wanted them in the abstract, but I kind of tend to shrink with horror at the idea of actually having one. When asked if I have any kids of my own, it’s all I can do to hold back a ‘HELL NO!’ I love other people’s kids. I like to goof around and play games and am always happy to baby-sit, but I’m also very happy to give them back at the end of the day.

It’s not that I’m even squeamish around them or grossed out by dirty diapers or burp-up. I’ve changed a few diapers in my day and, well . . . I’ve been known to drool a little when I nap myself. Who am I to begrudge a little person’s inability to control what comes out of their mouth when I still haven’t completely mastered this skill after all of these years? I do admit that I’m TERRIFIED of labor, but I’ve simply come to terms with the fact that I will get drugs. Say what you will about the epidural, but being born with your mother in a panic attack can’t be good for you either.

This cautious feeling regarding maternity actually goes back a long way. Even as a kid, while I definitely played with my dolls quite a bit, when I played “house” with them by myself, I was never their mother. I’d create these elaborate stories where I was an older sister tragically left to raise her 12 younger siblings, or sometimes I was left in charge of curiously nice orphanage or boarding school. I may have seen A Little Princess once too often.

It really just comes down to the fact that I still really like my freedom. I’m still too selfish. I like it being just G and me for now. Let’s put it this way, when I go to Disneyland I still want to dictate what rides I go on! And money is a whole other story. Aside from the fact that we really don’t have the money to care for a baby just yet, let alone a home in this city, or schools, or the doctor’s bills --- hell, I think we could maybe just afford a pet --- I still kind of want to spend the money we do have on us for a little while longer before we bring another person into the equation. It’s definitely easier to make a decision to go spend a few months and a good chunk of change in another country, as we will be doing in just another month, when you don’t have another tiny person to consider.

So I was really starting to wonder if that maternal longing was ever going to kick in. Rather than longing for the moment I can have a baby of my own, I often try to figure how far back I can push the timeline I’ve created – maybe 32-34 could be 35, or 36, 37, 38, 39, 40. Is 50 too old? (Actually, nowadays, it really might not be.)

Right now, we’re still nowhere near ready; not financially and not emotionally. I/we still have a few more years of selfish living to do. However, it’s kind of comforting to know that biology may kick in yet. I can actually now fathom that the day is coming when I’d be willing to sacrifice all the freedom I now love so much in favor of another little guy or gal. The charms of Beautiful Bea have given me hope that I may still catch up to my timeline and be ready when the time comes . . . or at least I won’t mentally push the bar back quite so far from now on.

30 Hours in Duluth

Last weekend G and I took a fly-by trip to Duluth, Minnesota. A girlfriend of mine from college, Carrie, was getting married – she came all the way to my wedding in Colombia and I feel I really I should do my best to go to the weddings of friends who made the long trip to mine. Plus, I was really excited to check out Duluth. I’ve spent little time in the Midwest since the four-year stint my family spent in St. Louis when I was a kid. (Actually, my dad worked in St Louis, but we lived in a suburb called Chesterfield. I refer to these as the Norman Rockwell years as it was all very picturesque.) The trip was shorter than we would have liked, but sweet.

We arrived at our hotel at around 11 in the morning, and as we were early for check-in, our room wasn’t ready. Luckily, we’d done some homework beforehand. Months ago, I heard a little smokehouse discussed on a podcast of the Splendid Table that happened to be in Duluth. Knowing I was probably going to be making a trip here in the next year, I filed the info away in my mind, and then looked it up before heading out. G went a step further and armed himself with directions from the Sheraton, where we were staying, to the Northern Waters Smokehaus. With no bed ready for us to fall into, we immediately headed out in search of food, waiting only for my friend Naomi to join us.

The hunt to find this little joint was our first chance to get a sense of the city as it turned out to be within an easy walk of the hotel. Our walk took us down a couple of the main streets of downtown. There were many cool older brick buildings -- some that were in need of renovation, but also many that had been well maintained or had been restored.

The Northern Waters Smokehaus was in the Canal Park section of town, an area comprised of reclaimed warehouses that have been converted into quaint shops and trendy cafes to entertain locals and tourists. Northern Waters Smokehaus is tucked in the back of one of these converted warehouses, and could have been easily overlooked when confronted with all of the other bustling restaurant options. It is a tiny little place with a counter displaying the various delicious looking meat options and a few shelves and cases filled with tasty selections. It’s clearly intended mostly as a take-away joint, but there are a few spots available for eating in.

The hunt was worth it. Greg and I shared 2 sandwiches – the Buffalo and the Cajun Finn. The Buffalo is basically a spicy take on a Ruben using bison pastrami.

To be completely honest, I can’t taste a huge difference between the bison and normal pastrami, but it was damn good pastrami. The Cajun Finn was also delicious. The house smoked salmon was as tasty as any we had in Alaska.

Naomi had just recently had brunch, so she took some very tasty looking dry meat snacks back with her to the hotel. It was all very YUM! The Smokehaus is also socially conscious with an eye towards using local and sustainably raised meats and fish (albeit the salmon we had was Alaskan salmon). Delicious and socially and environmentally friendly!

Filled with yummy food, we made our way back to the hotel. Our room now ready, G and I promptly crashed for a few hours since we’d taken a red-eye and wanted to be fresh for the wedding.

Time to celebrate! The wedding was held at the Kitchi Gammi Club, a beautiful brick and stone building overlooking Lake Superior with many detailed wooden decorations and architectural elements embellishing the various rooms inside.

The bride was beautiful of course, and both Carrie and Morgan (the groom) held it together very well. I was amazed. Or such were appearances at least. Later Ms. Carrie hinted that her calm composure was merely a façade. Well done. After a lovely, simple ceremony -- Hallelujah for short ceremonies! – we danced the night away.

(Carrie and Naomi were my Theatre Girls in college - together we put together a lot of shows)

The next morning G and I had planned to get lunch at Pickwick’s-- which was recommended by both our cab driver the day before-- and then head out to visit Glensheen, a 17th century mansion in the area. However, we were seduced by the weather into other plans. The gray clouds that had covered the skies on Saturday, completely cleared up for a gorgeous Sunday. We had no choice but to spend the day outside strolling the edge of Lake Superior.

We opted for lunch at Little Angie's Cantina, which has a great deck in the middle of the Canal Street bustle. Ok, living in California I’m probably a little spoiled in the Mexican food department, but the food was just ok. What they did have – beyond the ambiance of course – was margaritas! Perfect for a hot, sunny day! They’re available in 3 sizes – G didn’t miss beat and opted for the largest – 42 oz! It was roughly the size of head. The shocking part is that it didn’t seem to affect him at all.

After lunch, we continued our walk along the shoreline. We made our way across the Lift Bridge (the street portion actually lifts to make room for tall ships to pass underneath) to the beaches, which are really beautiful. The water is very clear and the sands are a pinky beige.

The irony that we flew from LA to Duluth to have a Sunday of eating Mexican food and walking along the beach is not lost on me. Still . . . not too shabby.

The newlyweds were chilling with friends and family at a beach house nearby, so we stopped by to congratulate them one last time before heading back to grab our things and catch our plane.

But, yeah, Dutuh – I get it. You’ve got lots of green and lots of blue. It seemed that were lots of opportunities for outdoor activities like hiking and camping just a short drive from the city. Hanging out on the beach or taking a fishing trip on the lake doesn’t seem like it would be too shabby either. The people all seemed to very friendly, and that Midwestern accent is just infectiously charming, don’tcha know.

I’d happily come back should my path lead me this way again.