Coffee Archives — Page 22 of 42 — San Francisco Bay Guardian Archive 1966

Appetite: 2010, the year in absinthe

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks

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December 28, 2010

Read up, absinthe seekers… whether you’re intrigued by the (false) claims of hallucinogenic effects or an aficionado taken in by the culture surrounding the green fairy, a little reading will take you deeper. This year has produced three new absinthe books furthering knowledge of an artful drink best enjoyed with leisure and attention.

Absinthe Cocktails by Kate Simon
This pretty little tome is an elegant black and grey with hints of green. Kate Simon is editor-at-large for the ultimate drink magazine, Imbibe. Her drink knowledge is used to educate on what absinthe is and isn’t in Absinthe Cocktails‘ brief primer section. A handy buying guide recommends fine absinthes made in the US (Viuex Carre, Leopold Bros.) and Switzerland (the incredible Duplais), France (Vieux Pontarlier) and Spain (Obsello). The majority of the book is cocktail recipes, from classics like the absinthe frappe (which I crave on a hot day in New Orleans), to “The New Guard”, a section on modern classics from a number of the world’s best bartenders (including some of our own like The Alembic’s Daniel Hyatt and Brian MacGregor formerly of Jardiniere). Photos are lush, the romantic look making it an ideal coffee table book.

A Taste for Absinthe by R. Winston Guthrie with James F. Thompson
I wrote about this book upon its October release, my top pick of the three and another coffee table looker. With lovely photography by Liza Gershman, it offers a wide range of cocktail recipes, more in-depth history, lore and cultural references. A Taste for Absinthe is also a welcome primer on the green fairy but goes deeper with details on the culture that grew around it: poster art, spoons, glasses, fountains, even film references. The book is broken down into five recipe sections: classics, fruit and citrus, whiskey and gin, liqueurs and bitters, and modern classics compiled from some of our country’s best bartenders, again including many SF locals. This one is a necessary addition to the library of any absinthe geek.

The Little Green Book of Absinthe by Paul Owens and Paul Nathan
Minus photos, The Little Green Book of Absinthe is a simpler, straightforward recipe reference book. In its initial pages lie interesting details on absinthe’s history, including early formulas, louching tips, and background on key brands. But for me the lack comes in the recipes which make up a majority of the book. Their chosen mixologist, Dave Herlong, is from a Vegas hotspot, apparent in the common inclusion of nasty ingredients like Red Bull, Blue Curacao, sweet and sour mix, or Apple Schnapps. These ingredients appeal to the masses and general American sweet tooth, but a drink aficionado or basically anyone who has developed a taste for authentic flavors versus unnaturally processed, will find less to appeal here. A handful of intriguing recipes are present, including bubbly cocktails under “Decadent Concoctions.” There’s worthwhile material in the factual sections of this book but I could not recommend as a recipe reference.

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Arthur Szyk: beauty in fairy tale… and Stalin

Andrew Lam

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December 27, 2010

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Nowadays, being up on the news can actually make us stupider (more stupid, damn!), but when cartoonist Arthur Szyk was sketching his dense, fantastically detailed news caricatures, politics were still in need of explication – and all the more better if it was beautiful to boot. How else can one explain why one of the most whimsical artists of the 1930s and ’40s became best known for his sketches of Hitler and Stalin playing poker?

Szyk’s jewel box of an exhibition is on view through March 2011 at that jewel box of a museum, the Legion of Honor. How lovely is the Legion of Honor? Though its offerings are often obscured by its big box fine art peers like the de Young and the SFMOMA, the Legion itself is a French neo-classic temple compared to the blatant modernism of its more centrally-located brethren. Where else, for pete’s sake, can one find a meticulously transposed Louis-whenever parlor room adjacent to a hall full of Rodin sculptures?

A multi-media art experience, I reflected, passing under a mudejar ceiling from late 15th century Torrijos region of Spain, on my way to the museum’s corner hideaway gallery no. 1 that housed Szyk. Who was a firecracker, really. Born to a Jewish Polish family, Szyk was one of the first political caricaturist to sketch out against the Führer. His Haggadah series (1932-1938) correlated Hitler’s rise with the traditional story of the Israelites’ biblical flight from Egypt.

Though his original message was somewhat watered down by the drawings’ group publication in 1940 (the publishers erased all the swastikas from the drawings – que what?), it was still considered one of the most beautiful works of the time. Szyk was also outspoken about his adopted country’s lack of action in the face of evil – the US fell under the wrath of his pencil for its sluggish rise to action during World War II.

The man’s drawings are pure, extravagant beauts. The drowsy, yet watchful eyes of the Legion security guards (legion guards! Drama!) prevented me from nosing in quite as close as I wanted to them – the sentries probably get sick of wiping off the glass – but even so. Even so, there were his illustrations for a deck of playing cards, his whip-smart rendering of a poker game between Hitler and Stalin — with the Angel of Death looking on intently. His sumptuous creations for the 1955 edition of Arabian Nights Entertainment. His faces are so detailed that they bely the fact that they are portraying fictional characters. His details are so extraordinary its no wonder that a lot of adult children will get a sense of time travel vertigo dipping into his stash of kid’s book illustrations. The flowers with faces Szyk brought into being for the 1945 edition of Andersen’s Fairy Tales — well Walt, you have some explaining to do about Alice’s rose garden buds.

You should be witness to all this, of course. While you’re there, check out the Legion’s marquee showing of Japanese and Californian and French-via-Japan prints in the basement (Japanesque, through Jan. 9). And the Legion cafe, of course, which is always crammed full of old people and is an excellent place to enjoy a cup of coffee or esoteric Asian soda pop.

Arthur Szyk: Miniature Paintings and Modern Illuminations

Through March 2011

Legion of Honor

100 34th Ave., SF

(415) 750-3600

www.famsf.org

Hot sexy events December 22-28

Andrew Lam

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December 22, 2010

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Santa was a freak. Think on it: he gets around by whipping those reindeers’ tender flesh (hello, dom), sneaks in your house at night to kiss your mama, and has a bizarre obsession with whether you’ve been naughty or nice. To me, that sounds like… well someone who reads this column, that’s all. And it very much clears up Chaps’ much-heralded holiday hours (on Fri/24 and Sat/25 they’re open from 8 p.m.-late). Would you like to sit on Santa’s lap? Get cruisey, all you ho-ho-hoes — it’s Christmas time for the weekly sex events.

Good Vibes customer appreciation nights

So it’s… now, and you still haven’t touched that waiting list of those-to-be-gifted? Worry not, my like-minded friend, for Good Vibrations is encouraging your wacky, irresponsible ways with their last minute shopping events, which will put chocolates and wine into your holiday hands, as well as provide on-staff sex experts to counsel you on just the right vibrator for your sweet, self-lovin’ friends.

Weds/22 and Thurs/23 6-8 p.m., free

Good Vibrations

Various Bay Area locations

www.goodvibes.com

Kinky Knitters

‘Tis the season to knit something sexy! A Rosebud red crocheted teddy perhaps? Or maybe just a beanie large enough to pull over lover boy’s eyes for some sexy blindness play? The options are multitudinous at the weekly stitch and bitch at kinky coffee shop Wicked Grounds. Ideal topics for discussion: Tensile strength of various yarns and the hottest new adjustable harness sewing pattern.

Thurs/23 7-10 p.m., free

Wicked Grounds

289 8th St., SF

(415) 503-0405

www.wickedgrounds.com

Center for Sex and Culture XXXmas Eve Film Night

Fun fact: in 2003, Moby made Alien Sex Party, a sex-positive, raunchy comedy starring the cast of a sex store who have got to keep it together through Christmas Eve, despite kooky customers and the occasional K-Y jelly eating alien. CSC shows the film at this time each year – trust, by the time the characters launch into the “You Can Have Sex With Whatever You Want” number, you’ll be singing along in fine Christmas spirit.

Fri/24 9:30-11 p.m., $5-20 sliding scale

Center for Sex and Culture

1519 Mission, SF

(415) 552-7399

www.sexandculture.org

The movie Moby only made so that he could rock that floppy dildo headband

Dee’s Meander

Sure, that frosted sleighbell tastes fine now, but the next time you’re tied to the St. Andrews cross, you might be surprised at how you’re bulging out underneath the lovingly applied rope your partner just lashed all over you. Time to stretch those legs. This regular walk is geared towards giving the BDSM community a chance to get physically fit and have some uplifting convos about sex play while doing so.

Fri/24 4-5 p.m., free

Bestor Art Park

Bestor between 5th and 6th Sts., San Jose

www.erobay.org

Chaps Bar Escape

Like I said, this bar is proudly open through the holidays, so if you’re looking to flee the warmth and wackiness of the fam for a few hours, you could do worse than to don your hottest jock strap and head down to Chaps to lick some candy canes.

Fri/24 and Sat/25 8 p.m.-late, free

Chaps

1225 Folsom, SF

(415) 225-2427

www.chapsbarsanfrancisco.com

Page street

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks

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December 21, 2010

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Rebecca Solnit’s Infinite City: A San Francisco Atlas (University of California Press, 158 pages, $24.95) is one of the best ideas a writer has come up with in a long time. By combining private and public support, Solnit was able to give away portions of the atlas in full-color, full-spread map handouts. (My favorite tracked both famous/infamous queer public spaces and the migration of butterflies throughout the city.). In the process, she also gave lectures in public spaces, providing a public service in the name of history and inclusion before dropping this tome on the book-buying masses. Gent Sturgeon’s version of a city-fied Rorschach alone is worth the price of the ticket. From insect habitats to serial killers, Zen Buddhist centers to the culture wars of the Fillmore and South of Market that some call redevelopment; Solnit and her cadre of artists, writers, cartographers, and researchers — Chris Carlsson, Guillermo Gómez-Peña, and Mona Caron among them — give us the infinite depths and limitless potential that can be found in 49 square miles. (D. Scot Miller)

A lot of good and even great books came from the Bay Area this year, but one stands out: a book of poetry, Cedar Sigo’s Stranger in Town (City Lights, 100 pages, $13.95). He is a young writer who improves dramatically each time I hear him read, and his poetry and critical writing are among the wonders of our age. And of the age before, since through him speak the dead poets David Rattray, John Wieners, Robert Creeley, Denton Welch, Philip Whalen, Salvador Dali, Jean Cocteau, Eartha Kitt, Raymond Roussel, Lorine Niedecker, and Cole Porter. When new writers come to San Francisco, they ask me if I’ve met Cedar Sigo. If they don’t know Sigo’s work, then I hand them a copy of the new collection. Don’t have to say much, I just step back a little to avoid the stars and diamonds and apples popping out of their eyes like toast from a toaster, because this crazy work is that crazy good. (Kevin Killian)

Compared with the prosaic grind of the inner city, the Sunset can seem like a — albeit foggy — vacation. Wide streets, surf breaks, dunes fit to get lost in: the neighborhood is just right for an offbeat bohemian getaway. But maybe those are just the reverberations of the past, which western neighborhood historian Woody LaBounty has dug up in Carville-by-the-Sea (Outside Lands Media, 144 pages, $35). This coffee table book illustrates the lives of the Sunset’s first modern-day inhabitants, who constructed a seaside village of retired street cars to inhabit back in the days before the N-Judah. Colorized at times for an Oz-like effect, the photos LaBounty digs up to illustrate “Cartown” reveal a community of artists, families, and enthusiasts — even a women’s cycling club — amid an untamed, oscillating sandscape. Those converted SoMa warehouse apartments suddenly don’t seem quite so rugged, do they now? (Caitlin Donohue)

In a city that boasts literally hundreds of theatrical world premieres per year, it’s astounding how few make it to the printed page. Bravo, then, to EXIT Press, new publishing arm of the venerable EXIT Theatre, for helping to ensure that at least some of our local play-writing talents will be preserved for posterity. And who better to inaugurate the series than Mark Jackson, whose professional development has been closely tied to the EXIT, and to the San Francisco Fringe Festival, which it produces? Far from being merely a collection of “Fringe-y” experimentation, Ten Plays (EXIT Press, 492 pages, $19.95) is a testament to the tenacity of vision. From reimagined Shakespearean classics (R&J, I Am Hamlet) to Jackson’s breakout hit The Death of Meyerhold, the bleakly comedic American $uicide, and the stirring Kurosawa-esque epic The Forest War, what these plays have in common is an audacious commitment to the illimitable possibilities of live theater. Of which, giving these works an opportunity to reach a wider audience is but one. (Nicole Gluckstern)

By any good political standard, John Lescroart’s Damage (Dutton, 416 pages, $26.95) is awful. It’s all about how a criminal uses the technicalities of law to get released (damn liberal judges) and how his family — newspaper publishers with ties to the (damn liberal) political establishment — protects him even as he continues to rape young women. Reminds me of that atrocious movie Pacific Heights, which is supposed to convince you that eviction protection and tenants rights are unfair to the poor landlords. But Lescroart writes about San Francisco, and does a pretty good job describing the city, and his characters are so real and well-crafted that I’m able to set aside the politics. In this case, Ro Curtlee, the rapist, is such an evil, evil bad guy — but a plausible, privileged evil bad guy — that he comes to life in a way that makes you want to kill him yourself. And makes you understand why a cop might feel the same way. And in the world of crime fiction, making you feel pain is half the game. It’ll be out in paper this spring. (Tim Redmond)

What Carl Rakosi was to Objectivism — a significant poet who dropped out of sight only to reemerge an old master — Richard O. Moore is to the SF Renaissance. The 90-year-old Moore was active in Kenneth Rexroth’s libertarian-anarchist circle in the 1940s, but abandoned poetry publishing for the more efficacious mass media of radio and TV, cofounding both KPFA and KQED in the process (and shooting the only footage of Frank O’Hara to boot). But Moore never stopped writing, and his debut volume Writing the Silences (University of California Press, $19.95) offers a brief but tantalizing introduction to more than 60 years of poetic activity. Moore’s diction is spare but memorable; a hawk’s wings, for example, “balance on the blind/ push of air.” Yet his low-key tones are wedded to an experimental sensibility; witness 1960’s “Ten Philosophical Asides,” which might be the first poem in English riffing on Wittgenstein, more than a decade before language poetry. Writing the Silences is thus belated yet ahead of its time. (Garrett Caples)

I commissioned three of the works in Veronica De Jesus’s Here Now From Everywhere (Allone Co. Editions, 130 pages, $26). Her portraits of Michael Jackson and Jay Reatard ran in the Guardian, while I paid out of pocket for her to render a tribute to the poet John Wieners for my boyfriend. Along with just-announced SECA Award winner Colter Jacobsen, who published this book, De Jesus is my favorite creator of drawings in the Bay Area. Like Jacobsen, she delves into memory — her memorial portraits can be seen for free on the windows of Dog Eared Books, where this book is for sale. The charm and value of Here Now From Everywhere is immediate, but the book reveals more of its multfaceted personality with each return visit. De Jesus’ illustrated dictionary of inspirational icons ranges from superstars to half-forgotten pop heroes, from cultural figures to obscure female athletes. It’s a gift. (Johnny Ray Huston)

“I told Micah last night that my new book would be a haunted house.” Berkeley-based poet Julian Poirier’s El Golpe Chileño (Ugly Duckling Presse, 128 pages, $15) is filled with the ghosts of past and present. Essentially a bildungsroman, it tracks Poirier’s protagonist’s growth from youthful journeyman into adulthood though a kind of mixed-genre Theatre of the Absurd. Vaudeville, comics, memoir, film pitch, epistolary, failed novel, poetry, the carnival, and travelogue are all wielded brilliantly in the hands of Poirier, making for a phantasmagoric reading experience where the whole emerges defiantly greater than the sum of its parts. Poirier writes, “I turned my whole brain into a city and wrote down everything I saw happening there.” And indeed it certainly feels that way — the book is ripe with the names of places, of friends living and dead; with lists of dates and years; and with drawings and photographs, making up what Poirier somewhat obliquely labels “The Stolen Universe.” El Golpe Chileño is truly a success of form and content, of the high and low, of pop and elegy. (John Sakkis)

Nathan Habib keeps it kosher

Andrew Lam

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December 21, 2010

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“I’m a really practical person. That limits me from driving out to a club the city and coming back in the morning to take a test.” Nathan Habib’s not living the rock star stand-up comedian life just yet. But that’s not to say that Habib (who will be performing at Kung Pao Kosher Comedy‘s holiday run Thurs/23-Sun/26) isn’t dedicated to making people laugh. He’s been performing for seven years – and he’s 21 years old.

Habib’s standard promotional copy calls him “confidently awkward,” and this is actually how he comes across when I meet with him at Farley’s coffee shop on Potrero Hill. I’m late, of course, and he’s begun to read from the rack of magazines besides him, but he quickly shelves the material to say a very polite hello as I approach.

Habib is from a strong Israeli-Latvian-Italian family with a big social network in Palo Alto. His mom is the lovingly pushy type of mother that approached Kung Pao founder Lisa Geduldig after her son fell in love with New York comedian Greg Rogell’s act that night. “Traditional Jewish mom, telling her I’m a comedian like I’ve been doing it forever or something,” Habib laughs.

Whether Geduldig took the endorsement with a grain or salt or not is questionable, but the fact remains that she listened to mom’s assertion that her 14 year old son was serious about stand up. She put Habib into the lineup of one of her shows before (this week’s run will be Habib’s second with the series), and provided support for the kid as he traversed the world of high school open mics and comedy clubs around the peninsula. “Lisa has been really good to me,” Habib says. Throughout high school, he says, he was known as the “stand up guy,” and didn’t know any one else his own age with the same motivation to grip mics and wax observational on stage.

The reasonable tenor of conversation with Habib is kind of weird because I tend to think of stand-up comedians as messed-up individuals (in the best sense of the term). But here we have a young man who puts his double major in film and economics at UC Santa Cruz firmly at the top of his list of priorities. He’s got a girlfriend with whom “things are flowing well,” and who doesn’t mind that she makes regular appearances in Habib’s schtick, generally as part of stories highlighting his inability to set romantic scenes for her. He also gets a laugh out of his brothers, who find Habib’s venting about frustrating situations hilarious, and his dear old momma, who drove him all around town in the early days to get him to gigs. “My mom loves it when I make fun of her. I don’t know why – well, I think she likes the attention,” he smiles.

Wholesome as a glass of milk. Although, coming from Gunn High School, a competitive prep incubator in Palo Alto, the choice of stand up comedian as a career is a bit off the beaten path. “All my friends want to be doctors and lawyers, go to grad school or whatever.” But Habib can’t shake the pull of comedy “It’s my identity. Plus, I feel like I’m giving something to society.”

His general feel-good sunniness is appropriate, perhaps, for a Christmas gathering for people that don’t celebrate (or need a break from) Christmas. Kung Pao takes the old cliché of Jews eating at a Chinese restaurant over the holidays and puts a little sass on it: a lineup that this year includes creepy-cute Wendy Liebman, Vietnamese-Jewish Joe Nguyen, Habib, and Geduldig herself. A real nice place to take the fam if you’re ready for a break from “closed for the holidays” and canned expectations of world peace and fraternal love.

For Habib’s part, he’ll be following in the grand standup tradition of playing off the idiosyncrasies of his lovingly wacky life, which for him isn’t as easy as it sounds, really. “These things come so naturally to me that I don’t always see the funniness in it.” Kung Pao gives him a chance to play up the Jewish side of his routine, not something he usually focuses on. “I will say,” he says. “That it’s going to feel good to come back to my people.”

Kung Pao Kosher Comedy

Thurs/23 and Sun/26 dinner 5-6 p.m., comedy 6-7:30 p.m.

Fri/24-Sat/25 dinner 6-7 p.m., comedy 7-8:30 p.m.

All shows $42-62

New Asia Restaurant

772 Pacific, SF

(925) 275-9005

www.koshercomedy.com

Tiny Bones breaks out

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks

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December 14, 2010

41

Elise-Marie Franklin, a.k.a. Tiny Bones, breezes into Four Barrel Coffee in the Mission, turning several heads in her wake, and it’s like, “Wow, dayum, star power!” (She declines a cup of slow-drip because, “I have so much natural energy, I’d probably explode.” I can see that.)

The gorgeous young singer and musician looks destined to be the first pop star graduate of San Francisco’s storied hardcore electro scene, utilizing her various talents to combine underground and mainstream elements into a bewitching and surprisingly unique style. Together with her partner in music, local fameball Topher Lafata, a.k.a. Gold Chains, she’s finally started releasing tracks on their label New California Music (www.newcaliforniamusic.com) after a long gestation period.

“We’ve been working for three years on all of this and have dozens of songs ready to go, but we wanted everything to be just right — the music, the website, the label. It’s fantastic, because now we can do things our own way.”

Tiny Bones spent her childhood in Carmel and France, training from an early age in vocal techniques and multiple instruments. But she came of punk-rock age in the famous pit of Berkeley’s 924 Gilman and, later, the electro-styley, camera-ready world of club Blow Up. Add to all that a music appreciation that runs from the Ronettes to Eazy-E (with stops at Deniece Williams and Depeche Mode), and you’ve got a powerhouse of influences.

“I love so many different kinds of music that for me it’s less about the style than the fact that something’s authentic,” she told me. “I aim for that authenticity with my own music — I put all of myself into my songs and performance, I don’t believe in holding back.”

That perfect lack of restraint comes through in her stage persona, which mixes sexiness (“Sexuality is huge in my life, and I don’t shy away from it”) and smarts (Tiny Bones is a psychology grad student at UC Berkeley). Those two sides meld to humorous-hot effect in the video for her first single, a slow-building, tropical-tinged banger called “Heat.” It starts in a boardroom, with Tiny Bones setting feminist boundaries for her marketing campaign — no bikini-clad sexploitation, no oil, no fans in the hair — and then demolishing those boundaries in a tight gold tube top, owning her hotness and slaying the fanboys.

Tiny Bones has just released her second track, “Parley,” an epic hardcore electro breakup-party ballad that expertly hits an aching sweet spot between build and release around the two-minute mark and holds you there for the rest of the six-minute track. It’s pretty breathtaking in its ballsiness, and the video is a love letter to San Francisco, with guest spots from nightlife stars HOTTUB, the Tenderlions, Monistat, Merkeley???, Richie Panic, and more.

Tiny Bones is going to soon bring that San Fran ballsiness to the world, with a tour in the works, a full album, and a lot more partying (and studying). “This has always been my dream, to be a singer and make people happy and maybe inspire someone. Now I’m ready to go for it.”

Mike Giant meditates

Andrew Lam

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December 10, 2010

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When you’re meeting up with a skateboarding design-graf-tattoo art giant, you prep a certain kind of question – ‘how do you post your art on your website without getting arrested’ comes to mind. But when I hung with Bay legend Mike Giant this week while he put the final touches on the pieces for his upcoming fine art show at Guerrero Gallery (opens Sat/11), I found myself ditching my notes for another line of inquiry.

Which followed this line, roughly: where do I find some of what he’s smoking?

Maybe what he’s meditating on would be a more apt way of putting it. Giant, the founder of zine publishing house Skullz Press and skate brand Rebel 8, has been pursuing enlightenment for well over a decade now – he used to lead a regular meditation session in Dolores Park followed by a group bike ride before travel and a brief stint back in his hometown of Albuquerque took him away. He finds it a integral part of his creative process. “I’m the observer to my thoughts, not the thinker. It feels like I’m just watching it happen.”

Oh wait, that was him talking about what happens when he smokes weed before he draws.

But it all comes to the same end: what Giant is searching for is a way to step back from the small urgencies and literal dialogue of life and connect to a larger undercurrent. It’s a slightly abstract artistic statement — one that fits with his scraggly, shoulder-length blonde hair, bushy beard, and elder hippie statesman status in the circles he runs in — but it’s pretty refreshing to hear someone with firm roots in street culture get up on such a positive level.

Above, Giant getting up in Western Addy. Below right, cruising through Guerrero Gallery. All photos by Andres Guerrero

The 16-odd works that Giant is showing at Guerrero were already hung on the gallery’s walls the rainy day I trekked over, half of them magazine image collages and half of them single design human hearts and skulls, fine art pieces that he’s created with sign painter’s enamel (“it’s another low brow homage.”) The collages are collections of magazine images with alternating feminine and masculine themes, accentuated with small, handwritten notes from Giant.

Here, a transcription of an ex-girlfriend’s apology for a tumultuous relationship, there, turn-ons and turn-offs. A list on a piece stacked with photos of women displays a neatly-written “things that make girls ugly” that lists coffee, cars, corporate jobs, meat, and cigarettes. Giant’s bike leans by the gallery entrance, his constant companion whose front basket has been known to hold three cases of beer at a time. There’s eloquent meditations, mundane journal-like entries – another note on the same piece reads “don’t be surprised that I like girls who can deep throat.”

Three days before the exhibit’s opening reception and the works are done. And yet throughout our interview Giant hardly stops messing with them. I watch as he tags an empty corner of one of them with one of his impossibly precise characters. Giant is known for the cleanness of his lines, and has cultivated an image of responsibility and dedication in the skate and tattoo art worlds. “I work hard. All my friends will tell you I work every day for quite a few hours in the studio,” he tells me when I remark that he’s thought of as a “smart” artist.

Hard-working, but business savvy is surely another contributor to the guy’s success. He’s landed partnerships with Pabst and Vans – the big guns in hipster advertising – and has struck upon what he sees as the secret to ensuring one’s economic worth in the art world: repetition. “It increases the value, the more that image has life on the marketplace,” he counsels.

And correspondingly, Giant’s aesthetic is fairly solid: the cholo imagery that made him a star on the tattoo scene runs throughout his design work, and onto the enameled canvasses that hang on the wall at Guerrero.

After a decade of physically grueling work he’s now retired from tattooing anyone but friends, the guy’s Facebook fan page is still overrun with entreaties to do one last tat. “How do I get work by u?” asks a gentleman named Corn Nut, into the Internet abyss. A few years back Giant did a photography series of hot chicks on bikes, drawing over the prints to make the girls into inked idols. He loves making art on skin, it’s just that his body’s not up for it anymore. “Ten years,” he says. “That’s how long most people figure you can do in tattoos.”

Although still busy with designing T shirts for Rebel 8, Giant figures that having been on the scene this long he is afforded a few shifts in medium. “I’m allowed to. I’m at a point in my career now where I don’t think it matters — I’ve started to think of the fine art thing as the place to experiment.”

He does look pretty happy in Guerrero with his fist full of Sharpies, having just smoked a humungous joint and waxed poetic on the beauty of meditation for the better part of an hour. A beauty unto himself, really, so I’ll give the last word to the Giant.

“Meditation… the whole point of that is to break your heart open. It’s way crazier than an orgasm, than a crazy LSD trip, than the greatest love you’ve ever felt. It’s important to keep in mind that there’s a different level of this. I do think I’ve felt the hand of God.”

Mike Giant: “Reflections on Past, Present, and Future”

Opening reception Sat/11 7-11 p.m., free

Guerrero Galley

2700 19th St., SF

(415) 400-5168

www.guerrerogallery.com

Appetite: Hungry for Change

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks

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December 7, 2010

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“Change the world with everything you buy”. This is the tag line behind the inspiring Trade as One, a Northern California-based organization that promotes sustainable businesses in poor, marginalized communities. Whether you look at it as a way of giving during the holidays or as a new year’s resolution, it’s an ideal time to try a new program that could be habit-forming.

Trade as One recently launched a monthly subscription called Hungry for Change. Delivered to your door every month is a box including 4-5 foods, a recipe, and additional surprise items. The month I tried the box, it included Canaan sun-dried Palestinian couscous, Glorybee comapi honey, Canaan Palestinian za’atar herbs, and Kopali dark chocolate-covered espresso beans. The additional “surprise” gifts? A Divine chocolate candy bar, a greeting card featuring an artistic photo of a fair trade farmer, and a handy little book, The Better World Shopping Guide. The book is full of incredibly helpful lists and company ratings for best and worst offenders in purchasing everyday items from hair care to paper, alongside supermarket or airline choices.

A subscription is $33 a month or $99 for three months. Add on Coffee Club – http://tradeasone.com/get_involved/hungry_for_change/details (choose regular or decaf) and 1-3 bags of fair trade coffee are included with your monthly shipment. A card detailing the story behind one of the producers in the package brings it home, making it personal. Trade as One’s holistic approach urges changing buying habits. As they say on the back of their greeting cards, we can “fix problems instead of perpetuate them” by using our consumer power to positively affect change. I can think of few better food gifts to a friend, yourself and the world.

www.tradeasone.com

–Subscribe to Virgina’s twice monthly newsletter, The Perfect Spot: www.theperfectspotsf.com

One latte, art therapy on the side

Andrew Lam

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December 2, 2010

2

What will your art look like when you have trouble remembering your last painting — or offspring? On the week of next, you’ll be able to sip your Cafe International espresso and ponder the answer. In the cafe’s new art installation, one-third of the pieces on the walls will be by Alzheimer patients (Tues/7).

What you can look forward to: “The pointillist and – let’s call it aboriginal flavor of some of the work can be seen as a common trait,” says Patricia Ris, co-curator of the exhibit. “Some artists will bend their vertical lines, and there seems to be a tendency toward some aspects of surrealism and superimposition. But I’m being very unscientific here.”

Ris (a creative activities coordinator at an SF adult day care center) and gerontologist-theater artist Caitlin Morgan of the Alzheimer’s Association decided to bring attention to their innovative work with seniors by integrating their art into the Care International’s regular wall fare of professional etchers and sketchers.

The pieces are created as part of a therapeutic program that allows patients to take their mind off of memory loss for a moment. With the help of an instructor, Alzheimer’s sufferers create vivid canvas evocations that can bring up elemental reactions in the viewer. In one, a red-headed woman holds a hand over her shocked face — a key indication at discomfort over what is coming out of her mouth.

Morgan also runs weekend camps for these older folk that not only give caretakers a chance to have a 24-hour period to focus on their own lives, but also give the Alzheimer’s patients a chance to try some new things. A recent NPR piece on her work highlighted Morgan’s focus on letting patients do what they feel needs to be done – telling a grandmother who insists she’s late for school that there’s no classes that day, or letting an elderly ex-carpenter work at a chair leg for the better part of an hour with invisible tools. It’s all a part of “reading between the lines,” fostering that interior mind that can seem to be in jeopardy for many people, but that is often just struggling to adjust to a new world.

“Having worked with many Alzheimer’s patients who have lost their word-finding ability, I have seen firsthand, over and over, that art is a way for them to express what words no longer can,” says Morgan, who first came into contact with senior citizen patients while she was performing with a traveling theater troupe. She says that art can be a method of alleviating frustration for those that can’t deal with early symptoms of the disease – as well as a way of describe the weird, wacky world that they are coming into contact with through their memory loss. “The connection between Alzheimer’s and art is one of necessity,” concludes Ris.

Morgan says that the work of Alzheimer’s patients probably shouldn’t be judged by the same yardsticks as other coffee shop work, that it’s primary use is that of therapy for the artist themselves. But I can imagine sitting next to Maurice’s eerie bird-woman, or Patricia’s bouquet of impressionist flowers and reflecting on an entirely different breed of cleansing: that life — even in the midst of degenerative disease — will go on and on, and in color no less.

(From top to bottom, paintings by Tamara, Maurice, and Patricia)

“Painting from the Heart: Alzheimer’s Art”

Opening reception Tues/7 6-9:30 p.m., free

Cafe International

508 Haight, SF

(415) 867-4617

Privatizing the parks

Zelda Bronstein

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December 2, 2010

23

I’m not going all crazy on the idea of pretzel stands in Golden Gate Park, or even a lobster-roll place behind the bandshell. I’m kind of against the lease change at Stowe Lake because I hate to see an out-of-town operator take over a local concession (and I like the funky boats, and the popcorn, and the overall 1950s-era quality of the food stand, which — by the way — makes the best soda water anywhere in town, yumm, so extra fizzy and nice ….).

But it’s worth sounding the alarm about the direction that Phil Ginsberg and Mark Buell are taking the Recreation and Park Department. And it’s not just evicting the HANC recycling center.

I realize that the city’s broke, and Rec-park is broke, and if they can’t raise money by selling coffee and lobster rolls they might have to lay off even more recreation directors. I fell the pain. But there’s a dangerous road ahead, and it looks like this:

Once you decide that parks have to pay for themselves, you’ve destroyed the whole notion of public space.

Check out what happened at the Presidio, where a plan by Rep. Nancy Pelosi to tun the park into essentially a private outfit, with the mandate to reach financial self-sufficiency, led to all sorts of problems and set the stage for a debate over privatizing more parks.

This is, of course, part of a larger discussion, but parks are by their very nature supposed to be places that the community — the taxpayers — support and preserve for the good of all. They aren’t supposed to pay for themselves. You’re not supposed to charge admission. Any commercial activity ought to be designed to benefit the users (it’s nice to have a place to buy a bottle of water on a hot day or a snack for your kids) and not to pay the maintenance bills for the facility.

This is what annoys me more than anything else about Gavin Newsom. He talks about vision and sounds like an environmentalist and progressive, but he misses the whole point. You fund public services with tax dollars, not by auctioning them off to the private sector.

At least, you used to.

‘Infinite City’ maps out inexhaustible SF

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks

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December 1, 2010

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‘Infinite City’ maps out inexhaustible SF

In the introduction to her thrilling new book, Rebecca Solnit provides the best explanation for why Infinite City: A San Francisco Atlas (University of California Press) can only be referred to as a San Francisco atlas, not the San Francisco atlas. “Every place is if not infinite then practically inexhaustible … any single map can depict only an arbitrary selection of the facts on its two-dimensional surface…”

What makes Solnit’s atlas appealing is the very arbitrary nature of the facts she chooses to have represented through a selection of 22 gorgeously rendered maps and a series of essays — many written and curated by guest collaborators with a particular interest in the storied intersection between geography and culture: poets, activists, archivists. From a map of “the names before the names,” an overview of the more than 100 indigenous tribes settled within the Bay Area circa 1769, to a map of the few remaining 6 a.m. bars which once catered to a large population of third-shift workers, to a map juxtaposing 2008’s tally of 99 murders within San Francisco proper with its flourishing population of Monterey cypress trees, the atlas reveals the truths simmering beneath the accepted fictions.

Or rather, a series of selective truths — for part of the joy of Infinite City is the infinite ways in which it can be read. The geo-politically inclined will want to take note of map #4: Right Wing of the Dove, which documents the locations of corporations such as Bechtel, military outposts such as Travis Air Force Base, and defense research laboratories such as Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory while maps for the Bay Area’s self-proclaimed foodie set include both map #7: Poison/Palate, and map #18: The World in a Cup, which details just a sampling of our many beloved coffee houses. Other maps include overviews of black history, butterfly habitats, queer spaces, Ellis act evictions… The subjects, like the possibilities, seem endless.

There’s even a map of San Francisco reimagined as a human head, accompanied by a tongue-in-cheek phrenological reading by novelist Paul La Farge.

It’s the map of Solnit’s internal San Francisco juxtaposed with that of performance artist Guillermo Gómez-Peña’s that comes closest to explaining the human compulsion to want to map out our known territories. In this particular map, both subjects define a series of unrelated places by defining who they are when they are there. From Rebecca: “In the Japanese Tea Garden I am always six years old; in the Sunset, I am almost Irish enough, but not San Franciscan enough; in the Excelsior, I am some chick from the Mission.” From Guillermo: “On the Golden Gate Bridge I still don’t feel suicidal; in Chinatown I am mistaken as a tourist from Spain or Argentina; In the Bollywood Café at 19th and Capp, I am the wrong kind of brown.”

As any of the greats of travel literature might point out, it’s tapping into our relationships with place that we are able to explore our relationships with others and ourselves more deeply. Infinite City offers a more than a few possibilities for each.

Appetite: Coffee’s new shining star? It’s Ma’velous

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks

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December 1, 2010

1

Appetite: Coffee’s new shining star? It’s Ma’velous

Cheesy puns aside, Ma’velous is truly that. Kudos to Phillip Ma and his new coffee and wine bar, which I’d be ecstatic to have in my own neighborhood. This coffee haven on Market Street (near Civic Center) is worth heading out of your way for. No, there is nothing else like it, even in a city of fabulous coffee.

The space is blessedly unique with graffiti artwork, pressed tin ceilings, retro-modern reclaimed furniture, textured floors, nooks with chairs, a couch, tables. The setting inspires but the coffee elevates.

Bean choices included beloveds like Intelligentsia and Ecco but also rare Tim Wendelboe from Norway. Wendelboe’s coffee is huge in Norway and this is the about the only place to get it in the States.

The preparation options are where it gets truly exciting for any coffee geek or the curious. You might want a Kyoto iced coffee or to have it prepared via siphon, V60, Beehouse pour over, French press, or Chemex. Then there’s their custom-made La Marzocco espresso machine. The staff is well-trained to create coffee in all forms.

A favorite already is an exquisite espresso made with Tim Wendelboe beans. I’m delighted by a “palette tasting bar” where you can sample coffees prepared three ways or three different brews. Their hot chocolate, made with local TCHO chocolate, is initially airily dark, becoming more rich and silky as you near the bottom of the cup.

Ma’velous is a shining new star in the coffee firmament, thankfully doing it differently than other greats in town. I love it so much I want to be a regular.

Ma’velous
1408 Market, SF
www.maveloussf.com

–Subscribe to Virgina’s twice monthly newsletter, The Perfect Spot

Facebook or die?

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks

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November 24, 2010

11

arts@sfbg.com

CULTURE There’s a party going on and I’m not there. But everyone else is, and I can see it from here — it’s that warm, golden light at the end of this tunnel. The door is half open, spilling a glittery radiance into the chill darkness, as if to say: Hey, baby. Why don’t you come back inside? No need to be lonely out there in the cold. My body tenses — will I move through the blackness? Will I meet the light?

Hell no. You can’t make a big fuss about quitting Facebook, then come back crying. Plus, I admit I lost it toward the end — in a self-destructive fit of Facebook rage, impulsively running my mouth and hammering out declarations on absolutely anything, even cheese.

After two years of playing nice with 500 mouth-breathers all stuck on one train, a prickly impatience began to emerge, resulting in the rise of emotionally ruinous fights about burritos, white people, rape, and mites. On Facebook I witnessed a level of savagery that can only be compared to how a grizzly bear kills a man: by tearing out his chest in one clean rip of the claw. You couldn’t even talk about deviled eggs without someone calling you ignorant. Like the Donner party, there was nothing left to feast on but ourselves.

I fought to stay alive amid the carnage by using Facebook as the means to disseminate inflammatory statements about castration, or to pick meaningless fights with bro-hams, particularly those who couldn’t spell — then I’d leave each and every one like a bullet-ridden coyote flung over a barbed wire fence. It was, without a doubt, one of the most spectacular times of my life.

My unquestioning, slave-like allegiance to this singular corporate platform started off so pleasant: it was a giddy and polite neverending tea party with sugary treats, Seinfeld-y gosh-it’s-Monday whimsy, and astute weather and slow-drip coffee observations. I got to reconnect with many wonderful people from my past, the majority of whom I guess I met in a blacked-out state. For the very first time, I learned the names of people I slept with, temped for, and still owed money to. I even made some brand-new best friends — none of whom I’ll ever hear from again. But the intensely codependent commenter relationships we nurtured were beautiful and perfect — beacons of dependability in this big, scary world.

And wasn’t it nice to see how the few losers I actually knew had totally cleaned up and sold out? Wasn’t it inspiring to read the self-affirmations of people who had lost their dreams? Or to know that, despite how very, very extremely busy everyone claimed to be — creating great works of art, penning riveting novels, and churning out dope beats — they could still find the time to fire off a million misspelled run-on sentences about their “process” between the hours of five and seven a.m.?

Finally, I was relieved of ever having to LOL face to face again. Facebook is a pinnacle of civilization that is fully accessible while taking a dump — and there isn’t a person on earth who doesn’t find that reassuring. Only bums, waiters, and asexual religious martyrs don’t mind being breathed on anymore.

Indeed, Facebook alleviates all pain associated with sustained eye contact, accidental brushes of the thigh, vomit splashes on the chin, moles, wrinkles, puffy eyes, and talking out loud. You can even end longstanding feuds without uttering a word by offering the passive-aggressive overture of the message-free add, or the quiet headfuck of the like. Clearly, Facebook is to friendship as Hitler is to spring.

Which brings me to the fakemance with Dope Dancer. It seemed so real at first — even an illiterate would have been blinded by the powerful vibes that scampered off the interface when we’d go at it — feverishly jousting and teasing one another in an unselfconscious flurry of authentic desire, which was the intimate prelude to … a follow-up like. It was our unique way of saying “I got you, babe” without actually having to.

I’d met Dope Dancer nearly 20 years ago in a moment of semiconscious raving. Then — as now, according to his bustling wall — he was an international superstar rave DJ (who now peddles cartoon collectibles on Haight Street sidewalks every weekday from noon till six — help a brother out, and don’t bring $20s), and we’re both pretty sure we held hands once, while on E in 1993 at the Endup.

Staring at his outdated profile pic on Facebook all day long was a seductive flashback to the glory years, when I could party for three days and still look cute. When all I had to worry about was finding the next party, the shortest dress. Real life had changed, but the fantasies had stayed the same.

And as with my commenter BFFs, transitioning to person-to-person contact was an awkward conundrum neither of us was equipped to handle. After six months of Facebook foreplay, we decided to interface live — specifically, under one roof, in the same room, on the same couch, at the same time.

However, face-to-face we had little to say. Oh, that’s not fair: we talked about Facebook. The sexual tension that climaxed onscreen fizzled into the needling desire to check my phone. There on his couch in plain daylight, we saw each other for what we were: two imperfect human beings. And that, of course, was a letdown. I actually didn’t mind the missing teeth and the curious forehead dent, details that never surfaced in his enormous collection of attractive profile pix. Even now, I am still too embarrassed to admit the truth: the pretend magic we shared could only flourish within the corporate safety zone of Facebook.

“Wake up, Roberta!” I told myself, “None of this is real. These tweekers aren’t your friends.” Facebook is simply a place to collectively drown in a wash of nostalgia and endless jibber jabber — solving nothing and doing even less. It is a stadium full of cracked-out narcissists, each with a podium and a mic, none of whom have anything interesting to say anymore but me. Of course, nearly every post I crafted was a jewel, a living and breathing Mona Lisa, even toward the end when I couldn’t stop because of the OCD.

Which begs the question: Was I sharing thoughts with a supportive, ever-expanding community, or squandering precious seminal fluid among strangers from the past?

After whipping out a particularly snappy status update one recent morning (“If eyes really could burn holes, how many assholes would I have by now?”), I thought, “Shouldn’t I be transcribing this shit into some kind of book — maybe one made with raw silk and pressed papyrus — instead of creating free content all day long for some rich asshole’s website?”

For certain, there would be no Mona Lisa if da Vinci had been a total Fakecracker. In Leonardo da Vinci and a Memory of His Childhood, the clearly bi-curious Sigmund Freud argues that the artist was able to achieve supreme genius status through the sublimation of his sexual urges, which he redirected into an obsession for making art. In other words, if da Vinci had been banging court jesters all day, there’d be no creamy side sauce for that The Last Supper. And let’s be honest — Facebook is nothing if not a substitute for the sex, cigarettes, and crack. Therefore, if da Vinci would not fuck, Seawhore would not post.

So like the stately albatross who knows in an instant she must fly east, or the lone soldier instinctively shifting course, I knew deep in my body the time to go was now (or maybe after posting two weeks of heartbreaking farewells).

Of course, the unexpected threat of dismemberment also helped speed my departure.

Alleged friend Louise Haghole showed up at my house last Friday night, unwittingly interrupting a super-juicy, hot-button Facebook gangbang that had placed me against 20 or so misinformed assholes, one of whom called me “stupid.” Stupid! Well, I never! Haghole sat at the kitchen table drinking wine and listening to me as I plotted the harshest kick to the balls.

“Oh, maybe I should wait until the morning to bring up misogyny — after they’ve slept on all my points. That way they’ll never know what hit ’em. Or — “

“Sit down, Roberta!” shouted Haghole. “You touch that computer and I’ll hack your arms off. It is the only way to keep you away.”

“Well, hmph!” was the best I could manage because, goddammit, Haghole was right: Nothing would stop me from battling for the last word — over and over again — except the complete removal of my arms. And that just seemed kind of sad.

And I thought, “Who the fuck are these people, anyway?” Whoever they were, they bore no significance whatsoever to my everyday life, and yet, here I was having a full-blown panic attack. I was mortified.

The eve I revealed plans for immediate departure, I received a litany of pathetic pleadings and hysterical OMG/WTFs. They all cried, “Don’t do it, Roberta!” “That’s too drastic,” and “How could you leave?” — as if this was a real place.

And I thought, “Really, guys? I mean, it’s just Facebook. We haven’t maxed out on human invention yet, have we?”

Later that evening, after one last romp across the clean blue-and-white screen, I permanently deleted my account. To be specific, I started the deletion process — there’s a 14-day grace period, during which you can always change your mind, baby.

I woke up the next morning with a pep in my step, as if I’d just retired after 70 years of service at a meat-packing plant, with a huge marijuana, cat, and vibrator pension in the Bahamas. The very real stress of constant communication evaporated overnight, and suddenly I could fully relax. From now on, I could spend every online moment reading about LiLo on Dlisted.

But after a few days of silence — aside from a haphazard speakerphone conversation with Haghole, who wondered if I’d moved out of town — I realized that I’d completely fallen off the face of the earth. Clean disappeared. I didn’t know shit about anything — like who was DJing at the Nordstrom Rack happy hour, who hated Tuesdays in addition to Mondays, and who was still verklempt about that nasty oil-spill fish massacre. And no one bothered to call, e-mail or text — none of them. I had returned to the pre-Facebook level of socializing — which meant only hearing from the same crusty old scabs you can’t ever get rid of. Come to think of it, those people were eerily absent, too.

I began to notice that, although life still had some meaning, it lacked all poignancy. For what good is seeing a hummingbird fluttering in the bright yellow sun if you can’t instantly manhandle the moment into a corny update? And who cares if you’re depressed, lost, or oversexed if you can’t insinuate it on Facebook and then reap the empty reward of “Oh, I feel you” feedback from 500 million strangers?

World tragedy took on a lackluster appeal. I found I did not give a rat’s ass about female genital mutilation or baby seal slaughter if I could not share my wise impressions with 500 other users. Which made me think I’d been a faker all along. And what about all those perfect status updates that no longer have a home? Where do they go to die? In this silky hand-sewn notebook? Oh, please. I can’t be bothered with that.

But in truth, the most annoying thing about leaving Facebook hasn’t been the absence of hilarious “What Famous Lazy Slag Am I” quiz results or even the social alienation. It’s the realization that everyone I know, or sort of know, is a sheep. Facebook is for them, as is it for one in every 12 human beings, the umbilical cord of all communication, and to sever it is to die. No one has the balls to take the risk. Yes, it’s cold out here all alone. But don’t mind me — I still have four more days of pre-deletion limbo. I can still come back, and I know everything will be exactly as I left it, smartly formatted in blue.

Darkest heart

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks

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November 23, 2010

0

arts@sfbg.com

FILM Claire Denis was raised in colonial Africa, and White Material is her third feature set in its wake (the first two were 1988’s Chocolat and 1999’s breathtaking Beau Travail). This new film is very much about Africa, compositing elements of several different “troubles” (child soldiers, a strong man’s militia, radio broadcasts fomenting violence) into an abstract of conflict. Between the dead-eyed rebels in the bush and the brutally efficient forces in town stands Maria Vial (Isabelle Huppert), a colonial holdout. She continues to work her family’s coffee plantation after the European men have retreated indoors, after a French military helicopter has dropped survival kits on her land (she curses “these whites”), and finally after the African workers have fled. “Coffee’s coffee. Not worth dying for,” one tells her before speeding off.

As the troubles mount, Maria buries the signs of encroaching threats — literally when a cow’s head rolls out of a basket of coffee berries. Her refusal to be terrorized is a trait we typically ascribe to male action heroes (the film would make an interesting double-feature with 2008’s Gran Torino), though Maria’s resolute blindness is its own kind of privilege in the African context. Her restless movements are starkly contrasted by the wounded still lives of three men: her slothful son Manuel, a nihilist nitwit; a shadowy colonial patriarch who doesn’t walk beyond the threshold of his house; and an equally mysterious figurehead of the rebel movement ailing in a plantation dugout (played to some distraction by Isaach de Bankolé). A woman’s tragic strength, a weak grown child, a downward spiral knotted by a complex flashback structure: White Material seems a bit like a postcolonial Mildred Pierce.

Unusually for Denis, the film is both a literary adaptation (cowritten with author Marie NDiaye and based on Doris Lessing’s The Grass is Singing) and a star vehicle for Huppert, whose stringy musculature is a nice match for Yves Cape’s lithe camerawork. The idea of Maria’s character already tends toward the parabolic, though, and all these different inputs can result in too much dramatic underlining. When Maria’s flashback first lands us in the liberating rush of a motorcycle ride, Denis’ handheld cinematography generates an ample rush — but then Huppert lets her hair down with a flourish, and we feel we’re being pressed too hard. The same is true whenever the child soldiers march to Tindersticks’ funereal score, or when the mention of white material (Maria’s cigarette lighter, for instance) ends a scene on an overly foreboding note. Far more effective are those dizzying moments when a freshly vulnerable Maria notices rebel girls wearing her clothes.

For all White Material‘s novelistic concessions, Denis’ subtle command of composition and rhythm as elements of narration is beyond doubt. Her use of the handheld camera remains preternaturally attuned to her characters’ pleasures and anxieties, and she is still quite capable of finding the most telling framing of a given power dynamic. To that effect, there’s a brilliant shot early in Maria’s flashback when her regular workers leave the plantation. She implores them to stay, but they ride off one by one in an indistinct line, remaining out of focus while her darting head weaves the bulk of the widescreen frame. The vacuum of authority is vividly realized in seconds of screen time.

White Material begins at the end, with unattached subjective images of someone searching the plantation house with a flashlight. The beam settles on certain talismanic objects (a photograph of a young woman, an African mask, an oxygen tank) before sliding across more of the obscure space. The tantalizing vision of scenes like these makes me wish White Material wasn’t so dutifully attached to its (admittedly fierce) star. But watching the film a second time, I found that the embers of repression came into better focus between the broad strokes of plotting. Intimations and symbols flash through a dusky storm that doesn’t need a name to rumble.

WHITE MATERIAL opens Fri/26 in Bay Area theaters.

Our Weekly Picks: November 24-30

Andrew Lam

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November 23, 2010

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WEDNESDAY 24

MUSIC

Pretty Lights

Fewer and fewer new musicians are choosing to fight the losing battle against illegal downloading, deciding instead to align with our interweb overlords and rely on their music to speak for itself. Colorado electronic music producer Derek Vincent Smith, a.k.a. Pretty Lights, has been steadily releasing free albums on his website all year, and this tour is proof that a heavy helping of Internet chatter can indeed get you a big-time show at The Fox. Reminiscent of early-aught DJ Shadow or RJD2 albums, Smith’s style infuses old school, crate-digging funk and soul with contempo dance beats, an approach that’s lain dormant in the aftermath of the mashup. Come for the rad music and stay to see how many “candy kids” it takes to turn the show into a rave. (Peter Galvin)

With Thunderball and Gramatik

7:30 p.m., $27.50

The Fox Theatre

1807 Telegraph, Oakl.

1-800-745-3000

www.thefoxoakland.com

MUSIC

Kenny Dope

I have an urge to use Kenny Dope’s last name as an adjective, but the powers that be informed me I’m cut off from using any more puns this week. So here’s the straight talk: Come Thursday, you’re gonna be in a full on turkey (or tofurkey) coma, which makes tonight night your last chance to squeeze in some cardio. Even for the unmotivated, Kenny Dope will make this happen. Also half of the production duo Masters at Work, Dope is known for reworking disco, jazz, pop, and especially Nuyorican soul to make everything (including your feet) move a whole lot more. (Ryan Prendiville)

With David Harness and LadyHouse

10 p.m., call for price

Endup

401 Sixth St., SF

(415) 646-0999

www.theendup.com

FRIDAY 26

EVENT

Dickens Christmas Fair

Imagine 12,000 square feet of Victorian London, suitable for diversion over Thanksgiving weekend and perhaps some light Christmas shopping (sorry, I said it). But harken! The Dickens Christmas Fair is one costume-heavy event whose appeal goes far beyond the Miss Havisham fan club. Especially if you like beer — there will be five pubs on the cobblestone streets, including the Bohemian Absinthe Bar, and ribald entertainment like daily performances of The Mikado and an explorer’s club where the audience is regaled with tales of British empire expansion. And especially if you like cinching — Dark Garden’s corsetry will be there amid the fake snow and bawdiness, perfect for the French postcard tableaux nearby. Wink. Nudge. (Caitlin Donohue)

Fri/26–Sun/28; also Dec. 4–5, 11–12, 18–19;

11 a.m.–7 p.m., $12–$25

Cow Palace Exhibition Halls

2600 Geneva, SF

1-800-510-1558

www.dickensfair.com

PERFORMANCE

Mummenschanz

With zany characters created from wires, tubes, boxes, and even toilet paper, all ages will delight in Mummenschanz and its imaginative world. Founded in 1972 by Bernie Schüch, Floriana Frassetto, and the late Andres Bossard as a nonverbal theatrical troupe interested in transcending national and cultural barriers, this Switzerland-based pantomime company has enjoyed internationally acclaim. 3×11, a retrospective look back on the company’s most popular and successful works of the past 33 years, will entertain Bay Area audiences immensely this weekend. Come and be enchanted by the wacky, witty universe of Mummenschanz. (Emmaly Wiederholt)

Fri/26-Sat/27, 2 p.m.; (also Sat/27, 8 p.m.);

Sun/28, 3 p.m., $22–$52

Zellerbach Hall

UC Berkeley, Berk.

(510) 642-9988

www.calperformances.org

DANCE

The Christmas Ballet

The late Michael Smuin knew western music inside out. From Bach to Coltrane, Palestrinata to Presley, he let it feed his wit, imagination, and — let’s be frank — a dollop of his sentimentality. Nowhere did he put these propensities to better use than in The Christmas Ballet, a rip-roaring trip through the holidays. You can’t miss the way these composers inspired him for choreography that’s both classical and cool. Every year he added a few new voices, letting others rest. This year the task of keeping the show fresh has fallen to choreographer-in-residence Amy Seiwert, who picked Leonard Bernstein’s version of the “Carol of Bells,” and ballet master Amy London, who went for Andy Williams’ “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year.” The show comes to SF Dec. 15. (Rita Felciano)

Fri/26–Sat/27, 8 p.m.;

also Sat/27, 2 p.m., $20–$62

Lesher Center for the Arts

1601 Civic Center, Walnut Creek

(925) 943-7469

www.smuinballet.org

FILM

Kuroneko

Japanese director Kaneto Shindo has a thing for ghostly mothers and daughters-in-law, perhaps because the supernatural events that unfurl in his elegant, horror-minded films always spring from domestic traumas. In his most famous film, Onibaba (1964), two women are driven to madness after preying on near-dead samurai in feudal Japan. In the equally stunning Kuroneko (Black Cat, 1969), a different pair of women linked by a son gone off to war also prey on samurai: only this time, as vengeful, shape-shifting spirits. Shindo makes more than a few stylistic nods to Jacques Tourneur (especially 1942’s Cat People) in this recently restored beauty, which dwells as much on the sorrows of the dead as it does on the terror the dead inflict on the living. (Matt Sussman)

2:30, 4:45, 7, and 9:15 p.m., $7.50–$10

Castro

429 Castro, SF

(415) 621-6120

www.castrotheatre.com

PERFORMANCE

Yard Dogs Road Show

Two years since this glitter and glory bordello played its own show in the Bay? Egads! But jealous lovers we are not. YDRS felt the need to bring its vaudevillian stage presence to circus freaks around the country, so like the proverbial “thing,” we loved it enough to let it go — and it has returned. High Times described the 13-member troupe as “an acid trip without the come-down” — the group stuffs into its hobo cornucopia cheery fanfare, sword swallowing, burlesque, a mystic man, handlebar mustaches, and Mission Thrift finery enhanced by their temporarily halted epic wanderlust. Dance off your Turkey Day paunch to the freewheeling frolics. (Donohue)

Fri/26–Sat/27, 9 p.m., $20

Independent

628 Divisadero, SF

(415) 771-1421

www.theindependentsf.com

DANCE

The Velveteen Rabbit

Margery Williams’ tale The Velveteen Rabbit has made many a child hope their most beloved toy might one day come to life — and for the past 24 seasons, the story of a boy and his adored stuffed rabbit has come to life itself, thanks to ODC Dance. Directed and choreographed by KT Nelson with music by Benjamin Britten, this dance adaptation features the talented artists of ODC as the madcap characters in this childhood favorite. With festive undertones and a classic narrative about enduring love and what it means to be real, The Velveteen Rabbit is the perfect way to ring in the holidays with the family. (Wiederholt)

Fri/26–Sun/28 and . 5, 12, 2 p.m.;

Dec.2–3 and 9–10, 11 a.m.; Dec. 4 and 11, 1 and 4 p.m.

$15–$45

Yerba Buena Center for the Arts

Novellus Theater

700 Howard, SF

(415) 978-2787

www.odcdance.org

SATURDAY 27

DANCE

Nutcracker at Zeum

Is there a little one in your life who would love The Nutcracker but doesn’t have the attention span to sit through a two-hour extravaganza? There is no better (or more affordable) way to make that first foray into Nut-Land — where brave little Marie lets the evil Mouse King have it — than Mark Foehringer’s theatrically savvy and utterly charming Nutcracker at Zeum. The show runs 50 minutes and squeezes a tiny orchestra into the corner of the stage. The kids can watch scenery being moved. The story is beautifully condensed with dancers still shining in spiffy turns and floating leaps; Brian Fisher’s Drosselmeyer is as mysterious and kindly as any seen on local stages. (Felciano)

Through Dec. 19

Sat.–Sun., 11 a.m. and 2 p.m.;

also Sat., 4 p.m.,$25–$40

Zeum

Yerba Buena Gardens

221 Fourth St., SF

1-800-838-3006

www.brownpapertickets.com/event/125859

MONDAY 29

MUSIC

Grinderman

Apparently deciding he needed to be even more of a badass, Nick Cave went ahead and added blues-punk outfit Grinderman to his repertoire as a songwriter, screenwriter, author, and film scorer. The group is all raw, sweaty, garage-rock drive, full of dirty-sounding guitars and some psychedelic touches sprinkled throughout. Grinderman includes three members of Cave’s touring-recording band, the Bad Seeds, and is further proof that even now into his 50s, he isn’t even thinking of slowing down. (Landon Moblad)

With Armen Ra

8 p.m., $29–$35

Warfield

982 Market, SF

(415) 345-0900

www.thewarfieldtheatre.com

TUESDAY 30

EVENT

SF Green Film Festival screening and launch party

Who’s “greener” — the guy in the Haight who picks up cigarette butts, takes one arguable drag, then deposits them in an otherwise empty can? Or the innumerable Prius drivers? Not sure, but sometimes I turn green when everything from drinking coffee to buying stocks is considered candidacy for eco-martyrdom. What are we, leprechauns? Mythical creatures or no, it’s good to understand what’s going on in the world, and to get inspired to change it if it sucks. Tonight’s kickoff event features a screening of Dive!, chronicling the romantic art of eating out of Dumpsters, plus short films, film clips, and trailers. Cocktails and conversation prescreening; proceeds help bring the films to the inaugural festival next March. (Kat Renz)

6 p.m.–9 p.m., $10–$20

Ninth Street Independent Film Center

145 Ninth St., SF

(415) 625-6100

www.ninthstreet.org

MUSIC

Os Mutantes

Combing traditional bossa nova, samba, and tropicalia music of its native Brazil, with a sound heavily inspired by western rock from the Beatles and Jimi Hendrix, Os Mutantes was one of the more adventurous psych-rock bands of the 1960s. The band has had its music covered and praised by such artists as Kurt Cobain, Beck, and Of Montreal. Front man Sergio Dias has remained active as a solo artist in Brazil, but the band, in any incarnation, hasn’t really been on the map for more than 35 years. Now Dias is leading a new lineup with a new album in tow, resurrecting the Os Mutantes sound. (Moblad)

With Ariel Pink’s Haunted Graffiti

8 p.m., $27

Regency Ballroom

1290 Sutter, SF

1-800-745-3000 www.theregencyballroom.com

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Appetite: Indy Spirits Expo poured it on

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks

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November 22, 2010

2

Appetite: Indy Spirits Expo poured it on

This year’s Indy Spirits Expo, which took place 11/17, was much improved since last year’s inaugural festivity, though crammed into the cool, brick-walled nightclub space of The Mighty. This event offers one of the better opportunities I’ve seen to sample everything from cachaca and pisco, to absinthe and eaux de vie, all in one room, among the best small batch spirits happening in the US and a few places beyond.

Many favorites you’ve heard me write about were there, like the great St. George, Charbay, Craft Distillers, and more recent greats like Old World Spirits and Don Pilar. Outside of Northern California’s riches, there were my Midwest faves like North Shore Distillery and Death’s Door, plus Oregon delight, Bend Distillery. Amidst a can’t-go-wrong line-up, here are just a handful of highlights:

– St. George did it again with a couple special behind-the-table pours, my number one being a brilliant eau de vie infused with fresh Dungeness crabs. I saw photos of a still filled with crabs, smelled the briney-sea whiff that emanated from the pour, relishing the crabby goodness that screamed Bloody Mary. No complaints about the other pour from the masters of liquid experimentation, an eau de vie infused with seaweed.

– Charbay brought some special hand-marked bottles filled with straight-from-the-keg whiskeys, including the ravishing 12yr whiskey I’ve told you about before in my Guardian column: their incomparable Release II whiskey, just aged another 6 years.

– Old World Spirits poured their latest releases of the gorgeous Indian Blood Peach and Poire Williams (Pear) eau de vie, plus their luxurious Walnut Liqueur. Take a thoroughly different gin route and try their Blade gin aged (“rusty”) in a special, only-through-K&L Wines bottling. Technically you might not be able to call it gin, but the same herbs that go into the regular Blade are aged like a whiskey for 13 months. The gin’s juniper and citrus expand with spice and oak for a truly unique expression (only 250 bottles made with a retail price of $59.99 – contact K&L before they’re all gone).

– A surprising new addition to the rum scene comes from Colorado, of all places: Montanya Rum. It is sweeping up Gold and Silver medal awards the last two years since inception in esteemed places like San Francisco World Spirits Competition. I prefer the light rum Platino to the Oro dark rum, as the former is crisp and clean, nuanced with almond, oak, coffee and vanilla.

– A newcomer, Novo Fogo, ups the cachaça game bringing a 100% organic, gluten-free cachaça to the table. The aged Gold version is reminiscent of a bourbon or a rum, but I prefer the clean Silver, as I get more of those sugarcane cachaça properties, with hints of sea salt, citrus, and sweet peppers.

Subscribe to Virgina’s twice monthly newsletter, The Perfect Spot: www.theperfectspotsf.com

50 cute-as-heck gifts for $10 and under

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks

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November 19, 2010

3

Our official metaphor for holiday shopping this season is just going to have to be Tron. Not just because Tron: Legacy opens Dec. 17 or because some of us are forever stuck in totally awesome adolescent ’80s video game world. We also must zip across the alien landscape of holiday commercialism, snatching up neon-fantasy presents (and possibly exploding). Go! Go! Go!

Or, you know, use this guide and pick up some killer giftos all in one easy trip. We scoured the city for cool items ringing in at 10 ducats and under. Yes, you can still wear an electric blue bodysuit. (Marke B.)

JESUS FLASHLIGHT, $4.99

Tutti Frutti

With the exception of millions of Jews, Buddhists, Muslims, Hindis, and Zoroastrians, Jesus is lighting up the world these days. And what better way for your Xian friends to keep His light flowing than this Jesus flashlight. Pair it with a Jesus pen; we’re pretty sure this is the pen Jesus would have used.

718 Irving, Inner Sunset, SF. (415) 661-8504

DYNA GRO PLANT FOOD, $5.95

Plant’It Earth

Since Prop. 19 flopped at the polls, it’s back to dealer-only cell phones and GIY smokes. Give your dealer or favorite organic grower this perfect 7-9-5 blend of plant food and help nourish the next crop (you’ll be paying for it anyway). Plant’It Earth also has grow lights, soil, and other no-Prop. 19 essentials.

661 Divisadero, Panhandle, SF. (415) 626-5082, wwwplantitearth.com

SQUEAKY TOY SQUIRREL, $3.99

The Animal House Pet Mercantile

As the movie “Up” taught us, if dogs could talk, their conversation would go something like this: “Squirrel!” Give Bowser this plush toy Squirrel!, which will last way longer than a real Squirrel! and not stink up your house. Animal House also has cat toys, but your cat won’t give a shit.

157 Fillmore, Lower Haight, SF. (415) 552-0233, www.theanimalhouse.com

“MEDITATING” SIGN, $7

San Francisco Zen Center Bookstore

Tired of hearing your beloved shriek “Shut the #$%@* up, I’m meditating!” when you inadvertently stumble onto your deck at 6:30 a.m.? End it with this calligraphy sign, which can be hung from a doorknob or from the back of your beloved’s neck. Back it up with a book on Zen.

300 Page, Hayes Valley, SF. (415) 863-3136, www.sfzc.org

HOT DOG TOTE, $4.99

Arch Art Supplies

The sandwich rectangle, the pizza triangle, the hamburger round — all are inadequate for toting le hot dog. End the long-standing and justifiable frustration of your frankfurtin’ friends with this washable, reusable, hot dog-specific tote. Pick up the chips bag to go with it, or maybe some drafting or graphics supplies.

99 Missouri, Potrero Hill, SF. (415) 433-2724, www.archsupplies.com

BRANCH 3-WAY SPLITTER, $10

Zinc Details

‘Tis the season for sharing — but only if you want to and only if you have the technology. To make others share with you, give your BFF (or No. 1 frenemy) this 3-way music splitter and put an end to the nasty talk about how 3-ways don’t work. Zinc Details has plenty of other nifty stuff that can be done as a two-way or one-way.

1905 Fillmore, Pacific Heights, SF. (415) 776-2100, www.zincdetails.com

FROMAGE BLANC, $4.50

Cowgirl Creamery

So “some of your best friends are Jews” and you feel bad because you know Santa won’t go there. Make amends for years of no Santa with this fromage blanc, which is way better than regular cream cheese and not from Philly. Add a tub of hand-clabbered cottage cheese for their blintzes, kugels, and whatever else it is Jews eat.

1 Ferry Building, #17, Embarcadero, SF. (415) 362-9354, www.cowgirlcreamery.com

“STUBBY” HAMMER, $4.99

Cole Hardware

We believe that, like hemlines in other realms, a mini or micro version of the Utilikilt is due out any day now. And when that happens, utilidudes will need scaled-down, “stubby” versions of their tools to make it all work (and boy do these tools work). Cole Hardware also has stubby pliers and wrenches.

956 Cole, Cole Valley, SF. (415) 753-2653, wwwcolehardware.com

FELT FLOWERS, $7

Samsara

Why buy blooms destined for the dustbin for your loved ones when you can score them these long-lasting buds? Samsara’s small sales floor is packed with small treasures imported from the Far East. Pick up a colorful woven headband or Indian lotus wooden stamp for the yogi on your list.

2035 Union, Marina, SF. (415) 563-5485

BOBINO CABLE BUDDY, $3.99

Under One Roof

Many a hook-up mood has been ruined waiting for the hookee to disentangle three feet of earphone wire from a fly or brassiere. Stop the madness with the Cable Buddy, which keeps cords neatly wrapped and out of the way. And get few extra for those cords you know you’ll get ensnared in at the hook’s house.

518 Castro, Castro District, SF. (415) 503-2300, www.underoneroof.org

ECO-BAG, $1.75

Ichiban Kan

It’s not a competition, but your my-eco-bag-is-more-eco-than-your-ego-bag pals will love this Japanese-made eco bag. The bag comes in six different patterns, all groovy enough to go with all their hemp outfits. Ichiban Kan also has bento boxes, lunch bags, and knit panda hats.

22 Peace Plaza #540, Japantown, SF. (415) 409-0472, www.ichibankanusa.com

SPORK, $4

Flight 001

Your peripatetic pals can’t help it if they find themselves casting off plastic utensils everywhere they go. Detox them with the Spork, a durable, washable spoon-fork-knife in one. The brightly-colored utensil is guaranteed to make fellow travelers say “go Spork yourself” to disposables. Flight 001 also has clocks, bags, and bagatelle for the traveler.

525 Hayes, Hayes Valley, SF. (415) 487-1001, www.flight101.com

NOE VALLEY APIARIES, $7.95

The Green Arcade

Give your honey bun some fresh-baked honey buns made with honey from Noe Valley Apiaries. Better yet, give your honey bun the whole jar and she can drink it herself. The limited-edition honey is unfiltered and antibiotic-free. Or get a book on beekeeping while you’re at this perfectly curated, eco-centric store so you can give your honey bun her own hive someday.

1680 Market, Hayes Valley, SF. (415) 431-6800, www.thegreenarcade.com

CERAMIC ROSE, $5

Xapno

Put an end to the chronic “Yes, I loved the roses you gave me last week but now they’re DEAD” statements with this ceramic rose. Baked by a local ceramics artist and available with or without a stem, the roses come in lovely shades of pink, ivory, peach, and lavender. Xapno can also set you up with a vase or ribbon to set it off.

678 Haight, Lower Haight, SF. (415) 863-8199, www.xapno.com

GLASS STRAW, $9

GlassDharma

The glamour girls and boys who won’t drink coffee or red wine with you anymore because it stains their teeth need to get back to reality with one of these glass straws. (Buh-bye, BriteSmile.) Ensure that they bring it with them to your next drinking game by getting them bamboo carrying case as well.

Online only. (707) 964-9350, www.glassdharma.com/straws

CLASSIC SOUL AND R&B MIX CDS, $10

Rooky Ricardo’s Records

Diehard record collectors love to dig through crates of dust-covered vinyl searching for elusive, long-out-of-print song 45s. Rooky Ricardo’s is perfect for them (cool old singles for around $3!) — and for those of us who just want to hear some awesome music without the stiff back and neck (or record player). A sweet selection of classic soul, pop, and R&B mix CDs culled from Rooky’s collection will get your sweet ones humming.

448 Haight St., Lower Haight, SF. (415) 864-7526, www.rookyricardos.com

TOPOGRAPHIC TRAIL MAPS, $8–$9.50

Sports Basement

This holiday season, tell your loved ones to take a hike. A handy trail map of southern Marin ($9.50) combined with the 76 Marin Headlands bus can easily help them rediscover the glorious nature beckoning just outside the Golden Gate. Also at Sports Basement: Nalgene PBA-free water bottles start at $8.50.

1590 Bryant St., SoMa, SF. (415) 575-3000;

610 Old Mason St., Presidio, SF. (800) 869-6670, www.sportsbasement.com

SWEETIE PIE PRESS BUTTONS PACK, $6 FOR 3

Rare Device

Who doesn’t love buttons? No one. They’re a quick, easy way to customize your backpack, hat, coat, scarf, whatever. And even when they’re designed by artists, they’re still cheap. Sweetie Pie buttons are produced as series by designers using security envelopes, reclaimed silk-screened posters, and other recycled materials. There’s a ton of individuality in each pack, so grab more than one.

1845 Market St., Hayes Valley, SF. (415) 863-3969, www.raredevice.net

ICE CREAM GIFT CERTIFICATE, $5

Three Twins Organic Ice Cream

Give a special gift of sweet, sweet empty(ish) calories. Using only organic ingredients, Three Twins scoops up incredible flavors like milk and honey, lemon cookie, chocolate peanutbutter cookie, or the exotic Dad’s Cardamom. With a $5 certificate, your giftee can choose between two teensy ice cream cones or a pint to munch on at home while watching 30 Rock on Hulu.

254 Fillmore St. Lower Haight, SF. (415) 487-8946, www.threetwinsicecream.com

THE WALKING DEAD COMIC, $2.99

Al’s Comics

Do you have a friend literally salivating and moaning for next week’s The Walking Dead episode on AMC? Satisfy their zombie craving with an issue of the original comic book series (now at issue #78). And since comic books are Hollywood’s favorite source material for summer blockbusters these days, Al’s Comics is probably going to have 2013’s summer action blockbuster of the year… right now!

1803 Market St., Hayes Valley, SF. (415) 861-1220, www.alscomicssf.com

FAKE MUSTACHE, $9.95

Costumes on Haight

If there’s one thing everyone should own, it’s a mustache. It might just be the most useful gift you could ever give. Who knows when your recipients may need to change identities quickly, appear as an authority figure, or even just get really really handsome instantly. Costumes on Haight provides ‘staches for any need or hair color. Spirit gum’s an extra $2, but you’ll earn that back quickly at 10 cents per ride.

735 Haight St, Lower Haight, SF. (415) 621-1356. www.costumesonhaight.com

LONELY PLANET PHRASEBOOK $8.99

Get Lost Books

Your perennially-traveling friend always seems to have the most fabulous stories to recount. But the on-the-ground truth is probably a lot less romantic, with miscommunications, bad directions, and an unintentional slur or two. Swing by Get Lost Books for a handy Lonely Planet phrasebook they can take with them when they do. No more ignorant American oopsies for them (and possibly a lot more sex).

1825 Market St., Hayes Valley, SF. (415) 437-0529. www.getlostbooks.com

ZING! LAUNCHING SPOON, $5 and SOUPER! SPOON ACTION FIGURE, $10

New People

Naughty uncle gifts alert: New People’s got the goods for meal avoidance — a spoon that doubles as a superhero and another that spring-launches broccoli. Hand off to the nearest tyke, then duck (the wrath of the li’l ones’ parents). Tokyo pop culture mall New People is an amazing one-stop source for quirky, beautiful lifestyle accessories like dope headphones and separated toe socks.

1746 Post, Japantown, SF. (415) 525-8600, www.newpeopleworld.com

MINI BURRO PIÑATA, $7.99

SF Party

This party donkey’s cool to get behind — the recipient will be stoked by his party-pumping bustability. (Hint: stuff with mini bottles.) SF Party’s got what you need for instacheer — peep the local store’s decorations and holiday flair for ways to trick everyone into thinking you’re festive.

939 Post, Tenderloin, SF. (415) 931-9393, www.sfparty.com

IGNITE ME MASSAGE CANDLE, $10

Good Vibrations

You already know that Good Vibes is the top spot for fun, sexy, and horizon-expanding gifts for your sweetie (or prospective sweetie). These two ounces of scented soy wax set the mood for a little post-mistletoe vida loca. Just light the candle and it melts into massage oil.

Various locations, SF. www.goodvibes.com

HOT CHOCOLATE SET, $10

Sweetdish

Looking for a wintertime wonder amid Sweetdish’s happy racks of rare and delicious candies? Try their hot chocolate sets, packaged here in San Francisco: Taza drinkable chocolate disks and a Japanese ceramic mug and spoon are included in this power punch for the holiday sweet tooth. While you’re there, pick up some locally made Poco Dolce chocolate — the burnt toffee ($6.50 per pack) is to die for.

2144 Chesnut, Marina, SF. (415) 563-2144, www.thesweetdish.com

TRAVEL-SIZE BUTCH BODY SPRAY, $8

This one’s fun for sending a pleasant mixed message: “They want me to butch it up when I’m on the go, but with a body spray?” Forunately, one sniff of this enticingly spicy scent will ax all doubts, and the travel-spritzing will begin in earnest. (Also available: floral Femme and tangy Original scents.) Local-centric beauty product makers Nancy Boy provides line after line of scrumptious freshness.

347 Hayes, Hayes Valley, SF. (415) 552-3802, www.nancyboy.com

LASER MONEY DEVICE, $7

Misdirections Magic Shop

When your teenager wants to expand his trick repertoire beyond lighting farts, it’s time for a magic laser money device. With practice, your teenager can create money out of nothing, just like the Fed! It’s also the perfect comeback to “You can stop washing the dishes when you start making money.” Misdirections has other magic galore.

1236 Ninth Ave., Inner Sunset, SF. (415) 566-2190, www.misdirections.com

PERSONALIZED INITIAL STICKERS, $5

Toss

Toss designs its own classy prep looks, which will hit the spot for any beachy babes within striking distance of your gift list. But if the pretty handbags and frothy dresses are too spendy, cop the store’s style with embroidered stickers that’ll customize any existing satchels your bronzed beauty swings over their shoulder.

2185 Chestnut, Marina, SF. (415) 440-8677, www.tossdesigns.com

ORIGAMI FAST FOOD SET, $3.95

Paper Tree

Fold-your-own hamburger, shake, and fries for … what, your vegetarian sister? Meat-loving Uncle Mark? Paper Tree’s aisles of origami kits — paper and laughably cryptic Japanese instructions included — range from make-your-own meals to puppy dogs and finger puppets, and make a fantastic offering for any of your friends who dream of creating their own world.

1743 Buchanan, Japantown, SF. (415) 921-1700, www.paper-tree.com

HAMBURGER KITCHEN TIMER, $8

Park Life

Too bad hamburgers don’t go in the oven, ’cause that would be the funniest thing ever with this plump, juicy-looking thing! (The joke might work with Hanukkah sufanganiyot, too.) Park Life’s a neato outpost of cleverly designed artifacts and nom-nom art, with something for everyone, but mostly really cool everyones.

220 Clement, Richmond, SF. (415) 386-7275, www.parklifestore.com

SOURCE ZINE, $3

Needles & Pens

Locally published advice on fermenting, planting, and all kinds of other stuff makes a swell gift for your favorite urbanite interested in sustainably downsizing for 2011. Needles & Pens stocks indie clothes and jewelery designs, as well as racks of zines from fresh local artists and doodlers.

3253 16th St., Mission, SF. (415) 255-1534, www.needles-pens.com

EYE-MELTING WALL CALENDAR, $3

Little Otsu

Calendars can be so … quantifying. Leave it to craft wonderland Little Otsu to make date-finding creative again. Pick up this cheaply had bit of creativity designed by Ron Regé Jr., for the nonlinear thinker on your list, or browse the racks of Otsu’s recycled material stationary and precious T-shirt designs.

849 Valencia, Mission, SF. (415) 255-7900, www.littleotsu.com

CANTAINER BICYCLE CUP HOLDER, $10

Gravel and Gold

Because nothing goes better than bikes and bevvies — they’ll cruise into golden, road soda (we mean coffee, of course!) glory with an American-made bike cup holder masterpiece from this beautiful, sunny Mission store, whose shelves of hip handmade treasures take the crass consumerism straight out of your holiday shopping.

3266 19th St., Mission, SF. (415) 552-0112, www.gravelandgold.com

PISTACHIO BAKLAVA, $7.95

Sumiramis Middle Eastern Imports

Score flaky, made-in-the-Bay filo dough holiday meal or gathering treats at this fantastical, low-key grocery store, which stocks all things Mediterranean from hookahs to halvah. Your lucky guests will wonder where you got it. (Make like you had to go further than 26th Street and Mission.)

2990 Mission, Mission, SF. (415) 824-6555

DE LA ROSA CANDY, $3.69

Casa Guadalupe

These crumbly peanut marzipan gems are a recognizable staple of Latino bodegas, but the red rose on their 30-pack carton wouldn’t look out of place alongside brightly wrapped presents under a Hanukkah bush.

2999 Mission, Mission, SF. (415) 824-2043

RHINESTONE INITIAL EARRINGS, $10

Good Fellows

Reward those who’ve been nice through 2010 with this customizable bling — they can wear their sparkly identities on their lobes! Because you know you have a friend who will be more impressed if you tell them you got their present from a head shop. And Good Fellows has a dispensary in the back if your giftee’s on the very, very good list.

473 Haight, Lower Haight, SF. (415) 255-1323

YUMMYPOCKETS PB&J ITEM HOLDER, $9.50

Therapy

Stuff the mouth of their wallet — money tastes good again with this disturbingly realistic peanut butter and jelly sandwich billfold. Therapy’s got the goods when it comes to gifts for the young fashionista on your list — another great choice is their faux-Guate coin purses ($10), decorated with colorful embroidered patterns that call up your trip last year to Lake Antigua.

Various location, SF. www.shopattherapy.com

THE SNOWY DAY, $6.99

Lola of North Beach

Lit love for the soon-to-be-bundled little one. The illustrations in this new board edition are as stunning as they were when Caldecott winner Ezra Jack Keats published the original book in 1962. Lola’s is a great gift stop for chic families — Mom and Dad included — on your list.

1415 Grant, North Beach, SF. (415) 781-1817, www.lolaofnorthbeach.com

HOMEMADE SPINACH PASTA, $2.95 PER POUND

Molinari Deli

Step around the display arrays of Italian fruitcakes and brightly-wrapped candies up to this old school neighborhood joint’s deli case. You can buy the hostess with the mostest a peck of that finest green — a skein of house-made spinach noodles. Maybe she’ll even invite you back for a holiday-themed pasta feed.

373 Columbus, North Beach, SF. (415) 421-2337

TRAVELS WITH GINSBERG: A POSTCARD BOOK, $9.95

City Lights Books

Ginsberg in Benares, Ginsberg in Venice, Ferlinghetti in SF — this book of postcards is the perfect bon voyage present for your favorite wanderlustful loved one. Include a card urging that one of the notes makes it back to you when the L.O. has a spare moment. City Lights, as well all know, has the best and brightest in O.G. Beat lit as well as today’s hottest book titles.

261 Columbus, North Beach, SF. (415) 362-8193, www.citylights.com

CHOPSTICK KIDS CHOPSTICK HELPER, $10

Aldea Niños

Get ’em going on noodle bowls young with these playful pinchers. Soon enough, your tyke will be ready to slurp udon with the best of them. Aldea’s newly opened children store stocks all the finest in sustainably made baby products. For another cheap, fun gift, try the wooden fish castanets, whose clacking teeth with make a flamenco fiend of any toddler.

1017 Valencia, Mission, SF. (415) 874-9520, www.aldeababy.com

SUCCULENT CANDLES, $6

Current

Oof — they couldn’t even keep last year’s astrophytum kicking? Lower the ante and reignite the light with this cacti candle. Current also stocks natural beauty products and small vases made to be tied up in a beautifully wrapped, color coordinating gift box. Indeed, many of its offerings already are, perfect for the gift-and-go.

911 Valencia, Mission, SF. (415) 648-2015

MR. LACY SHOELACES, $2.50

Shoe Biz

Sure, your buddy’s got style — but are their Technicolor kicks looking technically mussed and scuffed? You can brighten the load for any sneaker kid with these ties, which sit alongside Shoe Biz’s fantastic selection of boots and slippers and are available in a lacy rainbow of shades.

Various location, SF. www.shoebizsf.com

CHARDONNAY ANCHOVY STUFFED OLIVES, $6.95

We Olive

Does it get more posh than Chardonnay anchovy-stuffed Californian olives? No. And they taste good too! We Olive’s racks of California olive products, from tapenade to lip balm, will tickle the palate of any gourmand on your list. Plus, the store has samples that will sate you for hours. Squirt a dab of their transcendent olive oils on a bread cube and get shopping.

2379 Chestnut, Marina, SF. (415) 673-3669, www.weolive.com

ALBUM COVER NOTEBOOKS, $9.95

Green Apple Books

Giving new meaning to the words “liner notes,” these repurposed record sleeves have been transformed into the keepers of your giftee’s nascent raps and lovelorn lyrics. Green Apple has three floors of books and an annex of every stripe and flavor, so plan on getting lost for a few days — and emerging with an armful of amazing finds for everyone on your gift list.

506 Clement, Richmond, SF. (415) 387-2272, www.greenapplebooks.com

FOUR-INCH SUCCULENTS, $7

Succulence

Haworthia, aeonium, echeveria, oh my! Snag one of these flower-producing enduring plants from this cacti shop — it even stocks two-inchers for the true budget gifty. Succulence also sells unique pots and frames, so your loved one’s new plant buddy will be looking dapper indeed.

402 Cortland, Bernal Heights, SF. (415) 282-2212

MAGIC WAND $6

Fiddlesticks

Yes, this is really just a smallish wooden star at the end of a thinnish wooden rod. We will not argue! But the star comes in such pretty colors, and the simple wooden-toyness of it conjures up childhood loveliness. Plus, hello — instantly anyone becomes a fairy princess or Harry Potter! Cool tyke hotspot Fiddlesticks has an array of neat matching outfits and other magical doo-dads.

508 Hayes, Hayes Valley, SF. (415) 565-0508, www.shopfiddlesticks.com

CHOCOLATE BAR WITH POPPING ROCKS

Oh, Christopher Elbow, chocolatier to the stars! Your gem-colored, bite-sized, often Bucky Dome-shaped chocolates tend toward adventurous flavors like Venezuelan spice, rosemary caramel, and spiced pear. But you keep it real with our favorite quick trip back to childhood: the Christopher Elbow chocolate bar No. 6. A thick slab of dark chocolate bursting with popping candy rocks? Chocolate plus fun equals win.

401 Hayes, Hayes Valley, SF. (415) 355-1105, www.elbowchocolates.com

OWL-SHAPED MUG, $8.99

Kamei Housewares and Restaurant Supply

Who-who can’t resist a cup of joe from a lovable owl? Kamei’s got what you need in terms of high class, unique kitchenware on the cheap. It also has out-of-the-kitchen objects — check by the front door for a stack of beautiful paper parasols for the promenading perambulator on your list.

525-547 Clement, Richmond, SF. (415) 666-3699

FELT MUSHROOM, $6 AND $8

Lotus Bleu

Let’s spend the holidays shrooming! For your most cherished permagrinner (or possibly Smurf) come these beauties, small and large, in orange, gray, brown, and blue combinations. Made of sustainable wool by a couple in Nepal, these squishy caps fit perfectly in your hand — and also fit right in with Lotus Bleu’s dazzlingly patterned, natural fabric goods aesthetic.

325 Hayes, Hayes Valley, SF. (415) 861-2700, www.lotusbleudesign.com

TAKENOTSUYU YUKI HONOKA “SILENT SNOW” SAKE, $8

True Sake

True Sake was recently anointed by The New York Times as a true original, a gem of a space specializing in nothing but sakes. Seriously, dozens of gorgeous bottles and wildly diverse flavors await you here. Our pick is this super-cute, super-fresh, super-smooth sake. Wine is so passé — put a little bow on one of these beauties and come off sophisticated.

560 Hayes, Hayes Valley, SF. (415) 355-9555, www.truesake.com

War on drugs rages on

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks

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November 16, 2010

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By Pamela A. MacLean

news@sfbg.com

The two Norton brothers thought someone was breaking into their Oakland apartment to kill them one pre-dawn day in October 2007. Instead, a couple dozen well-armed and screaming federal drug agents stormed the place, rousted the pair, and dragged them around the apartment before arresting them.

Winslow and Abraham Norton operated one of the most successful medical marijuana dispensaries in the Bay Area, the Compassionate Patients’ Cooperative of California, in Hayward. In just the first six months of 2007, the operation grossed $26 million.

But if they thought facing a federal indictment on charges of conspiracy to possess and distribute more than 1,000 kilos of marijuana and money laundering was their worst nightmare, the Norton brothers just weren’t dreaming big enough.

The pair — with all-American good looks, close-cropped beards, and infectious smiles — finish each other’s sentences when they describe their run-in with the federal justice system.

“We were 11 and 14 when medical marijuana was legalized, and we grew up in Berkeley,” Abraham said “It may be naïve, but we didn’t understand the legality. Now we know federal law a lot better.”

Abraham, 26, and Winslow, 29, played by the rules in California’s fledgling medical marijuana law. In 2005 they got an Alameda County permit to operate from the former Sheriff Charles Plummer, a seller’s permit from the state, paid taxes, and had random inspections by local police.

They even hired security guards to patrol the place to make sure patients felt safe. After abandoning a couple of security companies as “no good,” they hired a tough bunch that had former Navy SEALS, Marines, and cops in their ranks, SEAL-Mar Security. They rotated a crew of 44 different guards who patrolled outside and carried Glocks, Smith & Wessons, Sig Sauers, and Rugers to make sure no one caused trouble.

“We are very proud we were squeaky clean and examined under a microscope,” Winslow said. “We never did a deal out the back door,” Abraham insisted. They sold so much marijuana to legitimate patients “it never made sense and it would have hurt the company” to do any illegal side deals, Winslow said.

But selling marijuana is still a federal crime, and in negotiations the prosecutor insisted the brothers accept five-year minimum prison terms. They refused, offering to plead guilty to conspiracy and let U.S. District Judge D. Lowell Jensen set the sentence. Assistant U.S. Attorney Steve Corrigan balked. Then, according to the Nortons and their lawyers, Corrigan upped the ante, threatening to indict their mother, who helped out in the co-op by opening up for the early shift.

“We had to tell her over a Thanksgiving,” Winslow said. “It was pretty miserable. We didn’t know what to do.”

Then, in February 2009, the government indicted their father instead, along with a coworker, and added a far more serious charge: aiding in the carrying of a firearm to further a drug crime. That charge alone carries up to life in prison, but no less than five years.

The Nortons had no guns. It was the gun-toting security team that was “aiding” in a drug conspiracy.

“It is plain and simple coercion, nothing less than that,” said Harold Rosenthal, Abraham’s attorney.

“When we heard the charge, we said ‘you must be kidding,'” says Doron Weinberg, the high-profile defense lawyer who defended record producer Phil Spector in his 2007 murder trial. “I have never before heard of a person charged with violation of a gun law because they hired a security guard.”

Although there is a new U.S. attorney, Melinda Haag, she isn’t talking. “It is an ongoing case so we have no comment,” said her spokesman Jack Gillund.

Sheriff Plummer, who retired in 2007 after 50 years in law enforcement, said of the weapons charges: “It’s bullshit.”

“While I don’t favor their type of business, it was legal. I wanted to make damn sure they were protected, people were protected, and the building was protected. I told them to hire a security crew,” he said.

Abraham says Plummer assured them during a county Board of Supervisors meeting that if they did everything he required, the feds would leave them alone. “I could have said that,” Plummer said when asked about that assurance.

Although the new charge is “aiding” use of weapons, the security crew was not charged with a crime. It had no effect on the guards or the company, according to Tom Turner, one of SEAL-Mar’s owners.

The indictment of their father, Michael, was no accident. Michael is a patient of the dispensary, but the brothers and his lawyer, Bill Osterhoudt, say Michael had no ownership interest in the co-op.

What Michael Norton does have is a criminal record. In the 1980s, he went to prison for two years in what was known as the Kona coffee caper. He bought low-cost Guatemalan coffee beans and sold them as pricey Hawaiian Kona coffee.

Piled on to the Norton brothers’ legal problems is a tax bill that went unpaid when the federal agents raided their apartment and the business. When the federal agents swept in three years ago, they seized the brothers’ two cars, a house they just bought, more than 300 pounds of marijuana, and an electronic deposit of nearly $340,000 in sales tax sent to the state Board of Equalization, according to Winslow.

“We thought the wire transfer cleared. We had confirmation, but the government still seized it,” Abraham said. “They stole the money,” Winslow said. That debt, with penalties and interest, is now close to $1 million, according to Abraham.

“The feds snatched the sales tax money and left the Nortons liable for it, and now they have liens against them for the money,” Rosenthal said.

The irony for the brothers is that they believe they were the first dispensary to voluntarily pay sales taxes. “We collected them for six months and took a check for $1 million to the BOE,” Abraham said. “They didn’t want to take money from medical marijuana sales and told us to call it something else,” Winslow said. “We refused. They wanted us to lie and say the bags cost $300 and the contents were free. But that would have screwed up our accounting.”

After accepting the initial payment, within a week the board issued letters to all the dispensaries in the state asking for sales tax, according to the brothers.

Judge Jensen rejected defense efforts to get the gun charges thrown out in September. But Jensen, a Republican former prosecutor, signaled he is not happy and ordered both sides to sit down Dec. 9 for formal talks before a magistrate to see if they can resolve the case.

“It’s not enough to say we want the case dropped,” Abraham said. “Our credit is destroyed. We can’t work.”

“Three years later we are still fighting it,” Winslow said. “We’ve been fighting this almost as long as the dispensary existed.”

As for the brothers’ chances to negotiate a resolution with the feds, Rosenthal said, “I’m somehow hoping the clouds are going to part and sanity is going to set in.”

SF local artist’s purpose within reach

Andrew Lam

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November 16, 2010

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“I wanted to teach people, tell them how to do it. I always dream about taking back the city through art.” Reynaldo Cayetano Jr. is showing me his photographic prints in a Lower Haight coffee shop. He’s explaining to me how a guy who grew up in San Francisco came to be on the brink of his third art show in San Francisco (Purpose: Beyond Reach, coming up on Sat/20 at Rancho Parnassus).

Is it weird that this trajectory needs explaining? Common sense says that growing up in a world-class art city would give you a leg up on an career amidst darkrooms and gallery openings. But that’s not the case in cities, really. Local kids get the boot for all kinds of reasons in today’s 21st century – especially creative types who aren’t ready to divest their days to the rat race necessary to stay and live in our great urban spaces.

Maybe to look for real, SF-grown artists you have to see beyond the standard downtown gallery scene. Cayetano’s art shows take place at non-traditional venues – the most recent of which was Bayanihan Community Center on Sixth Street, in the neighborhood that Cayetano grew up. The 23 year old populates the shows half with friends he grew up with and half simpatico souls he meets around the city (full disclosure: my boyfriend falls into this category for the upcoming Sat/20 show).

Cayetano (Rey to friends) says he’s always been “a spectator of art.” He began sketching as a teen, copying his older brothers who liked to draw. “But soon I was getting better than they were,” he tells me, smiling over coffee and a pastry at the round table we’re sitting at with fellow Inks of Truth artist, photographer Chris Beale (whose shots illustrate this article).

We’re passing around the portfolio of the two men, who met in a City College photojournalism class and bonded over being the only ones working with film in a digital world (“making it, like, twice as hard on ourselves,” they tell me, clearly relishing the challenge). Cayetano’s folder of prints shows street scenes from his recent trip to the Phillipines — a journey he’s made only twice since his father, mother, two brother, and he moved to California in 1993.

Real talk: Reynaldo Cayetano and a new friend downtown. Photo by Chris Beale

I turn the page and there is a black and white closeup of his uncle’s knotted hands, then photos from his life in SF: friends, protesters at immigration rallies, corners and streets he’s walked for years. Beale, a long time SF resident originally hailing from Baltimore, has crisply developed shots of Rey in his own book, a dissenter giving the finger to City Hall’s golden cupola, an image of the two’s friend – and emcee who’ll be playing his new album at Saturday’s event – Patience the Virtuous, gazing into the MUNI bus yards.

Rey started curating his group shows — which display the work of a loosely bound collective called Inks of Truth — to fight ignorance in the SF community. Ignorance of pedestrians, that is. Spurred by a good friend’s death on the Alemany and San Jose S-curve (the young woman for whose 21st birthday present the camera he shoots with was intended), he brought together creative acquaintances for an event that “was supposed to be an art show, but leaned towards awareness.”

Photos from that show and Rey’s second depict a crowd of young people enjoying themselves amidst the physical evidence of their collective creativity, at one point clearing the floor for some b-boys to get in on the show and tell. It’s hardly the scene you see at many wine and cheese receptions that mark the debut of an artist’s work at other places around the city.

The events’ orchestration were big moves for a guy that has trouble seeing himself as a professional artist. “As soon as I call myself that, it comes with… I don’t want to say baggage, but it implies a lot of knowledge,” Rey tells me. “At first I thought that I shouldn’t have a show because I’m not a photographer, but then I thought no – that’s why I should do it.” When I ask him whether he sees a lot of the peers he grew up with in the Sixth Street neighborhood getting in on the SF art scene, he’s hesitant to make sweeping statements. “I feel like it’s lagging, but it’s not to the point where it’s hopeless.”

Perhaps this lag is what gives Cayetano the motivation for his inclusive shows. Saturday’s will feature works by sixteen artists in a variety of mediums. Cayetano is hungry to give others the adrenaline rush and fufillment that comes from finally, seeing one’s work on the wall.

But it’s not always easy. In the midst of his own worry over producing events without professional guidance, Rey’s dealing with the varying levels of commitment of artists showing their beloved creative mindsprings for the first time. But overall, the process is one he seems to take inspiration in. “It’s great to give them that kind of anxiety, it’s a good stress. If you’re not stressing in the process, it’s not explosive,” he reasons.

In addition to bringing a taste of artistic involvement to the talented around him, the upcoming Purpose: Beyond Reach show at the Sixth Street cafe has another, even more salient community connection. It’s a food drive for Martin de Porres House of Hospitality, a place that Beale says is the soup kitchen of choice for many of the homeless people he’s spoken with.

Cayetano elected Martin de Porres as the beneficee for its relatively small capacity. After speaking with representatives from larger shelters like Glide, he discovered “even if you raise a lot of cans, for a big shelter it will be gone within a meal.” Art show attendees are expected to load down their backpacks for entrance: those over the age of 21 are expected to donate at least five cans of food.

For Cayetano, it was important that his third show reflect the entirety of the community where he was raised. “It’s a testament of growing up on Sixth Street. The people out on the street now are the same ones that were there when I was growing up.” All the better to reflect the real community of San Francisco — if not that, then what are we painting for?

“Purpose: Beyond Reach”

Sat/20 4-10:30 p.m., free with can donation (21 and up, five to seven; 20 and younger three to five)

Rancho Parnassus

132 Sixth St., SF

(415) 503-0700

www.wix.com/purposebeyondreach/inksoftruth

Red-eyed and happy at the Cannabis Competition

Andrew Lam

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November 15, 2010

9

All photos by Erik Anderson

Somewhere amidst the marijuana energy drinks and exuberantly filled bags of Volcano vapor at yesterday’s fourth annual Cannabis Competition, a young lady named Lacey was making a name for herself.

“Sales have been excellent – we’ve cornered it! I think the best sellers have been the shortbread cookies. You can have them alone or we also make them into filled sandwiches,” said the fetching entrepreneur of Laced Cakes, who sat with her girl friends behind stacks of individually packaged marijuana edibles, all attired in vintage approximations of boho homemakers.

The trio joined proud purveyors of marijuana energy drinks, handmade color-changing coffee mugs, and raw organic hemp rolling papers — not to mention the more urban, less crunchy beats than Competitions past by Bayonics, Manicato, and Mystic Roots — in a celebration of gourmand greens. Set in Terra’s be-succulented patio and indoor space, the Competition was a happy, if slow moving refutation of the fact that pot heads can’t party.

Lesson of the day? There is life post-Prop 19. Even while plagued with last-minute venue kerfuffle and copyright blowback from the OG cannabis cuppers, High Times, the Cannabis Competition hit it big with SF indian summer weather to die for and an enthusiastic crowd. “It was an extremely successful event in terms of people having fun,” said Kevin Reed, CEO of the Green Cross, the pot delivery service that sponsored the event.

“I think that [the venue change] probably did keep a lot of people home – anything that has to do with the police department will do that – but it did get us some mentions in the press,” Reed continued. He said that a few vendors also backed out at last minute for fear of conflict with the law.

But the trepidation of the competition suited Lacey (real name: Courtney, she didn’t want her surname in the press) just fine. Laced Cakes has been around since 2007, but lack of consistency with her inventory – “you know how that happens,” she smiles – led to Lacey losing her regular selling gig at the Green Door, a SoMa dispensary.

Six days before the Competition, the buyer at the Green Door mentioned there was an empty vendor booth still available – would Laced Cakes like an expo debut? Lacey sprung into action and baked up some product, even learning a recipe for caramel that looked like a success from where I was standing and admiring her cakes. Her other offerings? Zucchini bread, vegan butter, take and bake cookies with their own little tubs of frosting – all “medicated,” all preciously packaged and ready for action.

Which was kind of a shame, because by the time I ran across her booth, I was in no shape to eat any more weed. In fact, by the end of the eight hours of Cannabis Comp, it was fair to say that not many were – particularly the judges of the Patient’s Choice contest itself. I spoke with one judge, who paid $250 for the privilege of weighing in on the Bay’s best buds. The Green Cross mails these brave arbiters 43 strains of weed (a gram of each), 17 kinds of weed edibles, and eight weed concentrates.

Ahem, a mere 10 days before the competition. Clear your schedule! Reed says some patients – you have to have your medical marijuana card to participate – hosted tasting parties with their similarly-carded friends to help share the burden of the position.

I got a chance to check out the tiny microscopes included in the judge’s package of fun (the Green Cross hands them out to all its patients who place orders with them). Equipped with a button to turn regular or black light on your bud of choice, the ‘scope revealed a tiny new land of purples and greens and complex crystal formations. The whole thing looked a lot like some dendrite-heavy sea creature. An pungent anemone, maybe. Or maybe I was just stoned.

Makes you think differently about marijuana – the intent, surely, of a peaceful party packed with pot. Maybe the rest of the state’s not ready for legalizing the dro, but it would seem that for San Francisco, a lot of the victory would be a symbolic one. Symbols, man.

2010 Cannabis Competition Patient’s Choice award winners (congrats!)

Best Edibles: First place – Scott Van Rixel’s Bang Dark Chocolate

Second place – (tie) Auntie Dolores’ chili-lime peanuts, The Green Door’s Buddies peanut butter pucks

Third place – Sean Polly’s Hash on the Mountaintop

Best Concentrates: First place – (tie) The Green Cross’ Frosty Oil, The Vapor Room Co-operative’s Blue Moonrocks

Second place – The Green Door’s G18

Third place – The Green Cross’ Sour diesel keef

Best Cannabis: First place – Boss’ OG Kush

Second place – (tie) Allen Wrench’s Island in the Sky, The Green Door’s Granddaddy, The Green Cross’ Kryptonite

Third place (tie) – Earth Green Cali Farm’s Jack Hare, Dutch Treat by San Francisco Medical Cannabis Garden

Appetite: 3 escaped-from-New York egg creams

Andrew Lam

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November 4, 2010

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Sipping an egg cream soda is an all-American, very New York pastime, but nowadays the nostalgic sodas are popping up in increasing numbers in our fair city. I rounded up a trifecta of perfect SF spots to get your cream on, but first a historical rundown.

Though the identity of the creator of the original egg cream is somewhat debated, many credit Louis Auster, a Brooklyn candy store owner in the late 1800s. In his well-researched tome on the history of soda fountains, Fix the Pumps, Art of the Drink‘s Darcy S. O’Neil says the New York egg cream evolved as a variation on the original milkshakes served at soda fountains in the late 19th century.

The classic recipe, which contains no egg whatsoever, traditionally consists of milk (or cream, for added richness), chocolate syrup, and soda water, making for a gently effervescent imbibement. It has a creamy, chocolate-y tinge, and a pleasurable hint of sour from the soda. The best creations have a foamy, seltzer “head” and are reminiscent of an ice cream soda sans ice cream. Some claim the original recipe included actual egg, which was replaced when they became expensive and harder to procure during World War II.

Speculations aside, I find egg creams a delightful reminder of my high school years on the East Coast, when I sipped at diners in Manhattan, Brooklyn, and Jersey. To this day, I can’t be in proximity of Katz Deli in the Lower East Side without ordering one to go.

The recent proliferation of egg creams in San Francisco is a welcome trend. Though I can never seem to track down the Egg Cream Cart, which was launched earlier this year by a mysterious “Madame Bubbles” (and serves egg creams and Jewish treats like rugelach), there are a few more easy-to-find places to wash down a soda, whether you go for the original Brooklyn recipe with chocolate syrup, New York style with vanilla, or even a San Francisco egg cream made with both chocolate and hazelnut syrups.

Grand Coffee

Months back, I wrote about the new Grand Coffee on Mission Street, a humble little counter-window service that pumped out expertly prepared Four Barrel coffee, creative jam sodas, layered iced coffees, and yes, egg creams. Owner Nabeel Silmi makes a Brooklyn egg cream ($2.75), for which he first drizzles the glass with Brooklyn-made Fox’s U-bet chocolate syrup, then douses it with milk and seltzer water, ultimately handing you a freshly frothy drink.

2663 Mission, SF

(415) 206-1238

Tony’s Coal-Fired Pizza & Slice House

The new take-out shop next to Tony’s Pizza Napoletana is just what North Beach needed: addictive Neapolitan and East Coast pizzas, ordered by the pie or the slice (cheese, pepperoni and daily specials). Eat in at one of the couple of tables in the joint or trot across the street to Washington Square Park with pizza or giant Italian beef sandwich in hand. The deal is sweetened with three egg cream options: New York, Brooklyn, and SF versions. The downside? They’re a whopping five dollars each. But the balance is right and kudos to Tony for offering all the classic egg creams.

1556 Stockton Street, SF

(415) 835-9888

Cowgirl Creamery’s Sidekick

Cowgirl Creamery‘s brand new Ferry Building cafe, Sidekick, is a take-out venue for all things cheese, from challah rolls filled with the stuff to a fresh mozzarella bar where you can choose which mozza type you’d like to heap over salad. Sidekick starts with a San Francisco egg cream (chocolate and hazelnut syrups for four dollars), then offers three non-traditional versions: raspberry, coffee cream, and caramel cream ($3.75). The SF soda enhances that light, chocolate-drenched froth with a whisper of nuttiness. Consider it egg cream with a California twist.

1 Ferry Building, SF

(415) 362-9354

www.cowgirlcreamery.com

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GOLDIES 2010: Amanda Curreri

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks

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November 2, 2010

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Five minutes into talking with Amanda Curreri over a slice and coffee at Mission Pie, I’ve agreed to take part in a piece she’s working on as part of Shadowshop, the in-gallery artists’ marketplace Stephanie Syjuco is organizing for SFMOMA’s upcoming survey of work made in the past decade.

“It’s called Afghanistan Insert,” Curreri explains, speaking in the measured fashion of someone who carefully considers her words. “I’m trying to insert Afghanistan into SFMOMA and into San Francisco’s art community.”

Curreri’s commitment to getting the local arts scene to engage with what has become commonly dubbed by the mainstream news media as “the forgotten war” is not just politically motivated. It’s also personal. Her husband has been working in Afghanistan for the past five months as a security contractor, during which he has sent her snapshots of local graffiti. They are documents of his ground truth.

Curreri plans on physically inserting herself and her husband’s images into Shadowshop, much in the same way she holds one of his pictures in the portrait accompanying this feature. Indeed, the photo, this profile, Curreri’s new status within the local arts community as a Goldie winner, and the conversations this increased attention might encourage will all become part of the discourse surrounding Insert Afghanistan and contributing to its impact.

All this is consonant with Curreri’s view of herself as more of an instigator than an artist. “I’m trying to make art that crosses out of the art world,” she says, echoing Joseph Beuys’ notion of social sculpture. Her projects thrive on participation, using the exhibition space as a kind of social laboratory in which she arranges shared cultural touchstones and institutions — campfire songs, the judicial process, family recipes — as prompts for personal reflection and shared conversation on the “big subjects” that undergird them: history, politics, memory, and in the case of Afghanistan Insert, their intersection within a seemingly endless and fruitless foreign occupation thousands of miles away.

Engaging with Curreri’s art often entails an extended encounter with the artist herself (given how unexpectedly my interview at Mission Pie has turned out, the reverse seems true as well). The last conversation I had with Curreri was this past July, when she videotaped my extemporaneous responses to her off-camera questioning about the topic of last words. My interview was to be incorporated into her concurrent exhibit “Occupy the Empty,” for which she transformed Ping Pong Gallery via hand-sculpted “props” into a courtroom in which various associates, friends, and strangers, such as myself, volunteered their time and testimony.

As with Insert Afghanistan, the inspiration for “Occupy the Empty” was also personal: after participating in a court hearing concerning her late father, Curreri found out it had been held in the same Massachusetts courthouse in which Italian-American anarchists Sacco and Vanzetti were sentenced to death in the early 20th century. Curreri, also of Italian-American descent, saw the coincidence as a chance to connect to that history and, in the process, build a community around a larger discussion of remembrance. Curreri recalls one participant for whom the show served an almost therapeutic function.

“I want to create art that has an interpersonal function, in real-time,” she says. “I want my work to set a specific frame around our inherent connectivity.”

www.amandacurreri.com

>>MORE GOLDIES 2010

Live from the lower east side: Bayview’s best eats

Andrew Lam

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November 1, 2010

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Bayview and Dogpatch rarely surface on short lists of culinarily acclaimed ‘hoods in the city. Which is a shame, because one doesn’t head out to the waterside neighborhoods to splash about in the waves of see-and-be-seen, but you can have a damn tasty time on Third Street and its surrounds.

Spotted lately: neighborhood staple soul food from a variety of cultures, tucked away industrial district gems that stay open through the witching hours — not to mention the odd new hip endeavors by foodies hungry for the low cost overhead that the changing neighborhoods afford. Like the community that lives on their blocks, Bayview and Dogpatch’s cuisines are far enough away from the city’s hurricane of openings, closings, and established scenes that it can do its own thing. Which we like just fine.

Old Clamhouse

The old standard. The OCH has been around since 1861, when its rough and tumble block really did have a bay view – the neighborhood, originally a salt marsh, was filled in and built over during the second half of the 1800s. The Clamhouse maintains that salty brine of authenticity, though. Belly up with the rest of the regulars for ridiculously delicious seafood and an Anchor Steam from the bar. Oh, and don’t leave without a plate of the Bruce Brugmann favorite, the joint’s addictive fried clams.

299 Bayshore, SF

(415) 826-4880

J&V Cafe

Four stars for schedule: J&V Cafe is located in the nutritious embrace of SF’s wholesale produce market, whose denizens start their day in the wee hours –and god damn it, need a plate of chilaquiles on their break! J&V is more than happy to provide and will throw quite reasonably priced Americana breakfasts in the mix as well. Find yourself out amidst the warehouses after 1am and you can pick up anything a cup of creamy potato soup to a marinated rotisserie chicken in its cheerful dining room.

2020 Jerrold, SF

(415) 821-7786

www.jandvcatering.com

Mr. and Mrs. Miscellaneous

Mr. and Mrs. Miscellaneous is the newest of the tsunami of gourmet cone spots that swept the city via Slocombe and Bi-Rite. Husband and wife couple Annabelle Topacio and Ian Flores make ‘cream good enough to hold its own with the rest of the waffles cones. Just to get you going: past flavor boards have included chicory coffee, bergamot, lemon-verbena, Fernet-Branca, and ginger glacé.

699 22nd St., SF

(415) 970-0750

www.facebook.com

Las Isletas

A Nicaraguan cafe somehow relocated to the edge of the city of San Francisco, Las Isletas mimics not only the tone and tenor of Nicaraguan everyday food – a plato vegetariano with gallo pinto, plantains, tortillas, queso fresco, and a side salad tasted of the kind of Central American authentic that you can forget exists in this burrito town. Of course, that means that meat eaters have their day in the sun here. Massive, steaming bowls of soup can be had on the cheap, and nacatamales (large tamales) and bailiadas (thick tortilla sandwiches) are winners as well.

4508 3rd St., SF

(415) 643-4436

Auntie April’s Chicken and Waffles

Auntie April’s has a couchy waiting area to the left of the door that is presumably for to-go orders, although I may start hanging out there in my free time. This is that perfect soul food spot you’ve been looking for, with low prices, all the usual customers (oxtail dinners, what?), and a neighborhood feel that makes you want to order seconds, if only you could squeeze them into your belly. I was partial to the nomenclature on the breakfast menu, whose #2 special was dubbed “The Jive Turkey”: two eggs, three turkey sausages, four turkey bacon strips, grits, and hash browns. Vegetarians, you can make a damn good meal off the sides – just don’t expect any props from the wait staff for doing so.

4618 3rd St., SF

(415) 643-4983

Hard Knox

Another good for your soul food spot. Hard Knox is tiny (maybe that’s why they opened up their second location in the Richmond) but don’t let that stop you from heading down to their Third Street spot. We’re talking conviviality over comfort here, folks – and the food ain’t bad either. Catfish sandwiches get our vote of glory.

2526 3rd St., SF

(415) 648-3770

www.hardknoxcafe.com

Frisco Fried

Frisco Fried is the neighborhoods’ newest entrant to the chicken and fixin’s game, and has already attracted quite a following with its unapologetically artery-clogging eats. They keep a tally going on the window so that passer-bys can see that a. they have a burger dog on offer and b. that others before have tried the darn thing – to the tune of a few thousands, in fact.

5176 3rd St., SF

(415) 822-1517

www.facebook.com

Just For You

A break from the Southern food, you say? You got it – back to the corner of Third and 22nd withya, where Just For You packs in the throngs for lunch and breakfast. Hangover recommendation (unless you’re like me and the thought of fish and dairy together stirs up an unholy alliance the morning after): the Hangtown fry, an egg, bacon, onion, and oyster scramble. Finish it off with a plate of beignets? Oh mys.

732 22nd St., SF

(415) 647-3033

www.justforyoucafe.com

Piccino

Our pick of the Bayview brunch bunch: Piccino. Pair your French press with a nice cazuela of baked eggs or a fruit bruschetta – bread made in-house topped with honey butter, roasted fruits, crème fraiche and a bit of basil. The comfy, classy décor inside also plays host to lunches and dinners to write home about. Specialties of the house includes crispy, crusty pizzas and nom-nom antipasti.

801 22nd St., SF

(415) 824-4224

www.piccinocafe.com

Junior Barbecue

Yes, that’s right: Brazilian burgers. We’re not convinced that the burgers that Junior sells from his traveling truck will go all that well with your Sao Paolo bikini, but there are those that would give up quite a lot for one of these mammoth meat mountains. Chose your poison by electing for one of three burger “levels.” Number three features a hot dog, ham, egg, corn, cheese, pineapple, bacon, and yeah, the burger. You’ve been warned. Check Junior out on weeknights til about midnight.

Napoleon and Evans, SF

Alex Cox goes “Straight to Hell” (and to the Roxie)

Sue Vaughan

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October 28, 2010

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Alex Cox goes “Straight to Hell” (and to the Roxie)

If you’re looking for a Halloween film fix outside of the usual slasher movies and traditional fright night fare, the Roxie’s got you covered.

Starting Fri/29 and running all weekend, the theater has a series of cult picks lined up. Friday night brings old-school sci-fi flicksThe Creature with the Atom Brain (1955) and The Man From Planet X (1951) to the screen in 35mm archival prints. Sat/30, check out the UK gore-fest Corruption (1968) or The Brood (1979), one of David Cronenberg’s first films. And on Sun/31, there will be a double Halloween dose of director Alex Cox, with Straight to Hell Returns (2010) and Searchers 2.0 (2007), complete with an appearance from Cox himself.

A cult favorite due to his work directing Repo Man (1984) and Sid and Nancy (1986), Cox originally released Straight to Hell in 1987. This updated version includes technical touchups in both sound and color design, and also features deleted scenes with “enhanced violence and cruelty.” A surreal cast with the likes of Joe Strummer, Elvis Costello, Dennis Hopper, Courtney Love, and Jim Jarmusch populates this bizarre, darkly comic mash-up of crime and spaghetti Western genres. The film follows a group of criminals who take cover in what they believe to be a deserted ghost town after robbing a bank. Instead, they soon find the town full of seedy shopkeepers, violent punk rock banditos, and jittery locals with a coffee obsession.

Strummer is probably the best of the “non-actor” bunch, pulling off his role as one of the crooks in believable enough fashion. Courtney Love on the other hand puts in an obnoxious performance that may have been Roseanne Barr’s National Anthem inspiration at the 1990 Super Bowl. Irish-punk band the Pogues (who also co-star) provide a strong score full of mariachi-style flourishes, which sets the scene for the film’s send-ups of shootouts and tough guy bravura.

Straight to Hell’s plot is scattered at best and often doesn’t make a lick of sense, but that’s not where its appeal lies anyway. The film’s charm is in the loose, DIY-style of its creation. It also seems to have been a huge inspiration on Quentin Tarantino, who must have lifted his ideas for Samuel L. Jackson’s character in Pulp Fiction straight from Sy Richardson’s performance as Norwood. It all isn’t quite as fun to watch as it must’ve been to make, but fans of freewheeling filmmaking will still find a lot to enjoy.

“Halloween Spooktacular”

Fri/29-Sun/31

Roxie

3117 17th St, SF

(415) 863-1087

www.roxie.com