Water

Appetite: Bar Crudo’s new digs, Bruno’s good evening, sweetbreads, pastas, and more

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Every Monday, Virginia Miller of personalized itinerary service and monthly food, drink, and travel newsletter, www.theperfectspotsf.com, shares foodie news, events, and deals. View the last installment here.

appetite1_0518.jpg
Campy/classy Good Evening Thursdays

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EVENTS

Good Evening Thursdays at Bruno’s… a sexy, weekly, speakeasy-like supper club
Take "Pussycat" in giant, Parisian ’60’s lettering, white tablecloths and waiters in vintage suits, a Rat Pack-vibe menu (reasonably priced) of Filet Mignon with bone marrow, chop salad, martinis, and Oysters Rockefeller, throw in a leering cat from the rafters, and, yes, a gold pole in the middle of the room (hmmm…?) and you have Good Evening Thursdays (at least until another name is decided upon). Up leopard-carpeted stairs in Bruno’s intimate, 35-seat private room, you’ve got yourself about the coolest non-restaurant, meal ticket in town. The genius behind this concept? A cracker-jack chef line-up of Chris Kronner (from Serpentine), Slow Club, Chez Panisse), Danny Bowien (of Bar Tartine), Sam White and Howie Correa (both front of house at Chez Panisse), and Oliver Monday (from brand new flour+water) who create and cook the meals each week. I went on debut night, May 7, and found it worth dressing up for. Sans reservations, the downstairs ’60’s-chic lounge celebrates Thursdays, too, no res. required, with old school imbibements and killer bar food, like Let’s Be Frank dogs with kimchi and bacon mayo, or pork banh mi. Read more and see photos in my latest Perfect Spot newsletter.
7pm-1:30am
Reservations: goodeveningthursday@gmail.com
2389 Mission, SF
415-643-5200
www.brunossf.com

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appetite2_0518.jpg
Artic char at Bar Crudo

NEW OPENINGS

Who says there’s a recession? All these new openings are keeping me busy… 5A5 Steak Loungeofficially debuted last week (mentioned in soft opening phase in my Perfect Spot newsletter). Ebisu just re-opened, remodeled and with new menu. In SoMa, Italian La Briciola opened where Vino e Cucina used to be. Swell took over in the former Bar Crudo space with Japanese Euro ethos still in play. Moroccan fave Tajine even returned… inside a Van Ness club, Heights Lounge. Little Skillet’s chicken ‘n waffle window is finally up and running and it’s tasty, y’all!

Bar Crudo moves to bigger digs on Divisadero
Bar Crudo is a spot like no other. Long one of my favorite places for seafood, it’s the place to be wowed with delicate, inventive crudo. The original spot, long situated downtown, recently closed, making way for a larger locale in the Western Addition. Fans like me are delighted to know there’s five new crudos to try (and eight hot dishes, thanks to a bigger kitchen). Owners (and actual bros), Tim and Mike Selvera, converted a former pizza joint on Divis into a new Bar Crudo, debuting this week. With Tim’s love of obscure, artisan beers, there’s fine ales to pair with your oysters, like Deschutes Brewery’s The Abyss, plus an impeccable wine list, even five cocktails created by non other than Jacqueline Patterson of Heaven’s Dog. Though I’ll kinda miss the charming, cramped layout of the original, thankfully, I don’t have to miss sparkling-fresh seafood and crudos like Arctic char with creamy horseradish, wasabi tobiko and dill.
665 Divisadero, SF
415-409-0679
www.barcrudo.com

flour+water opens in the Mission
This one’s been long-awaited from a foursome with Gary Danko/La Folie and Postrio/Plouf pedigree. Yes, it’s yet another Italian restaurant (across from Cafe Gratitude) with salumis, wood-burning oven for pizzas and a communal table, but with a quality-focused menu based around the "four pillars" of Italian cuisine: pizza, pasta, salumi, and, of course, vino. In the pizza realm, I like the sound of the Novo, with potato, farm egg, house pancetta, oregano, or the Cariciofi: artichokes, onion, pecorino and capers. Hand-rolled pastas intrigue, like Corzetti Stampati with braised Monterey squid and fava beans. Antipasti include sweetbread, Meyer lemon and spring onion fritto – works for me! There’s a handful of entrees, salads, and desserts like olive oil cornmeal cake with honey-thyme ice cream. Don’t forget a mostly Italian wine list of around 60 bottles priced between $30 and $60. I can’t wait to see what Sean Quigley, owner of Paxton Gate, has done with the interior design.
2401 Harrison, SF
415-826-7000
www.flourandwatersf.com

From East (NYC) to West (here), 54 Mint debuts in Mint Plaza
Umbrian native Alberto Avalle, founded and helmed New York’s famed Il Buco and after 15 years in the Big Apple, desired the relaxed pace and weather of California. Thankfully for us, he’s also bringing his passion for, and mastery of, Italian food to our city. Slated to open today, 54 Mint (neighbor to Blue Bottle Cafe and Chez Papa Resto), is a place for pure simplicity and high quality: hand-rolled pastas, truffles, Sicilian rice cakes with black squid, and wines all happily under $35 a bottle. Starting with dinner this week, by early June they plan to add lunch… for a Summer of la dolce vita.
54 Mint (between Jessie & Mission Streets)
415-543-5100
www.54mint.com

7 greengasmic personal lubricants

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By Juliette Tang

There are a number of questions you might ask yourself before spreading something on your genitals, the most relevant being, “Is this edible?” Because, if you wouldn’t eat a tube of KY, you might want to think twice before using it on your southern hemisphere.

Many people have no health problems associated with synthetic personal lubricants, but others find that using lubricants with propylene glycol, parabens, phenoxyethanol, and silicone increases their susceptibility to irritation and infection. For some, synthetic lubricants have been found to increase the chances of yeast infection and UTI. For those with allergies and sensitivities, certain chemicals found in lubes can cause pain and discomfort during sex, and not in the good way. And, most frighteningly of all, the chemical nonoxynol-9, a spermicidal contraceptive, has been found to actually raise a person’s susceptibility to HIV.

Fortunately for the health-conscious, we live in a city that has the natural, eco-friendly alternative to almost any health and body product on the market, including personal lubricants. Not only are these products gentler on the body, but they are also gentler on the environment, as they use natural ingredients that can be sustainably harvested (and most have recycled, or at the very least, recyclable packaging). Each of these lubricants are different. Some are water-based, some are oil-based, and some contain plant-derived glycerin (which helps lube last longer). Here are 7 of our favorite natural lubricants, what makes them unique, and where you can get them.

All Natural, Glycerin Free

Firefly Organics is a 100% natural lube available online only. It contains shea and cocoa butter, but because of its oil-based formula, this lubricant is not safe for use with latex condoms. Firefly is the most natural lubricant on the market, with no preservatives and completely glycerin free, and because of this, it has somewhat of an abbreviated shelf-life. In a completely unrelated note, Firefly was recently voted the #1 personal lubricant by PlayBoy Magazine.

Mostly Natural, Glycerin Free

Sliquid Organics makes some great organic lubricants in water, cream, and gel form. Their most natural formula is water based, glycerin free, containing organic plant extracts like hibiscus, flax, sunflower seed, and green tea. For anal play, use the thicker, slicker gel formula. You can find Sliquid at Good Vibrations (603 Valencia). Safe with latex condoms.

Love story

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› le_chicken_farmer@yahoo.com

CHEAP EATS I have never needed a hammock more. Heat wave, it had been a long time since I’d haunted my woodsy shack … accidentally work 40-hour work weeks all of a sudden (not counting this), and have no idea how y’all have been doing it. As it happens, I love my work. Some don’t, I am led to believe. And I just want to buy these ‘uns a bagel and pat them on the back. I can’t imagine. But I kinda can.

So, for the first time in my life, I get weekends. I understand the need for them, crave them, and don’t exactly have them. Six days I work. On the seventh day, I flip Yahweh the bird, lazy fuck, and go play soccer. Sometimes as many as three games in one day.

But this day was hot hot hot, so I only played two, and then needed me a hammock like never before. A little lunch with my teamies, an over-an-hour drive up into the woods, open the windows, peel myself out of the salty shorts and sweat-sticky sports bra, finally, a soak in the tub on the porch … and I was ready.

I put on some clean short shorts and a husband beater T-shirt. I gathered up the book that I am re-rereading, Love In The Time Of Cholera, a bottle of very cold well water, a bowl of cherries, and I went to it.

My hammock is strung between redwoods. Between uses, it becomes nested with dried needles and twigs. You have to shake and shimmy it off into the bed of same underneath. This I did.

Then I nestled in with my book, bottle, and bowl (of cherries) and within less than a second we were all scattered on the forest floor. Well, I wasn’t technically scattered so much as shoulder planted. Damn thing gave, winter-worn ropes ripping, and left me a little bit hog-tied, blinking up at my bare feet, which did look pretty against the green-screened blue sky, but now there were redwood needles sticking out of my upper back and neck, spider webs and twigs in my hair.

As testimony to my insecurelessness, or, rather, the precise flavor of my insecurity, it never even crossed my mind that I had gained weight. Just that I was an idiot for not taking better care of my hammock, and therefore needed another bath.

I washed my car with the still slightly warm water from my last one, then took a shower, which I can do now because I reconverted the shower from a storage closet back into a shower. But it had been years since I used it, and the shower that I took was orange. Pipes rust.

I wiped off and went to the beach.

What a beach the beach is, where I used to live and now visit. The drive there is enough to break your heart. Then, if you know where to go, you don’t get sand but tiny stones which store the sun in them and kind of adjust to your exact shape, given wiggle. You can be held and hugged by the sun itself!

And you can eat cherries, and drink cold well water, and not re-reread Marquez, the greatest love story ever told, because you are making one instead, in stones. Sifting through them, picking out the ones-in-a-gazillion that sing to you with unexpected streaks of color or peculiar shapes or a special resemblance to beans, for example. It’s like choosing your words very carefully.

Christ, I love a language barrier! Lying on my stomach in the sun, almost literally, I made a song of stones and held it in the palm of my hand. Then, when the cherries were gone, I poured my heart into the Ziploc bag, a handful of California, me. Stones.

Yahweh laughs last: Post Office ain’t open on Sunday, ha ha, the working girl, on her one day off, looking forward to Monday — good one, you card you, king of kings of comedy.

Hopeless romantic, I stayed for sunset, climbed the cliff, and drove home very carefully, very recklessly in love, and dedicated to survival. Nothing more than — nothing short of — the very next breath. For dinner: two small chunks of warmed-over roast duck and something slightly somewhat potstickerish, left from lunch at my new favorite restaurant: King Sing.

KING SING

Daily 10:30 a.m.–10 p.m.

501 Balboa, SF

(415) 387-6038

Beer & wine

MC/V

L.E. Leone’s new book is Big Bend (Sparkle Street Books), a collection of short fiction.

Steampunk vibrator a blast from the past

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By Juliette Tang


From
Steamfuck.me

Since 2004, we’ve had the solar powered vibrator. In 1999, someone took out a patent on a water-powered vibrating device (and, dude-who-holds-that-patent, we’re still waiting to see what you’ve got). There are vibrators activated by cell phones, by iPods, vibrators with rechargeable batteries. There are even, for horny hippies, wind-up vibrators powered by your wrist. It’s no surprise, in this age of alternatively-powered vibrators, we’re returning once again to the age of steam.

This stainless steel steam-powered vibe was created by Ani Niow, a Bay Area engineering student. Her vibrator is doubtless beautiful, incorporating aspects of vibrators of yore. The first vibrator ever invented was actually steam-powered, and known as the “Manipulator” (that pun has got to be intentional), appeared in 1870 in England. The Manipulator more or less looked like this:

Niow’s steampunk vibe is much, much more streamlined and elegant than the closet-sized Manipulator, with a brass adapter for a steam hose and an insertable body. Inside the engine housing is a tiny Tesla turbine powered by compressed air.

The fact that this vibe looks like a medieval torture device surely works in its favor. While not the safest or most environmentally sound vibrator, this vibe has clean-lined aesthetics and the self-explanatory fetish element going for it. Niow’s toy has been blowing up the blogosphere these past few weeks, and her idea and execution are so novel that I can see why. There is definitely a market for some at-home machine fucking for the ladies and machine fucking for the dudes.

ChevWrong

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news@sfbg.com

When Chevron Corp. holds its annual shareholders meeting at its San Ramon headquarters May 27, its top executives are expected to give investors a glowing report on how this global enterprise came to rake in a profit of $23.9 billion last year — a staggering 28.1 percent increase over the past year.

As Chevron CEO Dave O’Reilly put it in the company’s annual report, 2008 was "a momentous year." Apparently O’Reilly will also claim that his company’s activities are improving people’s lot worldwide. "Energy," he writes, "is not a luxury — it’s the foundation for economic growth. By investing in the future, we’re creating value not only for our stakeholders, but we’re also building economic prosperity around the globe."

But O’Reilly’s high opinion of his company is not shared by a growing coalition of groups who believe that Chevron’s fifth consecutive year of record profits was earned, once again, at the cost of degrading the environment and its poorest communities, both here in Richmond and further afield, from the Amazon and Nigeria to Iraq and Kazakhastan.

Critics, who include what they describe as "a coalition of those directly affected by Chevron’s operations, political control, consumer abuse, and false promises," planned to hold a May 26 press conference to release The True Cost of Chevron, an alternative annual report that seeks to provide Chevron shareholders "with the most comprehensive exposé of Chevron’s operations — and the communities in struggle against them — ever compiled," according to the report’s authors.

The study includes reports from Alaska, California, Colorado, Florida, the Gulf Coast, Mississippi, New Jersey, New York, Utah, Washington, D.C, and Wyoming as well as Angola, Burma, Canada, Chad, Cameroon, Ecuador, Iraq, Kazakhstan, Nigeria, and the Philippines.

The next day, people carrying shareholder proxies intend to enter Chevron’s annual meeting to discuss the report with shareholders while a protest is held at Chevron’s front gates.

"Chevron’s 2008 annual report is a glossy celebration of the company’s most profitable year in its history, and one in which CEO David O’Reilly became the 15th highest paid U.S. chief executive, with nearly $50 million in total 2008 compensation," the authors state. "What Chevron’s annual report does not tell its shareholders is the true cost paid for those financial returns or the global movement gaining voice and strength against Chevron’s abuses."

The 44-page report details numerous lawsuits against the company, nationally and around the world — cases, the report’s authors claim, that have "potential liabilities in excess of Chevron’s total revenue from 2008, posing a material threat to shareholder value and the company’s bottom line."

As they wrote: "When a company operates in blatant disregard for the health, security, livelihood, safety, and environment of communities within which it operates, there can be real financial repercussions."

The report concludes with six specific obligations demanded of Chevron and leaves shareholders with the following message: "Chevron is right. The world will continue to use oil as it transitions to a sustainable green renewable energy economy. Whether Chevron will be in business as we make the transition depends upon what sort of company it chooses to be and whether the public is willing to support it."

The report also includes a series of large "ChevWrong Inhumane Energy ads" that spoof Chevron’s Human Energy ad campaign — images that popped up all across San Francisco last week after a group of renegade Chevron critics gathered at an secret location, mixed batches of wheat paste, and grabbed armfuls of the freely downloadable posters and set off into the night to bomb the city streets with the series of subvertisements.

Claiming that Chevron’s Human Energy campaign, which depicts smiling people alongside phrases like "I will try to leave the car at home more" is an attempt to greenwash the petro-giant’s activities, this group of mostly youthful critics pointed to the ongoing pollution, human rights abuses, and wars in regions where the oil company is stationed as they set off on bicycles, skateboards, and foot, armed with glue rollers and stacks of "ChevWrong" images. Some stashed their tools in Banana Republic shopping bags, which gave them an almost comical air of being disoriented tourists as they lurked and lingered on city street corners searching for suitable spots to paste their alternative ad campaign.

Soon newspaper racks on Market Street, pillars outside the Ferry Building, buildings in the Richmond District, and walls in North Beach bore the fruits of their work — along with the glass office door of public relations consultant Sam Singer, who represented Chevron in criticizing two renowned Ecuadorian environmental activists who were in town to receive the Goldman Prize.

"I will not complain about my asthma," states one such subversive ad, which depicts a beautiful but non-smiling young black man beside the claim that "Chevron’s refinery in Richmond, Calif. poisons the community." The ad is accompanied by a retooled logo that says "ChevWrong."

"I will try not to get cancer," states another that hot glue artists had affixed to Sandra Bullocks’ buttocks — or at least a life-sized depiction of the actress featured on a Market Street billboard promoting The Proposal.

"I will suffer in silence" states another, alongside the claim that Chevron props up Burma’s military dictatorship.

An ad reading "I will give my baby contaminated water" portrayed a smiling Nigerian woman alongside the claim that Chevron refuses to clean up its mess in Nigeria.

One activist told the Guardian she got involved "because Chevron is poisoning communities and cutting corners across the world, and is even shameless enough to do that here in Richmond."

Another said he was inspired to take this action because of a billion-dollar lawsuit Chevron is fighting in Ecuador, and because of its activities in Nigeria.

Others said they decided to drop the subvertisements all over the city after they heard that CBS Outdoor refused May 14 to sell the group space for the images on billboards citywide.

As they noted, the images are all freely downloadable from truecostofchevron.com, a site supported by Amazon Watch, Crude Accountability, Global Exchange, Justice in Nigeria Now, Rainforest Action Network, CorpWatch, Filipino-American Coalition for Environmental Solidarity, Environmental Rights Action/Friends of the Earth Nigeria, Trustees for Alaska, Communities for a Better Environment, Mpalabanda, Richmond Progressive Alliance, and EarthRights International.

Mitch Anderson, corporate accountability campaigner with Amazon Watch, confirmed that members of the truecostofchevron coalition approached CBS Outdoor but were told that CBS has a policy not to run negative or attack ads — a claim Anderson found laughable. "What about all the attack ads we see posted during election season?"

A CBS Outdoor spokesperson confirmed that CBS had refused to accept the proposed ad campaign, and that it is the company’s policy not to run negative or attack ads.

Calls to Rachel Sutton, Chevron PR person at its corporate headquarters in San Ramon, seeking comments about truecostofchevron’s charges remained unanswered as of press time.

But at Amazon Watch, Anderson said he thought it was "great that the Bay Area community took to the streets this week to tell Chevron that our hearts and minds are not for sale.

"Chevron is trying to paper-over its widespread human rights and environmental problems across the world by spending millions to propagate insulting lies," he continued. "From its disaster in Ecuador to its hiring of global warming deniers as lobbyists, this company has shown complete disregard for the environment, human rights, and yes, wisdom. Chevron is on the wrong side of history. Just as there can be no social justice on a dead planet, Chevron should know that you can’t profit off a dead planet either."

In a final swipe at Chevron’s Human Energy campaign, critics are distributing posters that ask "Will you join us?" and show a woman smiling alongside the promise "I will protest Chevron."

CounterCorp Anti-Corporate Film Festival

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PREVIEW Moving in its fourth year from autumn to an early summer slot, San Francisco’s CounterCorp Anti-Corporate Film Festival now provides an apt alternative-entertainment prelude to Memorial Day — because what, after all, is more patriotic these days than asking the question, "What are we fighting for?" Fittingly, the opener is about Big Oil. Sandy Cioffi (who’ll be present) at one point spent five days in the custody of Nigerian security forces while making Sweet Crude, an investigation of Shell Oil Corp. and other companies’ violence and environmental ruination in Nigeria’s Niger Delta. Likewise, Robert Cornellier’s Black Wave documents the seemingly neverending efforts to exact justice from ExxonMobil over the catastrophic Exxon Valdez spill in Alaska 20 years ago. Other highlights in this year’s all-documentary edition of CounterCorp include Sam Bozzo’s Blue Gold: World Water Wars, about the escalation of conflict and privatization around that most precious (and vanishing) natural resource; Steven Greenstreet’s Killer at Large, which analyzes the industrial agribiz/food processing causes behind an obesity epidemic that has begun reversing Americans’ previously steady trend toward longer life expectancies; and Brett Gaylor’s RIP: A Remix Manifesto, a "mash-up movie" about the wars between copyright law and free expression. No doubting where Gaylor stands on that issue: his entire movie is already available to download and remix yourself at www.opensourcecinema.org.

COUNTERCORP ANTI-CORPORATE FILM FESTIVAL Thurs/28–Sat/30, $5–$10. Victoria Theater, 2961 16th St., SF. www.countercorp.org

Devil’s poetry

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AFRO-SURREAL Sadly, the mythology of poet Bob Kaufman almost rivals all we have left of his poetry. However, to place Kaufman within a mere "cult of personality" (along the lines of some of his contemporaries) undermines the innovation of his process and what it brings to the tapestry of American poetics and the complicated and surreal orality of his poems.

Called "the American Rimbaud" by the French, Kaufman lived as a poetic assassin. A frequently arrested union organizer, like Stagger Lee wielding a .44 of devil’s poetry, Kaufman assaulted the willing and unwilling (even white police officers) with verse. If you were cool, you knew his assault was meant as a cipher, a juxtaposition of rhythm, image, and sound meant to invite the listener into a dialectical examination of identity, even the identity obtained from syntax: "I went to a masquerade<0x2009>/ Disguised as myself<0x2009>/ Not one of my friends recognized."

Kaufman’s poetics were Kerouac’s spontaneous prose without the notebook, taken literally. Think an un-choreographed version of "Amethyst Rocks," the prison yard scene in Slam (1998) where Saul Williams stops a would-be beatdown with poetry. Except for Kaufman the beatdown was always real, inevitable, and though sometimes provoked, never for the camera.

Kaufman was the spirit of true North Beach bohemia: the street poet who stood "on yardbird corners of embryonic hopes drowned in a heroin tear," panhandling "with moist prophet eyes" free styles of surrealism, the blues and duende, meant to disturb, disrupt, and ultimately liberate.

Kaufman’s "crackling blueness" is distinctly Californian. In poems like "Carl Chaessman Interviews the PTA," Kaufman filters the "west of the west" through absurdist reflections that juxtapose outlaw figures such as Chessman (a 1960s serial killer on San Quentin’s Death Row) with figures from California’s mythology, all to the rhythms of a radio announcer calling a ballgame: Carl Chessman is in sickly California writing death threats to the Wizard of Oz, his trial is being held in the stomach of Junipero Serra, at last the game starts, Chessman steals all the bases & returns to his tomb to receive the last sacraments from Shirley Temple.

Ultimately, according to poet and scholar Nathaniel Mackey, what Kaufman creates is a cross-cultural poetics difficult to categorize. Though he lived in North Beach and is credited with coining the phrase "beatnik" — and infused his poetry with jazz and Eastern religious influence — Kaufman transcends the singular categorization of "Beat poet." By aligning himself with the pain of "all losers, brown, red, black, and white; the colors from the Master Palette," Kaufman creates a new American poetics — a hybrid poetics of projective California duende blues, an examination of the exhaustion that comes from the persistence of breath.

MORE AT SFBG.COM


PIXEL VISION: Bob Kaufman’s poem "Heavy Water Blues"

Appetite: Bar Crudo’s new digs, Bruno’s good evening, sweetbreads, pastas, and more

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Every Monday, Virginia Miller of personalized itinerary service and monthly food, drink, and travel newsletter, www.theperfectspotsf.com, shares foodie news, events, and deals. View the last installment here.

appetite1_0518.jpg
Campy/classy Good Evening Thursdays

————

EVENTS

Good Evening Thursdays at Bruno’s… a sexy, weekly, speakeasy-like supper club
Take "Pussycat" in giant, Parisian ’60’s lettering, white tablecloths and waiters in vintage suits, a Rat Pack-vibe menu (reasonably priced) of Filet Mignon with bone marrow, chop salad, martinis, and Oysters Rockefeller, throw in a leering cat from the rafters, and, yes, a gold pole in the middle of the room (hmmm…?) and you have Good Evening Thursdays (at least until another name is decided upon). Up leopard-carpeted stairs in Bruno’s intimate, 35-seat private room, you’ve got yourself about the coolest non-restaurant, meal ticket in town. The genius behind this concept? A cracker-jack chef line-up of Chris Kronner (from Serpentine), Slow Club, Chez Panisse), Danny Bowien (of Bar Tartine), Sam White and Howie Correa (both front of house at Chez Panisse), and Oliver Monday (from brand new flour+water) who create and cook the meals each week. I went on debut night, May 7, and found it worth dressing up for. Sans reservations, the downstairs ’60’s-chic lounge celebrates Thursdays, too, no res. required, with old school imbibements and killer bar food, like Let’s Be Frank dogs with kimchi and bacon mayo, or pork banh mi. Read more and see photos in my latest Perfect Spot newsletter.
7pm-1:30am
Reservations: goodeveningthursday@gmail.com
2389 Mission, SF
415-643-5200
www.brunossf.com

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“Chinatown” revisited. Electronically.

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In March, when the Guardian reported that the Society of Professional Journalists had honored MAPlight.org with a James Madison Award for Electronic Access, folks at the Berkeley-based non-profit told me that they were about to launch MAPLight.org Los Angeles to reveal campaign contributions to L.A. politicians.

And, as you’ll see if you click the MAPLight.org Los Angeles link, this new public, web-accessible database, which provides citizens with key campaign finance data including industry, interest group, company and individual campaign contributions, is up and running, as of today. Check it out—and dream how much easier it will be to follow the money, if and when the group launches MAPLight.orgSanFrancisco—something, they tell me, is entirely doable.
And imagine how much easier it would have been for Chinatown‘s private investigator JJ “Jake” Gittes to unravel the web of money and deceit wrapped round Los Angeles’ water supply, if he’d had access to MAPlight’s online tools.

Artist David Wilson’s “Open Endless” swims with vintage tactics

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By Johnny Ray Huston

339-artbox.jpg

Not every art show allows you a chance to swim in the Pacific Ocean on a Sunday afternoon and experience the bracing cold of the water and the pull of the tide. But David Wilson’s "Open Endless" isn’t your average show, even if it is characteristic of Wilson’s community explorations of art and landscape under the Ribbons Publications rubric. Last year, he instigated a sleep-over happening at Angel Island that included live music. This month, as an extension of a show of drawings, he organized a casually beautiful mapped day and night of art in the Headlands.

No two people had the same experience. Besides a dip in the Pacific, mine included a trek up the paved trails of the North Cliff to a white diamond hung on the cliff’s face by Battery Townsley, where the duo Pale Horse sang songs in a tunnel, and then a walk back down to the beach where the duo known as Coconut played music in a little cove as two, three, four, five, six surfers took on the waves during sunset. I don’t have much to say about that latter experience beyond that it was the kind of moment that makes me completely glad to be alive. I left sated and went home and slept and dreamt deeply. Those who stayed ambled on through Rodeo Canyon to another Battery, where Canyon Cinema shared some cave cinema.

Wilson’s drawings, on display at Tartine, are a shifting sequence of meditations on the landscape and coastlines of the Headlands. His deployment of color and line is understated. The brashest aspect of the show is its use of material: the largest piece, a 22-foot watercolor of the ocean and shore, uses the blank-but-aged paper of record sleeves and the cardboard insides of albums covers as a backdrop. It’s a great tactic. Earlier this year at the de Young Museum, Ajit Chauhan performed a different but similarly large-scale trick with album covers, painting over their exteriors so that only eyes peeked from the original artwork. Wilson’s use of vintage music matter hints at the merging of art and that which is codified "nature" at the core of his events. I’m already looking forward to his next one.

OPEN ENDLESS Through May 28. Mon., 8 a.m.–7 p.m. Tues.–Wed., 7:30 a.m.–7 p.m.; Thurs.–Fri., 7:30 a.m.–8 p.m.; Sat., 8 a.m.–8 p.m.; Sun., 9 a.m.-–8 p.m. (415) 487-2600. Tartine, 600 Guerrero, SF. www.ribbonspublications.blogpost.com

Shooting past “sharrows”

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San Francisco’s bicycle advocates have been focused on winning approval for 56 near-term projects outlined in the city’s bike plan, which would increase the number of miles of bike lanes from 45 to 79, and quadruple the number of city streets bearing "sharrow" markings (see "Street fight," 2/4/09).

But bike-related projects farther out on the horizon could significantly raise the bar for a bikeable San Francisco. Here are a six long-range concepts that could make cycling in the city more safe, enjoyable, and accessible to people who might otherwise be driving solo.

BRIDGING THE GAP


Cyclists who commute between San Francisco and the East Bay have asked an obvious question for years: why must I spend money on BART fares or bridge tolls to get across the bay when I know I’m capable of biking there? When construction of the new east span of the Bay Bridge is finished, cyclists will finally get a bike path — but it will only get them from Oakland to Yerba Buena Island. Luckily, the idea of installing a complementary bike path along the west span to San Francisco is being entertained. It’s expensive (estimates place the cost at $200 million) and complicated (a 2001 feasibility study found there would need to be tracks on both sides of the bridge for balance). But in early April, the Bay Area Toll Authority agreed to spend $1.3 million on an 18-month study so the project could be shovel-ready when funding becomes available.

CAR-FREE MARKET STREET


Market Street is a popular thoroughfare for bicyclists even though much of its design creates tight-squeezes and conflicts with automobiles. For years there’s been talk of making it car-free, an idea once advocated by former Mayor Willie Brown. It was studied in 1997, but never received enough support to move forward, in part because area merchants worry their business would be hurt by restricting motorists. But the latest attempt to quell Market Street traffic may get more traction. Sup. Chris Daly, who also sits on the Metropolitan Transportation Commission, requested a comprehensive study on restricting Market Street traffic and a draft report is expected by early summer. Andy Thornley, program director at the San Francisco Bicycle Coalition, notes that the overarching idea is not to make Market Street exclusive to bikes and pedestrians, but to improve it as a whole. "A car-free Market Street may be the route," Thorney says, "but it’s not the reason."

COLOR ME BIKEABLE


Ask Dave Snyder, transportation policy director at the San Francisco Planning and Urban Research Association (SPUR), what constitutes an ideal bike lane, and he’ll say it has to be safe enough for parents to feel comfortable allowing their eight-year-old to ride a bike there. "That’s a very high standard," he says. "But it’s a correct standard." One approach for safeguarding bike lanes, adopted in New York City and elsewhere, is to color them in. Bike activists have been pushing the idea here, but the monkey wrench in the works is a sort of national bible of traffic symbols that lacks a standard for colored bike lanes. If the city rolls with a concept that’s outside the rulebook, the thinking goes, it could be a liability. But bike advocates hope to incorporate colored bike lines into the standard via a pilot program. In coming months, be on the lookout for more colorful city streets.

THINK INSIDE THE BOX


A bike box is a colored bike zone just before an intersection designed to let cyclists get out in front of traffic at a red light so they can be more visible. SF has two low-profile bike boxes, Thornley notes, but plans are on the horizon to install more. When the city of Portland, Ore. installed them, it produced a video called "On the Move with Mr. Smooth" to promote the concept. Hosted by a greasy character in a neon green shirt, the video makes a big deal about how motorists get a great view when they stop behind the bike-box line. "The bike box," Portland’s slogan proclaims. "Get behind it."

A BLUE-GREEN WORLD


Blue for the water, green for the parks and open space, the Blue Greenway is envisioned as a 13-mile corridor along the southeastern waterfront that would connect a string of existing parks from the Giants’ stadium to Candlestick Point State Recreation Area. "We want to connect not only parks along the Blue Greenway, but connect people to the waterfront," explains Corrine Woods, who is working on the project through the Neighborhood Parks Council. The corridor will serve as the city’s southeastern portion of the San Francisco Bay Trail, a massive interconnected trail network planned by the Association of Bay Area Governments that is envisioned as a 400-mile recreational "ring around the Bay."

BACK ON TRACK


For now cyclists aren’t allowed to bring their bikes — not even the folding kind — on Muni trains or buses (although some buses have bike racks outside). But it’s something the Municipal Transportation Agency has on its radar as a possible policy change, according to spokesperson Judson True. "As we move forward and people become more aware of the benefits of public transit, our vehicles become more and more crowded," True notes. This may be a good problem to have, but it means the agency must work out a strategy to accommodate wheelchair-bound passengers, strollers, walkers, bikes, and other essentials that passengers bring on board. Once the bike-plan injunction is lifted, True says, he expects MTA to approve a pilot program for bikes on Muni. In order to discourage more people from driving, he says, "linking sustainable modes of transportation like biking and transit is key."

“Open Endless”

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REVIEW Not every art show allows you a chance to swim in the Pacific Ocean on a Sunday afternoon and experience the bracing cold of the water and the pull of the tide. But David Wilson’s "Open Endless" isn’t your average show, even if it is characteristic of Wilson’s community explorations of art and landscape under the Ribbons Publications rubric. Last year, he instigated a sleep-over happening at Angel Island that included live music. This month, as an extension of a show of drawings, he organized a casually beautiful mapped day and night of art in the Headlands.

No two people had the same experience. Besides a dip in the Pacific, mine included a trek up the paved trails of the North Cliff to a white diamond hung on the cliff’s face by Battery Townsley, where the duo Pale Horse sang songs in a tunnel, and then a walk back down to the beach where the duo known as Coconut played music in a little cove as two, three, four, five, six surfers took on the waves during sunset. I don’t have much to say about that latter experience beyond that it was the kind of moment that makes me completely glad to be alive. I left sated and went home and slept and dreamt deeply. Those who stayed ambled on through Rodeo Canyon to another Battery, where Canyon Cinema shared some cave cinema.

Wilson’s drawings, on display at Tartine, are a shifting sequence of meditations on the landscape and coastlines of the Headlands. His deployment of color and line is understated. The brashest aspect of the show is its use of material: the largest piece, a 22-foot watercolor of the ocean and shore, uses the blank-but-aged paper of record sleeves and the cardboard insides of albums covers as a backdrop. It’s a great tactic. Earlier this year at the de Young Museum, Ajit Chauhan performed a different but similarly large-scale trick with album covers, painting over their exteriors so that only eyes peeked from the original artwork. Wilson’s use of vintage music matter hints at the merging of art and that which is codified "nature" at the core of his events. I’m already looking forward to his next one.

OPEN ENDLESS Through May 28. Mon., 8 a.m.–7 p.m. Tues.–Wed., 7:30 a.m.–7 p.m.; Thurs.–Fri., 7:30 a.m.–8 p.m.; Sat., 8 a.m.–8 p.m.; Sun., 9 a.m.-–8 p.m. (415) 487-2600. Tartine, 600 Guerrero, SF. www.ribbonspublications.blogpost.com

Why does the Potrero power plant operate with an expired water permit?

0

By Rebecca Bowe

choking fish.gif

On Dec. 31, 2008, Mirant’s wastewater-discharge permit expired — but the gas and diesel-fired power plant still runs an average of nearly 20 hours a day, according to figures released by the California Independent System Operator (Cal-ISO).

One unit at the facility uses a system called once-through cooling, which means it takes in huge quantities of water from the bay to cool the machinery, then dumps it all back at temperatures high enough to impact surrounding ecosystems. This process is regulated by a permit issued by the San Francisco Bay Regional Water Quality Control Board. A spreadsheet on the agency’s Web site shows that more than five months into 2009, a hearing to outline the terms of a new wastewater-discharge permit still hasn’t been scheduled. The water board is waiting on a state policy decision regarding once-through cooling before it acts, a note explains.

Waterbar

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paul@sfbg.com

Waterbar is, obviously, a seafood house, but it doesn’t shout this fact in your face. The building is handsome in a generic way, and the interior décor is notable mostly for its artful blend of bustle and hush. There is water to be seen — the bay, to be precise, viewable through gigantic plate-glass windows, although your eye is likely to be drawn upward to the Bay Bridge, which looks particularly massive when observed from almost directly below and does set the mind to hoping that all these seismic retrofits will do the trick.

Inside, there’s more water, held in two tall glass columns that are, in effect, aquariums. A curious effect of these watery columns is that they, like the bridge, carry one’s glance upward, to colorful fish swimming near the ceiling. The fish are glancing right back; are they marveling at their on-high view or wondering when their luck will run out?

Waterbar, which opened early in 2008, is the fraternal twin of next-door Epic Roasthouse, and it’s the kinder, gentler sibling. The tone of the place is a little less assertive, prices are more modest, and the maritime menu probably raises fewer ethical and environmental hackles than Epic’s meat-driven one — although not no hackles, since the tale of the world’s collapsed and collapsing fisheries now includes a chapter about our very own king salmon. I was surprised to find skatewing ($30) offered, since skate is a flat-out "avoid," according to the Monterey Bay Aquarium’s Seafood Watch service. Since it’s typically brought in from the East Coast, it also casts a larger-than-ideal carbon shadow. On the other hand, it is fabulous: a fan of ribbed white flesh, pan-seared to a crisp gold, splashed with a (too-salty) morel consommé, and plated with gnocchi, morels, English peas, and a pair of braised scallions.

Chef Parker Ulrich is a protégé of Farallon’s Mark Franz, and the pedigree shows. Seafood cookery benefits inordinately from a bit of flair, and Ulrich brings that flair. Exhibit A: the skatewing, which, after hesitating, I asked for and enjoyed. Another major example would be the grilled local sardines ($13), a set of plump, whole fish, nicely charred and plated with a celestial bread-crumb salad, golden and crunchy yet fragrant with mint.

Whole fish, including petrale sole, actually make up an entire subset of the menu. But petrale, a local favorite, might also recur as filets at the heart of a three-course prix fixe ($40), preceded by a sprightly green salad with pickled onions and crumblings of goat cheese and followed by a slice of lemon pound cake (slightly dry, intensely lemony), garnished with a strawberry dice and a puff of whipped cream. The fish itself was expertly cooked had been minimally fiddled with, although I was disappointed to notice that the accompanying ensemble (peas, gnocchi, braised scallions) was virtually identical to the skatewing’s.

Soups can be both fancy and less so. In the former category: a sumptuous lobster bisque ($9), poured tableside from a porcelain chalice over a lump of lemon chantilly cream and a clutch of tarragon leaves, which drift in the resulting thick sea like a school of exclamation marks searching for their dots. (The pouring, incidentally, is done by a member of a service team that practically swarms at key moments. When you first sit down, there is only one server, smiling and asking about drinks, but when the food starts to emerge from the kitchen, it’s brought and presented by a cast of … well, several, if not thousands.)

On the plainer side we find a clam chowder ($9), made with topneck clams, ample chunks of bacon and potato, and plenty of cream. There’s nothing subtle about this dish; it’s like running your pile-driver of a fullback straight up the middle on third and two and picking up eight yards. It’s good, in the full, unvarnished sense of that word.

I sound a gentle cautionary note as to items (other than alcoholic drinks) that are served at room temperature or lower. Coins of braised octopus ($16) — not quite room temperature, not quite chilled — were a little rubbery, although tasty. And the bread in the tirelessly replenished basket was both tough and under flavored; perhaps that was why the accompaniments included not only butter but a small dish of sea salt.

Still, Waterbar is lovely and worthy, a place that, despite its deluxe location and big ownership names (Pat Kuleto, Jan Birnbaum), offers something like value. Not many view restaurants can make that claim.

WATERBAR

Dinner: 5:30-10 p.m.

Lunch: Mon.-Fri., 11:30 a.m-2 p.m.

Brunch: Sat.-Sun., 11:30 a.m.-3 p.m.

399 The Embarcadero, SF

(415) 284-9922

www.waterbarsf.com

Full bar

AE/CB/DC/DS/MC/V

Well-managed noise

Wheelchair accessible

Size (of sea level rise) matters

3

Text by Sarah Phelan.

The San Francisco Bay Conservation and Development Commission has released detailed color maps that show the low-lying areas around the Bay in danger of flooding from global-warming related sea level rise. And while the maps look awfully pretty, the impacts likely won’t be.

Using U.S. Geological Survey data, the maps show the extent of inundation on each section of shoreline and
and can be enlarged to show a pretty high-rez image.

You can see the impacts of a predicted 16-inch rise, (predicted in 40 yeas) on say, the Central Bay here, a 55-inch rise (predicted in 90 years,) and, perhaps most revealing of all, a composite of the two.

First used in a BCDC draft report, Living with a Rising Bay: Vulnerability and Adaptation in San Francisco Bay and on the Shoreline, released earlier this month, the maps show that 180,000 acres of shoreline are in danger of flooding by 2050, increasing to 213,000 acres by 2100.

“This means that 84 percent of the area that will be flooded in 90 years will already be under water in 40 years,” said BCDC’s executive director Will Travis in a press release. “Most of this area is low-lying flat land that was created when shallow parts of the Bay were reclaimed by land fill projects in the 19th and 20th centuries.”

Or as Leslie Lacko, the principal author of the BCDC sea level rise report on sea level rise, put it, “The areas that will be flooded by high tides at mid-century are already within the 100-year floodplain, where currently there’s a one percent chance of flooding every year. By 2050, the chance of flooding in the same area will be 100 percent every year.”

The name game

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johnny@sfbg.com

LABELS Look for the label: that shopper’s instruction has carried a wealth of meanings over the years in the music industry. Stax and Motown have soul. Jazz has Verve. Kudu has that bluesy voodoo. If you want a symbol of vindictive business dealings, look up Savoy. If you’re obsessed with the history of post-punk and indie rock, see Factory, Rough Trade, and Creation. Yet what does a label mean in 2009? Do labels still matter in an ever more ephemeral music industry? In fact, does matter itself matter anymore in a world where the C in CD might as well stand for coffin-bound? God save EMI?

I put the first question to a number of label owners and representatives recently, hoping their answers might provide an entry into a discussion of the role of labels and the potential of music today. Their answers did not disappoint. "Anyone saying [labels] are dead and gone is not factoring in the talented, but brainless, American Idol contestant," quipped Ken Shipley, founder of the vaunted reissue and archival label Numero Group. "They’re backed by liquor companies and weapons manufacturers, and as long as the Army needs music for commercials at movie theaters, they’ll be in business. The labels that are about to be useless are the large indies — crippled by an infrastructure and overhead built for the ’90s CD bonanza — and the micro-indies, [that are] doing what any band’s manager can already do."

Such a perspective suggests that reissue labels have the truest vital stake in the future of commercially produced music, and this passionate music lover has to admit that it sometimes feels this way: over the last few years, archival entities such as Numero Group, Omni Recording, Trunk, Light in the Attic, and the local Water label have played as major a role in my listening experience as any indie dedicated to new groups and artists.

Yet even as iTunes demands that everyone stand under its umbrella, the meaning and importance of a small label can persist in very simple and profound ways. "I pay attention to records coming out on good labels that I know I can trust," says Filippo Salvadori of Runt Distribution, the Oakland home to reissue labels including Water and 4 Men with Beards. "A record label is an important hub for art and idea exchanges between music lovers and musicians," Bettina Richards of Thrill Jockey likewise declares, her directness and use of the word record born of past and recent experience.

"I think labels are as important as ever," maintains Mike Schulman of the Bay Area indie pop shrine Slumberland, which is currently experiencing a new burst of recognition thanks to bands such as Crystal Stilts and the Pains of Being Pure at Heart. "With the increasing fragmentation and atomization of genres and scenes and markets, customers rely on labels as a curatorial enterprise, a shorthand signifier for what they’re into, and a useful tool to help sort through the mountain of new music."

The curatorial corollary, or an editorial variant, comes up more than once among small label owners. "In an sense, we serve as editors, but to do more than edit," says Andres Santo Domingo of Kemado Records. "We actively promote the artists on our roster and help make their life easier so they can dedicate themselves to being musicians [at a time when making] music is less financially viable than it was in the past."

Joakim Hoagland of the Norwegian label Smalltown Supersound has a more idealistic view of the label owner’s enterprise. "In my opinion, running a label is an artform," he writes, still passionate in the wake of a recent public debate with Peter Sunde of the Pirate Bay, a staunch opponent of music labels and other aspects of copyright culture. "I am in general a label fan and have read most books available on labels like Elektra, Impulse, Creation, Rough Trade, Factory, and so on. I love labels, and sometimes am more interested in a label than an artist."

While Hoagland makes a case for the label identity that is forged as a labor of love for new music, Shipley of Numero Group feels that reissue labels have a "brand identity" that most labels devoted to contemporary music currently lack. Indeed, this might be the case, thanks to the manner in which iTunes seems to have swallowed the experience of listening to recorded music. "Although millions of labels sell their music through iTunes, the only brand name that is really involved and talked about through the process is iTunes, which isn’t even a label," notes Jonny Trunk of the U.K. reissue treasure trove Trunk. "You cannot search on iTunes by label. Which is rubbish, really."

Matt Sullivan of the Seattle-based label Light in the Attic fuses Hoagland’s appreciation of past labels with Shipley’s and Trunk’s devotion to discovering old "lost" music. "There was something so beautiful about labels like Stax, early Sub Pop, Creation, or even Reprise/Elektra/Warner when Stan Cornyn was at the helm in that golden age of the late 1960s and early 1970s," he observes. "No one’s done it better since."

For Sullivan and Light in the Attic, a label functions as a way to right past industry wrongs, and find or create new audiences for abused and neglected artists. "Most managers, labels, publicists, booking agents, etc. are crooks and cheats, better suited for a position at Enron or Madoff Investment Securities," he notes. "After all, though, this is the entertainment business and it feeds on low-lifes." He contrasts this bleakly funny outlook with the dedication required in reissuing a choice recording from long ago: "Folks have no idea the amount of time that goes into a reissue. On the other hand, I have no idea the time that’s invested in making a tube of toothpaste." This dedication results in a recorded object with artwork in the case of Light in the Attic, or Trunk, whose namesake is an expert on music library treasures, and the author of a deluxe book of artwork (with a CD) related to the subject, The Music Library (Fuel Publishing).

As CDs pile up in landfills, vinyl is returning from the dead with ever-increasing commercial vitality, even if on a smaller scale. "From a personal level, I wish the CD would die," says Chris Manak, a.k.a. Peanut Butter Wolf of Stones Throw Records. "I don’t have an effective way of storing mine without losing them all the time. I wish everybody who liked music would buy a damn turntable or two, like me." Richards of Thrill Jockey sees growing vinyl activity, if not that level of popularity. "A great example of the trickle-up effect is the surge in LP sales," she says. "It is a great adventure to be a part of, and be on the hunt for new sounds without limitation to form."

But what does it all mean for the musician? "There may be some brave new world wherein the artists can do all the work themselves, but I think that notion, at least from the current perspective, is a pipe dream," says Joel Leoshke of Kranky, home of groups such as Deerhunter. "Can you name three artists that work without a label at the moment? I think not."

"Labels needs bands, not vice-versa," counters the acerbic Shipley. "The sooner every band in the world realizes that, the better off they’re going to be. Labels are for the lazy, the incompetent, and the cash-poor. Sadly, this represents 99 percent of all musicians. Good luck." Asked about the future role of labels within the industry, he makes a comparison. "The label’s role is a business version of child support: Wednesdays and every other weekend until your artists hit their teens and hate you."

Other label owners imagine even more dystopian scenarios. "As J.G. Ballard predicted, you will soon see musicians taking cruise ships and airliners hostage to hold private and compulsory listening parties," half-jokes David Thrussell of Omni Recording, which has uncovered vanguard audio explorers such as Bruce Haack. "Naturally, record labels will support artists to the maximum of their ability in these brave new marketing ventures." Slightly more seriously — only slightly — he lists his and Omni’s future goals as at attempt to "pry as many strange or under appreciated records out of musty vaults and attics as we can until the Earth explodes in a cloud of tepid dust (not that far off)."

Some label reps see labels taking on an even more encompassing role in relation to musicians. "I think some of the larger labels will be demanding much more from their artists — these 360-type deals where the labels want to own the artist, their recordings, their publishing, their gig rights, the merchandise, the outfits, all online activity, everything, everywhere," says Trunk. Hoagland of Smalltown Suerosund envisions a similar scenario in kinder, gentler, smaller terms. "My opinion is that labels should do more booking and publishing as well as releasing music. I think it is better for artists if you have one team or label work for you rather than three or four working against each other. I am not sure if 360-type deals work well with the majors, but the indie could make them into something cool."

"I know I’m a bit of a music geek about labels," admits Schulman, who once was more cynical about the industry machinations he’s moved through. "But I think that as the group of people who actually buy music continues to shrink down to a core of those who really care about it, they’ll continue to coalesce around the labels whose taste they trust."

Great expectations?

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Equality has been achieved: this recession is kicking everyone’s arse. But I couldn’t help but squirm at a few recent music-biz disjunctions. How does one reconcile the scene at a South by Southwest "Great Expectations" label panel last month, listening to Tony Kiewel describe 2008 as one of the Sub Pop’s best years, with the bad news from Touch and Go’s Chicago HQ a week later? After shuttering its distribution — which once supported imprints ranging from Drag City to Estrus — in February, the 25-year-plus label laid off its entire staff. Owner and ex-Necros bassist Corey Rusk was going to run the enterprise solo.

A second major blow, especially when one considers Touch and Go’s history releasing important discs by Big Black, Scratch Acid, Die Kreuzen, Slint, Jesus Lizard, and of course, the Butthole Surfers (though the label’s 1999 loss in a legal battle with that band likely hasn’t helped). "Touch and Go basically allowed Merge to exist as something other than a singles label," Mac McCaughan of Merge Records stated in February. "If a company that did everything the right way can’t survive in this environment, then who can?"

Are these simply the latest surges and sucks of free-market capitalism’s death throes and toilet-bowl flows? And what’s the state of independence for local labels eking it out in this still-roiling stew of sorry economic news?

"The black and white fact is that [Sub Pop] is not Touch and Go," opines Cory Brown, owner of Bay Area independent Absolutely Kosher and general manager of Misra Records. He notes that Sub Pop is partially owned by Warner Bros. and that Touch and Go had the tough luck of losing some of its biggest artists, including TV on the Radio, Blonde Redhead, and the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. Those departures "all went down not very well," says Brown, who believes Touch and Go’s contraction was "as much an emotional decision as a business one," considering the company had big releases by Pinback and Three Mile Pilot planned.

Rusk declined to comment, although one wonders what will become of his label’s newer bands, among them the Bay Area’s Mi Ami and Sholi. Still, should he strike up a new alliance, all systems could be go at Touch and Go once again. As Brown puts it, "Geoff Travis has closed Rough Trade multiple times now and come back with it."

What of the local label landscape? Lookout! and Jackpine Social Club have ceased new releases, whereas Tigerbeat6 and Anticon have left town. Slumberland is surfing a twee rock revival, and hip-hop’s SMC has taken on bigger fish like Killer Mike. As newbie Bright Antenna appears on the horizon, veterans such as Alternative Tentacles, Fat Wreck Chords, Runt/Water, Quannum Projects, Birdman, Daly City, Dirtybird, and Hook or Crook are staying alive. AT celebrates its 30th anniversary this year. "As music and media become increasingly accessible instantly from anywhere, the role of curator is more important than ever – if I can access 10 millions songs instantly from my phone, how do I choose?," Isaac Bess, director of business development at SF’s IODA (Independent Online Distribution Alliance) writes via e-mail.

Business is bright, thanks to smart planning, for SF distributor Revolver USA and Midheaven Mailorder, which supports labels such as Gnomonsong and DiCristina Stair Builders. "We’re doing well, and I think that has a lot to do with what our expectations are, and not looking for a big record to be carried by Walmart and Target," says general manager Mike Toppe, who thinks it’s more important to "keep connecting with people who are passionate about music."

Fat Mike, who started Fat Wreck Chords to put out music by his bands NOFX and Me First and the Gimme Gimmes, has a more hardcore perspective. "In the ’90s, every fucking band we signed sold a shitload of records and got popular all over the world. It was ridiculous," he e-mails from NOFX’s current European tour. "Now only the really good bands can sell a decent amount. That’s okay, though. This industry collapse is mostly killing mediocre bands." As for the decline in CD and recorded music sales, the SF road warrior believes that’s not going to stop: "The record industry party is over, but great live bands will always do okay."

But what about the groups that can’t pick up blogosphere buzz? Both Jacobs and Brown acknowledge the difficulty in developing emerging or even mid-level bands via traditional avenues. Add in the complicating factor of so-called 360 deals, in which a label takes a percentage of all artist revenue in exchange for promotion, and you have what Brown calls a "destructive" outlook. "The bottom line is musicians should get paid," he said. "Forget about how labels are doing — how are musicians doing in this climate?

"I think new ideas really have to come into play, and those have to be based on the quality of life for the musician, not the company that comes up with an application," he continued, touching on the lack of public funds for musicians and lack of official recourse for bands if, for instance, they don’t get paid by a club. "It’s basic stuff, but it’s harder to look past those things. It has to go back to the content provider."

The body count

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› le_chicken_farmer@yahoo.com

I pushed a peanut shell through a hole in the tabletop. We were outside, upstairs, on a wraparound deck and the left side of me was getting burnt. The right side of him. Hot day …

There were boats. Water. There was a view of the Oakland skyline.

"I had my first lesbian lover," I said, to get his attention. I was tired of talking about snowboarding and soccer, sports, his and hers. I was ready for some he-said-she-said, the good stuff.

"Really?" he said, with the big smile with the perfect teeth.

Our beers were half-empty, the peanut basket half-full. I told my story, watching his face, pushing peanut shells through the many holes in the iron tabletop. I thought they were scattering on the floor below, on the deck, but in fact they were piling up on my skirt.

He dates a lesbian. His name is Ratatat and he has black hair and thick, black, old-fashionable glasses, an Asian Woody Allen or Elvis Costello, only a lot younger than both of them, put together.

He also dates me. Although … as our dates get funner, they get farther apart. And we talk more about who else we’re seeing … Which is fine. Really.

No. Really, I have a bad attitude about polyamorousness. Polyamorless, I call it. Luckily, my bad attitude is in this case trumped by a really very good attitude about the nature of reality. The nature of reality is that it is real. It’s what’s for dinner. No. It’s what we are left with after dinner, the bones, dirty dishes, and in some cases, indigestion.

I have started a kind of a museum of Things Guys Left At My Place Because They Leave In Such A Hurry. See? I’m a realist. In lieu of the return visit, let alone flowers, let alone love, I smoke the rest of their cigarettes and wear their big stinky shirts like a nightie in the morning, with my coffee. It’s a cool twist on cross-dressing, and I love it. I love the smell. I love the way guy-grade cotton feels against my bare skin. One man left a pair of sunglasses and I wore them and loved the way the world was.

But how can I explain all this to Ratatat, who treats me truly like a friend? Who leaves nothing and does come back, who picked me a flower one time …

I can’t! So I gave him the fantasy, the body count, instead: one woman, one man, since last we met. And he gave me his. The ongoing lesbian. A cute girl upstairs. Somebody else …

Besides peanuts, which are on and all over the house, we split an appetizer with our beers: Quinn’s signature, a halved tomato dressed with pesto and piled with shrimp. Perfect for the hot day, a midafternoon snack, and the bayside setting. Place used to be an actual lighthouse! Now it’s a split level, split-themed restaurant, yacht club style downstairs, peanut-littered pub up.

And there really was a pirate sitting near the door when we left, after only one beer apiece. Anyway, he was a salty old-timer with a parrot on his shoulder.

After we walked past him I turned to Ratatat and said, "That guy works for me."

Because he did. I’m a fiction writer.

I gave Ratatat and his flat-tired bicycle a ride home and a hug, then went to be with the children. Then went to be with the chicken. Cakey, who I had successfully cured of broodiness by bringing her to the woods and basically traumatizing her. As I write this, she is kicking leaves and looking for bugs right next to me, a healthy, happy, and functional member of society.

Well, what’s good for the chicken …

I will get on an airplane, which is the scariest thought I can think of. My passport application is all filled out. I forget how long it takes but I got a packet of alphabet pasta in the mail yesterday. While I’m waiting I will nitpick these A’s, B’s and C’s into top-secret international love letters, then eat the evidence.

QUINN’S LIGHTHOUSE

Daily 11:30 a.m.-9 p.m.

1951 Embarcadero East, Oakl.

(510) 536-2050

Full bar

AE/D/MC/V

L.E. Leone’s new book is Big Bend (Sparkle Street Books), a collection of short fiction.

Big Easy in the Bay

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culture@sfbg.com

New Orleans is one of those near-mythical cities: aching, beautiful, unique, rich with history. And New Orleans folk love their drink. They should. They’ve contributed much to the history of the cocktail, with some of the best drinks in existence — like the Sazerac, official cocktail of NoLA — created and served there.

Lucky for us, San Francisco is one of the world’s best cocktail cities, in creativity and craft, with artisan cocktail bars continuing to crop up everywhere, just as they did in our wild, Barbary Coast past. And with a little searching, you can find a number of places to get an authentic New Orleans’ concoction. Here’s a journey through Big Easy cocktails that actually keep up with versions I’ve imbibed in New Orleans. Now if I could just find a Bourbon Milk Punch…

SAZERAC

ABSINTHE


Created by Antoine Peychaud in 1830’s New Orleans, the mighty Sazerac is a drink to be reckoned with. Many versions have evolved, usually some combination of Rye whiskey or bourbon, sometimes cognac, Peychaud’s bitters, sugar, and a rinse of absinthe. Bracing with a touch of sweet, it’s a robust, beautiful drink. Absinthe has been doing cocktails right since well before the ‘cocktail renaissance’. Their Sazerac is no exception.

398 Hayes, SF. (415) 551-1590, www.absinthe.com

BROKEN RECORD


More in line with NoLa’s Tujague’s experience, Excelsior’s king of dive bars stirs intense, balanced sazeracs for an unheard-of $5. Best of all? They don’t skimp on ingredients, using quality rye and St. George Absinthe. Paired with house BBQ, Crawfish Etouffee, or an Oyster Po’ Boy, you’ll be ready to form a second line brass band.

1166 Geneva, SF. (415) 963-1713

JARDINIERE


Pull up to the gorgeous, 1930s supper club bar and have Brian MacGregor mix you a perfect sazerac, made with their own barrel of Sazerac brand rye and brilliant Vieux Pontarlier Absinthe. You’ll want to take to the floor like Fred and Ginger…

300 Grove, SF. (415) 861-5555, www.jardiniere.com

MINT JULEP

ALEMBIC


There’s a lot of debate about the origins of the great Mint Julep… a sure way to rile a Southerner up is to raise the question. Though likely not created in New Orleans, the traditional beverage of the Kentucky Derby is made in top form there, particularly by the amazing Chris McMillian at the Renaissance Pere Marquette Hotel. A shock of strong bourbon, lightly sweetened, with refreshing mint on a snow cone of ice, a Julep isn’t right unless served in a proper julep cup. Possibly my favorite of all cocktails, I’m proud to say we have a 100 percent authentic version at our own Alembic.

1725 Haight, SF. (415) 666-0822, www.alembicbar.com

PIM’S CUP

15 ROMOLO


Though Pimm’s was created in 1840s England, a revitalizing, long Pimm’s Cup (Pimm’s, ginger ale or club soda, cucumber, sometimes mint, lemon) was popularized in the US at New Orleans’ Napoleon House, where I’ve savored it mid-afternoon in their unparallelled 1700s courtyard. In SF’s newly-redone 15 Romolo, taste goes even further. Besides meticulously prepared cocktails from a top-notch bartender line-up, plus creative bar food like their addictive Jambalini, I was thrilled to find the Pimm’s Cup served in Romolo’s dim wood bar the best I’ve ever tasted. Made with Rye, it’s genius.
15 Romolo, SF. (415) 398-1359

RAMOS GIN FIZZ

PRESIDIO SOCIAL CLUB


A blissful daytime drink, the Ramos Gin Fizz is one of New Orleans’ greats, invented by Henry C. Ramos in 1888. Dry gin, lemon and lime juice, sugar, cream, nuanced orange flower water and club soda, made frothy by egg white, it’s light and luscious. It’s an ideal morning imbibement that goes down all too easy. Presidio Social Club offers a soothing brunch in a clubhouse setting with 1940s vibe, lots of sunlight, and a classy bar staff who know their cocktails… including the Gin Fizz.
563 Ruger, SF. (415) 885-1888, www.presidiosocialclub.com

HURRICANE

FORBIDDEN ISLAND


The Hurricane isn’t my preferred NoLa drink, but is one of its most popular, served by the tons at, and credited to, Pat O’Brien’s, where, in the ’40s, he’d pour the mix into hurricane-lamp-shaped glasses for NoLa sailors. Usually too sweet for me, it’s a daiquiri-style, rum-based drink of passion fruit and lemon (or sometimes lime). But if there’s one place that does it right, it’s Forbidden Island Tiki Lounge, with balanced, not-too-sweet, tropical drinks.

1304 Lincoln, Alameda. (510) 749-0332, www.forbiddenislandalameda.com

CAFÉ BRULOT

PICAN


I did a little jump for joy at the Southern menu and drinks at downtown Oakland’s brand new, Southern-chic, Pican. Even crazier was seeing Cafe Brulot on the menu, a spiked coffee drink prepared and flambéed tableside at historic, New Orleans’ jazz brunch spots like Arnaud’s. This is the first I’ve seen it at all in the Bay Area, so kudos, Pican. It works as dessert, with coffee, brandy, Benedictine, candied brown sugar, homemade whipped cream, and aromatic orange zest.

2295 Broadway, Oakl. (510) 834-1000, www.picanrestaurant.com

Get juiced

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culture@sfbg.com

I hate the Master Cleanse.

Fighting against our bodies to make them do what we want is counterproductive. Instead, if you cultivate better communication with your body’s needs and reward yourself when it does what you want, you’ll find you’re more in control of your health.

Detoxing can be a beneficial part of doing this, and I have reaped many benefits from raw vegan detoxes. But contrary to popular belief, I think the Master Cleanse does exactly the opposite.

For those who don’t know, the Master Cleanse is a program in which you drink a concoction of water, lemon, maple syrup, cayenne pepper, and sea salt — exclusively — for anywhere from three to 30 days. The cleanse was recently made popular stars like Beyonce as a last-minute way to look good on the red carpet. But some experts say that the cleanse can do more harm than good.

One issue, says Carolynn Kraskouskas, owner and operator of Be Whole Again! Bodywork and Nutritional Therapy (Be Whole Again!, 3150 18th Street Mlbx 511, Suite 536, SF; www.bewholeagain.net), is that cleansing is supposed to allow your organs to rest and rebuild themselves. But the average person doesn’t eat a healthy enough diet to sustain itself during the Master Cleanse. Therefore the diet creates a system where the body doesn’t think you will treat it right, throwing the internal balance off. “For most people who are sick, run-down, tired, or stressed out, it simply stresses the system out more, creating inflammation and a rise in the pH of a person,” she said. This can create an acidic environment that, she says, is the basis for all disease.

So what’s the alternative? Many experts recommend raw juice cleansing or fasting. (Juice is considered raw when it comes from fresh fruits and vegetables, never frozen or pasteurized.) Some say a juice fast can diminish the ill effects of fatigue, skin issues, headaches, insomnia, weight loss and gain, and more.

But what of the lemons used in the Master Cleanse? Cherie Calbom, the “Juice Lady” on Raw Vegan radio (www.rawveganradio.com) admits these do provide some pH regulation and antioxidants, but not enough to deal with the amount of toxins being released during the cleanse. “If you don’t have antioxidants to bind to those toxins, they can do tissue damage,” she says. “Vegetable juice fasting is a much healthier way to go. Antioxidants bind the toxins and carry them out of the body.”

The toughest part about a raw juice fast is that the juice is extremely perishable and should be drunk immediately. There are steps you can take to store fresh juice for up to 24 hours, but, as you can imagine, this could be a full-time job. We’ve assembled a list of places in the city that can help you maintain a healthy juice fast while still having a life. Some places, like Juicey Lucy’s, even provide personal consultations to determine the best cleanse for you and then deliver a full, raw, seasonal, organic juice cleanse to your door three days a week. And don’t forget that even if you’re not fasting, fresh juices are a healthy — and delicious — addition to any diet.

(For more specific information on juice fasting, visit our Pixel Vision blog at www.sfbg.com/blogs/Pixel_Vision.)

Juice Resources

Cafe Del Soul 247 Shoreline Hwy, Mill Valley. (415) 388-1852, www.cafedelsoul.net

Cafe Gratitude 2400 Harrison, SF. (415) 830-3014; 1336 9th Ave, SF. (415) 683-1346; 1730 Shattuck, Berk. (510) 725-4418; 230 Bay Place (in Whole Foods), Oakl. (510) 250-7779, www.cafegratitude.com

Cafe Venue 218 Montgomery, SF. (415) 989-1144, www.cafevenue.com

Estela’s Fresh Sandwiches 250 Fillmore, SF. (415) 864-1850

Frapez 4092 18th St., SF. (415) 503-1323, www.frapez.com

Herbivore 983 Valencia, SF. (415) 826-5657; 531 Divisadero, SF. (415) 885-7133; 2451 Shattuck, Berk., (510) 665-1675

Judahlicious 3906 Judah, SF. (415) 665-8423, www.judahlicious.com

Juicey Lucy’s market stand at Noe Valley’s farmers market on Saturday and Kaiser Permanente’s Geary Street farmers market on Wednesday; 703 Columbus, SF. (415) 786-1285, www.juiceylucys.com

The Plant Cafe Organic 3352 Steiner, SF. (415) 931-2777,www.theplantcafe.com Power Source Juice Bar 81 Fremont, SF. (415) 896-1312, www.powersourcecafe.com

Raw Energy Organic Juice and Café 2050 Addison, Berk. (510) 665-9464, www.rawenergy.net

Sidewalk Juice 3287 21st St., SF. (415) 341-8070

 

One chicken. Two people. Three gourmet meals.

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culture@sfbg.com

It’s hard enough to eat well when the economy’s good, when time and commitments and plain old laziness getting in the way. But when there’s hardly enough money in your wallet for Cup O’ Noodle and a Coors Light, cooking gourmet food can seem damn near impossible. But fear not, Bay Area penny-pinchers. With only one chicken, a few additional simple ingredients, and some time, you can make three whole meals for two people.

But how? That’s exactly what I asked three Bay Area star chefs — Alice Waters, Gary Danko, and Traci Des Jardins. I challenged each of these SF heavy-hitters to come up with one mouthwatering, gourmet meal for two people using only one-third of a chicken plus a few low-cost ingredients.

And oh, how they delivered! Alice Waters offered a recipe for chicken breasts, Gary Danko turned in a chicken leg recipe, and Traci Des Jardin thought up a delicious soup, made from the previous the leftover chicken bones of the two previous meals.

Below are their simple, savory recipes. (But first, some advice from Danko: When you’re planning to make a few meals out of a whole chicken, always eat the breast first. The longer the breast is refrigerated, the more it will dry out. The legs, on the other hand, will retain their moisture and flavor even after refrigeration and reheating.)

ALICE WATERS’ CHICKEN BREASTS ESCOFFIER


1 whole large chicken breast, about 3/4 pound

salt and pepper to taste

12 tablespoons clarified unsalted butter

1 cup fine fresh bread crumbs

1/2 box cherry tomatoes

Skin and bone the chicken breast, and cut it in half. Remove the tendons and any fat from the two single breasts. Salt and pepper the breasts and fold the tenderloins to the side of each breast so the meat is evenly thick.

Dip the breasts in a flat dish with 6 tablespoons of the clarified butter to coat both sides. Pat the breasts in the bread crumbs to form a crust. Let the breasts stand for 10 minutes.

Heat 3 tablespoons clarified butter in a heavy cast-iron pan over medium heat. When the butter is hot, put the breasts in the pan, season with salt and pepper, and reduce the heat to medium-low. Sauté gently for 5 minutes, turn, and sauté on the other side for 5 minutes. The crust should be a rich golden brown.

Heat 2 or 3 tablespoons clarified butter in a small saucepan. Put the chicken breast on two warm serving places and pour some of the butter over each chicken breast. Serve with briefly sautéed cherry tomatoes.

GARY DANKO’S BAKED MUSTARD CHICKEN LEGS


2 chicken legs, thigh and drumstick attached (depending on the size of the chicken, you may need two more)

1/2 cup dried breadcrumbs or panko

1 teaspoon minced garlic

1 tablespoon chopped parsley

salt and pepper to taste

3 tablespoons Dijon mustard

1/2 teaspoon chopped tarragon, optional

(you may substitute 1/4 cup of breadcrumbs with 1/4 cups chopped nuts of choice)

Trim excess skin from thigh end of chicken. On parchment paper, combine breadcrumbs, garlic, parsley, tarragon, and salt and pepper. Mix well. Using a pastry brush, lightly paint the mustard on chicken legs. Coat legs with the breadcrumb mixture. Place single layer on a sheet pan or in a roasting pan and bake in a 350 degree oven for 45 to 50 minutes until completely cooked.

This dish may be served hot or cold.

TRACI DES JARDINS’ CHICKEN STOCK AND CHICKEN VEGETABLE SOUP


Chicken Stock

leftover chicken bones

1/2 cup each chopped carrot, onion, celery

1 sprig thyme

Pick off and set aside any remaining morsels of meat from the bones, place the bones and skin into a pot, and barely cover with water. Add carrot, celery, onion, thyme, and cook at a simmer for about 3 hours. Keep adding small amounts of water as necessary to keep the level just above the bones. Strain the stock.

(Although most people discard the remainders, Gary Danko remembers that his grandfather "loved to eat the remainders of the stock pot. Being an old Hungarian, he called it ‘a Hungarian picnic.’")

Chicken Vegetable Soup

6 cups chicken stock

1 cup each diced onion, carrot, and celery

2 cups cabbage, roughly chopped

2 cups potato, cubed

2 cups cooked rice or beans

chicken from carcass, shredded and seasoned to taste

1/2 cup pork product, cubed*

Curry, saffron, bay, pimento, or a pinch of Esplette pepper

1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil

Juice of one lemon (add at the very end)

(Use either the chicken pieces that have been picked from the bone, or use a bit of bacon or other cured pork product. Render it or not — your choice, but include it nonetheless. The flavor will keep you coming back for more, and the fat — yes, there will be fat — helps our bodies realize we are really having a great meal.)

Sauté the onion, carrot, and celery in oil for five minutes, or until soft.

Then add spice seasonings and the pork product if you are including pork. Stir and cook for five minutes, then add in the stock and bring to simmer. Let it simmer slowly for 15 minutes, then add the rice, potato, or beans (or all three) and let simmer another 15 minutes. Season to taste. Makes about 6 quarts. Freeze all but two, no matter what the yield. Finally, when you heat up a meal’s worth of soup, add a raw egg to the pot. Turn the heat down very low and cover. In three minutes, dish it up. Add a dash of sriracha sauce and a teaspoon of good extra-virgin olive oil. Serve with a slice of good bread on the side.

CLARIFIED BUTTER, CLARIFIED

Clarifying butter removes the milk solids and water from the part of the butter you want for sautéing — the translucent, bright yellow butterfat that can be brought to high temperatures without burning. (The smoking point of clarified butter — also known as ghee, the beloved cooking fat of India — is 485 degrees. By contrast, whole butter smokes at 350 degrees and virgin olive oil smokes at 375 degrees.)

For the Chicken Breasts Escoffier, you’ll need two sticks of unsalted butter to begin with. Cut the butter into one-inch cubes, and heat it in a heavy-bottomed pot over a low flame. As the butter melts, it will separate into three layers — a thin foamy top layer, a middle layer of clarified butterfat, and a bottom layer of white milk fat. Skim off and discard the foam, and ladle the bright yellow butterfat into a heat-proof container. Discard the milk fat. You may need to continue skimming bits of foam off the top until your mixture is pure. You will keep around 80 percent of the butter you started with.


TIPS FOR LOW-COST COOKING FROM GARY DANKO
Meal planning is a great way to cut your grocery bill. If you go to the store less frequently, there’s less impulse buying. It also keeps you from running to the store next door, where you’ll pay more for your food.
The cost of meat has been going up. The best way to cut back on the amount of meat you use is by substituting a healthy filler, like tofu, in your meatloaf recipe. Try to stretch a pound of meat into two recipes instead of one or substitute meat with less expensive ingredients like beans.
Risotto is a great, inexpensive way of getting a lot of bang for your buck and it can be used as a base for endless flavor profiles using leftovers.
Take a doggie bag if you have steak or chicken leftover from your restaurant visit. Just last night I had some steak and a double cut pork chop left over from a restaurant dinner. For lunch, I took a can of Amy’s vegetarian chili, a can of rinsed kidney beans, and a cup of store-bought salsa, combined them with the chopped meats, doctored them with spices, and simmered the mixture for 10 minutes. I had rice I made two days before, a dollop of sour cream, and a spoonful of salsa. It fed four people a hearty lunch.



For a special bonus recipe from Gary Danko, check out our

Tending the brood

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› le_chicken_farmer@yahoo.com

CHEAP EATS The young couple next door to me in Rockridge is building a chicken coop, and I love them for this. They aren’t married and don’t have kids, which makes me just want to squeeze them and look at them, and invite them over for every single thing I eat, even oatmeal.

But that would be creepy, so instead I offer to bring them some straw. Do they need a feeder? A waterer? I still have my place in the woods. I have rat traps, chicken wire, and rusting 55-gallon drums that would look real nice against the falling-down barnlike outbuilding on the edge of their lot.

Together, I think, we can shake up this neighborhood. In just a couple months here I have made more friends (or at any rate met more people I want to be friends with) than I did in five years living in Occidental. In five years in Occidental, I made four friends. Two couples. One I actually met in San Francisco, and the other through a mutual friend in Oakland.

Don’t get me wrong, I love the woods, or I wouldn’t still keep my shack, which I go to when I can for writing and/or romance, and sort of sublet to my artsy bohemian city peeps for same.

The family I work for in East Oakland, Boink’s family, they have a chicken. Used to have three, but two died, and the one that’s left has gone bad. Her name is Cakey. She’s brooding, which means she’s set her mind, and ass, on hatching eggs that no amount of setting will ever induce to hatch. Save maybe a visit from Gabriel.

This is actually a dangerous condition for a roosterless hen to be in, because she might get over it, and she might not. I have girlfriends like this.

It falls on me, while Boink’s family is away in Florida for the week, to traumatize their chicken. I’m surprised Boink hasn’t already achieved this, by accident, but the best way to get a broody hen to snap out of it is to harass the hell out of her.

So I’m going to East Oakland in a moment, I’m stuffing Cakey into a cardboard box with holes poked into it, for air, and I’m driving her out to the country. To the woods. To my shack. Where I can annoy her for three days with sticks, Pere Ubu records, and buckets of cold water — and no one will hear all the squawking. I tried this once with one of my girlfriends and got arrested.

I love Pere Ubu, by the way. But chickens … and perhaps all poultry, for all I know — their capacity to withstand ’70s-era punk rock starts and ends with the Ramones. So you know.

But speaking of traumatized girlfriends, my friend Alice Shaw, after whom I named my great car, Alice Shaw, was mugged at gunpoint in the Mission District. As if I weren’t already mad enough at muggers for stabbing a friend of a friend in Seattle!

And do you know what Alice Shaw said to us, over deep-fried hamburgers after a soccer game? She said, Well, in a way it was nice to be noticed, for a change. I’m paraphrasing.

It is comments like this that make me love human beings even more than chickens. I mean, to be fair, we have no exact translation for the could-be clucks-of-wisdom that chickens call to each other from the jaws of foxes, but it’s a safe bet they are not so laced with humor and sadness as, for example, Alice Shaw’s odd comment.

I wanted to squeeze her and feed her oatmeal, but we were already eating fried hamburgers. Outside, and over rice, with fried eggs on top, and smothered in gravy. What could be better, after a soccer game? It’s a Hawaiian thing, called loco moco, and in fact it was invented 60 years ago, according to the menu, in honor of a barefoot Hawaiian football team called the Wreckers.

Whose players apparently liked to eat, because I, at my hungriest, couldn’t clean half my plate, or even imagine ever being hungry again, so I brought the rest to Earl Butter. We all agreed: Really really dong-dong-dicky-do great, in a school lunchy kind of way.

You want to know where, don’t you?

HUKILAU

Mon., Wed.–Thu., 11 a.m.–2 p.m. and 5–10 p.m.

Fri.-Sat., 11 a.m.–11 p.m.; Sun., 11 a.m.–10 p.m.

5 Masonic, SF

(415) 921-6242

Full bar

MC/V

L.E. Leone’s new book is Big Bend (Sparkle Street Books), a collection of short fiction.