Straus Ice Cream

You ever go to a trendy restaurant and eat a bunch of good, but wildly over-priced food with some close friends and then walk out of the place wanting something simple?

Such was the scene tonight at Sushi Roku, where the fish was raw, the sake unfiltered and the toothpicks all had those little ingraved end thingies.

We ate like pigs, talked like senators at a confirmation hearing and left with a little extra around the waist and a little less in the wallet.

I had a hankering for something sweet, but not something from Roku's dessert menu (which conveniently did not have any prices on it) so we headed over to Wild Oats market to get some ice cream.

I love a good scoop of ice cream. Carvel (a staple on the U.S. East Coast) just opened here in L.A. (why at the end of the summer makes no sense to me), and we've got Cold Stone Creamery, which is really over-priced and over-hyped. Ben and Jerry's is still pretty good, but the whole "homemade" thing went out the window when the sold out to Unilever, who also own Country Crock, Dove Soap and Slim Fast. Gives a whole new meaning to the word "Chunky Monkey."

So I was very happy when I got home and had a nice scoop of Straus' Dutch Chocolate ice cream. This is the real stuff -- fresh, creamy and without that weird aftertaste some ice cream has. I had tasted their vanilla bean before, but this stuff was even better. Pick some up today. You'll remember what "homemade" tastes like.

New Word

My son can say the things most L.A. babies do..."dada", "mama", "agua".

He had a new one this morning as I walked in and said good morning. He turned around and said, "dude."

Great, my kid's gonna be The Big Lebowski.

My City Stinks

It's raining here in L.A. for the first time in 4 months. Started early this morning and has been slowly drizzling.

The first rain of the season always brings all the oil and dirt from cars and all the other crap we have in this great city up from the asphalt. It all flows in the sewer drain down toward the ocean. As I walked out of my apartment this morning, expecting to get that crisp, fresh smell of rain that you have in places like Alaska and Colorado, I was treated instead to an odor that reminded me of a Portapotty and a sulphur mine mixed together.

Thought maybe it was because we lived near the beach, but when I arrived at my office and stepped out of my HEPA filter installed car, it smelled the same.

Hope it rains some more.

Not A Bad Life

I'm writing this from the mid point of my biweekly mountainbike ride up westridge fire road.

This ride is one of the few times during the week when I can put on the headphones, climb on my bike and see nothing but dirt, plants and streams for an hour or so.

It's also the time when I almost throw up and my legs feel like hot metal is being poured through my veins.

Such is the feeling I had moments ago before reaching this tor/resting spot. After getting off the bike and trying to convince my lungs to accept just a little more air so I wouldn't pass out, I looked around -- towards the coastline snaking into the distance, downtown l.a., telephone pools on mulholland drive, the san fernando valley: the mountains over malibu and oxnard. The beauty calmed me -- a moment of bliss in this city of lights.

I noticed a fellow biker coming up the trail. I'm a little strange when it comes to other mountainbikers. I feel a camraderie for those who like the same things I do: especially those guys who don't get all dressed up like they're lance armstrong and poster children for the post office) but at the same time, when I'm pedaling up a tough hill, I hate to get passed up by somebody, especially if it's a 300lb. guy on a huffy hardtail wearing Keds.

So when this guy pedaled up to my spot, I expected a comment about my bike (Giant nrs1). Instead, he said, "not a bad life, huh?).

Yeah, not a bad life. I'd ride with that guy anytime.

Blum Crazy

So last week the wife and I had our first budget/update meeting with our house builders. They were -- surprisingly -- close to the budget (which is not as sexy as it seems given that they haven't pounded a nail yet). In this meeting, we also talked about silly frilly things like window cut-ups and kitchen cabinets -- topics that I decided, long ago, belonged to people named Martha and Chantal.

When we were first thinking about using these builders for our house, Bob, the co-owner of the company, took us through a house they were building in Brentwood, the neurosis capital of L.A. The owner was a chef, and the kitchen had a huge range, a spacious island, and some of the coolest drawers I have ever seen.


You've seen variations of Blum products in those cool looking but cheap Ikea furniture. They make the hinges and drawer slides and hardware. Well, they've come up with a drawer and door system where, no matter how hard you slam it, as it's just about to close, it slows down and slowly pulls the drawer or door closed. Pretty cool stuff.

So as I'm sitting there in the meeting and say, "how about the Blum Motion," the builder says, "sorry, don't think we can do it with the brand of cabinets you have picked."

So I did what any normal, totally insane home builder would do. I called Blum in Austria and asked how I could get them on my cabinets. Turns out I need to pick a different, more expensive brand.

Is it insane to upgrade cabinets just to have them not shut? Probably, but it's very cool stuff.

Say Cheese

A new favorite: Haystack Peak Cheese from Colorado. Order some online today by clicking HERE. Fantastic, creamy, homemade cheese, and the guy has a great story.