Faites Simple

The great pudding hunt is over

2009-12-19T16:03:00.000-08:00

I have travelled from one end of San Francisco to the other in the search for a Christmas pudding. Luckily it isn't a very big place. My first port of call was the Britshoppe.com, the other end of the Mission, which had sold out of puddings and mincemeat. But they tipped me off to the existence of "You say tomato" and this time I called first before heading to the fringes of Nob Hill. There I found a shop full of British delicacies such as Patak's lime pickle, Yorkshire tea bags, Marmite and a large Christmas pudding. I'll be honest with you that as a bit of foodie I'm rather disappointed in these shops. There is more to British food than cans of mushy peas and jars of marmalade but these shops mostly seem to cater to the home sick Brit requiring decent tea bags, or digestive biscuits. The brands sold are generally the obvious ones: Kiplings, Robinsons etc. I just think it's a shame that they don't explore the depth of quality that now exists in the UK. Where are the handmade cheeses we see at home in our delis, butchers and at the farmers markets? Where are the ciders, whiskies and wines? How about some biscuits from someone other than McVities? It is all too easy to make fun of British food and these shops, while serving a purpose (thanks for the pudding!) don't really help all that much in challenging that view. You can find better British imports in Whole Foods.

Accents, language and kids

2009-12-17T19:53:00.000-08:00

There isn't too much of a language barrier with the Americans I meet. Mostly I understand what they say and mostly they understand me. And sometimes they comment on the accent and when they do, they are very nice about it. But the children we meet are another case. They understand my girls but they just can't work out why they sound so funny. Today one of Emilia's classmates looked at me and with a lightbulb moment said "oh, now I know where Emilia gets how she speaks, she gets it from you!"

When I explained that actually there's an entire nation of over 60 million people who speak like us (glossing over regional variations like Geordie, Scouse or Glaswegian obviously) her mouth dropped open in wonder. I've had children ask if they speak English in England. And some are correcting my girls' pronunciation. So E is being told to say warder instead of water. And she, in turn, is tempted to point out that when counting they are saying AD not eighty and what happened to the t? Both girls have started "translating" their words - they come home and say that at school they say "tomayto" so that their friends will understand.

Meanwhile Tom is occasionally having to repeat his name because over here it is Tahm not Tom and so people look quizzical. As I've had a lifetime of people looking bemused when I say my name, I find this very funny.

Different week, different mood

2009-12-17T12:19:00.000-08:00

It's amazing how much better I feel this week. Last week was not a good week. I'm sure I had plenty of reasons for feeling a bit homesick, but the main one was hormones or hormoans as they should be known round here. So by Friday evening I had definitely had enough - how could I tell? Well I ended up a sobbing heap because I just couldn't face talking to the Chinese takeaway to order our food. Deeply pathetic, I know.

Things have rather picked up this week. We had a good weekend buying and decorating the tree, seeing friends and going to a party at a rather fabulous house which had some very smart chickens in the back garden - one was a Silkie, pure white with a crest and bloomers. So even having the car window smashed in on Monday morning couldn't dislodge my newly positive mood. As it's not our car - we have yet to buy a car - we didn't have to sort it out and now we're onto our 4th car.

Since then I've done some Christmas shopping at a gorgeous but quite pricey art store (Flax), I've ordered the goose and a ham from the butchers, and I'm now on the hunt for Christmas pudding and mincemeat. I think the latter will be easier to find but I have at least one lead on the pudding front. For a few moments I wondered whether we should adopt another pudding - a local speciality or something. But then I thought Christmas isn't Christmas without that flambeed steamed fruit pudding.

Most noteworthy event of the week though is my new haircut. Yesterday I spent a long and lovely time being pampered and given a thoroughly chic and elegant hair cut with an accompanying chic and elegant price tag. Worth every penny. I have exchanged hippy green chicken owning veg growing long hair for a sharp and urban bob. I just have to get Tom to take an adequate picture to update the profile and my internet transformation will also be complete.

Invaluable guides

2009-12-14T17:23:00.001-08:00

It would be nice to think that I'm just expert at finding good food stores or that my incredibly developed sense of smell was leading me to cakes, bread, butchers and ice cream. But apart from Anthony's Cookies, that isn't true. I have two invaluable books to help me.

The first (Patricia Unterman's San Francisco Food Lover's Pocket Guide) is a personally selected guide to restaurants, cafes, bars, groceries, bookstores, equipment stores. It's short but detailed and so far hasn't missed once. I wouldn't have found Kamei, the kitchen equipment shop in Richmond, without it, or Dianda's Italian American Bakery, and for that matter we wouldn't have eaten at the Turkish restaurant, Troya. Unlike most guides this book isn't written for the visitor, though they would also find it useful. I think if you like food and live in San Francisco you really should own a copy of this, certainly if you've just moved it is a big help. Thanks to Celia Sacks at Omnivore for recommending it.

The second book is the Green Zebra book of vouchers for local, green and eco-friendly businesses. I'll admit I greeted this with scepticism at first. It is sold at our school to raise money and I wondered how useful I would find it. Actually, it has already paid for itself in savings - it cost $25. But it has also sent me off to less known shops and away from chains, which is all to the good. The book itself has some front matter about green issues, including handy things like a guide to which fish you should eat and which you shouldn't, which since I'm near a different ocean is all different from the guidance back in the UK. Then there are over 300 different organisations offering discounts from a few dollars off, or a free coffee to 20% off in some cases. The businesses range from restaurants, through food markets, to DIY specialists, Pilates studios, museums and so on. It's an idea that could be transferred I think - a very good way to get people to look for and try new small ethical businesses.

Birds

2009-12-13T07:15:00.000-08:00

Warning: No good pictures accompany this post. I'm not a wildlife photographer, never have the camera with me when I need it and anyway they'd just look like blurry dots. So you're stuck with badly lit pictures of a book.

When you live in a city it is easy to overlook the wildlife around you. For most of the years that I lived in London, I rarely saw anything more interesting than a sparrow or pigeon and it was only at the end of my time there, living just across the river from the Walthamstow Nature Reserve, that I came to appreciate the wildlife that can be found near the centre of such a large urban area. We had herons, kestrel, greater spotted and green woodpeckers as well as wrens, tits and finches.

Of course on moving to the country and to a National Park, what we saw and heard changed. Owls at night never failed to charm me. And I particularly love raptors - the buzzards which were common around us in Crickhowell, and the occasional red kite.

Now I'm back in a city, but it's a city on the other side of the world, with very different birdlife. What is common for the San Franciscan is anything but to me. And San Francisco is a lot less built up than London, so there are opportunities to see hawks even when you are quite a long way from the nearest park. One flew straight past our deck the other day, pursued by some crows of some kind. I have bought myself a book: Birds of San Francisco and the Bay Area. It's not huge or terribly detailed but it covers enough to give me a shot at identifying what I see around me.

So far I've seen this (a Stellar's Jay) up in Twin Peaks

and this (Anna's Hummingbird) in a tree in the back garden

and lots of these from the distance which is a good thing as they are ugly things close up (Turkey Vulture). My Californian guide (a friend who puts up with daft questions) tells me they are called Buzzards by locals, and they do look similar when in flight apart from the colouring.

Unfortunately the only owls I've seen so far are models used as pigeon scarers on the roofs of houses. And I haven't seen a chicken for weeks - at least not a live, egg-laying chicken with a name. Wonder how the girls are doing?

Last week

2009-12-12T20:23:00.000-08:00

I'm still busy getting our lives sorted out. So much seems to revolve around buying small, trivial but useful objects for the house, or doing bureaucratic things related to school or bills or some such.

On Monday I headed downtown to deliver our crucial second proof of address to the school district. They had made me sign an affidavit when we enrolled the girls stating that I really did live where I said I did and would be perjuring myself if I didn't and agreed to serve a life sentence of hard labour if I didn't provide the second piece of proof within 30 days. I may slightly exaggerate but being British I of course adhered strictly to the letter of the law. And of course they looked mildly surprised to see me which leads me to suspect other people didn't take the perjury business quite as seriously as I did.

After that I went shopping to buy a winter coat and an assortment of hats and gloves for the girls. I think I may need a large badge saying "I'm British, please don't greet me, just ignore me" because I often find the incredibly friendly and helpful staff in shops a bit much. Some poor girl has been hired by Gap just to say hello as you enter the shop and to proclaim loudly any special offers in my case directed at my fast disappearing back as I head quickly off into a dark corner of the shop to get away. Perhaps I'm just having a bad week, but I do find myself wondering whether the people (and lord knows it is almost everyone) who ask me "how are you doing" really want to know. What is the correct response to this question because I never seem to have a ready reply. Actually thinking about it, I've never been terribly good at this kind of thing but the Americans do load their language with these good wishes and questions about your welfare and on days when I am tired and just feeling a bit misanthropic, it's all a bit much.

Other not very notable highlights are that I made quince jelly from some quinces I found at the Bi-rite Market. The canning section of Cole Hardware came up trumps and I suspect that canning or preserving as I know it is bigger over here than in the UK. I managed to get the jelly to set without a thermometer and I think it tastes pretty good. So we shall have some with the goose at Christmas.

I also found a lovely cake shop in the Mission - Dianda's Italian American Pastry Co.. They do huge cream covered cakes, pandoro, cream filled pastry horns. So far I've tried the pastry horns which were delicious and not overly sweet. It's another place that is sort of on the way home from school. It's a good thing the girls have to walk as all this ice cream and cake and cookies will make puddings of them both (and me!).

This week was the Fiesta Latina at the school. As this is public school, no religion is on show so no nativity play. Instead we had songs and music, from Latin America, with lots of dancing from the children. Lottie loved being on stage and sang her heart out with her class mates even if she didn't do the actions. There's a strong human rights streak running through the school that they attend so the final section of the show was devoted to a song about a picket line for agricultural workers and ended with the children shouting "the people united will never be defeated" in Spanish. Uplifting.

We had our latest encounter with healthcare which this time involved actual doctors and nurses rather than insurance call centre staff. So no daft questions about pregnancy. The girls needed jabs - ones you don't get in the UK but are advisable to have here. Emilia is cool as a cucumber throughout the process. Lottie is not. The noise was awful. She was not remotely amused. The whole surgery if not the whole of neighbourhood could tell. All serves to make you feel like a complete sod of a parent. The doctor and nurse were lovely about it.

Of course you can't help comparing the surgery with what you are used to back home. It was very familiar really - a little disorganised, busy, and without the more high tech things that the UK has these days - no computer in the room to look up and enter records into automatically which my GP has in Wales. Also you definitely have to wait longer once you are at the doctors here than at home. Both times at two different surgeries we've spent ages waiting to be called and a lot of time hanging around after that too. And of course you have to pay. We have insurance but it is still 20 dollars per patient per visit from us. I suppose I was expecting the actual health care experience to be glossier here because it is private but actually it isn't.

Which brings us to today, when we bought our Christmas tree. It's a bit bigger than planned which meant the girls and I had to walk home, while it sat on the back seat (saloon/sedan cars are very popular over here but rubbish!). Also it makes our decorations look rather spartan and I need to get more lights as the string I bought is very short indeed. Still, it smells lovely and may help to get Tom and I in the mood for the festive season, because right now we have had it up to here with shopping and can't quite believe it's December, time has gone so fast.

Patience is not one of my virtues but

2009-12-09T21:11:00.000-08:00

I think I've hit a wall. I've been here just over a month and we really haven't stopped since we got here. Before that there was the chaos of sorting out your life and packing it up for a few years in two months. We have achieved a lot since we got here - found a home, a school, furnished said home which is ongoing, orientated ourselves, gone to work, started to make friends, made quince jelly. Part of me thinks I should start joining stuff and finding places to study cookery or photography or Spanish or whatever. And part of me wants to go to bed for the rest of the year. Today I completely forgot that it was the PTA meeting at school, which is unlike me, and I felt a bit guilty about not going when I saw the meeting on my calendar. And then I thought why am I feeling guilty? What is wrong with just taking a break for a bit and working out where I am and how to make our lives here work on a basic eat-sleep-work-play basis before engaging more fully in other stuff.

So. I am not going to join stuff until after Christmas. I am going to stop thinking that I've got to get on with LIFE and realize that I have time and I should allow myself to relax a bit. It's been a crazy few months and I think I've deserved a rest. Of course I still have to buy a tree, presents, the goose and so on, but PTAs and finding evening classes etc. can wait.

Heating, clocks, technical innovations

2009-12-08T20:04:00.000-08:00

Heating is a current priority as we're in the middle of a cold snap. Okay so it isn't as cold as last year in Wales when I experimented on the family and insisted on heating the barn with one wood-burning stove. But the body has a short memory (unlike Tom who is very prompt at reminding me how awful the experiment was and may indeed bear a grudge).

So it is cold right now and we have the heating on. There isn't much in this apartment. There's a two-way gas fire at one end of the house, a large wood-burning stove currently not in use in the kitchen and a rather flashy thermostat controlled gas stove thing in the sitting room. The fires are controlled by thermostats but sadly not clocks so we have to turn them down or off at night and then on again in the morning. I don't think our limited heating is unusual and this is California after all so presumably we won't need it most of the year. But I do wonder why there are no clocks linked to it.

Our first temporary house here had central heating which was basically a series of air vents at floor level all over the house, and a bloody enormous hair dryer in the garage which blew hot air out of the vents. Very very loudly. No clock so if the temperature went down at night the hair dryer would burst into life and wake everyone up. Well not everyone, but me, which is what counts, obviously.

This is another of those things that I find inexplicably inconvenient and old-fashioned. I don't like having to remember to turn stuff off or up and down. Perhaps Americans like uniform temperatures in their homes even when asleep in bed. But if they do why isn't their heating quieter? Even the gas fire in our bedroom is like a small aircraft taking off when it gets going.

Mind you, I have now got a very snug dressing gown and slippers so it could be worse. And apparently this weather isn't going to last which if this was Wales, it would. For months probably.

Dangerously close to home: Anthony's Cookies

2009-12-08T10:55:00.000-08:00

I found a cookie shop the other day. My nose found it first as I wandered down Valencia Street between 26th and 25th. On a not particularly busy part of the street there is a rather discreet shop front and an elegant sign hanging outside, and a wonderful warm and sweet smell of baking. It wasn't open at the time - obviously getting ready for the day ahead. Yesterday it was open and as I had two small girls who were getting peckish, I took them there on the way home from the library. The inside is almost austere in design but they sell cookies in smart boxes and lovely flavours - we had semi-sweet chocolate chip and toffee chip. The shop is staffed by lots of charming young men in black t-shirts, one of whom became the first American to exclaim about my lovely accent. Anthony's Cookies is going down on my map of places to take the girls when they need rewarding or perhaps bribing.

And then on Sunday

2009-12-07T20:11:00.000-08:00

Actually to finish off Saturday, Emilia and I baked a loaf of bread. And here it is with a small proud baker.

We ate it for breakfast, after waking at 8 naturally and without the pad pad pad of small and demanding children first. Sunday afternoon we wandered off down to Dolores Park which is a few blocks north of us. (An aside: for some reason I can't get my head round the fact that the city centre is north of us and we live in the south of the city. I think it may be because I spent nearly 20 years in north London, but I'm always getting this wrong.)

Dolores Park is a sloping green space of about two blocks worth, with tennis courts, a large play area and a big statue of the Mexican Liberator Miguel Hidalgo at the top. And, no, I hadn't heard of him before either. The views of the city as it is on a north-east facing slope are wonderful.

And as far as the children are concerned, one of the park's main attractions is the nearby ice cream shop, Bi-rite Creamery. This is one I have been recommended to go to, appears in books and on food guides to the city and Tom had already been (though he had no clue about that until we got there). Apparently one of their specialities is salted caramel, so naturally I had that. It was fantastic. Really really fantastic. The other flavours chosen were a cinnamon ice cream with snickerdoodles in it which was good, a coffee toffee which was a bit grainy and not as good as Mitchell's coffee and candy cane which I think had broken up stick of rock in it, but was actually very nice indeed.

After that we popped into the Bi-rite Market across the road which is a posh food shop selling organic veg, meat and fish and everything you'd expect in a delicatessen. Very nice with very nice prices to match, the most gob-smacking of which was $99.99 a lb for Jamon Iberico. I know it's expensive but !!! That's an extreme example, as until recently it was apparently banned in the US (fools!) but a lot of European food is very very highly priced, which is as it should be considering the distances it has travelled and so on. I don't particularly have a problem with this except in one specific area: cheese. Name me one high quality American cheese. Bet you can't. And if you can, thank you, because I can't find any. I am curious to know why there isn't a strong cheese culture over here (groan!). Is there a reason that the Americans don't make different and interesting cheeses? I have a friend in New Zealand who has the same problem and misses her cheddar etc. Why no New World cheeses to match Stilton or Camembert?

Anyway moving on, we wandered towards Mission Street, past these magnificent murals (on the Women's Building).

The Mission district has a distinctly different feel about it and yet it is only a couple of blocks from the rather chi-chi Noe Valley. In fact it's hard to say where one ends and the other begins but you know they do. As we walked up Mission Street towards home, Tom and I looked at each other and said "Mare Street, Hackney". The over-riding culture of the neighbourhood (Hispanic) may be different from Hackney, but it has a familiar feel to it. Fascinating, but also dodgy (or sketchy in US English). Wouldn't particularly want to walk there at night, and you have to keep your wits about you in the day time too. But the food shopping looks amazing - live crabs and lobster, good and diverse butchers, piles of fruit and veg, Mexican specialities and so on. And I like that cars driving past are often playing Mexican music at full blast - makes a change from Hip-Hop and SF suddenly feels thoroughly foreign.

Our last shopping stop was a linen store in the Mission where we bought blankets. And we got home just before a hail shower. I know. Hail. Unusual enough for locals to emerge and gasp at it. The children at school were still talking about it this morning. It is cold right now. I am glad I packed my thermals and today I bought a winter jacket and my hat has been in use again. Not bitter UK cold yet, but there's a distinct nip in the air and there's talk (hushed awed talk) of a frost.

First best day in San Francisco

2009-12-05T20:16:00.000-08:00

Today was brilliant. We did what we should have done last weekend when I was languishing in bed on my birthday. It started the way a lot of weekends start round here. Sound of small feet padding our way. Pause. "Daddy, do you know where my pencil case is?" You are expected to be on the ball round here, even if you have only just woken up. We had a lazyish breakfast and then sprang (not) into action, and headed off for our first proper encounter with the Pacific Ocean.

We parked on Great Highway at the end of Golden Gate Park. The sky was clear, the waves were big. It's a huge beach and it's on the edge of a city but you don't feel as if you are anywhere near a city. We wandered along the water's edge and at one point all had to make a run for it, after a particularly enthusiastic wave chased us, much to the amusement of some locals. The girls built and decorated a castle. And we met a very charming and handsome park ranger who gave us a map of the State National Park.

Then we headed over to Clement Street in Inner Richmond to visit a bookstore we had heard good things about, find lunch and potter about. The bookstore was Green Apple Books and was wonderful. A mixture of used and new books, it had a lovely children's section, a huge and interesting cooking section and lots of other things to interest us. Also we had a 20 per cent discount thanks to Green Zebra so we bought several books for the girls, a couple of walking books and a history of finance book for Tom. (I'll do a separate post some time about Green Zebra - a great idea.)

Then lunch at Troya which rather against the trend in this part of town (and perhaps for SF in general, I don't know) is Turkish. Very very classy and refined Turkish. We love our Turkish food coming as we do from Stoke Newington in London which if it were the States would have been renamed Little Istanbul. Troya served everything we recognised but rather more elegantly and somehow fresher and with a twist. Tiny warm black olives came first, with a few large lime green olives that Lottie said tasted like broccoli. They didn't, but they were gorgeous. We also had a red pepper dip, yoghurt with carrots, hummus, zucchini cakes (crisp outside, soft and yielding inside and fresh), borek, lovely tender chicken and lamb shish kebab. I think that's it. It all disappeared and when you're out with the girls that doesn't always happen. This time they ate everything.

After that we headed to Kamei Restaurant Supplies which is a large Chinese kitchenware shop. It was heaven. I got over-excited.

Luckily I'd written a list in the restaurant when I discovered we were nearby, or I'd have got undisciplined and bought stuff I don't need. They sell lovely china in gorgeous colours. Things we did buy: a large saute pan with lid, a tea pot (finally!), some lovely bowls with glassy coloured glaze inside, an ice-cream scoop, a slotted spoon, tall glasses, storage jars. Prices are low and there is a huge range. I am glad I didn't head downtown to posh shops before I found this place. I will be back, in particular for a rice cooker, bamboo steamers and some more pretty china.

After that we briefly walked into Golden Gate Park and found a playground for the girls to play on. And then home.

I feel like I've been blown about a bit, fed well and shopped well. It's all good.

Omnivore Books - heaven for the cook

2009-12-04T20:06:00.000-08:00

Tom and the girls bought me a gift voucher for this lovely bookshop this year for my birthday. Took me a few days to get my act together, work out what I probably wanted and head the block and a half down there. I'm going to have to be very very disciplined not to spend an awful lot of money in this shop.

On Cesar Chavez at the Noe Valley end on a quiet residential section of the road, is this one roomed bookshop that looks a bit like a library. White shelves wall to wall, filled with an incredible mix of new and vintage books. Cookery books generally don't turn up second-hand so the vintage books section is a joy. There's a copy of Elizabeth David's Mediterranean Food behind the desk - first edition, gorgeous. I covet it.

But that's not what I bought today. I've made a promise to myself that while I am in the US I will buy books I couldn't easily get at home. Omnivore doesn't make this easy as the imported stock is excellent, well-chosen and very tempting. Leaving aside the fact that almost all of the books I left behind and miss, are here.

Anyway, I am not buying British. So today, as I left I was clutching Judy Rodgers' The Zuni Cafe Cookbook and Thomas Keller (of The French Laundry)'s Ad Hoc at Home. How did I know what to get? Well I owe that to the owner of the bookstore, Celia Sacks, by way of a piece she did on this year's best books, and in the case of the Zuni book, on personal recommendation in the shop. Two gorgeous books from Californian chefs to have fun with, to add to Alice Waters' Chez Panisse Menu Cookbook which I bought last time I went. Really must get on with some cooking.

First take on American healthcare

2009-12-02T19:18:00.001-08:00

I have been in two minds about entering into this subject as it is controversial in some circles over here. And cards on the table, I love the NHS. As with all Brits I know that there are things wrong with it, but fundamentally it is a system I appreciate deeply. However, I also recognise that it is a system born of a particular period in post-war Britain, and had we not developed it then, we almost certainly wouldn't have the system as it is today. Giving the USA the NHS couldn't be done, whether they want it or not.

Anyway.

Here we are in the USA and so we have health insurance and health care providers to find and register with and so on. This post isn't going to be about doctors. I have only met one so far and she was lovely. I have no opinion in general on the quality of the care offered here. I am hoping that I won't have to use too much of it.

But here are some things I don't understand.

I don't understand why the whole family was assigned a physician who doesn't see children under 14, when the insurance provider knew we had two young children. Actually I also don't understand why such a doctor can be called a "family doctor" when they don't see half the family. But that's just language.

I don't understand why the insurance provider would be surprised that I wasn't happy about this, and that I still wasn't happy when told any change in physician would only come into effect in January.

I don't understand why the insurance provider then made me feel as if they were doing me a huge favour by backdating a change to a paediatrician for the girls.

And lastly, I don't understand why the man on the phone had to ask if my daughters were pregnant, given that he knew how old they were.

Internet banking American style

2009-12-02T11:18:00.001-08:00

My head hurts. I am getting confused by US healthcare and I haven't even got a doctor yet. And now I'm trying to set up a standing order to pay my landlord our rent direct into her bank account. Except online personal banking won't let me. Their idea of electronic online bill pay is for me to give them the name and address of my landlord and they will send her a cheque by post. The bank thinks this is a great idea, they even have a step by step video showing me how to set it up. Perhaps there is some legal reason why I'm not allowed to deposit money into her account directly, but if there is, it's daft. And if there isn't, please would someone at the US part of this supposedly international bank, talk to someone at the UK version and realize that there is an easier way.

On architecture

2009-12-02T09:15:00.000-08:00

I'm not going to go all Pevsner on you. But I have been wandering around this city and it is all rather lovely. Simon Winchester in his brilliant (so far - I'm up to chapter 3) book on the 1906 earthquake describes the city of San Francisco as "a confection of untoward and only half-urban-looking delicacy". (BTW the book is called A Crack in the Edge of the World.)

A confection indeed - there is something whimsical about San Franciscan houses, if not fairytale. Almost every building has a touch of individuality, a splash of colour, a moulding or stained glass window.

Whole streets are in varying shades of ice cream with the odd bolder colour thrown in. Styles vary enormously though in my area, there is a fondness for the Victorian (style not era mostly I think) with ornate windows and mouldings picked out in lots of colour. I took most of these pictures while out earlier this week on a walk down through Noe Valley.

Following yesterday's dog related post

2009-12-01T12:20:00.000-08:00

I saw one of these for sale today next to the human version which is quite bonkers enough. My initial reaction was oh God no! And actually that hasn't changed. This is definitely filed under the "these Americans are crazy" section.

Particularly like the way bits of the film are in black and white until the wonderful Snuggie enters this dog's life.

Modern times - or are they?

2009-12-01T09:15:00.000-08:00

If you've been reading about my travels and travails then you'll know I've already had a lively encounter with American electricity. I haven't had any more shocks but I am not filled with confidence by the wiring in my new apartment which leads lights to stay on when turned off, unless you really push the switch down firm. And I do find the plugs which fall out of sockets incredibly easily a bit worrying.

And then you walk out of the door and look at the streets. This country may be modern and my broadband connection is beautifully fast, and everything comes with a cupholder. But seriously, what is this about?

Practically every street is a sea of wiring. Perhaps these are phone lines (I am no expert) but something about the following makes me wonder. Yesterday on the San Francisco Chronicle website, there was a story about residents of a Californian town who were told to stay indoors because a high voltage cable had been dislodged by an owl. A not very heavy bird managed to cause a high voltage cable to dangle down in a residential street.

San Franciscans: the dog's best friends

2009-11-30T13:11:00.001-08:00

This city is besotted with dogs. Besotted. I don't think I've seen so many dogs before. Big ones, small ones, in cars, on pavements, gazing out of windows, and once Tom met one in a backpack on the Muni. (Tom wasn't in the backpack, the dog was.) And it's not just the owners who are nuts about the dogs. No. San Franciscans will stop in the street to pet dogs which have been tied up. They are much more likely to remark on a dog than a child. Not that I'm bothered because I have two of the latter and none of the former. I'm not taking offense. Just making a point. It may be you can take this love affair with the dog too far. Today, I saw a woman walking two dogs and three of them had furry tails. I swear, she had a furry tail hanging over her bottom. For empathy? Could it wag? I leave you with two pictures of offerings for our furry friends that I saw today in Noe Valley.

See what I mean. Besotted.

Our first Thanksgiving

2009-11-27T20:26:00.004-08:00

Today we have been in the US exactly four weeks. Not quite long enough to get to grips with that typically New World holiday, Thanksgiving, so it was with a great deal of gratitude that we found ourselves invited to friends to be part of their family's celebrations. To make a confession, I had arrived in the US with the intention of getting us invited somewhere for a proper Thanksgiving, whatever it took, but in the end I didn't need to engineer this in any way - Americans are so hospitable.

It was very relaxed afternoon, unlike the frantic activity that usually surrounds my Christmas meal preparations. This may be a testament to the laid-back cool of the Californians we were visiting, or to the fact that no present opening was taking place. There is something lovely about a special meal devoted to being with family and giving thanks, and nothing else. Though we did have to answer a quiz before we were allowed to eat. I got the date right - 1621 - but apart from that know almost nothing about turkeys so thank you Henry (aged 9) for being my partner and filling in all the gaps. Now I know that a male turkey is called a Tom!

I was trepidatious that the meal might involve large quantities of maple syrup, cinnamon and the dreaded sweet potato topped by marshmallows (what is that about?) but instead a delicious and, yes, large meal of wonderfully moist turkey with all the trimmings awaited us.

Everyone had contributed something including me - homemade bread rolls and an apple pie from the Ballymaloe Cookbook which came out all right despite my issues with my oven. I am particularly keen to obtain the recipe for a wonderful corn pudding - not dessert in the British sense of the word - which was not quite a souffle, but light and creamy, served with onions, peppers and chiles. Also the cranberry sauce was much less jammy than any I have made in the past, and somehow both less sweet and less sour. Instead it was very fruity. For dessert, I naturally tried the pumpkin pie, light and aromatic. I'm not sure it'll be my favourite pudding but it was lovely.

Something else I've learned this week. As if to make up for the complete lack of commercialism on the day of Thanksgiving, America follows it with something called Black Friday - the biggest and busiest shopping day of the year. So having decided we might pop downtown to get some clothes, we decided against and pottered about our neighbourhood instead. Now I have a dressing-gown, a top to run in, and I know for definite my American shoe size because the staff at See Jane Run measured my feet for me.

More things I like about SF

2009-11-24T21:15:00.004-08:00

We are, I think, finding our feet and settling into some kind of pattern of life which is inevitably governed by the girls' school routine. I walk a lot. Tom drops us all off at the school gates and after the girls are safely and sometimes happily, installed, I head back to the apartment walking along pretty back streets rather than busy and less attractive main roads. So here are some things I have seen on my walks that I like.

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And then today, Tom and I went to see a tax consultant. Don't worry. I won't go into detail. It was dull but essential stuff. And confusing of course. The fun part was just before when we walked up a hill to a park. That's the thing about San Francisco. You are never far from the most amazing view. We have several from our apartment. And you can be walking along a street and suddenly round the next corner you can see to the Oakland hills, or the ocean. Or in this case, Alcatraz far below on (yet another) glorious November morning.

Wow. This city is stunning. And quirky. And right now completely fascinating.

Oh, and lastly, I love this sign. I know it doesn't mean the same as in the UK but this sign brings a smile to my face each time I see it.

The oven, dinner and an accident waiting to happen

2009-11-24T16:17:00.003-08:00

I didn't think roasting a chicken would be complicated. I also didn't think the oven would be different. But of course it is. It comes with a "Bake" function and a "Broil" function. Broil means roast, apparently, though I think the word sounds too wet for that. Anyway I assumed the broil function was it but then found that also involves a roast tray thing to go into the oven that I don't have so I'm sticking to the Bake function. And that means my oven has a rather terrifying looking element glowing away at the bottom. Last week a piece of pizza slid onto it and burnt enough to set the smoke alarm off. Is this what all US ovens are like or do I have a particularly primitive version? I'm just not used to being able to see the heating element (or knowing how clumsy I am, touch the thing). Damn, I just set the smoke alarm off again, and I haven't even got the chicken in the oven yet. At least the fire station is on the same block as us, so if I prove deeply incompetent, they can come and rescue us.

Things that go bump in the night

2009-11-22T19:58:00.004-08:00

We're still getting used to this apartment and to the noises it and its surroundings make especially after dark. The wail of the local fire station is often mistaken for the wail of smaller daughter (she has a great pair of lungs on her). And last night there was a thud and a bump we couldn't account for. So being the brave woman I am, I insisted Tom get up and check out the house. And being the brave man he is, he insisted I accompany him. Of course there was nothing. No sign of anything wrong. And it wasn't until this morning when another bump and thud woke me up that I worked out what the noise was. The ice-maker in the fridge. These pesky American fridges. Now I just have to remember to turn the bloody thing off before I go to bed at night.

Thoughts on being an expat

2009-11-21T21:27:00.003-08:00

I've always been rather disparaging of those who go to live abroad and do little to integrate themselves into the local culture. People who spend years living in a country without learning the language, for example. Well I'm let off that one, as Americans and I mostly have the same language in common. But the question arises - how much do I want to immerse myself in American culture? And here I'm thinking specifically of the media. It is very easy these days to maintain your own little British bubble in California, listening to Radio 4 and reading the British news websites. But is it wise? Not that I want to start watching Fox News or listening to Rush Limbaugh. God forbid! But I have started listening to NPR Morning Edition first thing as somehow there is something very odd about listening again to the Today programme, and streaming Gardener's Question Time at breakfast just feels plain wrong.

As to other ways to immerse ourselves, we won't be buying a truck whatever Tom's company thought, nor will we be giving up Builders' tea any day soon. But we will be celebrating Thanksgiving, first with Kindergarten and then with friends.

P.S. If anyone has any good tips for US radio programmes I might like - intelligent discussion, good music, in depth international news - then let me know.

At home at last

2009-11-19T09:11:00.002-08:00

We have moved in. And we have things to sit on and sleep in - thanks in large part to the help of several of Tom's colleagues and their apparently willing partners. I am very grateful to Chad, Sarah, Henry, Rachel, Jon and Alex. We are much more comfortable because of you. And probably a lot less cross with each other than we might have been.

So here I am sitting at my kitchen table looking at a wonderful view on a gloriously sunny autumnal day - feels like early October in the UK. I am not used to the weather and it does keep one in a good mood. I would take pictures but I can't remember where I put the camera battery charger. And I have a lot of unpacking to do. So with that, I shall go off to put some bookshelves together.

Kids are amazing

2009-11-16T21:30:00.002-08:00

Today was little sister's first day at an American school. And big sister's second day. You'd have thought they'd been going for years. E went off without even kissing me. I was a bit miffed, actually. And L gave me a sweet kiss and then that was it. Bye Mama. I'm at school. See you later. L has always taken longer to settle so I was expecting rather more drama.

So that was it, as they headed off to their much larger, diverse, multi-lingual, urban school. It couldn't be more different than their primary school in Wales but they seem to have adjusted very quickly. E came out telling me about her first Spanish lesson and L said she'd spent the morning talking about trees which apparently was boring!

Huge relief then. But I think it may take a little longer for me to settle down watching them going off to school.