The Important Edibles

About two weeks ago, we went to the Cheesecake Factory at The Oaks Mall in Thousand Oaks to pick up slices for each of us for what we thought would be a visit to the beach here in Ventura and having our cheesecake there. But the Thomas Fire and the subsequent smoke blanketing our region made that impossible. So we had our slices at home a day or two later.

At the Cheesecake Factory case, I spotted one called Chris' Outrageous Cheesecake and decided to try that without knowing anything that was in it. When my mom, my sister and I were at the Cheesecake Factory a few weeks before that for dinner, I tried the Adam's Peanut Butter Fudge Ripple Cheesecake, and that was more palatable than the monstrosity I subjected myself to: Chocolate cake, brownie, coconut-pecan frosting, and chocolate chip coconut cheesecake, to crib from the order that the layering is listed on the website. It made me wonder: Why does Chris hate people? What happened to shake that life so badly early on?

Now, I've done bad to myself over the years. In my mid-20s, I devoured tubs of Extreme Moose Tracks ice cream from Ralphs in the middle of the night, while not going to bed until 5 a.m. Yeah, I was an idiot, both to myself and to my health. In that same time period (it may have been because Santa Clarita tended to feel isolating, and what are you supposed to connect with there besides going out of the valley in order to do anything interesting?), I also inhaled so many Dr. Peppers over a span of months, that I had a worrisome caffeine problem. Mainly too much of it. Try sleeping under that condition. No chance. I finally pulled myself out of it after realizing how truly awful all this was.

But none of that was as bad as that slice of Chris's Outrageous Cheesecake. I sat at the dining room table, forking my way through it, appalled at how this one slice of cheesecake completely disrespected the sanctity of cheesecake, and decided right then and there that I need to taste again simply to enjoy it, not to just taste to shovel whatever into my mouth and go back for more and more, unthinking. In other, thinner words, I needed to get back on a diet and fast. Forget all the milk chocolate squares I had indulged in in weeks' and months' past. The worry of job hunting will do that to you. Never mind the one bag of pork rinds my mom, my sister and I shared in one shot back in early November (my love of all things pig knows no bounds, though). Forget the different root beers I had tried, and the egg nogs I had tasted in order to find the best one here (that was necessary, though, because having left Las Vegas, I no longer had the egg nog from Anderson Dairy, which, to me, was the best one there, and that's a local brand). I needed to partition my eating life once and for all. Keep it to more fruits and vegetables for my daily eating, and save the really important things for every now and then, but also know what those really important things are. Keep a list so there's never any doubt.

That list, diet-motivated or not, has varied from place to place, everywhere I've lived. In my teens, living in South Florida, I loved the chicken nachos at Miller's Ale House in Pembroke Pines. Huge portion, and I cleared off the entire platter. Extra cheese and no jalapenos always helped. Come to think of it, I also loved them in Las Vegas because there was a Miller's Ale House at Town Square. It's the one restaurant I've been to where my order has never wavered, from then to now. But those days are done. There's no Miller's Ale House in Southern California. As to boba tea places, such as No. 1 Boba Tea in Las Vegas, I ordered a peanut butter and banana smoothie from the first time we went there, to the last time five years later, no matter if we went to the one in Chinatown in Las Vegas, the newer Galleria at Sunset location in Henderson on Mall Ring Circle, or the one on Eastern, in the massive Target shopping center, which was our go-to-location.

But that's gone, too. I don't lament it because here I am, with so many new experiences, and still more to try. In Oxnard, which is one of the unhappiest cities I've ever been to, I was relieved to find that they have a Vallarta supermarket, so we don't have to schlep to Santa Clarita for one. They have two in Oxnard, and Mom and Dad had gone to the dingier one when they were visiting here, but we were lucky to bump into the much cleaner one last month when Dad was looking for a Fallas bargain clothing store. There, I discovered something that, when I have it, is better than books. Seriously. It's chicharrones which, in this case, are mainly pork fat. I'll have to get the name of this type right next time, but when I had it, I knew that this was paradise. That slice of Chris' Outrageous Cheesecake is what put me back on a diet, but those chicharrones are what keeps me on a diet because I want to be ready for the next time we go to Vallarta.

With this in mind, I've come up with a list of those foods important to me. Not the daily essentials, like bananas. I already know those. But those which I most likely would go to great lengths for if I had to, but fortunately, I don't have to for most of these. Some may require adjustments, as will be noted. But all this is who I am in foodstuffs:

Tillamook medium cheddar cheese.

Kroger blended vanilla yogurt (especially in the large tub from Ralphs. I have given up other yogurts for this one).

Grilled pork sausage spring rolls from Pholicious in the food court of the Pacific View Mall here in Ventura.

Vietnamese iced coffee from Pholicious in the food court of the Pacific View Mall here in Ventura (Vietnamese iced coffee became my lifeblood after my sister introduced me to it at 99 Ranch Market on Maryland Parkway in Las Vegas at VeggiEAT Express in their little food court. The iced coffee at Pholicious isn't as good, but it's good enough. At The Oaks Mall in Thousand Oaks, they're opening a Vietnamese place in the food court and I must try the iced coffee there. I hope for it to be like the iced coffee at VeggiEAT Express, but considering my limited options in this part of Southern California, I'm not going to get too choosy).

The ham-and-cheese croissant at Master's Donuts that is not only generously filled, but is also the longest croissant out of all the donut shops I've been to thus far in Ventura.

The carnitas quesadilla at Vallarta (the best quesadilla in the Ventura County area. The runner-up is the cheese quesadilla at La Salsa Fresh Mexican Grill in the food court at The Oaks Mall. My local quesadilla at La Mancha Mexican & Seafood in the food court at the Pacific View Mall is way too heavy, although the basic quesadilla at Snapper Jack's Taco Shack in downtown Ventura is acceptable).

Peerless Coffee & Tea's black tea, from Oakland (I tried this tea at Ojai Pizza Company in downtown Ojai, and it was the first tea that made me want to search for teas that taste like they should be in libraries. This one tasted like a wood-paneled, gently-lived in reading room, like the Ojai Library is to me. However, the Thomas Fire caused the Ojai water supply to shut down entirely at one point, and Mom doesn't trust the water supply to get back to what it was before the fires, so advised me not to go for the tea next time when we're there. The next time we go, it'll have been a while since the fire passed through a section of Ojai, so they might have already settled the water issue, or at least set about making sure it doesn't go off again like that. Even so, after we go to WinCo next where Meridith told me that there's a tea strainer there that would be useful for me, I'm going to order the black tea sampler they have to find out if the other teas are just as good, and to pinpoint the one I loved at Ojai Pizza Company. Or I may just stroll on in next time and ask them the exact name of that particular tea. Based on what the Peerless website offers, I think it's the Peerless Royal Blend, which boasts a "smooth, fragrant aroma and flavor." And yet there's also the Assam, "a strong, dark flavor with a heavy body." Yet this was for iced tea, so it might well be their Organic Tropic Star Classic Black for iced tea. Either way, I know I've found my tea company).

Lean Cuisine's Roasted Garlic White Bean Alfredo (This, with Great Northern beans, is what got me deep into beans. They'd always been on the periphery of my life, because of my mother's love of baked beans, and especially black beans and rice, so I guess the interest was just lying dormant. I love this because of the beans and have set out to see what other beans I might like. I'm not big on baked beans like Mom is, but give me beans as part of other dishes or flavored well enough on their own (even refried beans as it turns out), and I can be occupied for quite a while on this subject alone).

A large order of angel hair pasta with pesto (basil, garlic, olive oil, cheese and nuts) and fresh basil from Presto Pasta in the Vons shopping center right down the street from our apartment (I'm actually starting to get tired of this combination, despite my love of basil, so I may try the pomodoro sauce again, or venture into marinara. I don't know yet).

Producers Dairy Premium Egg Nog from Fresno (I can only find this at our sole Ventura Walmart, but it is the best one because not only is it thick enough like egg nog should be, but the nutmeg appears just enough to show that it's nutmeg, but not enough to start to taste like it was made in a homey arts and crafts store. Trader Joe's egg nog is too thin and tasteless, and Kroger's egg nog remains too expensive here, at $3.50 for a quart, but that one was just so-so).

Hershey's Symphony bar (the creamy milk chocolate kind, not the Hershey's standard that comes in Kisses and such. This is what makes me not have as much of Reese's anything as I have in the past, so I can have this every once in a while instead).

Veggie omelette from Busy Bee Cafe in downtown Ventura (The newest addition to my list. The first time Meridith and I went to the Busy Bee Cafe, it was so-so. Meridith's fried chicken was mostly dry, and the stuffed French toast I had of peanut butter, banana, and strawberries didn't taste all that worth coming back again. But this second time, along with Mom and Dad this time for their first time, this was the right time. Better cooks in the kitchen, for one, and I tried a veggie omelette that had carrots, broccoli, cauliflower, onions, and red and green peppers. It wasn't your typical omelet because they used pieces of all the vegetables, so you got basically a golden-brown sheen of eggs all over the vegetables, which was fine with me. Broccoli and cauliflower done like this is pretty much the only way I can eat them, and I loved how well-browned the cauliflower was, along with the sourdough toast and their home fries, with smaller cubed potatoes than I normally see in other home fries. I know I'll be getting this every time we go. It felt simple and unassuming, and I liked that, too).

It's not as urgent to me as all these, but I'm also looking for a decent chocolate malt (one in which I can taste the malt, too, rather than it being drowned out by overly sweet chocolate ice cream) and a patty melt. Busy Bee Cafe has a patty melt, but after that veggie omelette, it's going to be hard for me to consider anything else (witness the peanut butter and banana smoothie from No. 1 Boba Tea for five years, and the chicken nachos from Miller's Ale House for practically all of my life, though the gap begins now. But come to think of it, there was that gap for nine years in Santa Clarita, too).

I would also like to find great grits that don't come from the Quaker Oats packets I use all the time, besides the crock of it that I liked at Bonnie Lu's Country Cafe in downtown Ojai. However, I suspect that that'll be the ultimate for me. They're not easily found here like that. By the way, the quesadilla at Bonnie Lu's places third on my list, with the exception of their pico de gallo, which is the best I've had anywhere! There are idle nights when I get lost in the reverie of the memory of that pico de gallo! To have tomatoes and onions and cilantro as fresh as what's in there, besides whoever makes it having the power of God to make it like that, I think they must have the Shangri-La of gardens hidden somewhere in Ojai.

So, with the exception of that Lean Cuisine alfredo, all this is why I'm sticking a diet for good. I don't know when we'll go back to the Red Brick Pizza right near our apartment complex, but that California Club salad I had there could surely help me stick to my diet. Despite what it sounds like, the calorie count isn't so bad on that one. They've got salad artists over there who know how to layer salads so that you're not left with a heap of romaine lettuce as you get further into the bowl. I can't wait to have that again.

I don't think I'll be adding to this list as quickly as I would have when I lived in Santa Clarita and Las Vegas (with L.A. being closer to Santa Clarita, as well as Anaheim, Burbank, and Buena Park, and Las Vegas being, well, Las Vegas, with doing things like coming up with a list like this as a distraction against the hard living there), but I know that I can look at this list for here, and be sure that I'll be getting something good every time.

Passover, Las Vegas Style

(Originally, I was going to call this post "Passover, Nearly Las Vegas Style," since we're in Henderson, and while Sunset Station is a casino, with a buffet, and slot machines, and a comfortably wide bowling alley, we're still in Henderson, even though we're very close to Las Vegas, down the street. But casinos and buffets in this region did start in Las Vegas, so it is Las Vegas Style. No need for me to be pedantic about such a thing. It is what it is and what it always has been.)

We haven't had the full-on, Seder-driven, Haggadah-reading, Why-Is-This-Night-Different-From-All-Other-Nights Passover experience in years. I can't remember the last time we did the Four Questions. But I don't mind that we haven't, because it takes a while. You have to wait and wait and wait and wait before you eat, and yes the history as it is believed is important to me, but I can read about it elsewhere because I want to eat!

That's why I like Thanksgiving. You say a prayer or two, you tell Aunt Gracie to give it a rest for five minutes, and you dig in. Well, we have the same thing coming for Passover the Monday or Tuesday after next. In fact, it was a shock to us to see that our existence is actually acknowledged, after nine years of nothing of the kind in the Santa Clarita Valley in Southern California. A Kosher section in a supermarket, just to see what's around? Are you kidding? You get maybe a shelf, maybe even two shelves if management is feeling generous. Otherwise, you're on your own. Go to Gelson's in Encino. Maybe they'll have more.

We had gone to Sunset Station yesterday afternoon because they're doing a promotion called "$1 Million Scratch and Win." If you earn 300 points on the same day, you receive a scratch card that's guaranteed a winner, for $1,000 cash, up to $100 in free slot play, up to 50,000 points, free buffets, or other prizes. Dad originally thought you only had to walk right in and you'd get one, or maybe he thought that you only had to play a dollar. They may say they love locals, but it's not that easy. It was only when we got there that he found out you had to earn 300 points on the same day. Oh well. Meridith had to go to the bowling alley anyway to see about bowling balls, since she wants one, but hasn't found the right one yet.

We had to go to the Boarding Pass Center, as it's called, for some matter related to our cards, possibly seeing if our address had been changed from the one in Las Vegas to the one in Henderson. I don't know, since I was standing further back, doing what, I don't know. But as we walked by the buffet, we saw a sign for the upcoming Passover buffet, and we were stunned. We had been well ignored in Santa Clarita, so what could we possibly expect from the rest of the West, despite such luminaries as Steve Wynn and Sheldon Adelson being in this region? It's not so much Las Vegas itself, but our immediately local area that we wondered if there was anything for us, related to us. And there it was. There, on the posted menu, hard-boiled eggs, salmon with figs, matzo ball soup, charoset (a dark fruit-and-nut paste meant to harken back to the mortar our enslaved people used to built the pyramids), beet horseradish, and so much else I've already forgotten. Dad went to the front counter at the buffet to ask the price. $10.80 with a Boarding Pass, the membership card. $20 otherwise. We're bringing our cards with us. And Mom noted that gefilte fish wasn't listed on the board. But maybe that was only part of what will be offered. Maybe gefilte fish will be there. However, it doesn't matter as much because we can always get gefilte fish for ourselves at home (actually, for Mom, Dad and Meridith since I don't like it), and we have to be part of this! I've never really liked the Station casinos because they've always struck me as stingy with generally tight slots even here in Henderson, and Palace Station has the worst buffet in Las Vegas. Granted, we haven't been to every buffet in Las Vegas, but I highly doubt it'll fall lower in the rankings, even though the buffet at Arizona Charlie's is just as bad. While I will never go back to Arizona Charlie's on Boulder Highway, that buffet did have sausage stuffing, which was actually very pleasing, and I won't forget that, whereas the Palace Station buffet had nothing redeeming about it.

You have to drive just a little to get to Sunset Station, but I still consider it part of our community. And we have to support our community, we need to support our community, we want to support our community with what's been offered, because we exist! After all this time, we are acknowledged! And I just hope this Passover buffet is a lot better than Palace Station's buffet. Since they've gone to this length to present this buffet, it means they're making some kind of effort, and I hope it shows. For so long, I've wanted to support a community I can call my own, and with this, and so much else it is, this feels like the one. We already do that with Food 4 Less essentially next door to us, buying one or two things or more every week because we want them to stay open. Not that they're having any trouble staying afloat, what with the parking lot being nearly full every day, but every little bit helps. Even though I don't really like the Station casinos, I like Sunset Station a little more because of this. This means a lot in a time when we're still trying to find our place here. There's progress, and this is a major boost.

This is What You'll Be Eating

Yesterday afternoon, after getting home from work and Vons (the one on East Tropicana Avenue), Meridith showed me the triple cheese enchilada frozen dinner she picked out for me for dinner tonight. Mom wanted something reliable, Stouffer's macaroni and cheese for herself, because she can't risk an upset stomach from anything, being that we're going to the final American Idol broadcast, the second live show, in Las Vegas, at the Beatles Love theater at the Mirage, the remaining guys competing. The taping of three episodes of the Jeopardy! Teen Tournament that we went to a few years ago was fine, but the taping of Two and a Half Men that Mom and Dad went to with a few people Dad knew from work, back when Charlie Sheen was well-entrenched on the show, was a hassle for Mom in climbing stairs since her energy is never at full strength, and Everybody Loves Raymond, the fourth-to-last episode entitled "Sister-in-Law," was the same problem. Wheel of Fortune is Mom's favorite game show, but she said that she'd only go to a taping if they come back here to Las Vegas. We never thought about that for American Idol, in going to a regular taping. When contests were up for tickets to the season finales, we always entered, but never won. So now here is American Idol in Las Vegas, our home, and we're taking that opportunity. We have to arrive in line by 2:30 p.m., ahead of the live broadcast at 5 for the east coast that'll end at 7.

Anyway, that's not the reason I'm writing. I have a choice for tonight's dinner, an easy one to make. I also have a frozen turkey lasagna dinner in the freezer, but being that I've happily had spaghetti for the past two nights, I don't want to become tired of pasta, which may well be at the top of my list of favorite foods. There was a choice in the freezer and I made it. I hope that Safeway Select triple cheese enchilada will be decent, because I remember another dinner I had from that brand and it must have been really great because I don't remember exactly what it was. Hopefully it's better here than it was in Santa Clarita. Maybe there's different regulations to meet here, or even less regulations, what with California being so over-regulated.

It got me thinking about the second half of 2nd grade to 5th grade at Riverside Elementary in Coral Springs, Florida. In the cafeteria, the salad bar was available every day if you didn't want what they were serving, and I remember many times overloading my tray with their salad bar offerings. I still do that today at Sweet Tomatoes and any other buffet that has a salad bar. What I was then, I still am now.

I remember that there was Mexican Pizza some Fridays that I always went for. But the days they had baked chicken were the worst. I don't know how they could have called it baked chicken with how greasy it was. It got all over my hands, all over my face, and the napkin in the utensil collection we got, wrapped in plastic, seemed like half-ply. There was no napkin there, just a rumor of one that was quickly dismissed as such. You could not wipe your hands with this napkin and get all the grease off. If you wanted another napkin, if you could get another napkin, you had to get up, go back to the kitchen area and see if you could get another utensil collection. I don't remember them ever having napkins available on the side. I now realize that I probably should have made friends in elementary school as best I could, just so I could get the napkin if they weren't using it.

There was a choice in elementary school lunches. It was this, or this, or the salad bar. But once you made that choice, you got everything that went along with it, including what they were serving on the side, which I've forgotten. Maybe there were fries. Soggy fries at that. I'd count on it, because the macaroni and cheese at Riverside tasted like gasoline. I'm not kidding.

Sometimes I miss that, choosing that one main dish and getting everything that comes with it. Looking at the March elementary school lunch menu on the Broward Schools website, I see that there are a lot more choices than there ever was when I was in school. For example, today, Tuesday, there's beef taco, Latin style black beans over brown rice with salsa, homemade tuna salad with crackers, "Garden Fresh Entree Salads," steamed corn, Capri mixed vegetables (apparently carrots, green beans, squash, and zucchini, according to what I found through Google), green apple juice, and fresh fruit. Choose the taco and you likely get the black beans and brown rice. The homemade tuna salad gets you crackers. And the rest would seem to be up for grabs. If you want the salad, you probably wouldn't want the steamed corn or mixed vegetables with it because you already have vegetables. But perhaps you want the steamed corn with the beef taco and the black beans and rice. The menu doesn't indicate if the corn or vegetables are attached to any of the main entrees. They're not separate from the entree listings because there's so much to list that they couldn't make a space in between. But because other listings in March are separated by a space indicating the entrees at the top and the sides below, I guess you can mix and match if you want. But generally, this is what there is, although the salad bar seems to have been replaced by the pre-made salads. More convenient for the school, less costly, and less messy. However, I'm appreciative of Riverside Elementary instilling in me a love of salad bars.

What really got me thinking about all this was last week when we each received the monthly rewards brochure from Ellis Island Casino & Brewery on Koval Lane, which faces the asses of some casinos on the Strip. In it is when you can get five times the points (Mondays and Fridays this month on video poker, reel and video reel slot machines), six times the points, 10 times the points, and so on. They also tout their cash drawings, and that every Tuesday & Saturday, you can visit any Passport Central Kiosk to print your coupon for a free slice of pizza and an El Beer or an El Root Beer at Metro Pizza inside the casino. There's also coupons for $5 in free play and coupons for free food if you earn 100 points or 150 points by playing. I'm never tempted to play just to rack up points. I'm not going to spend that much money.

I don't know if we'll go to this on Easter Sunday, or even if it'll be noticed by Easter Sunday. But the restaurant inside Ellis Island has something interesting on that day, beginning at 11 a.m. $9.99 gets you the Easter Dinner Special, which is honey baked ham, corn stuffing, baked yams, buttered corn, and pumpkin pie dessert. The pumpkin pie dessert is what worries me because if it was straight pumpkin pie by the slice, then it would say "pumpkin pie." But what does pumpkin pie dessert mean? Mousse? Parfait? Pudding? We've been to the restaurant once before, and I liked the spaghetti there, so I trust that their plans for this menu will go well. They really make an effort for good food and an enjoyable experience that gets you away from the cigarette smoke for a while. You can't beat that.

There's that chance in Las Vegas, just like I had in elementary school, of picking that one entree and getting whatever comes with it. And I'm not talking about substitutions. I mean that you pick that, and you get all of that. You put your taste buds in the hands of the chef and you experience whatever has been on their mind, and you hope it's a great meal. And even if it isn't as great, a few slip-ups here and there, you still get a sense of the personality of the chef that way, perhaps not wanting to go there next time, or maybe you will, because you like the atmosphere and certain other portions of your meal, and maybe the chef was just having an off day. But it doesn't stop you from placing your trust with another chef or even the same chef because you want to see what they can do with the menu they have planned, what they can do with things you like. I think there's a good chance of that Easter menu being done right because it's not something they have to do every day. It's once a year and they can be as elaborate or as low-key as they want, either turning the menu lopsided a bit, doing something different than expected with the same ingredients expected for Easter, or sticking with what works and adding their own comforting touches.

I know that we put our trust in any number of chefs whenever we order off of any menu, but the ultimate trust is here, ordering courses that are entirely up to them. That's when eating becomes most interesting.

Gentle Waves of Soy Milk, Not Rip Currents

I'm trying to remember the last time I had corn flakes, and the year doesn't come to mind. I've always been a Cheerios fanatic, ever since I was little, when my parents used it to keep me quiet in stores (sometimes I screamed because I liked to hear my voice). They always kept a steady supply on hand. Maybe corn flakes were for vacations, in keeping with exploration of things not part of daily lives. I'm sure I've had it sporadically throughout my life, but not enough to remember one key rule about corn flakes filled up to near the top of a bowl: Don't pour milk (or soy milk, in my case) as heavily as with Cheerios, which each have a hole in the middle and can therefore handle a deluge of milk with grace.

I realized this on Tuesday when I poured soy milk over Kellogg's Corn Flakes, but moreso yesterday. Pour your milk of choice too fast, and it fairly dives off the flakes and belly flops onto the counter, exploding in different directions. Before the first bite, I had to mop up the Olympic Diving Team with a paper towel.

It's a good lesson not only in proper milk pouring depending on the cereal, but also in life: A gentle touch in everything, always. Or else you have to mop up more than you ever expected.

Two Sandwich Menu Boards, One Supermarket

On Friday, March 30, at Pavilions, I saw this sandwich menu board:



On the left side are options to build your own sandwich, with the bread you want, the meats, the cheeses, and the condiments. Meridith did the math on her calculator and came up with over 3,000 different combinations. I was curious, but for me, the fun is more in putting many combinations together, seeing what sounds good.

On the left side are ready-made sandwich types. Just order whichever one you want, and they'll make it for you. You don't have to come up with your own sandwich. Not a great deal of imagination in these sandwiches, but since it's just a supermarket, where you get the groceries that you need during the week, that's not to be expected. And there's photos of each sandwich, photos sanctioned by whichever division of Safeway Inc. handles such matters.

Yesterday at Pavilions, I saw a new sandwich menu board:



I wondered what had changed so much to trigger the need for a new sandwich menu board. Were customers so unsatisfied with how their sandwiches looked compared to what the photos showed that an exasperated Pavilions asked for a new sandwich menu board sans the photos? I see also that the "California Dreamin'" sandwich has changed to simply "Turkey Bacon Avocado." I think I know why. "California Dreamin'" would be the name for the sandwich in Detroit since Detroit is far enough away from California, particularly Southern California. But living in California every day, there's no dreaming involved. We live however it keeps us sane. In California, why would we be dreaming of California? Ultimately, that name makes no sense here.

On the new board, there's only a photo of bread in the now-"Classic Sandwiches" menu instead of "Build Your Own Sandwich." I guess shoppers trust that there will be meat and cheese in a sandwich, and no photographic proof is needed. Plus, it looks like a sign of cost-cutting, or of the sandwich counter not doing so well here (unless it's a company-wide edict) that there's no condiment offerings on this menu. The one from the end of March has a fair list of options, but all you'll find of condiments in this new menu is under "All Sandwiches Include:". Mayonnaise and mustard. That's it. Must not be a demanding crowd here. It always fascinates me that there's someone in the company, perhaps overseeing this region, who looks over reports of what's selling and what's not and determines what should be stocked by that. All those lists, all those figures. That's a person I'd be interested in talking to, not to suggest anything myself, but to wonder how they do such a job, what they do after they determine what's needed, and who has to sign off on it. It's like how the Walmart on Kelly Johnson Parkway sells books that are different from the ones at the Walmart Supercenter on Carl Boyer Drive. Someone studies all that.

It's a streamlined menu, I guess. The more time people spend staring at a menu, the less time they spend ordering. Lost minutes are lost sales. Put the same price on each menu instead of in the middle of the "Choose Your Favorite Sandwich" menu on the one from March 30, show that all the breakfast sandwiches are $1.99, and that's that. Less for a customer to look at, everything close together, and they'll spend less time staring at the menu trying to decide.

I didn't ask Meridith to take a photo of the breakfast sandwich menu from March 30 because it didn't interest me as much as the main sandwich menus. Perhaps they needed photos of the sandwiches for this new one because there's not as many choices as there are on the main sandwich menu. They have to gussy it up somehow.

At the bottom of the new one is "3 Minutes or Less or Free." For the rushed office worker, no doubt. It seems disheartening though. No one wants to wait for anything anymore. No one wants to take time to look around a bit. I must be the only one who, despite knowing every inch of that supermarket, always finds something interesting (to me) to look at. In this case, the menu boards, and wondering who created them, what meetings there might have been to determine what they should look like, because you just know there had to be meetings for such a thing.

On the March 30 main sandwich menu is a Chicago South Sider, which has disappeared from the new menu. Doesn't sell here. Only the basics in sandwiches for all. I'm not sure if this will improve sandwich sales, though. Every time I've been there, the sandwich counter has always been empty. It's cheaper to grab the already-made, already-wrapped half-hoagie sandwiches in the refrigerated case that sell for $2.49 each if you buy two or more. $3.99 if you only buy one. For $5.49, I'd prefer to find a more adventurous sandwich than what's offered on the new menu. Once in Henderson, I want to see if there's any changes in the sandwich menus. Since a great number of residents come from somewhere else, I should think Vons would want to be a little more daring there. Or maybe not, since there's so many options for eats in Henderson. Better to be safe than unprofitable. I still want to see.

Sandwich #2: The Emmy at Junior's

A block away from The Landmark, where Meridith saw Jiro Dreams of Sushi and I saw We Have a Pope last Friday, is Junior's Deli, one of the very few authentic Jewish delicatessens in Los Angeles. The greatest is Langer's near MacArthur Park, which has retained its dignified feel through all these decades. It's small and it will remain that way, and it will always have the best Jewish food you will ever taste.

I would place Junior's second, but a very distant second. The food is decent, but they don't know what full-sour pickles are. Half-sour perhaps, but when we asked three times for a bowl of full-sours, they came back with the same pickles, what they apparently consider full-sours. If you're running a Jewish restaurant, you'd better know what full-sours are. Dad said that it's based on the population. Florida was populated with Eastern European Jews. Los Angeles has Israelis. Two very different belief systems in the way of pickles. It's hard to take, though, when you've grown up in one very particular way, when the passion for full-sours and really good kishka requires you to be exacting about your tastes. After that third bowl produced nothing of what we asked, we let it go. What else could we do?

When it came time to order, after I had quickly perused a fairly lightweight menu that felt disappointing, I ordered the Emmy sandwich, billed as "hot corned beef, pastrami, swiss cheese, and Russian Dressing." It's the kind of sandwich that needs fries, but no fries. Only cole slaw comes with each sandwich. Meridith had their Build-a-Burger option, choosing pepperjack cheese, and of course that came with fries. Fortunately, Meridith doesn't eat restaurant fries that often unless they're really fried, and these ones were, but I still got my chance at a few.

When I was a kid, I used to be impressed with the sandwiches I saw at The Rascal House in Sunny Isles, north of Miami Beach. They were huge! How could someone stack that much meat between two slices of rye bread and have it remain stable like that? What magic was there that kept the balance? And look at all that corned beef and pastrami and chopped liver! Amazing!

In my pursuit of my standard of perfect sandwiches, I'm a little incredulous now at sandwiches of that size. For Dagwood Bumstead, that size works because it's in a comic and that's his appetite. I know that there's Blondie's at Universal's Islands of Adventure, which Meridith and her friends searched for during their 8th grade end-of-the-year trip in order to try a Dagwood, but couldn't find the place. To me, that describes exactly what I think of such jumbo sandwiches: They're novelties. There comes a point when a sandwich becomes tall enough that it's more about the size than the sandwich itself. I believe attention should always be trained on a sandwich and the elements that make it so.

The Emmy is manageable with both hands, but you're just chomping into a lot of meat. The Russian dressing is slathered on both slices of bread, but never in between, I guess because to have it on any slice of the meat is to risk the balance of the reputation of sandwiches like these. One slice of meat has to cling to another. No sliding. And the Swiss cheese is only latched to the dressing on each slice of bread. Again, nothing in between, and again, just a whole lot of meat in your mouth. Stop giggling.

Fortunately, a squeeze bottle of Gulden's mustard was at our table and as my sandwich shrank, I thought to squeeze some on the meat. Oh god. If I had done it before, the sandwich would have surely fallen apart, but that combination of salty meat and Gulden's is a kind of heaven that can only exist in that moment. It counteracts the straight salt from the meat, elevating the flavors of the meat. It's as if the corned beef and pastrami stop trying to compete with each other in taste and just link arms and hum in peace. Gulden's is truly the United Nations of mustards, but more successful.

Tall sandwiches being a novelty that shouldn't be indulged in too often, I liked it in those moments of all that corned beef and all that pastrami. But separately, even though I know that's part of what Jewish delicatessens thrive on (the Carnegie Deli at the Mirage in Las Vegas does it too), it's still too much. Fortunately, the slices of rye bread at the top and bottom held really well, and that's how you know you're in a good Jewish restaurant. Rye bread needs to be strong for these sandwiches, but not too hard a crust. This worked.

The Emmy goes well above the egg salad hoagie I had from Pavilions, but probably lounges in the middle of my list. #5, I think. I'm saving the top spots for sandwiches that I'm sure will either come from Southern Nevada or New Mexico, or those cities I visit during my visits to presidential libraries. We shall see. I do know that I want to find a sandwich like The Emmy, but with some self-control, and more sandwiches that use hoagie rolls. I like the strength of those.

Changes and More Changes

Lately, I haven't written much about anything else besides The Henderson Press, my DVD reviews, my newfound, but probably long-simmering, love of sandwiches, and my new lifetime goal of reading all the Star Trek novels available. It's because over the past few weeks, up to spring break this week, Dad has been at work at La Mesa Junior High and the weekends are really when we do anything, but then it's just errands which aren't always worth writing about. I can find a story in anything, but over myriad visits to Walmart Supercenter and various supermarkets, we just know what we need to get and then we go. No real need to observe what's around me because I've seen it all before, with the long lines, the one line at the Redbox machine, kids spread around the store, whichever one we're at, and more. There's less personal value in it for me because I know all this too well. Meanwhile, once we get to Henderson, with Las Vegas nearby, I know I can flood this blog with stories for years on end. If you can't write in Las Vegas, then you should quit. I will never quit.

There was something telling today when we went out, though. The food court has begun to change in the Westfield Valencia mall. Kato Japan, which we've known for years as what we pass when we enter the mall through the food court and that we've tried once or twice, is gone. The former location has a black curtain across it. The sign has been either taken down or covered up in the same black fabric. On the second floor of the mall, right when you get off the escalator that's across from the mall's main entrance, there used to be a dog shop, with dogs in cages behind plastic windows. It closed last year and was replaced by a motorcycle accessory shop, which has also closed. On our way back to the food court from the Shops at The Patios (as the area is called), where we went to see if any new eateries had opened up before we four fully decided on the food court (Mom and Dad were waiting at the food court while we checked), Meridith and I saw that the motorcycle shop was gone, yet there were black plastic curtains covering the windows from behind, with a slight view right down the middle at the entrance. We peeked in and found that there's going to be an arcade there, and someone was inside, installing one of the machines. No pinball machines from the little I could see, but it makes sense. The only arcade in the Westfield Valencia shopping district is next to Edwards Valencia 12, called Full Tilt, and it's a sad-looking arcade, with the machines perpetually on sale, with price tags stuck to them.

My only question is: How does the mall plan to manage this? I can already sense occasional fights among teenagers, and kids hanging about for hours, so what's the plan? It's probably why I didn't see an arcade at Galleria at Sunset in Henderson. Security at the mall doesn't want the added burden of that, although kids are much more polite in Henderson than they are in Valencia. They're more genuine too.

While Meridith had a salad from Burger King, Mom a Whopper, me a Double Whopper, and Dad something from Panda Express, I noted how when we live somewhere for many years, nothing really changes in the area. And when something does, such as a furniture store being replaced by a bank, as it was next to the Sheriff's station near the mall, it's so subtle that it doesn't mean anything. But now, with the makeup of the food court changing, with two as-yet unclaimed spaces that have been boarded up for some time, with an arcade going into the mall where I'm sure no one expected one (though I'm sure the owners are going to get some good business from it), it's clear that massive changes only happen when we're getting ready to move.

Another case in point is when we went to Big Lots in Canyon Country before we went to pick up Tigger and Kitty from Precious Pets Grooming. Every single time we've gone there, from the first time to the time before this one, when Big Lots was offering 30% off items on a Sunday in early March, I've always struggled with how many DVDs and books to get, based on what interested me. I spent a lot of time each time counting books, counting DVDs, gauging my interest in every title I held. Some I kept because I absolutely needed to read it, such as Never Break the Chain: Fleetwood Mac and the Making of Rumours, and some I gave up, like Slam by Nick Hornby, because I still wanted to read A Long Way Down and wasn't ready yet for Slam. I know one doesn't lead to the other, but I've got to really want to read a book and I didn't want that one yet.

Today at Big Lots, for the first time ever, I bought nothing. I had picked up I Know I Am, But What Are You? by Samantha Bee, and That's Entertainment! III, and Michael Clayton, and carried them as I looked at an utterly devastating book section, but decided that I didn't need them so badly. I thought of watching Michael Clayton to see how Tony Gilroy is as a director before The Bourne Legacy comes out, but it doesn't matter; I'm still going to see The Bourne Legacy. Samantha Bee's book seems more like a read from a library, and I bought That's Entertainment! because of the crumbling MGM backgrounds, showing the stark reality of Hollywood, while actors like Fred Astaire and Esther Williams introduce clips. I don't think I'd find the same in That's Entertainment! III, since that came out in 1994, well after the MGM lots had been sold off, which is why they were in such a state of disrepair in the first movie. I like watching reality puncture Hollywood puffery.

That I walked through the book section--picking up one book, briefly reading the inside flap, and putting it back not five seconds after, with the process repeated a few times--without picking up anything that I really wanted to buy, shows the sorry supply at Big Lots right now. I don't know if it will change, because there were at least 10 copies of the extended two-disc set of Peter Jackson's King Kong, at least 15 copies of The Astronaut Farmer starring Billy Bob Thornton, and I lost count of how many SpongeBob DVDs I saw. No Star Trek DVDs that I had hoped to find, which was really worrisome because there was a slew of them when I wasn't looking for them three visits ago. But there were the same Star Trek figurines from the latest movie that were there last time, yet still no model of the Enterprise. Shouldn't that be part of this collection of figurines? I have no favorites among that group in the movie, but I do love that starship.

Disappointing as it was not to find one book or DVD that I just had to have, I'm happy at this development because things always change when we're getting ready to move, besides the moving part, life will change, and this time, it will be for the best and greatest, as high as those adjectives can go. It makes me wonder what else might change in this valley before we leave. It's bound to happen more and more. That's just the way it works.

Sandwich #1: Egg Salad Hoagie from Pavilions

Dad, Meridith, and I went to Sprouts and Pavilions for groceries last night since Mom has a mammogram appointment late this afternoon. In a refrigerated case near the entrance, I saw one of the "All-American Sub Sandwiches" that are on sale for $5 today. I couldn't handle that much sandwich over two days. It wouldn't have only been for me, but that thing was bigger than I thought! Whoever makes those has to have the utmost concentration so all the elements stay together. It seems like a game of Jenga! But then, that would be the Dagwood sandwich, whereas a sub sandwich sits squat.

In the Vons/Pavilions ad was a listing for hoagie sandwiches at $2.99 each. Upon seeing them next to that lone massive sub sandwich, I found that it's $2.49 each if you buy two. Not really worth it, because the "Turkey & Jack" (Monterey Jack cheese) hoagie I picked up looks like it was made without much care. I know a job's a job, and you do whatever's necessary in that job each day in order to earn the money you need to live, but one of the slices of cheese was jutting out from the middle of the sandwich, moreso than a slice of cheese usually sticks out from a sandwich. Part of the turkey looked torn, and the lettuce was haphazardly placed. I wanted to try it, but not like that. For me, a sandwich with meats and cheeses should be designed well. That was a sad design.

Then I saw an egg salad hoagie that is the exception to my personal rule because you can just glop on egg salad, making sure it's spread out evenly, or at least if there's one noticeable glop in the sandwich, it spreads out when you bite into it. I hadn't had egg salad in a while, and wanted to try this one, which included, according to the label, "chopped celery, dill pickle, and onions." Plus, I couldn't remember the last time I had a hoagie roll. It's the burly construction worker of bread. It can take a lot of punishment.

I just finished it, and the hoagie roll itself stood out to me first. If they make these things behind the deli counter and then wrap them with the price sticker and the barcode and ingredient list, then they've got a fine bread supplier. The same would be even if these sandwiches are simply shipped to the store. Obviously the expiration date is close to the date you buy the sandwich (the expiration date on mine was tomorrow, the 31st), but even so, the bread held together, no matter how long it sat in that refrigerated case until I got there, no matter that it sat in the fridge since last night until a few minutes ago. It held firm the entire time. That's bread I can respect.

Whoever made the sandwich was smart, because egg salad directly on the bottom slice of hoagie roll is going to get soggy quickly. The top slice isn't much to be concerned about. Lettuce leaves were placed on the bottom slice, then the egg salad was put on. It's elementary, and quite obvious, but important if you're not eating a sandwich right then.

The egg salad was decent, well-mixed, but though this was my first time trying it like this, I'm not fond of dill pickle in egg salad. For tang, I'll stick with mustard in egg salad. Condiments can stick out any which way they want in meat-and-cheese-based sandwiches, but I prefer a smooth egg salad.

This was a good start to my quest for great sandwiches. I'd place this one in middle territory. It's reliable for when you need something for lunch, but don't want to make it. Heaven it's not, but it does the job it's made for.

Sandwiches: The Most Personal Food

Who the hell invented the sandwich? They ought to write a book about him! - Fat sandwich eater in Barfly (1987)

Meatloaf, pasta dishes, Thai food, all kinds of cultural food, really; pizza (which can be turned into a sandwich, but doesn't count because it started as pizza), salads, they're not personal overall. There's individual recipes, and family recipes, and therefore expectations to deliver. A sandwich is private; it's all up to you. You can put meats, cheeses, toppings, vegetables, whatever you want, in a sandwich. There are suggested methods of sandwich construction so that the bread doesn't get soggy from condiments. After putting two slices of bread on a plate, separate from each other, I put cheese down first before mustard if I'm going to eat the sandwich later. I wish I had thought it to be done that way when I was in elementary school. Whenever my mom made me cream cheese and jelly with cheese, the cream cheese was on one slice of bread, the jelly on the other, and the slice of American cheese in the middle. By the time I sat down in the cafeteria for lunch, the sandwich was soggy. I've no complaints because a sandwich is a sandwich. If you eat it right away, then you can prevent that. But if later, then you've got to build defenses against a soggy sandwich. You don't want the contents of a sandwich falling on a table or in your lap.

I also remember that the times I made lunch for myself for school, I loved peanut butter and jelly. Peanut butter thick on both slices of bread, with a lot of strawberry jelly smushed in the middle, jam whenever I could get it. Good for peanut butter cravings and for sugar desires. It's why I began to get heavy without noticing it. I just figured it was part of growing. Working in his father's bakery, long before I was even a mildly dirty thought, my dad didn't think in terms of weight or health. All that chocolate, all that bread, all those cookies and cakes and other confections: Yes, yes, YES! It's why he got diabetes later on. He manages it well today.

Lately, I've developed an interest, a fascination, an obsession with the sandwich. After we settle in Henderson, I want to find a decent marinara sauce, a good butterscotch sundae, a perfect fettucine alfredo, a pastichio as wonderful, or better, than the one I had on my birthday at Athena's in Canyon Country, and a few more things I'm probably forgetting right now, but toward the top of the list is a great sandwich. Or, preferably, great sandwiches.

I stopped eating sandwiches regularly when I started losing weight back in late 2010, but I want them again. Not as regularly as before, because I want to explore. I want time in between sandwiches (most likely not more than two days), so I can appreciate the ingredients, the construction, the taste. I'm serious about my personal quest, but I'm not going to be snobbish about it. I believe that most anything can be part of a great sandwich. It depends on how you put it together, how you make the tastes of the individual ingredients blend. Bacon doesn't work alone, though my sister would surely argue that I'm wrong about that. It needs partners and contrasts. I'm not sure yet what those would be for me, but I do know I'd want mustard on a sandwich that includes bacon.

There is an irony lying in wait: How personal is a sandwich if you order it from a sandwich shop, choosing from a menu put together by others, and someone makes it for you? I think it's still personal. You chose a particular sandwich from Subway or from some truly local joint (the best kind to support) because it suits your tastes. And after it's made and you pay for it, and you either eat it right there or take it with you because it's early morning and that's your lunch for while you're at work, that sandwich is yours. It's what you want. When you sit down to eat it, it's just you and the sandwich, whereas with a meatloaf or a lasagna, it's a bigger investment. It takes more time. I believe you get closer to who you are with a sandwich.

I've come to realize over the past two months that I will never be a chef like Meridith. She's gotten enough experience that if there's a hot surface and she touches it, she doesn't feel it right away. She's done that much cooking. She jokes with me, though I know it's probably true, that she's well on her way to having asbestos fingers. She's not worried about calluses. It's part of cooking as well as she does.

When she told me that, I knew I wasn't going to reach her skill level, nor do I want to try. I'm content with reading books by food writers, articles, columns, recipes, learning about the food culture of different states and countries. I am content to limit myself to making sandwiches, because whereas ingredients meld into each other in lasagna and cakes and cookies and whatnot, ingredients in a sandwich remain staunchly themselves before being eaten. Then, bite after bite, they work together, bringing forth flavors not possible when those ingredients are on their own.

One of the few things I've liked about the supermarkets in Southern California is that in Vons and Pavilions for example, you can get freshly-made sandwiches right there at the counter. I've never tried any, but I like that the option's there, and I'm sure I can look forward to it in supermarkets in Henderson and Las Vegas. In the weekly Vons/Pavilions ad, though, in the $5 Friday section, there's "All American Sub Sandwiches," which serve 3 to 4. "Made fresh daily," it says. I plan to see what's in these sandwiches if we go on Friday. Ham or turkey or roast beef, I'm sure, but I hope they're made well. Solid construction and all. A well-made sandwich is a monument to the stomach.

It may well be a good start to my close study of the sandwich. I want to know a lot more. For now, here's links to my two favorite sites for sandwiches thus far: Scanwiches and A Sandwich a Day.

An Instead-Of Birthday

Yesterday, I had an instead-of birthday.

Instead of continuing to be frustrated with my finicky mp3 player that only ever plays half the songs I put in it, my parents and sister got me a new mp3 player, the same model, with 8 gigabytes instead of 4. You'd think it would be the space issue that prevents me from hearing all the songs I put on that player, but when I did sync songs from the computer onto the mp3 player, I'd have to give it at least an hour to put half of the songs on the mp3 player. Before our trip to Henderson in mid-January, I deleted every song from my mp3 player and started again. It took two and a half hours for over 200 songs.

This time, I have a better-made version of this mp3 player. When I transferred 204 songs from the computer, it only took 20 minutes. Much, much faster. Plus, all of them are there because after it turns on, it shows "204" under the # song that I'm on. If I'm on the 43rd song on this mp3 player, it shows "043" above "204."

My only quibble is that after I speed past 40 songs while it's paused, it doesn't skip as fast. I have to push the tiny lever to the side once, then wait a few seconds while it goes to the next song. I was annoyed with this at first, but in a way, it reminds me to appreciate the unfolding of music. I don't have to rush from song to song, even if I don't want to listen to a certain one at that very moment. Just cruise along to the next one in good time. It'll be perfect for when we go back to Las Vegas and Henderson so I can get back into the habit of just letting life flow by, as it is when we're there, and surely as it will be when we're residents.

Instead of Chronic Tacos in Saugus, I decided on Athena's in Canyon Country for two reasons. First, I looooooove feta cheese. Can't have it often because of how fattening it is, but there was the opportunity to have it in spanakopita and in pastichio. Second, Athena's has been in business for all eight years that we've lived here and probably earlier than that. No matter the state of the economy, it has lasted. And I wanted to do something different as a transition into the life we'll live in Henderson and Las Vegas.

The restaurant itself is large enough to hold a good-sized crowd, depending on how many tables are pushed together for some parties, but it fortunately doesn't have that feeling of being too crowded, too overextended. Everything there is made fresh. Mom and I ordered chicken noodle soup with our entrees, as is given, and then Meridith got the dinner salad she ordered with her quarter dark meat rotisserie chicken, and still my spanakopita had not come out. I first thought the waitress forgot about it, and then I realized that everything here is truly fresh, a rarity in the Santa Clarita Valley where factory-line creation seems common.

And oh, was it worth the wait! I'd been thinking about this ever since I first read the menu last Friday, lingering over the words "spinach cheese pie" in the appetizers section, fantasizing about spinach and feta cheese in phyllo dough. It was a triangle of pure heaven. I first reveled in such a heavenly taste, and then wondered why we hadn't tried Athena's in the eight years we've lived here. And it made sense yet again: We only discover the good places in an area just as we're about to move, which means we'll be moving soon. That's always how it happens and fortunately, we'll always have good places in Henderson and Las Vegas, without moving again.

The pastichio was layers of pasta with ground beef and cheese in between. To me, this pasta tasted lighter than what I usually experience in Italian dishes, which makes me like Greek food even more. I would like to find something like this in Las Vegas as well.

Instead of letting this only be a day of celebrating my 28th year, I still thought about my writing projects, especially my novel. While waiting for the soup, I looked out into the parking lot (we were seated next to the window that looks out on a few lanes of traffic, and from where I was sitting, I got a pretty good view of the parking lot), and saw two guys talking, one smoking, and thought about the two main characters in my novel. I watched these two guys because they seemed to have the rapport I was looking for, even though I had no idea what they were saying.

Then they came into the restaurant, took a table at the back, and a few minutes later, more family and friends belonging to a birthday party in the restaurant arrived, and so did other patrons. I liked the setting right then as I surreptitiously listened to the conversations around me without turning my head. Here was this birthday party with a lot of excited chatter, and there were those two guys at a back table, eating. One of the things I want to show in this novel is that these guys are part of society as anyone is, but they exist more on the edges of it. Where birthday parties go on, where crowds are, they stay to the side, mainly because of one's obsessed mission. At the same time I glanced at these two in the back, I also looked out at the traffic on the street next to us. I've been thinking about a truck for the road trip that these two will take, and intend to research miles per gallon on these trucks. It's not so much overkill as wanting to figure out where these two will go and how in their search.

Instead of a standard birthday cake, I went for an Oreo ice cream roll that I found at Walmart Supercenter back in late February. We got home and relaxed for a bit, letting the food settle before we had it, and it was perfect. Whenever Dad gets a frozen Claim Jumper chocolate silk pie, I usually grab the bulk of it because I love the sturdy chocolate crust and in fact, I only eat the pie for that. So to have Oreo crumbs all around and inside a roll of ice cream was definitely for me.

This was the perfect final birthday in Santa Clarita for me. It felt looser than past birthdays, I think because we know we're moving on, whereas past birthdays just signified another year here. That everything was perfect was a terrific farewell. It was the best birthday I've had here.

Lazy Dog Cafe vs. Chronic Tacos

Next Wednesday is my birthday, marking 28 years in this world, and the final time I'll have it in the Santa Clarita Valley. Meridith's birthday is the following Friday. She was born on March 23, 1989, and so our birthdays are separated by a day.

Last week, Mom reminded us to think about where we want to eat out on our birthdays. There's not a lot of reliable options for eating out in Santa Clarita. If you find a place you really like, such as the only decent Jersey Mike's in Santa Clarita located in Canyon Country, you stick with it forever and always. There's not much risk-taking here because there's not a lot of restaurants here to start with. If you really want to explore food of all kinds, you go to Los Angeles itself. But to go there involves navigating the usual freeway system that for years has looked like it was designed by a committee of cokeheads, and it takes time to get anywhere while feeling like you're getting nowhere. I don't mind taking time to get somewhere if I was in, say, New Mexico, but when you're trying to live day-to-day, you want convenience. We have it here, just not enough of it. Here, we have only two movie theaters in the entire valley, and Barnes & Noble is the only major bookstore left. The Signal, the exclusive newspaper of the Santa Clarita Valley, complains about the lack of everything when there's nothing to legitimately complain about in the opinion section, but nothing will get done. No businesses that would be useful here will come here because despite its growth, Santa Clarita still has a limited population and not a lot of tourists, whereas Los Angeles sees to everybody, tourists included. If you're going to deal with the same California taxes wherever you go, Los Angeles is your best bet to park your business. It's why this valley is what it has been for all these years, devoid of anything that could distinguish it interesting to visit or even live in, where the only truly interesting part is Six Flags Magic Mountain, and that's its own property, surrounded by nothing else of this valley.

So with all this, food choices aren't promising enough for exploration. That's why for my birthday, I'm sticking to standards. And I'm not sure which standard yet. I've narrowed my choices down to Lazy Dog Cafe or Chronic Tacos. At Lazy Dog Cafe, they allow dogs in the outside seating, yet the inside feels like you're not important enough to be there. No velvet rope, but just an air of superiority, where successful real estate agents go to laugh wildly and get hammered at the wide bar in the back and watch sports. It's a fake rustic setting, but it doesn't matter much because the food is why it's on my list. They've got a grilled cheese there made up of cheddar, gouda and jack cheeses, all melted together on parmesan sourdough toast. One bite of that and you wonder why we have diets. Yet the last time I had the sandwich, I was deep into my mental prison in late summer 2010 after that anxiety attack in Las Vegas brought on by being overweight and ingesting way too much caffeine, so I didn't enjoy it as much. I wasn't sure what was wrong with me, knew there was something was wrong with me, but too freaked out by what was wrong with me to do anything about it. It's one summer I'm glad to forget, but am also a tiny bit grateful for, because I figured out what my priorities were, that I had to take care of myself again and did it. And I became stronger from it.

Going back to Lazy Dog Cafe wouldn't trigger any of those memories. I'm never disturbed by thinking about the past. But I'm not sure if that's where I want to spend my birthday. The grilled cheese is incredible, but that should not be the only reason I go. I want to go where I feel like I can be me. Then I think about Chronic Tacos in Saugus, close to our house.

We've been there so many times and it has been my lifeline for quesadillas, first for chicken-and-cheese quesadillas, then just cheese after I lost 60 pounds and wanted to keep it that way. They have flatscreen TVs on that show some extreme sports channel that doesn't interest me regularly, but it's still amazing to watch surfers ride those waves and off-roaders going fast enough to flip any mere mortal over and over down a mountainside.

Most important to me at Chronic Tacos is that the people behind the counter know not only how to make the quesadillas and burritos and tortas and other items very well, but they also care enough to do it right. It doesn't matter who you are; they take your money equally. There's a digital-screen Coke machine in the back where you tap the screen to indicate what you want to drink (heck of a lot of choices, including Vanilla Coke), and then press the large silver button in the middle of the machine, and your drink comes out of the spigot.

That quesadilla. Oh that beautiful, beautiful quesadilla. Cheese goes on the tortilla, the guy behind the counter closes it up, puts it on the large industrial-looking grill, and closes the lid, moving on to the next order and then taking out the quesadilla about two minutes later. It's brown on all sides, the cheese always melted perfectly. I've known a lot of quesadillas, since it's one of my favorite foods, and Chronic Tacos has always produced ones that rank consistently at the top of my list of great quesadillas.

Then it got even better in early January when we went to Chronic Tacos yet again and I found out that they were offering breakfast burritos, quesadillas, and tacos. The quesadillas had eggs and potatoes in them, with a choice of bacon, chorizo, veggie, or machaca, which is shredded beef, grilled onions, and tomatoes. I chose chorizo, since I love its slight spiciness.

We sat down at a table near the door, and I remember that an episode of The Simpsons was on, and the family had gotten sick from a new environmentally-friendly burger at Krustyburger. I laughed out loud, right there at the table, when Homer puked in Lisa's saxophone. There was no sound from the TV, but you could tell pretty well what was going on. I think one or two people looked up when I laughed, but it didn't matter. I had a breakfast quesadilla in front of me (they serve it all day), and it was incredible. It was grease done right. It was so satisfying and went down so easily. Normally, what you eat in Santa Clarita doesn't matter a great deal. You only do it in order to live, as is expected with eating. But this was the one time I remember truly enjoying something I was eating. That's what food should be as much as possible. This is the rare place where it happens. Plus, that episode of The Simpsons was a bonus.

Chronic Tacos has always exuded that feeling that you can come right in, order what you want, and be guaranteed a pleasing experience. It doesn't matter who you are; everyone's welcome. I think it's where I want to go for my birthday, but it just amazes me that there aren't more eateries in this valley like this one. It's like everything else, though. If you want to do anything interesting, eat out at anywhere interesting, shop at anywhere interesting, you have to leave this valley. Always. But at least Chronic Tacos stands for always doing interesting things with Mexican fast food in a valley that could use more interesting things. I'll use it as my transition from here to Henderson, because what Chronic Tacos has in its food, in its way of doing business, is multiplied thousands of times over there, and most of the time even more creatively. It helps remind me of what I can look forward to over there.

Lent: My Favorite Unaffiliated Holiday of the Year

With Manheim Steamroller's Deck the Halls, A Charlie Brown Christmas, egg nog, and actually watching A Space Ghost Christmas in season, you'd think Christmas would be my favorite unaffiliated holiday. Surprisingly, it's not. Lent is my favorite, for one reason: Fish.

On Fridays, the Christians that observe Lent don't eat meat. Therefore, there's fish. My mom likes the Filet-O-Fish at McDonald's, and they lower the price that day, and also offer a double Filet-O-Fish, two patties on one bun.

I eat as little red meat as I can nowadays (it's part of what caused me to gain a lot of weight over the years before I finally decided to do something about it late in 2010), and I like chicken well enough, but if there's the chance to have fish, I grab it. I love the light, clear taste of most fish, getting closer to the water in a way. I've no fear of it, but I could never do what fishermen do. I'm always in awe, and appreciative, of their efforts. But most of all, I love the variety of it. Haddock. Salmon. Cod. Pollock. Tuna. And I'm sure there's a lot of others I haven't tried yet.

Lent works for me because of such offerings as the one I found in the Vons/Pavlions ad for this week of what's on sale, and what's items are their $5 Friday deals. Last week's $5 Friday listings included five-piece battered fish. Alaska pollock, I'm sure. I like it, though, and don't mind having it more often than other fish (I do miss the salmon at Sprouts Farmers Market, which was salmon at its best, but I guess that store in Valencia isn't making as much profit, because the latest salmon pieces look worse than what there was before). We didn't go to Pavilions last week because Dad and Meridith got home late after a phone interview Dad had to do from school, since the company interviewing him rescheduled it on the day and he couldn't get home in time to do it from here. It was ridiculous for him to come home and then go back out about half an hour later. The battered fish, if it was there next week, could wait.

It's in the $5 Friday listings again this week, thanks to Lent, and we're going to pick up a few things from Pavilions, including spare quarts of Silk Very Vanilla soymilk, Silk dark chocolate almondmilk, and Silk Mixed Berry Fruit & Protein. I haven't had the latter in two months because of the outrageous price at Walmart, and there's a coupon in the Pavilions circular for three quarts of any Silks, and hopefully we can use the separate Vons coupon that gives $1 off any Fruit & Protein.

So I get to try that battered fish, and Meridith gets what she wants too: 8-piece dark meat fried chicken for $4.99. She doesn't have fried chicken very often, but when she does, she loves dark meat the most.

In Las Vegas and Henderson, I want to find, so far, a decent marinara sauce, the best covered fries, and an oh-my-god-I-can't-believe-I'm-alive-for-this! butterscotch sauce. I'm adding fish to that list, more fish to try. I can't wait to see what Lent is like over there.

The Family-Without-Electricity Club Forms and Disbands in the Same Day

I don't wanna get up. Maybe she won't call, like last time.

I went to bed a few minutes before 3:30 this morning. I have to be in front of the computer by 8 for a phone interview with actress/singer Andrea Marcovicci, who played Russian Olympian Alicia Rogov in The Concorde: Airport '79. It's 7:45. Her assistant originally set up the interview for this past Monday morning at 9. Ms. Marcovicci didn't call, and her assistant apologized by e-mail later.

I actually wouldn't mind if she didn't call this time either because I want to get back to sleep. But I have to do this because her assistant offered no other time in the forseeable future, citing a tight schedule. I learn later that that's not Hollywoodspeak. It's actually a tight schedule.

I should have gone to bed earlier. I wish I didn't feel like I'm trying to pull my face from a puddle of glue. But last week, Southern California Edison sent a notice that the power would be shut off from 9 a.m. to 4 p.m., to ease the load on the system and to hopefully prevent rolling blackouts during the summer. Or something like that. An electric company's reasoning is like trying to figure out the true motivation behind Scientology.

Therefore, the 9 a.m. time I requested for this interview, which was rejected, would not have worked anyway. Mom suggested last night that I print out my questions and have a notepad handy just in case the power cuts out during the interview. I took that precaution, but hope I won't need it because I can type interview answers much faster than writing them.

I finally get out of bed. Bathroom. Teeth. I'm still a little tired, but I know I'll feel the effect of a little over four hours' sleep later. I wanted Cheerios soaked in Silk Very Vanilla soymilk as usual, but it's 7:56. No time. Just a banana. At least it's hefty in the stomach.

I sit down at the computer, with printed questions, notepad and pen in front of me. I stick my flash drive into a port at the bottom of the computer, open my "Questions for Andrea Marcovicci" Word file, and make sure I have all the questions I want to ask her, especially about filming in the Concorde set on stage 12 at Universal.

The phone rings. It's 8:06.

"Rory?"

"Yes, that's me."

"It's Andrea Marcovicci."

"Yes; I know that very well." (I don't tell her that her name appeared on the Caller ID at the computer, but I know the voice well enough to be able to recognize it without a Caller ID, before she said her name.)

Regretting McCambridge

When Ms. Marcovicci didn't call that Monday morning, I was worried that I was going to interview someone who was full of herself, only giving time to me because she ought to throw some peanuts sometimes. Her assistant gave me the impression that that's who I might be talking to, because she was firm in her approach, and I worried that requesting another time, if I had to, would make me persona non grata. You form your impressions, right or wrong, from the experience you have at the start.

I was totally wrong.

Ms. Marcovicci begins the conversation with an apology for not calling on Monday morning, telling me that she was involved with something else, and said I probably wouldn't want to know about why she hadn't called. Yeah, I would like to know. After all, I don't interview singers every day. But I don't press. I don't think it would be polite.

For 20 minutes, Ms. Marcovicci is as I imagine her singing must be. She's playful, laughing many times throughout while remembering what she deems "the worst Airport movie." She had hoped The Concorde: Airport '79 would make her a more well-known actress, just like director David Lowell Rich hoped that this would lead to more features for him. Neither happened.

Her biggest regret of '79 is not paying attention to Mercedes McCambridge, who played Nelli, Alicia's minder. She says she was a "young pup," "and kind of scatterbrained at the time and not as appreciative of her as I should have been." She understands now that that's why McCambridge was "relatively impatient with me and harsh to me."

Then, Ms. Marcovicci gives me the information I was jonesing for, about the Concorde set itself, and what the crew did to help simulate the plane being upside down and depressurized. I'm saving all that for the book, but it represents fully what I'm looking to do with this book. Ms. Marcovicci also expresses great pleasure at my idea, saying that fans of these movies would certainly want to know all about them, as well as disaster movie fans and others. Genuine delight.

At the end of the interview, she has time for only one or two more questions. I skip the one asking about her on the set at the end of the movie after the Concorde lands under snow in the mountains because in describing the scene to her before, despite appearing onscreen, she says she doesn't remember it. She trusts me, a fan, though. I ask her about working with indie director Henry Jaglom on two films, admiring his tenaciousness in filmmaking, and I ask about her experience working with the late Martin Ritt on The Front, Ritt being one of my favorite directors. Great admiration for him.

Earlier in the interview, she reveals something stunning to me in passing while talking about the filming: She's great friends with Susan Blakely, who played Maggie Whelan. My final question to her is a request for her to pass along my contact information to Blakely, since I couldn't find any contact information on her online, nor an agent's contact information, and an e-mail to her husband's PR firm bounced back with "unauthorized mail is prohibited." I was going to call the firm directly, but available interviews come first, and I've got a few more to do at the moment.

Ms. Marcovicci tells me she'll let Ms. Blakely know about me and my project right away. How she does it, I don't know, but I trust she will. She warns me that once Blakely gets on the phone, she doesn't stop talking. It suits me. Blakely was on the Concorde set and filmed scenes in Paris and Washington, D.C., so she could be one of the greatest resources I'll have about the making of '79, besides Peter Rich, the son of the late David Lowell Rich. Plus, on the Concorde after the final depressurization from the device that opened the cargo door in flight, she was involved in one of the main special effects, in a section of the floor bursting below her, creating a hole through which shots of the snow-covered mountain can be seen. I want to know how they did that and what they told her it would involve. I hope she contacts me. With the backing of Ms. Marcovicci, how could she not? I've no doubt she'll play up the uniqueness of this project to Ms. Blakely.

That was the end of the interview, and after saying goodbye and hanging up, I look up Ms. Marcovicci's tour schedule, finding that she's performing on March 14 and 15 in West Hollywood, and for two dates in April at the brand-new Smith Center in Las Vegas. I immediately e-mail her assistant, mentioning that my family and I are planning to move to Henderson, expressing my disappointment that I probably won't be able to go to either show, and asking her to convey my sincerest hope to Ms. Marcovicci that she'll return to the Smith Center in the years to come. Also in April, I'm missing a Gershwin concert performed by the Las Vegas Philharmonic at Smith Center, so I'm hoping that the Philharmonic will have another concert of that next season.

One Book Out, Another Book In

A few minutes after 9:30, the power goes out. Expected, but it means that we can't open the fridge. Therefore, warm water bottles and lunch will have to come from whatever's in the cabinets and on the counter near the stove. I still need to eat more for breakfast, but since I don't want to open the fridge to get the Silk milk, I settle for another banana and a Quaker oatmeal raisin granola bar. It's lucky I made Mom some tea before the power went out, because our hot water dispenser in the kitchen runs on electricity.

Suppose I had a Kindle that needed to be charged and I forgot to do it the night before, remembering to do it today, but the power being out, I can't for all of the morning and most of the afternoon. This is one reason I will never get one, but also because I love real books. And it's better just to open one up instead of waiting for a Kindle to turn on (which I imagine doesn't take long), and then going through the menu, finding what I want to read, and there's the book, but flat on that screen. Too impersonal for me.

Yesterday, I received a book in the mail called How Pleasure Works by Paul Bloom, positing that pleasure goes much deeper than simply having favorite foods and favorite music and favorite activities, and setting out to explain it. I had been thinking of other books in my room that I wanted to read, but with a title like that, and my love of pleasure, I opened it right away. But

Today, I read it more slowly than I usually read, which is a sign that it wasn't as interesting to me as I had hoped. Bloom presents many timely examples and shows that he's hip to pop culture without sounding like he's overreaching, but the apparent science he explains began to bore me. I make it to page 93 and put it in the Goodwill box. With how many books I have in my room, and how much I want to read throughout my life, I can't waste time on a book that isn't working for me. I don't have a set number of pages I adhere to before I give up on a book, but I try to give more of a chance to a book that has a topic that interests me, such as this one.

I go back to my room to look for my next book, remembering the Charles Kuralt books I want to read, including his memoir, A Life on the Road. But then, On Gratitude shoves the Kuralt books out of my thoughts. It's interviews Todd Aaron Jensen conducted with celebrities about what they're grateful for in life, what gratitude means to them, and it delves into parts of their careers and what they love in their lives. The list includes Jeff Bridges, Ray Bradbury, Elmore Leonard, Morgan Freeman, Hugh Laurie, Ben Kingsley, and Francis Ford Coppola. Some interviews were conducted by phone, others in person, and you can easily tell which were which. It's also my kind of book because it delves into pleasure in different ways, and I open it up, and judging by the speed at which I'm reading, I know I'm devouring it gleefully. It works for me.

While reading, I find such peacefulness without the humming of electricity, the refrigerator keeping cool, the TV on, and I know the refrigerator's functions are necessary, but I really like this for today. Meridith pulls out the radio that Mom has on when she takes a shower and tunes it to KUSC 91.5, Los Angeles' classical music station. I can listen to classical music like this, and did when I was a kid. But put me in an auditorium with an orchestra performing pieces from various composers, and I am deathly bored. I can't sit there and listen to it like that. I would make an exception for Gershwin, but I generally can't do it for other composers. Maybe I should, though, just to see if anything's changed since I attended a classical music concert as extra credit for a music class at the Pembroke Pines campus of Broward Community College. I could imagine it in my mind as my own Fantasia, thinking up my own images. It might help. I want to support the Las Vegas Philharmonic after I become a resident, and actually, if they have a Schubert concert, I would go to that. The sitcom Wings uses a piece of his in the opening credits, and that's how I first heard of him and wanted to hear more of his music, because I love that fluttering piano sound.

This works so wonderfully: A book and classical music on the radio. No TV. No Internet. I can't keep myself from spending hours on the computer, since I'm working on my book, but I want to scale back the hours and do things like this. I am, in some respect, reading a lot more in past months. But more, more, more. I do have a radio in my room, and I'm sure I can get 91.5 on there. Mom can't get any radio stations in her room; such is the injustice of hillsides and mountains. She's excited about moving to Henderson for many reasons, the greatest being moving out of Santa Clarita, but the second reason would be that she can have radio stations again. Complete flatlands in Las Vegas and Henderson. None of the seven or eight different climate zones that Southern California is known for, separated by mountains. And no radio signals getting cut off because of the mountains.

The First Time in a Long Time for Lunchtime

At 1:07, Mom, Meridith and I decide to have lunch, which is most unusual because while Meridith has been at work since the beginning of the new school semester, I eat at about 1:30, and Mom eats after she gets off the computer. Quick, simple, and after, I can get back to reading.

Since Bella, the woman Meridith was subbing for in the school kitchen, came back, and Meridith's home, it's back to eating together at lunch, at least this time. Otherwise, if the electricity had been on, I think Mom would have been on the computer a bit longer.

Lunch is for peanut butter and strawberry jam sandwiches for Mom and Meridith, a peanut butter and honey sandwich for me (My first time trying one, since I usually have peanut butter and honey on a Quaker rice cake (there is a difference. Store brands of rice cakes are never as good)), bagged movie theater-style popcorn, Andy Capp hot fries (made of corn and potato), and then for dessert, a banana for me and a banana for Mom, a Rice Krispies Treat for me, and apple slices for Meridith with honey. As simple a lunch as you can find with a power outage.

I always enjoy the company. And the cordless radio sits in a pottery bowl Meridith made in high school, still tuned to the classical music station, so it's my kind of afternoon. I'm not sure why I stopped listening to classical music, but it might have been that concert for extra credit that caused my interest to waver. It shouldn't have. Listening to classical music on the radio, you can read and do other things while it's playing. Nothing stops you. I do listen to ambient and chill music, so maybe it's an evolution for me since those kinds of music involve instrumentals as well. Perhaps it was an evolution of my interest in classical music. But rediscovering Gershwin, and developing an interest in Schubert, I think I'm going to go back to it and try again. I fondly remember listening to 93.1 in South Florida when it was a classical music station. It shouldn't be difficult to get back into it. I'm going to need a lot of music when I finally begin writing this book, so I'll explore now and see what suits me besides Gershwin and Schubert, but giving more attention to them because I haven't heard all their works yet.

This works. Not all the time, but these hours without electricity, this book, this music, this company, and the wisps of good feeling from that interview with Andrea Marcovicci, it all comes together to provide an afternoon that usually only happens on Friday, a feeling of contentment, of the universe having aligned. You might think a feeling of contentment couldn't happen here in the Santa Clarita Valley what with how many times I've railed against various facets of it, but I mean internal contentment. I have books, and music, and there was lunch with Mom and Meridith, so I'm feeling good. External contentment will come after we move, but as long as I have books and exploration of music, I can exist well here until we move, because I know that day will be coming soon.

Lunch is over and I go back to the couch to continue reading On Gratitude. Near 2:30, the power comes back on, and I'm on page 126. 235 pages are in this book, not counting the index. 109 pages to go. This book works for me.

I go on the computer to see if anything interesting has come to my inbox, if Ms. Marcovicci's assistant has replied to my e-mail of deepest thanks, and if Rebecca Wright of Movie Gazette Online has forwarded any new press releases, asking us three writers if any of the titles in those press releases interest us. Nothing new. Since I can be choosier about what I review, I wasn't disappointed. This time, I've got to really feel that I want to review something, that I can write something hopefully worthwhile. I've got ideas for my first three reviews, now including the final season of Adam-12, that I want to try, and see where they go. It's quite different from when I wrote review after review of completely independent movies and inevitably wasn't interested in a few of them but I reviewed them anyway.

With nothing else to do on the computer for now, I give it to Meridith, who hasn't had the chance to use it during the day because she's been at work. I turn on the Tivo and play one of the episodes she has of The Chew, four days' worth built up, without today's episode because it didn't record. Power outages do that.

Every Friday, with that feeling of contentment, I tell myself that I want to feel that all the time. I don't want it to be limited to Fridays. I want this feeling all the time, too, of being at peace, of enjoying myself like this, with books and classical music and all the other music I love. I'm going to lasso this feeling and have it with me all the time. A continuous atmosphere like this would lend itself to much creativity. That's what I need when I begin writing this book, and I'm going to have it. This is the type of day to have every day, interviews with singers or not.

Another Instance of Being a Consumer Magnet?

Dad and Meridith had the day off from work today, a furlough day, meaning neither of them get paid. It's California's futile way of trying to save money in the budget that may have been there in the years that California was in good financial standing, but I always got the sense that this state has the habit of spending too much too fast. This is the result.

I'll never understand furlough days because if you're hired to do a job, and you do it well, you expect to be paid. That's what a job is. I always get this feeling that if I tried to dig further for the reasoning behind this, I'll end up with Rod Serling sitting next to me, telling me to take it easy and that it'll all work out.

Anyway, we went on a few errands in the early evening, sans Mom since she wanted to rest today. After the 99.99.999.9999 Cents Only store, we stopped in Sprouts for bananas, bagged spinach, and my favorite fat-free lemon chiffon yogurt from Cascade Fresh.

I've been hooked on this yogurt for a few months now. It doesn't have a this-is-so-obviously-a-manufactured-taste to it. Lemon puree is mixed into this yogurt, along with a few very tiny lemon pieces. When I started buying this yogurt regularly, the row for it in the yogurt section was always stocked, alongside Cascade Fresh's blueberry, strawberry, cherry, and vanilla yogurts, and others of the same brand that I barely glance at when I'm getting my yogurt.

Today, just like last Friday, the row of lemon chiffon yogurts was nearly empty. I don't think I can chalk this up to it not being replenished fast enough because all the other Cascade Fresh yogurts are sitting there, fully stocked. I had to reach way in the back to get two of them. And my arm had plenty of room to reach for them.

It's been gradual. The first few times I got this yogurt, there was always enough for me to grab, and then every time after, a little less and then a little less, and still a little less. I hope it's not an instance of Sprouts phasing this one out because it doesn't sell well. I'd say an empty row like that shows that it's selling very well. And I think I may be doing my part as a consumer magnet again. Never mind that it's fat-free, as there are a few other Cascade Fresh flavors sold there that are also fat-free. I have a feeling other shoppers have picked up on what I love about it.

It doesn't look like the company is giving up on the flavor either. It's still listed on its website, and I found out that it's also available in a 32oz. container. Sprouts has Cascade Fresh's 32oz. containers of blueberry and strawberry fat-free yogurts, and I wish they'd stock the 32oz. containers of lemon chiffon. An empty row like that should indicate that they should sell it. I'm hoping a supermarket or two or more in Henderson has thought of this. I need this over there too.

This is the only time I ever think about those who might have bought my favorite yogurt. Dieters, I'm sure, and people who like the tart flavor of lemon. It doesn't say anything about those who do because there is a sweetness along with the tart. It's a double-sided yogurt. The calorie count has to attract a few others as well, with 110 of them per serving. That's another reason it attracts me, since I have it as part of my lunch.

It'll be interesting to see what next Friday brings, now that I'm really paying attention to this.

[Note, again: I wasn't paid by Cascade Fresh for this post. I get enough out of their yogurt as it is. But looking at this, and my entry from Thursday, I clearly need to move on to another topic before I begin extolling the subtle complexities of Kleenex. Luckily, I have no idea what those might be. But there may be something in the yearly frustration of peeling the foil from refrigerated Cadbury Creme Eggs and then having to fingernail-scrape the pieces that remain stuck on the shell. It's that time of year again. I've just gone through it.]

Anatomy of a Starkist Lunch Kit

Walk with me into a mostly empty Walmart Supercenter a little while before it begins to get crowded on a Saturday afternoon. There's one or two people looking at produce. Two or three people are in the clothing section. You can't see how many people are in the health and beauty aisles because we entered closest to the food aisles, but there's probably four or five people there, spread out amongst those aisles.

We'll go into the cereal aisle because it's one of the widest in this part of the store. In a second, you're going to see one of three things happen: A few people are going to pass by one end of the aisle, or a few people are going to pass by the other end of the aisle, or a few people are going to come into this aisle that you didn't think this store had right now what with how empty it looked when we walked in.

It's not you. It's me. It's always been me, or, rather, me and my family. We always attract people. The line's been empty at Chronic Taco and we walk in to order, and as we do, six people walk in behind us. We take an empty checkout lane at Ralphs or Pavilions or Sprouts or Trader Joe's (which doesn't seem possible because it is Trader Joe's after all), and three or four people line up behind us with their carts. I don't know why this happens. I don't mind it, but do we have something in our personalities that people sense as something good to be near? It's never that other checkout lanes are crowded. There's a few open at a time. But they always line up behind us. It's not coincidental. It happened when we were in Henderson too. I bought a toy food truck at Smith's (hot dogs, burgers, and sodas, with four little hot dogs lined up on one counter, three drinks lined up on the other counter, and two burgers and fries lined up on the back counter), and three people lined up behind us to check out. In fact, I said to Mom and Dad that we could go to the Strip at that very moment, and help Las Vegas's economy recover quickly. I would have suggested testing it, but we had a lot to do in Henderson. But I do think the Henderson economy benefited from us visiting.

I don't seek this. It just comes. And I don't mind it, except when it impinges on what I like to eat.

Last Saturday, we went to the Walmart Supercenter on Carl Boyer Drive to do some food shopping, and I remembered that I needed the Starkist chunk light tuna salad pouches that I like for lunch during the week. In the tuna aisle, I found a crowd (though not caused by me or Mom or Dad or Meridith), and none of the pouches. They'd all been taken, along with what seemed like all the Starkist chunk light cans.

It's a sign of the economy, I know. People are looking to get protein more cheaply. I also know that this Walmart doesn't restock quickly, but on a Saturday afternoon, this was inexcusable.

I kept looking through the shelves, hoping that the regular chunk light Starkist pouches I found might also have a few tuna salad pouches. Nothing. Meridith dug through the bottom shelf and found a few of the chunk light cans, so that was a relief since I needed more and I was not going to go without tuna in any form.

Mom then saw the lunch kits Starkist has. The tuna salad pouches are in there, sealed with a smaller foil pouch of crackers, a napkin, a spoon, and a mint. Nearly $2 for this, so I took one since I wanted at least one pouch.

I had the kit today, putting the tuna salad pouch in the fridge after breakfast because I wanted it to be cold, and I really want to know what the thought process was in putting this together. Because whoever did, whether it was one person with a marker and a dry erase board, or a group of people that should be paid more because they deserve it, really knows lunch.

During the week, breakfast gets the body going. Cereal, juice, toast, fruit, a quick egg concoction, whatever it is, it makes you more awake than you already are and pushes you to the entrance of the day ahead.

I've always seen dinner as the heaviest meal of the day, with more time to experiment, order takeout, try a new recipe, or just heat something up in the microwave. There's usually nothing pressing that comes after dinner, so there is that ease of going for what you want, even if it's a few hundred extra calories.

Lunch is that bridge between both. You have to eat, and if you're at work, you have either 30 minutes, 45 minutes, or an hour for it. It can't be too heavy because you have to go through the rest of your workday, nor can it be too light because your stomach's going to distract you from your work.

The Starkist lunch kit knows that balance. There's the protein in the tuna, some grain in the crackers, and I guess a little sweetness in the mint, though I wish they'd change that. A mint is not an entirely neutral candy. I don't like mint, but if they changed it to a butterscotch candy, which I like, not everyone likes butterscotch. Easy to see that you can't rely on a decent dessert with this kit, but that's probably not the point. The point is the convenience of lunch in such a lightweight kit.

The tuna salad is as I've always known it to be, with bits of water chestnuts to give it crunch. Open the cracker pouch and you'll find that they've got a plastic compartment of their own, six crackers sitting in two stacks of three next to each other. The little plastic tray is as flimsy as it gets, in keeping with the correct belief that lunch isn't about deep concentration. You have to eat and move on.

The plastic spoon, which has an opaque smoky look when you peek through it, and the napkin are why I wonder about who decided what to put in this package, namely because I want to know who made the napkin and the spoon. The napkin is exactly what you'd expect a lunchtime napkin to be. It'll pick up a little mess, but not everything, because that's all anyone really expects to make at lunch. The spoon is not the kind of clear plastic that'll snap if you bend it back far enough. When you bend the spoon back far enough, the handle bends with it.

I really want to know how much thought was put into this, if lunch habits were studied, and how many meetings went into creating this kit for production. I don't think Starkist would ever tell me, but they accurately pinpointed the feeling of lunch with this kit. My sole beef remains with the mint, but not only because I don't like mints. Open the blue foil and you'll find a blue mint trying so hard to become a teal color. It looks like a sample toilet freshener, too small to use for an actual toilet, but the same kind of shape. Meridith said that this kit used to have a striped mint, which seems more appropriate for this, but it looks like they wanted to keep with the blue the packaging has.

Having only bought the kit for the tuna salad pouch, I wouldn't buy it often. I never have crackers with tuna. I only eat the tuna, either out of the pouch or the can, and then I usually have a rice cake with peanut butter after. But Starkist is doing something right. I never thought any company thought hard about lunch beyond providing the necessary products for it, but here is proof.

[Note: Starkist didn't pay me in any way for this entry, nor provide a coupon to get the kit for free. This was all me, another example of how my mind will go anywhere for a topic.]