Tragic Sandwich

  • How to Mommy Blog

    That title should probably have a question mark at the end of it, because this isn’t an advice post. I’m too new at this topic to give advice (eh, like that stops me anywhere else). Instead, this is a post about my thought process regarding Baguette and blogging.

    Baguette has no idea that I blog. I could post every day about everything she does, and she’d be none the wiser–she’s 15 months old. But someday she’ll be older, and she–and her friends–will be able to read. And surf the web.

    With that in mind, I’m trying not to post things that I think will someday be embarrassing to her. Yes, I realize the time will come when my very existence will be embarrassing. But why provide fuel for that fire?

    That’s why, for now, I’m only posting photos that don’t show her face. I don’t know how I feel about posting photos of her on the blog, because it’s public, and maybe several years from now she’ll be mad that I did that. I figure that photos of her back still give her that privacy. I’m not doing this out of a sense of safety–I don’t think predators go looking at random blogs thinking, “Maybe this one called ‘Tragic Sandwich’ will include photos of a small child.” But I do think she’s entitled to a measure of privacy.

    So please bear with me as I figure out how to write about her, and parenting, and our lives. Hopefully I’ll manage to pull all of that together in a way that is moderately entertaining.

  • Beach Blanket Baguette, Part 2

    So, what did we eat during our trip to Santa Barbara? Well, Baguette ate her usual array of dried fruits, Kix, and Wheat Thins, plus whatever seemed appealing from our plates. Our Motel 6 turned out to be very conveniently located; a host of restaurant options are found nearby. Our first meal was at Denny’s, largely to provide a grouchy, sick-of-the-car Baguette with an easy setting. After that, though, we avoided national chains (well, we did make daily trips to the corner 7-11 for milk) for local spots.

    On Sunday morning, Max’s Restaurant provided me with an excellent omelet, and all I had to do was cross the street. And while I’m not generally a fan of homestyle potatoes, these were excellent. I stopped in at Vices & Spices for a latte–great name, cute shop, good service, weak latte. Apparently their chai tea lattes are good; I’d have ordered that if I’d read the reviews first. An early dinner next door at Madam Lu featured chicken with black bean sauce and chicken chow fun–both fairly basic (although the black bean sauce had a bit of a kick to it) but tasty. As it turns out, Baguette was just fine with a bit of a kick to her black bean sauce.

    On Monday we walked half a block to Farmer Boy, where I rediscovered my mixed feelings about buckwheat pancakes. However, this is exactly the kind of local place we like–the patrons clearly are regulars, but everyone was very welcoming. We liked it so much we went back on Wednesday. Lunch came from the touristy but still worthwhile Pea Soup Anderson’s in Buellton. While the pea soup is vegetarian, the Monte Cristo was not. Neither was the vanilla milk shake, which seemed to be a glass full of soft-serve ice cream–decadent, but tasty. We spent the evening with cousins who live in the area, where we had delightful conversation and a delicious Indonesian dish featuring chicken in peanut sauce served with shrimp and rice. Their dog was a big hit with Baguette; naturally, she called him “Wicket” all evening, and was much better at remembering the meaning of “gentle” than she is with the actual Wicket.

    One day later and half a block in the other direction, Jeannine’s Bakery provided us with a breakfast of salmon hash and ham-and-swiss frittata. The coffee was great, and I wanted to eat every pastry in sight–they all looked amazing. For dinner, we did eat at one other chain; after our trip to the beach, we were hungry in a way that only a burger from The Habit could satisfy.

    We had thought we’d try to find some Santa Maria-style bar-b-que, since we weren’t that far from Santa Maria. Although nothing from that particular specialty emerged, we did stop by Killer B’s for pulled pork, brisket, and chicken. Our verdict? Food B+; Service C. Late that evening, Rusty’s Pizza Parlor provided us with the casual, customized meal we were looking for (I like thin crusts; Mr. Sandwich prefers pan pizza), complete with a back room illustrated by Frank Webb. If you don’t know who Frank Webb was, he’s the guy who published step-by-step drawings of faces based on letters of the alphabet–and created the original concept drawings of Disney’s Goofy.

    On Thursday morning, we consulted Yelp and made our way to Garrett’s Old Fashion Restaurant. As advertised, the blueberry pancakes were excellent, and so was the service. We sat outside, to minimize the effects of a mercurial 15-month-old on other patrons, and our waiter made us feel like the most important table he was serving. That evening we joined friends at The Brewhouse, a local brewery and restaurant. I had an apricot wheat ale, and Mr. Sandwich and I each ordered wiener schnitzel. It turned out to be crispy, tender, and flavorful–and Baguette spent much of the evening working on her own piece (when she wasn’t petting the gentle pit bull she insisted on calling “Wicket.”)

    Friday morning found us at Cody’s Cafe in Goleta, where the pork chili verde omelet is excellent. Even Baguette liked the slightly spicy salsa verde in which the meat had been simmered; I’m going to have to try this at home. For dinner, we had Santa Maria-style tri-tip at Woody’s; this visit pretty much convinced me that I’m underwhelmed by tri-tip. It just doesn’t seem to be a cut with much flavor, and I like beef to have flavor. Call me crazy.

    We wrapped up our trip with one more breakfast at Farmer Boy, followed by a chicken gyro at the Santa Barbara Greek Festival. My conclusion: the chicken gyro was just fine, although not as good as a regular gyro. On the other hand, the line was a lot shorter. So I figure we came out ahead.

    On the whole, food in Santa Barbara is worth stopping for. There are a lot of options beyond the usual fast food restaurants–and that’s good, because (a) fast food restaurants are kind of boring, and (b) they’re also not always that easy to find in Santa Barbara due to regulations on signage. So take your smartphone, and eat up.

  • Beach Blanket Baguette, Part 1

    It’s been a long time since the Sandwiches had a real vacation–and, technically speaking, this was Baguette’s first. Yes, we’ve gone out of town to visit family, but we’ve also stayed with them, so there’s been a bit of a safety net. After some discussion (consisting in early stages of “Hey, did you want to go somewhere this summer?”) and some rudimentary budgeting (consisting largely of “It costs how much to fly to Kauai this year?”), we settled on Santa Barbara.

    Next up: Where to stay. Unfortunately, the condos in our price range were not available in our date range, which meant that we needed to find a hotel. Motel 6 to the rescue! I’ve never stayed in a Microtel, but this is what I’ve imagined those are like: tiny, with the basics (although this room does have a surprisingly large bathroom, all things considered). But it’s clean and mostly in our price range, so here we are. And on the whole, it’s been a good base of operations. So what have we done from this base?

    The Santa Barbara Zoo is just off the 101, close to the ocean, and home to the first capybara I’ve ever seen. Unless you count the ROUSes from The Princess Bride, of course.

    Bridlewood Estate Winery features not just a few racehorses, but also one of the few chardonnays I’ve actually enjoyed. I’m not a big wine drinker (or drinker of anything, really, other than water), and I don’t tend to like wines that are too dry. This one wasn’t, so I bought three bottles. Baguette of course drinks no wine at all, and she’s a little afraid of racehorses, but that didn’t stop her from calling out “Wicket!” in an attempt to get their attention. (On this trip, we learned that Baguette thinks all animals–and some humans–are her dog.)

    One late afternoon, we went to Hendry’s Beach (that’s the local name–the “real” name is Arroyo Burro Beach). This is Santa Barbara’s dog beach, and there were dogs as far as the eye could see. Baguette wanted to run after each one of them, but was easily distracted by the ocean–she loved the waves and the sand, and had a wonderful time on Baby’s First Beach Trip.

    At the heart of town, Stearns Wharf is home to the Ty Warner Sea Center, where Baguette touched a shark and was delighted to find any number of fish, sea stars, and otters which are apparently named “Wicket.”

    Mr. Sandwich and I found the dioramas of elk, bears, birds, and newts at the Santa Barbara Museum of Natural History to be delightfully old-school–although upon reflection we realized that neither of us has been in a natural history museum since perhaps the early 1980s, with the result that we don’t have the slightest sense of what is new-fangled in this field. It’s possible that the process of reinterpretation has passed right by this subset of museum management, and it’s also possible that modernity has passed us by, since I actually said “new-fangled” out loud today.

    Santa Barbara is home to two wading pools; we went to the one at West Beach. Since Baguette loves the pool (a recent discovery that has helped us conquer her fear and loathing of all things bath), we thought that an 18-inch-deep one might be just her speed. She had a wonderful time, although her big discovery was the tiny shower (a place to rinse feet, for those of us taller than an elf). One can only speculate about possible changes to her opinion of normal-sized showers.

    For a change of scene, we spent a couple of late-afternoon hours at Shoreline Park, stretched along the clifftop overlooking the ocean. You know you’re in an upscale park when people are grilling not hot dogs, but lobster. Speaking of lobster, you’d think by now I’d know enough to put on sunblock. Apparently I spent so much time worrying about whether I’d applied enough to Baguette that I neglected to remember that even the English think I’m pale. Now I have an odd assortment of gradated tan lines along my arms, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to peel soon.

    Fortunately for my sunburn, our last activity (on the way out of town) was the Santa Barbara Greek Festival in Oak Park. Oak Park is very shady, with lots of trees–it is aptly named. We thought the festival sounded like fun, and we were pretty sure Baguette would enjoy it. She loves music and dancing, and we were pretty sure a Greek festival would offer her that entertainment. And indeed it did! She just has no idea she was there, because she fell asleep and stayed out the entire time we were there. But while she missed the festival, she also stayed asleep for nearly the entire drive home. And much as we enjoyed our vacation, it is good to be home.

  • This Is Not a Mommy Blog

    Or so I’ve been telling myself. But, let’s face it, Baguette is central to my daily life. And if this blog is about my daily life–which it always has been–then shouldn’t I give myself the freedom to blog about her, and us? Yes, I think I should.

    So, for the time being, this is a mommy blog.

  • Bru’s Wiffle–A Waffle Joint

    Don’t ask. I do not know what “wiffle” is supposed to mean. And yes, I checked their website.

    Nevertheless, Bru’s Wiffle–A Waffle Joint (BTW, seriously? A subtitle for your restaurant?) serves up some interesting fare. They have dessert waffles (in fact, the menu leads with them–is this their biggest draw, or just a quirk like “wiffle”?), lunch options (they close at 5, so I guess they just can’t tolerate dinner), and breakfast served all day (unless it’s dinnertime).

    So I’m snarking the presentation, but how was the food? Pretty good. I’m often underwhelmed by Belgian waffles (so light! so crispy! so flavorless!), but this one wasn’t bad. I ordered the Aloha, which was a waffle topped with scrambled eggs, bacon, and pineapple. I’m not sure the pineapple added a lot–fresh would have been better–but the eggs and bacon were excellent.

    Also, it came with the largest mug of coffee I’ve ever seen in a restaurant. So, win-win.

  • Waffle Chix

    Does a landmark have to stay in one place? I ask because Westwood’s Falafel King is on its third location in 25 years. That I know of.

    In (theoretical) Location #2, you can now find Waffle Chix. It looks more upscale than I expected, and much nicer than in its previous incarnation as Falafel King. The menu features waffles, as you might imagine, and ranges from breakfast to dessert. Want a chicken-and-waffle combo? You’ll have to hunt for it (although the more prominent sandwiches do sound good).

    I got a fried chicken breast and a waffle, with a side of mac and cheese. Verdict: Okay. Me, I think a waffle should be crispy. This had a really nice flavor, but was soft. If I wanted it soft, I’d order a pancake. The chicken was juicy, which doesn’t always happen with white meat. The mac and cheese was all right, but I’ve had better.

    What’s weird is that the food came out super fast. It’s not like my waffle was sitting around back there. Unless it was. Hmm…

    Verdict: I’d go back if someone wanted to, but I probably won’t seek it out on my own again.

  • In Style

    I know I’m not, no matter whether I subscribe to the magazine of that title. While I have long wanted to be chic, I have never aspired to be trendy. Even in junior high, I wanted to be sure that a look was going to last. (This was, and remains, a combination of cheapness and unwillingness to look silly. Either I was grown up then, or I never will be. Who can say?)

    Today I got off the elevator and nearly ran into someone wearing an outfit that, twenty years ago, would have been a cute outfit to wear to a club, or on a date. Now it’s office attire. Mind you, there was nothing revealing or inappropriate about it–but I was struck by how styles have changed. And then I wondered:

    How frumpy am I?

  • Espresso Profeta

    Espresso

    I’ve been by this place any number of times, and it’s really not that far from my bus stop. So why did it take me so long to actually go?

    I’m not sure, but I’m glad I did. After a quick lunch at Sak’s (a Westwood institution), I decided to drop in at Espresso Profeta. They offer a familiar variety of lattes, mochas, and teas–and something called Cafe Nico. This delight is a shot of espresso with orange syrup, a dollop of steamed half-and-half, cinnamon, and orange zest.

    And it really was a delight. I savored that tiny cup for much longer than any Starbucks latte of late (or even of this morning), and three hours later am still smiling a little on the inside. Now that’s a pick-me-up.

    Photo by Peter Hellberg, via Flickr

  • Melancholy

    Recently I bought the Kindle edition all of Thomas Hardy‘s novels for something like 89 cents. Now that’s a literary bargain.

    The only problem? Thomas Hardy is insanely depressing. I am further convinced that Tess of the d’Urbervilles is a brilliant novel, but, wow. And if you really want to be hit over the head with a series of sad relationships, follow Tess up with the short-story collection Life’s Little Ironies. After that, there was no way I could tackle Jude the Obscure.

    At the moment I’m reading Desperate Remedies, and although I want to know how it turns out, I’m also ready for it to be over. Plus, I do not know how to pronounce the name “Cytherea.”

    I guess all of that’s balanced out, though, by the fact that Hardy gave us the cliffhanger–both the concept and the word. And where would series television be without that?

  • Another New Theme

    Much as I love the beach, and beach vacations (which surprises even me), I wasn’t loving that theme. Maybe this one will stick.

    So why am I surprised that I love the beach and beach vacations? After all, what Pere Sandwich says about the beach is true: it can make you sandy, salty, and sore. Beyond that, I am pale. Seriously, I have had English people tell me I’m pale. And if you think I’m pale, you should see Baguette.

    Well, in spite of the grit of salt and sand, and my propensity to sunburn, I’ve discovered that the beach actually is relaxing. And for those of you who think that you don’t have “beach-worthy” bodies. I say this: the beach is not looking at you. And if someone is looking at you and you’re the worst thing they’ve ever seen, well, then, that person lacks real issues in his or her life. Because most of us look normal, and there’s nothing wrong with that.

    So kick back, lay out, splash around, and have a good time. After all, that’s what really makes you look great.