21. St. Thomas, USVI. An old friend from high school came to one of our parties at the house above, and mentioned that he was about to move to St. Thomas to live and work. It didn’t take much convincing for me to give my two week notice as Head Clerk at Byrne’s Fine Foods in the City, pack up, and head to the Caribbean. St. Thomas and the whole Caribbean area was a phenomenal experience.
I worked for a company called Resort Pool Management, Inc. The gig was that we took care of three different resorts’ pools, and in return we got to have a concession on the beach where we sold suntan products (Panama Jack), diving, fishing and sailing tours, and rented snorkeling equipment and sailboats for use in the harbor in front of us. I worked at Pineapple Beach, and my day would start by putting on a bathing suit and T-shirt, going to work and taking off the T-shirt, cleaning a couple pools, and either working on the beach or sailing to St. John’s and back. I returned to San Francisco three days before Christmas with the best tan I’ve ever had. Thanksgiving in St. Thomas was quite an experience. From the decks around the house (atop the Estate Wintberg district), you could see Puerto Rico, St. John, Virgin Gorda, Tortola, St. Croix, and a myriad of smaller islands that dotted the Caribbean around us. And I can't possibly begin to estimate the amount of time we all spent at The Greenhouse on the waterfront in Charlotte Amalie (pictured to the left). Amazing time.
22. Parkmerced, with parents. I returned from St. Thomas with the afore-mentioned tan, and about twenty dollars to my name. The only answer was to spend a few weeks with my parents, who were now living in a little townhouse in Parkmerced. Something about living here felt like I’d come full-circle, but not necessarily in an ideal or predictable way. But here I was.
23. 18th and Santiago in San Francisco, round two. Back to the room downstairs for a few months, but my life and subsequent professions were about to change profoundly.
24. Oroville, CA. My friend Bob had an entrepreneurial idea that he needed some help with. He wanted to open an unfinished furniture store in Chico, which was about twenty miles from where he and his lovely wife Chris lived in Oroville. At the risk of offending any readers from Oroville, it’s not the most pleasant of places to live. Nothing much going on there, too much crime, ridiculously hot in the summer, and in fact would be a perfect place for an enema, if the Sacramento Valley needed one. ‘Nuf said. But move to Oroville I did, and commenced to putting the business plan, marketing ideas, advertising, profit charts, etc. for what would become Natural Habitat. I knew absolutely nothing about furniture or creating a business, and at that point it was unlikely that I could tell a piece of oak from one of pine or cherry. Quick ramp up, but I learned the business quickly. We started in Chico, expanded (and closed) in Paradise, opened a bigger store in Chico, and another successful one in Redding. Very fun business, which in fact I miss to this day.
25. Chico, mobile home. I’d never lived with a girlfriend before, but that was about to change. I met “D” through one of the ad reps who worked our store account, and it was a fairly quick ramp up to serious dating status, which led to her asking me to move in with her and her daughter. The next seven years would be spent in an on again, off again relationship with her and her daughter. Suffice it to say, this was not the smartest way that I could have spent this time of my life.
26. Mountain View, CA apartment. “D” decided that there could be some real opportunities outside of Chico, and the furniture stores I was managing weren’t doing tremendously well (one of many recessions I’ve weathered, looking back!), so she decided to sell the mobile, and we moved to the Bay Area. Nice little apartment in the heart of Mountain View, but it was quite an adjustment for both “D” and her daughter, neither one of whom had ever lived outside of the sleepy college town of Chico, CA. I managed a rent-a-car company, and it was a miserable and low paying job.
27. Pacifica house. As luck would have it, her new dental career and my (once again, although for the last time!) grocery store experience, dictated a move to the north end of the peninsula. We rented a nice big house in Pacifica, which we needed for our two cats and nice big dog. We got Zorba as a puppy before leaving Chico, and he grew to be a 175 pound merle-colored Great Dane very quickly. Big boy, best dog I’ve ever had. You know how some dogs chase cars? Zorba would catch them.
Alas, “D” and daughter missed Chico, I’d had enough of living with the two of them, and she decided to move back to Chico. I stayed in the house, and had subsequently met someone new, and she moved into the house. Amazingly, her cat got along with both Zorba and Tillie, so it seemed like a natural.
28. Pacifica, townhouse. I came home from work one evening to discover that “K” had found a place that she was sure we’d like, and signed a lease on it. Unfortunately, it meant I had to give up my beloved Great Dane, but he went to a great house with kids. It turned out to be a nice place, but after some initial good times, it was a quick downhill turn for this relationship.
29. Kathy and Chip’s, Daly City apartment. I was pretty much in dire straits at this point. I had a decent job with Pak ‘n Save (which we used to call “Pack and Slave” in Colma, but I’d pretty much had it with the grocery business and the Bay Area. After leaving the Pacifica townhouse, I found myself pretty much a man without a country … I had few possessions, nowhere to live, and I was very ready for a change. I spent a few weeks at my sister Kathy’s, and took a leap of faith and returned to Chico. I’d had enough of the Bay Area again, the furniture store was once again calling, and it was back to Chico for a few more years.
30. “D’s” apartment. The first apartment for the second time around in Chico was a small place near the college with “D+daughter.” The best thing about this place was that it was walking distance to the best hamburger joint in town – the Burger Hut. Simple concept; Great burgers made to order, baskets of fries, and a long counter with anything you want to put on it, available for the taking. Yum.
31. House near the park. We soon tired of the small apartment, and rented a nice little house by Bidwell Park. Chico’s a fairly small town, but this put us closer to friends, and it was really a nice setting.
32. Apartment off East Avenue. There was a pattern developing here … “D” and I didn’t last long periods of time together. We didn’t fight or argue particularly, but it was a total pain being in the same house with them … commonly. So my next place would be alone, on the far side of town.
33. Funky apartment. Another lease ran out, the rent was going up, I opted for what arguably was the funkiest place I’d ever lived. Tiny little apartment, and for the first and last time in my life … cockroaches. Never again. This one didn’t last long … a few months was plenty.
34. Apartment off C&J’s house. My friends “C&J” had built a room off their house, which was initially a macramé business for her, then an antique business for him, but they decided to rent it to me and make some extra money. Making a living in Chico is ridiculous. It’s a beautiful place to live, and lots of college students and grads end up staying here because of that fact … but they get away with paying you minimum wage and no benefits. Such was the case with C&J, and this is no way to get ahead.
35. House across the street. “J’s” father Paul was an excavator, meaning he tore down houses and buildings and hauled them away for people. A small Caterpillar tractor, a backhoe, and a big truck were his entire business tool collection. Every once in awhile he’d run across a house that someone wanted to tear down, but it would be in good enough condition to warrant having it moved onto the street he owned. “C&J’s” house, as well as his own and several others were all “tear downs” that he moved, put some labor into, and either sold or rented out. One morning, we saw a big truck coming up the block with a fairly nice looking blue two-story house in tow. Paul had bought it and moved it, and it was going right across the street from C&J. A couple months of work and a coat of paint produced a very livable home, and once again I decided to take a gamble and rent the place with D & daughter. This was a fun house, and we actually had some great times here. C&J were great friends, we had other great neighbors, the kitchen was a huge sprawling country kitchen that I loved, and we actually got along well here and enjoyed the house.
36. Last Chico Apartment. We moved from the house to an apartment, once again near Bidwell Park. The furniture business had closed, “D’s” job was eliminated, money was tight, and the house had to go. About six months in the apartment was to be the end of my days in Chico, and the last time I’d see D & daughter, after seven years of ups and downs. I worked for a few months at Computerland as a sales person, but quickly discovered that I was much better on the technical end. Back to the Bay Area, into a new profession that would be life-altering.
37. Shelter Creek with my sister and brother in law. My sister Colleen was kind enough to offer me a room in their condo while I got back on my feet. It took me about two weeks to get a job, which was downtown San Francisco at a Computer Craft store. Some sales, some technical, and a huge learning experience in what would be my new profession.
38. Shelter Creek studio. After a couple months at my sister’s place (for which I will forever be in her debt), I got my own little studio apartment in the same complex. I’d spend the next 3 ½ years here … all alone, with my cat Tillie, who had now gotten a little long in the tooth, so goes the old saying. This place would prove to be Tillie’s demise. She simply ran away, never to be seen again. You’ve heard that animals can sense their “time” coming and they just go away? It’s true. But the Shelter Creek studio was fun. Small, for sure, but it was mine, and I treasured having a place of my own, making a few dollars, being able to buy a car and some new toys, and generally enjoying my life again. Chico, and living with “them” for so long was a mistake that took way too long for me to leave.
39. Fremont, with Colleen. After 3 ½ years in San Bruno, my sister presented me with an irresistible offer. She’d recently divorced her first husband and suggested I move into a spare room of her house in Fremont. We got along as we always have – tremendously. These were good times. I was doing great at work, where I was now a network manager at Western Digital. I had a new car, could afford to live a little, and things were definitely on an upswing. It was while I was living in Fremont that I met my future wife, at work. After a couple months, my nights would be split between Fremont and her house in Palo Alto. But we didn’t live together until a month before we got married, so I was technically still living in Fremont for well over a year.
40. Palo Alto. Just prior to getting married, I moved in with Risa at the house she shared with her son and a couple roommates. Very nice place in a great neighborhood in Palo Alto. This was an “Eichler” home, which featured some interesting design features, as well as some downright weird ones. They got mixed reviews when they were built, but amazingly have stood the test of time and are once again something of a fashionable acquisition for young Silicon Valley couples. Along with getting married during this period, it’s also significant to mention that it was in this house that I became the “cook of the house.” I’d cooked quite a bit over the years, but it was always a shared duty. Not so any more … I’ve cooked all but a handful of meals for the past 20 years since this house. It has in fact become a major part of my life, and a lot of my social structure revolves around food, cooking, and writing about it. But alas …
that's an entirely different blog!41. Greenhouse apartment. We decided to get into an apartment with amenities and save some money at the same time. The Eichler home was expensive to rent, heat, cool, and keep up in general. The Greenhouse condos on San Antonio Road on the Palo Alto – Mountain View border seemed like a good move. Great pool and clubhouse where we had many gatherings.
42. Bird Street house. From the Greenhouse, we once again opted to move into a “real” house. This one was in Sunnyvale in an area known as the “bird streets.” All the streets are named for different types of birds. You have to wonder what the city planners were thinking … particularly since the “bird streets” blend into the “fruit streets.” Interesting concept for sure. Another nice house which had its own pool. I’d worked for a pool company in St. Thomas so I had no problem being the pool boy here. Our pool was immaculate, and I loved it. Fun place.
43. Manufactured home on Tasman. The next move was a gamble, of sorts. We were secure enough in our jobs that we decided we’d actually buy our first place. This was of course the Silicon Valley, and home prices are legendary. But we could afford a new manufactured home. This was just like buying a new house, meaning we got to pick colors, carpets, options, etc. We loved this place, and we managed to time the boom in housing pretty well. Two and a half years here would net us enough money for a down payment on an incredible house in Gilroy.
44. Gilroy home. The house in Gilroy was awesome. Huge, four-bedroom, three bath place with a great yard, incredible neighbors, a wonderful community with proximity to the coast, the central valley, or the peninsula, nice restaurants, and amazing weather. We loved this house, and arguably should have stayed there. The only problem was the commute … I was working in Los Gatos, Risa was initially in Cupertino and then San Jose. The weekday grind took a minimum of ninety minutes, and could easily become in excess of two hours … each way. They’ve since added three additional lanes in each direction which has made a huge difference, but this drive was absolutely killing us (and multiple cars).
45. La Mesa house. We then bought a house in San Jose, which should have been both a good move strategically, as well as a much easier commute. It was neither. We soon tired of the tiny house which we’d purchased from a contractor who had just remodeled it. But the remodeling was not the best, being more appearance than function. And the commute, although only 14 miles instead of 50, still took an hour each way, through the streets of San Jose and the lower peninsula. Crazy way to spend a significant part of your life; On the road to and from work, stuck in traffic at a crawl. It was about this point when we decided to start looking seriously for an entirely new place to live. Major contenders included Cambria (central California coast), Boulder, Atlanta, Fort Collins, and ultimately … Bend, Oregon. We sold the house on La Mesa, put the profits in the bank in anticipation of buying something out of state, and moved to a rental in a different part of San Jose.
46. Willow Glen home. We rented a house in Willow Glen, which is one of the nicest areas in San Jose. Very close to the downtown area, 10 minutes to the HP Pavilion where all the major musical acts play, and walking distance to the quaint Willow Glen downtown area. This is truly a “walking” neighborhood, which is a rarity in San Jose. Safe, quiet, friendly, featuring tree-lined streets and older homes with predominantly older inhabitants who’ve lived there for decades. This house also had a pool, which of course I loved, as well as a room that was perfectly suited for my drums and occasional visits from the members of my band. We did lots of entertaining here, and as most of the places we’ve lived, I think people really enjoyed visiting us here. It was during our eighteen months in Willow Glen when we took up our next life-altering activity; Massage therapy training. What began as a two-weekend introductory course became several years of professional level training. Fundamentals, Advanced, Cranio-Sacral, Acupressure, Hot Stones, Deep Tissue, Hydrotherapy, Chair Massage, seminars, plus several semesters as a teacher’s assistant in the Advanced class. Dangerous hands that can rub you the right way!
47. Bend. In August of 2004 we took a trip to Bend and Ashland, Oregon. We’d read very positive things about both of them, and figured a week would be enough time to come up with a yay or nay on a move to Oregon. We first drove to Bend, where we’d planned to stay three or four days at the La Quinta on 3rd Street, which is the main drag that runs the length of town. We fell in love with the place almost immediately. The river is gorgeous, the Mt. Bachelor and The Sisters mountains are a spectacular site from just about anywhere, the towering pines, aspens, and junipers are everywhere, the people were friendly, the restaurants excellent, and at least in August … the weather was phenomenal. We looked at a good number of new homes, and one tract in particular caught our attention. But of course we had to compare this with Ashland, where we’d spend the second half of the week. Ashland’s beautiful, but we soon found out that the town revolves around the annual Shakespeare Festival, and that’s pretty much the basis for the economy. I’d planned to get into real estate, and the sales in Ashland weren’t nearly as attractive as they appeared in Bend. I’d already gotten my license twice in California, and had managed to hit two recessions. Little did I know, the same would happen in Oregon the following year. We returned to California after a beautiful week in Oregon, and had pretty much decided that Bend would be our new home. Risa spent some quality time working with the sales guy (Julian) and picked a wonderful corner lot in a cul-de-sac. We’d be across the street from the Deschutes River with a peek-a-boo view of Mt. Bachelor from the upstairs windows. The house would be started in December, and complete and ready for its new occupants, the following June. A trip up in late December proved to be an indication of what can happen on some years up there … the winters are generally mild (although cold and full of snow), but this one was the worst in a decade. The normally eight-hour trip from the Bay Area, took about 15 hours. Terrible weather, blizzard conditions, accidents, delays, etc. No fun. The house was finished in May, and the decision to leave the Bay Area and take a gamble in Bend was a relatively easy one. The house was just too beautiful to be a part time home, or something we’d move into “some day.” We gave notice at our jobs, and moved all of our possessions and four cats, on the last day of July, 2005.
48. San Jose Apartment. As I mentioned earlier, I became a real estate broker in Bend … just in time for the whole market to fall apart (worldwide, not just here). I found a job in I.T. at a local healthcare provider, and spent the next two and a half years working for exactly half of what I made doing the same thing in the Bay Area. A call from a former co-worker, who was now the CEO of a promising start-up in San Jose, was too good to resist. We packed up about a quarter of our possessions and once again headed back to San Jose. This time, to a small apartment in a huge complex. Two months after we landed here, the “promising” company I went to work for had a 25% layoff, and I was a victim. First time I’d ever been laid off, and coming from a guy who was allegedly my friend, really hurt. A summer of consulting work and job hunting produced a new position in South San Francisco. As Risa was working on the north peninsula as well, we left the apartment and moved to Belmont.
49. Belmont house. The house in Belmont was built in 1951, and was occupied by its original owners until we moved in. It started out fairly small, but was added on to over the years, producing a nice living area, master bedroom, and a killer downstairs area which provides ample area for our massage room, my drums, and a second “living room.” The big yard was a hit for this year’s Meatfest, which is a big BBQ I do every Memorial Day weekend. Although amazingly, the weather was just as bad here as it was the first year we were in Bend. Cold, rainy, dreary, unfriendly. But the yard’s nice, the house is old but comfortable enough and I can’t complain about the commute.
50. Bend … Home. The Bend house is currently occupied by my friend Bob’s daughter and her cat. 3000 sq. ft. house with four bedrooms, three full baths, massage room, media room, separate living, dining, family rooms, and a kitchen to die for, with one person and her cat. But
it’s in good hands, and I’d rather see it have one appreciative occupant, than to be empty. I have no doubt that we’ll ultimately end up back in Bend. The weather can be a struggle some years, and the “four mild seasons” we heard about are a fallacious marketing ploy. The “mild” winters can start as early as October (they got seven inches of snow two weeks ago), and it’s not uncommon to have snow on Mother’s Day in May. Summers are usually three months long … no more, no less. Spring is usually an extension of winter, until late June. But fall is gorgeous, and our trip up there a couple weeks ago provided some exceptionally nice weather and fall colors.
We miss our friends, the slower pace, the lack of traffic, the beautiful scenery, and of course my kitchen. I can’t believe I’ve lived fifty places. When I got the idea to approach this piece, I hadn’t taken a count, nor did I get into the emotions and decisions that were to come with this little exercise. One thing that’s definitely changed is something I mentioned in the first paragraph … the notion (at least when I was growing up) that moving was not a negative thing, but rather an interesting experience that would certainly provide new friends and new places which I’d get to know.
One thing that’s proven to be true over the years is that people tend to gravitate to our homes, and I’d like to think they enjoy being here. Gatherings tend to be in the kitchen, which was also the case in my parents’ and grandparents’ homes. I’m sure it’s a combination of people wanting to watch how I prepare their meal, as well as just liking to hang out in or near the kitchen. I’m friendly by nature, and the fact that I put on a reasonably good meal tends to attract people to our homes. For the time being we’re living two lives; One’s on the San Francisco peninsula, where we spend the bulk of our time and of course where we’re employed. But our heart’s in Bend, and I’m sure there will come a day when four or five trips a year to the house and area we love so much, will cease being enough.
Note: I’m working on a book with a working title of “Out
Of My Kitchen,” and I’m already planning to modify this piece and create a chapter called “50 kitchens.” Stay tuned.
This is an excerpt from the book I'm writing, which is called "The Entertaining Guy." The basic premise is about a male that suddenly finds himself alone after a lengthy marriage or other kind of cohabitation, in which his contribution to the preparation of the nightly meals consisted of putting the napkins and silverware on the TV trays, or maybe burning an occasional steak on the barbeque. And that's all the teaser details you get for now!
s illness), shopping for Indian spices can be a challenge. Depending on where you live and what kind of stores you have access to, you'll likely need to do some searching. I'm writing this in the Silicon Valley (south of San Francisco), and it's a melting pot for literally every culture imaginable. While you likely won't find anything more exotic than a basic curry powder at your local Safeway, a visit to any middle eastern grocery will provide you with a much broader selection. And most of the spices are readily available at Cost Plus / World Market. I picked up several of them from our local World Market in Bend, Oregon, which is not a culturally diverse area at all. The dishes below require a few items that likely aren't in your spice cupboard. If they are, you're probably already using them and you don't need me to tell you where to buy them!
rious about your Indian cooking. Tandoori ovens provide very high, dry heat, and they're commonly fueled by charcoals that line the bottom of the clay vessel. Temeratures on the bottom of the tandoor can reach 900 degrees, meaning that most foods cooked in such an oven develop a very crisp outer layer without sacrificing the moisture on the inside. Great technique, but you'll likely want to cook yours in the oven or on the barbeque, both of which work great. You can use a whole cut-up chicken or various combinations of chicken pieces, but I'd recommend whole chicken pieces, versus boneless skinless cuts. Part of the attraction is the crispy skin, combined with the rich flavor of the marinade's spices and other ingredients.
s illness), shopping for Indian spices can be a challenge. Depending on where you live and what kind of stores you have access to, you'll likely need to do some searching. I'm writing this in the Silicon Valley (south of San Francisco), and it's a melting pot for literally every culture imaginable. While you likely won't find anything more exotic than a basic curry powder at your local Safeway, a visit to any middle eastern grocery will provide you with a much broader selection. And most of the spices are readily available at Cost Plus / World Market. I picked up several of them from our local World Market in Bend, Oregon, which is not a culturally diverse area at all. The dishes below require a few items that likely aren't in your spice cupboard. If they are, you're probably already using them and you don't need me to tell you where to buy them!
rious about your Indian cooking. Tandoori ovens provide very high, dry heat, and they're commonly fueled by charcoals that line the bottom of the clay vessel. Temeratures on the bottom of the tandoor can reach 900 degrees, meaning that most foods cooked in such an oven develop a very crisp outer layer without sacrificing the moisture on the inside. Great technique, but you'll likely want to cook yours in the oven or on the barbeque, both of which work great. You can use a whole cut-up chicken or various combinations of chicken pieces, but I'd recommend whole chicken pieces, versus boneless skinless cuts. Part of the attraction is the crispy skin, combined with the rich flavor of the marinade's spices and other ingredients.
This article was prompted by a visit from my good friends Carolyn and Bruce, a few weeks ago. They were out on a business trip from their home in beautiful Roswell, GA and we decided to spend the day up in Napa doing some wine tasting. Carolyn wants to get him a great set of knives for Christmas, and asked for advice. The "need" on his end was prompted by him hacking off the end of a finger with a dull knife, which he relayed to us as we were partaking in some rack of lamb, risotto and haricot verts, which I'd thrown together for Carolyn and her co-worker, and our friend Dave. Note that you CAN "throw together" a totally lavish meal in under an hour, after work. I do it every night.
A dull knife can make your prep time miserable, but virtually any knife can be sharpened to a fine edge. Good ones hold their edge better, but you can make do with what you've got, if you know how to use the knife and of course how to sharpen it. I've tried every kind of sharpener and I have two extremes that I use exclusively. I have a three-slot Chef's Choice electric sharpener that can put an edge on anything (including granton and serrated edges), without ruining the knife. Great sharpener, but they run about $125. Again, it was a gift, and I love it. I also use an Acu-Sharp sharpener that works phenomenally well on dull knives and costs about ten bucks. Sharpening stones work great if you have the patience to use them. I don't. I have a couple of them, and they sit in the back of the drawer.
