life's a beach

Hey, is this thing still on?

I can hardly believe it's August 3rd already. It's been more than two months since I lived in Paris! Not to mention one month since I settled in Los Angeles, before venturing to the Pacific coast (Long Beach) with my mom, for the first time in almost three years.

{Long Beach}

It was the Fourth of July then and we rode bikes along the beach with old neighbors of ours. I felt like I was on vacation. It amazed me that beachfront mornings, afternoons, and evenings could become an ordinary mainstay in my new home. Still does actually. And now that I'm practically an "Angeleno" (with a shiny California driver's license to prove it), my cousin decided it was about time I pick "my beach." Yesterday, he took my visiting friend Hannah and I on an L.A. beach tour--from Hermosa Beach to Malibu.

{Manhattan Beach}

{Venice}

What a multidimensional city I live in, let me tell you. I was mistaken when I'd thought sand + sun + surf would translate to a mildly consistent look and feel to these waterfront communities. Loved enjoying, comparing and contrasting four of them in just one day.

{Malibu}

As I learn a new job in a new city in a country I haven't lived full-time in in two years, simplistic preconceived notions of this most recent home of mine are being debunked one by one. It's wonderful. Wonderful and overwhelming. Living this real life is quite honestly the hardest thing I've ever attempted to do. So, although I do promise to eventually revive my blogging habits, I ask you to please be patient with me until then. In the mean time: a get-to-know Los Angeles reading list. These two books first.

the birthplace of tequila

I find it disappointing how often cosmopolitanism doesn't represent that which is 'cultured', or 'worldly', or better yet, 'open minded'. Still we continue to use it so frequently, and with such vigor. Paris is cosmopolitan. New York is cosmopolitan. Guadalajara... ? The hierarchal distinction was on my mind a lot while visiting family in rural Mexico. As per usual, I blame my thesis research :).

Anyway. I've been back in the city of haute cuisine for a mere four days now, and I'm already craving street-side tacos; preferably the ones my parents and I stopped for on our way to "the city" (as my dad called it) over two weeks ago. Gosh those were good. Then again, I also recall being excited to be in Guadalajara as I enjoyed their deliciousness. Not because, as my mom argued, we've flown in and out dozens of times without having ever seen it, but rather because tenía ganas for a cosmopolitan dining experience.

Both of our bratty desires were appeased in our last 24 hours in Mexico. With the preloaded directions on my iPhone, I directed my dad to Perla Central, a cool boutique hotel my mom had booked last minute. Then, we walked to the historic center, took a bus tour, bought souvenir in Tlaquepaque, happy hour-ed with corn, queso, guacamole, and margaritas, and eventually, dined at Cocina 88.

Dinner was exquisite. Soon after arriving at the "turn-of-the-century mansion", a server came by our table and asked us to follow him. We chose a catch-of-the-day (for my mom and me) and a cut of beef (for my dad) from a butcher case. Next, we selected a wine straight from their wine cellar; our first Mexican wine. The live music began just as our appetizers arrived. The lime soup, in particular, was amazing. The singer and band were as well. After eating our meals, we sat there with coffee/tea just to keep listening.

"What a day", I reflected as we drove to the airport the following morning. We spent such a short amount of time well. The contrast of traditional and contemporary, wealth and... not, was incredible. It reminded me of How Tacos Explain Mexico's Labor Market.

In Mexico, it seems you are where you eat. Mexico City’s young professionals dine at a mix of modern, formal restaurants and old-school informal street stands. Investors are opening a new wave of world-class restaurants in many neighborhoods in Mexico’s capital city, targeting the growing budgets of the city’s upwardly mobile young professionals. But the formal economy isn’t robust enough to provide jobs for the entire workforce. Like meat in an over-stuffed taco, many people don’t fit into the formal sector and fall out to the sidelines.

I'm no expert of economics, but this trip and my research has me questioning so, so much. Tequila originated in the state of Jalisco for which Guadalajara is the capital. It's consumed all over the world. I happen to love it. But, tequila isn't comparable to wine. One is more respected than the other. And I suppose craft beer falls somewhere in the middle? Cosmopolitan food for thought maybe.

mi casa es su casa

Life seemed simpler in San Francisco; simpler, and yet harder, too. Every morning, my grandparents got up between 5 and 6am. We didn't sleep in much later, because of the roosters. My dad went out with my grandpa to milk the cows while my mom and I waited for my cousin. Then we walked. We strolled through the town, into the fields, and met more family for pajaretes--warm, frothy milk (straight from the cow) with powdered chocolate and a shot of alcohol. 'Twas a fun way to start the day in a good mood ;).

My grandma usually had almuerzo ready by the time we got home around 10, always spicy and savory: tortillas, beans, eggs and/or meat. It was all so, so satisfying with coffee and fresh orange juice. Then, we alternated visiting neighbors (family) with exploring.

While we were out, my grandma cleaned the houses and prepared the foods we'd bought at the market or from the butcher (my grandpa's cousin) for dinner that night. She had a young woman help her somewhat, but she insisted on being busy on her own.

Trust me, my mom and I really did try to help out when we got back. We ended up snacking on fruit and reading in the yard instead.

Soon enough, my dad and grandpa came home and it was time for dinner. At least one aunt and uncle would join us most nights, but on our last one, we hosted more than a dozen extended family members. There were frijoles, guacamole, tostadas, cabbage salad, salsa, tortillas, grilled steak, tequila, beer, and an endless amount of nostalgic stories for all. The scene was beyond heartwarming.

As it were, everyone worked their asses off during the day and relaxed with familiar faces in the evening. Food was hearty and homemade. I felt a magic in the connectedness of it all. I also, self-crtically, felt flojera. Though I've worked in New York and interned and TA-ed in Paris, I haven't had a job with long, physical hours... ever, really. I've only taken care of myself. And so, gosh, I couldn't have felt more privileged to be there; to be reminded how much community matters, no matter our ambition.

new world cuisine

A few weeks ago, I was skimming through one of those free daily papers they hand out at metro when I stumbled across an article about the fast-food strikes in the US. It began: "The cornerstone of American gastronomy, fast food..." Then I stopped reading.

Ugh. It’s so widely accepted that French cuisine is the best in the world, but few people discuss how “out of touch and old-fashioned” it can be. And sure, fast-food was developed in the United States, harping on our love of convenience and efficiency... but it’s not our primary contribution to the gastronomic world. I’m not even trying to be a food snob; though I realize my dad’s distaste for McDonald’s, Pizza Hut, and KFC (all places of which I was once thrilled to dine at—what a treat!) have affected me.

I just can't be okay with the fact that (1) fast food is often the most readily available and cheapest option for so many Americans, and (2) that the world likes to translate this as preference, without any mention of our diverse cultural productions like cobb salad, jambalaya, chile con carne, grits, lobster rolls, buffalo wings, clam chowder, key lime pie, and even s'mores. Perhaps Americans haven’t always developed the healthiest dishes, but you cannot say we haven’t gotten creative, and at the origins of "American gastronomy", with very few resources. Clearly being abroad has made me increasingly defensive on our behalf. Sorry I'm not sorry?

Stepping down from my podium now :), I’d like to introduce you to one of the most recent American-ish arrivals to the Parisian food scene, Le Déppaneur. It’s where Lorelei, Rachael, and I spent our last girls night. Opened by the San Francisco-inspired food truck, Cantine California, the South Pigalle resto beautifully marries the natural elements and minimalist design of Southern California. And from the outside, looks like a diner. I felt so "at home" (other coast, same country) with a most delicious tequila cocktail in hand.

The menu, though short, is complete with milkshakes, tacos, burgers, and cheesecake. Unfortunately, with so much homegrown potential, I left unsatisfied. My plate of chicken tacos with black beans was totally under-spiced and the carrot cake was far heartier than I’d like any dessert to be. In the future, I think I’ll leave Mexican to my favorite venues and come back for the cocktails. Maybe the burgers, too—it’s always fun to taste how trendy, Parisian chefs innovate the staple of good ol' American barbecues!