Spring Break 2.0

^ Margy, Jeri, Mary and Lindsay. Yours truly is behind the camera. 

Spring Break 1979

That was the first time I ever took a warm weather winter vacation. A carload of my dorm girlies and I trekked from Michigan to Fort Myers, Florida, to spend a week in the sun at one of the girl's parents' new condo. 

We did not fully grasp ahead of time the fact that said condo was in a retirement community. But that's a story for another day.

My point here is that that junior year trip to Florida was not only my first snow-to-sunshine getaway, but until last month, it was also my last. 

Uh huh. Yes. You heard that right.

For more years than I care to count, I have never taken another mid-winter escape vacation.

Not one.

Now don't feel too sorry for me. I've enjoyed a zillion fabulous vacations.

But I hadn't indulged in another cold-to-warm weather trip until my eldest said to me last summer, "I'm going to be so sad when pool season is over. I might need to go somewhere warm next winter to get a fix."

And I, knowing to strike when the iron was finally hot, said, "Yes. I'm in."

Which is how we came to find ourselves in sunny Palm Springs, California, last month with crystal clear expectations as to how we were to spend our long weekend:

Go to pool.

Read. 

Swim and splash about.

Eat.

Check, check, check. And check.

We had a glorious stay under the blissfully blue desert sky, and I've got the pics to prove it. Who knows, I may not wait another forty-six years to go back. 

^ The Saguaro Hotel is a delicious treat of rainbow flavored exteriors. This would be the citrus section.

^ Morning light reveals the San Jacintos in all their glory. 

^ Baby flowers match the purple walls. Freaking adorable.

^ I'm going to be honest. The interiors of the hotel are ho-hum at best. The pool area and surrounding courtyard are where the Saguaro packs its punch, and boy, does it ever. 

^ Fish tacos are my jam. These were delicious.

^At first, my eye was tricked into seeing these as some of those orange plastic construction fences. But they were actually cool steel barriers that created cozy little spaces here and there in the massive courtyard, and set off the landscaping. Love. 

^ I'm not one for drinking alcohol in the sunshine, but if you offer me a complimentary margarita, I will say yes. 

^ Looking up.

^ By the time the pizza arrived, I forgot all about taking photos. 

^ My idea of cute al fresco dining. 

^ The Holy Grail.

^ The room aesthetics did not tick a whole lot of boxes for me. But the colors in this happy corner blew my mind..

^ The weather was blessedly cool. Mid 70s. Any warmer and my chilly PNW bones might have melted.

^ When it comes to vacation hamburgers, I say go big or go home. Eventually, I did both.

^ Waiting for our ride to the airport gave me a moment of alone time with the bougainvillea. 

^ Goodbye, Palm Springs! See you in 2071. :)

Gracie's Birthday Banquet

"Feasts must be solemn and rare, or else they cease to be feasts." -Aldous Huxley 

^ From the top, clockwise: 

kibble and sardines, 

fresh blueberries, 

fresh bell pepper, 

roasted chicken, 

frozen blackberries, 

and in the middle, Gracie's favorite, hard boiled eggs. 

A cozy bed. 

A squeaky toy.

Maybe a sweater. Or a raincoat.

It's hard to land on a great birthday present for a dog. 

Especially when your dog does not care one whit for such treasures.

Gracie cares for one thing and one thing alone. (Well. Besides me.)

Gracie cares about food.

So this week, as her birthday approached, I racked my brain, trying to think of a new way to give her all the delicious food we're already giving her, in some way that would feel novel and maybe even special. At least to us. And one of my daughters hit the nail on the head.

A scavenger hunt.

After ruling out several undesirable scenarios:

1) In which we hide food around the house, which would result in unsightly puddles of Gracie's drool left behind in every place where she found her treats, 

2) In which we hide food outdoors along the route of her walk, which would only encourage her to eat (more) garbage, a horrible habit of which I'm continually trying to break her,

we hit upon a winning idea. 

Once home from her walk, we'd serve Gracie up her usual dinner of kibble and sardines. As she was chomping that down, I would slip out from the house a series of other dog bowls, each full of some Gracie-approved tidbit which, considering she loves all food except raw mushrooms, would not be difficult to accomplish, and tuck said bowls here and there around the front patio where she would already be dining. Then, we imagined, our birthday girl would nose around the patio, finding one delicious treat after another, and snarfing them all down to her heart's content. 

And you know what? It worked perfectly. 

^ Kibble and sardines, down the hatch.

Interestingly, Gracie did not tear through her various dinner courses at quite the breakneck speed I'd imagined. She worked carefully, diligently, licking every trace of food out of each bowl before moving on to the next. Other than the hard boiled eggs, which she wolfed, she ate with much more careful deliberation than usual. It was a delight to see her move through her progressive supper with more curiosity and self-control than her usual chomp fest. 

In fact, the only downside of the entire feast was the disappointment she surely felt on the day after her birthday when we returned from her walk and she excitedly scanned the patio for more of the extra treats.

Sorry, Gracie. Those goodies are for celebration purposes only.

But don't worry. You'll get another birthday banquet in just 364 more days. 

* * * * *

Do you remember the crazy story in which Gracie came to be mine? Read this for the details.

Surprise!

Mexico City: Malaysia And America In Mexico

 My friend: Would you like me to cook Malaysian food for you?

Me: Of course.

My friend: What would you like?

Me: ...

My friend: How about nasi lemak?

Me: Perfect.

And so began my third day in Mexico City. Somehow I felt like the globe had spun and I found myself not in Mexico at all but 10,333 miles away in Malaysia: wobbly, hot, and a bit unsure of which world was under my feet.

* * * * *

Sunday, June 9

Breakfast at Juwe's house.

You'll have to forgive me for the lack of photos but when I walked into my friends' airy and spacious Polanco apartment, filled with the spicy fresh smells of our delicious breakfast spread on the table, I lost my head. Forget the photos of this beautiful bounty; all I wanted to do was eat. 

Nasi lemak is the traditional breakfast of Malaysia.

Hardboiled egg

Sliced cucumber

Fried chicken

Spicy steamed coconut rice

And for those who enjoy crunchy little fish, anchovies.

Accompanied by a platter of fresh fruit and a pitcher of cool juice, this was not only a meal made in heaven but a powerful memory of my days in Malaysia. I fondly remembered many a delicious breakfast in Kuala Lumpur, but with the warm sun streaming in the windows and the mellow rhythms of my friends chattering away in Bahasa Melayu, I felt truly transported to Malaysia.

* * * * *

^ I only caught one photo at the flea but it's a good one. I wish I would have bought a few of these pieces of art but at least I took a moment to admire the seller's beautiful display

La Lagunilla Flea Market

Well. To be fair, it was my idea to go to a Sunday flea. But holy moly, I was not prepared for what unfolded. 

See, I was thinking of a US flea market. Balmy weather, cooling breezes, lots of room for vendors to spread out and showcase their wares, plenty of fresh air and sunshine for all.

But - and it's my own fault that I didn't anticipate this - a Mexico City flea is a horse of a different color. 

First of all, let's talk tarps. Lots of them - white and blue - forming rooftops and hallways and sides between the stalls. And while the outdoor temperature was hovering around a reasonable 80 degrees F, the overall effect overwhelmed me. I felt surrounded by hot, stuffy air and trapped in a maze of tarps. People packed in closer and tighter as the morning moved on, and I found myself, when I wasn't looking for escape routes, pondering where exactly I had encountered a similar and equally stifling experience before.

Oh right.

The pasar malam - or night market - in Malaysia bears a remarkably similar vibe. Other than the fact that it was daylight instead of dark, I once again - for the second time in a morning - felt the strange sensation that I'd been suddenly transported to Malaysia.

* * * * *

^ I want to bake this hamburger an apple pie and then take it out to the ballgame. 

That's how delightfully American it tasted. 

Lunch at Butcher & Sons

When I find myself wandering the world, I like to eat whatever the locals eat. But every now and then, I want to try an American-inspired meal, just to see how those same locals interpret the food of my culture. It's a fun experiment.

So after my disorienting morning, when my daughter suggested burgers for lunch, I was ready. She picked a place close to our hotel, and it was a winner. Other than the spicy catsup-like options, the burger held close to a typical American classic, and as I enjoyed every bite, I felt quite at home. 

* * * * *

^ I love this beyond words. 

Afternoon In Polanco

In our neighborhood for the week, we wandered through charming side streets and around a lush green park. Restaurants abounded, most with gorgeous tropical plants providing leafy shade in front for outdoor diners. Apartments looked exactly as I'd hoped they would - modular, organic architecture adorned with yet more monsteras and schefeleras spilled from their balconies. What a dream.

On a mission to pick up a Mexican version of The Little Prince for my collection - yes, I have one in Spanish but Mexican Spanish is different that Spanish Spanish, right? - we tracked one down a neighborhood bookstore. Cafebreria El Pendulo Polanco is one of the hybrid cafe/bookstore models very much in vogue in Mexico City these days. It cutely reminds me of a now-wildly-out-of-date U.S. Barnes and Noble from the 1990s but I'm not going to ruin anyone's fun. 

^ I will be making the alambre at home. So easy. So good. 

^ My daughter and I shared this piece but honestly, I think we should have gotten two.

Dinner at La Casa Del Pastor

After our American-inspired lunch, we wanted some solid tacos for dinner. Recommended to us by my friend, La Casa Del Pastor is a pretty straightforward upscale taco joint. But once we were seated and scouring the menu, our waiter encouraged us to forgo the simple taco and try the alambre. Sure, why not.

What we learned is that the alambre is serving dish of taco innards, all swirled and swooshed together, ready for loading into the waiting tortillas and consumed just as one would eat a taco. Convenient, efficient, and delightfully delicious. A torrential rain poured down as we ate every bite. Licking our fingers, we felt grounded once again in our Mexican adventure. 

Trusting our new friend with our dessert option, we ordered his favorite, a guava cheesecake. Money. 

A perfect ending to a delightfully confusing Malaysia and America in Mexico kind of day. 

* * * * *

Want to read about all my adventures in Mexico City?

I've Finally Arrived

Together And Apart

Malaysia And America In Mexico

Mexico City: Together And Apart

 Winter and Spring 2024

Weeks and months flew by; with plane tickets and hotel reservations sorted, my second-born (who was traveling with me) and I turned our attention to compiling a list of must-see Mexico City sights. 

Until one day, when our itinerary plans took a sharp left turn.

THUMP.

Into my DMs landed a link to a dense and detailed document. 

"Here's my agenda for Fizza and Irah. You can join us for whatever you like, or do your own thing.

And so it was that I learned my Malaysian hosts in Mexico City would be catering to two groups in visitors - their first guests in 3.5 years - during the exact same week.

Thus began an intricate series of Google doc swaps in which our separate agendas wove in and out of each other's plans. The end result was a lovely balance of time spent together in our combined group and apart for outings with just my daughter and me. Our first full day in the city was a lovely example of just that. 

* * * * *

Saturday, June 8

Breakfast at Niddo Cafe

A sweet way to begin our day, we took our morning meal at the charming coffee shop in the ground floor of our hotel. Sitting in the leafy shade, we enjoyed overnight oats and fresh fruit with yogurt and the company of many locals and their dogs. The first of many quiet Niddo Cafe mornings my daughter and I enjoyed together this week, before blasting off into our busy day of adventures. 

* * * * * 

^ Step through the dark, cool entryway of Casa Gilardi; and find yourself surrounded in the light of the stairwell.

^ Now open the door beyond the sphere and behold. A long hallway through a blaze of yellow light, and the lure of blue calling from the far end. Let's explore. 

^ The golden glow is achieved by light pouring in from a central courtyard through a series of yellow paned windows. The effect is magical. 

^ The cerulean blue we spied from afar is a wall surrounding an indoor swimming pool. The effect is nearly an optical illusion; the water is about two feet deep and creates the shadow at the lower part of these blue and white walls, as well as the red beam that stands in the middle of the pool. There are steps down into the water at my left and no boundaries between the floor of the room and the open water. I found the effect of all this to be electrifying and a bit provocative. 

^ We continue through the pool room and out into the central courtyard. A soaring jacaranda tree sits at the center of this scene and backlit by the radiantly pink wall, provides a final, triumphant resting place for the eye. Bravo, Senor Barragan.

^ Barragan displays a passion for irregularly shaped terra cota jugs, and I am here for it. 

Casa Gilardi Tour

After much advance work online to track down two highly coveted tickets to this architectural tour, my daughter and I set off on our own for our morning adventure. 

During the mid-1900s, Luis Barragan was a Mexican architect par excellence and a world-class innovator of what it is to make a home. After he had retired, wanting nothing more than to rest and relax in the gorgeous home he had built for himself (which we will tour later in the week), his friends, the Gilardis, convinced him to make one last home for them. The family still lives there to this day - his son, who is now an archtect himself, led our tour while his mother was napping upstairs. 

The house is an eye-popping combination of bright and bold open spaces, often used for parties and public events during the Gilardis' heyday. Barragan uses color and light to make my heart race. In the quieter, more family-driven rooms of the house, the palette leans into calming tones and natural materials that reflect the more intimate use of these spaces. Interestingly , I found myself uncomfortable taking photos of the family spaces; my camera preferred the expansive energy of the public rooms instead. 

This tour - and the other tour we will take later in the week - opened my mind and heart to the passion of Mexican artists. Luis Barragan was a genius and I am so thankful I could experience his work.

* * * * *

Floating Gardens of Xochimilco

After lunch, our group met up for our afternoon adventure. The traffic was fierce, the car was hot, the baby cried miserably. We were all a bit done in. But then we bought strawberry ice creams and all was sunny again as we finally got started on our boat trip. 

Back in, oh, maybe sixth grade, when we were learning about the great civilizations of the Americas, I was intrigued to learn that the Aztecs built their capital, Tenochtitlan, on islands. As the city needed more land for food, I was even more fascinated to hear that these clever problem-solvers simply built floating islands - chinampas - to grow crops. That idea completely captured my imagination and I spent considerable time in that class imagining myself floating in and among the manmade islands.

So imagine my pure delight when I realized I could - and would! - actually visit the floating islands of my dreams. Thankfully, I did a bit of Googling beforehand to see what this modern day experience might hold for me, because it was a far cry from my Aztec fantasies. 

Big, colorful, festive boats.

Mexican folk tunes blasting from oversize speakers.

Mariachi hopping from boat to boat.

Bars, run-down restaurants, and countless dogs along the shore. 

Traffic jams along the canals. 

But I smiled as we wound our way through the hectic scene, the three children in our party contributing their own enthusiasm and merriment with a passionate game of flipping a half-full water bottle to see if they could get it to land upright. A mid-afternoon cloudburst brought another layer of unexpected chaos and a moderate amount of water around my ankles to the experience. 

All the distractions in the world could not mar this day for me. I was sailing on the waterways between the Aztecs' legendary floating islands, and never in my sixth grade imagination did I ever believe this dream would come true. 

* * * * *

Together and apart. Apart and together. 

Our first full day was a lovely mix of two different energies, and all those hours of planning were starting to pay off. 

* * * * *

Want to read about all my adventures in Mexico City?

I've Finally Arrived

Together And Apart

Malaysia And America In Mexico

Mexico City: I've Finally Arrived

 Fall 2020

“We're moving to Mexico City!” my friends from Malaysia told me. “Will you come visit us?’

Omg, YES. I said. I'd love to!

“But when?” they asked.

I'll start working on a plan, I replied.

2021 - 2023

I did absolutely nothing to work on a plan.

January 2024

“When are you coming?” they asked. 

“Soon,” I said. “Very soon.

Well, we're moving back to Malaysia at the end of June,” they said.

And so I bought some tickets. 

* * * * *

^ Thanks to a very generous exchange rate with the Mexican peso, this lovely boutique hotel was only a moderate splurge for my US dollars. A heavenly aesthetic and a wonderful place to call my Mexico City home. 

Check out the official Casa Ofelia website for a host of glorious shots. 

^ Polanco is an upscale neighborhood of Mexico City quite literally overrun with glamorous and trendy restaurants. El Arrimon is neither trendy nor glamorous but a simple down-to-earth eatery featuring authentic Mexican seafood dishes. Love. 

^ After dinner, along with the amiable crowds, we strolled the cool streets of Polanco and happened upon El Moro, a legendary churro shop. "Stop!" my host proclaimed, "You simply must try them." And so we did. Delicious. 

For glorious money shots of these humble churros, check out the El Moro website. 

Friday, June 7

Bolt out of bed before the break of dawn.

Toss in the toothbrush and zip up the suitcase.

Dash down I-5 to the airport.

Hop a plane due south to Mexico City.

 

Emerge hours later to the deep shadowy canyon of curbside pickup.

Watch the towering palm trees toss their fronds in the sultry breeze.

Endure Friday rush hour as the half hour drive to the hotel turns into a 90 minute NASCAR fiasco.

Arrive at our hotel and sink into the dreamy vibes of Casa Ofelia.

 

Step out into the plant-filled street, and find my friend Juwe waiting for me.

Walk through the warm evening streets of Polanco.

Meet the others at El Arrimon for a seafood dinner.

Exhale.

 

I’ve finally arrived.

* * * * *

Want to read about all my adventures in Mexico City?

I've Finally Arrived

Together And Apart

Malaysia And America In Mexico

Dinner At Peridot

^ Fried chicken wings with caramelized fish sauce glaze

^ Green papaya salad with English cucumber, pickled daikon, roasted peanuts, 

fried shallots, spicy lime dressing and house-made beef jerky.

^ Roasted cauliflower with scallion puree, chilies, peanuts, and fresh herbs

^ Seared Dover sole with red curry bagna cauda, bok choy, and chives

 ^ Confit duck spring rolls with kohlrabi puree, pickled Fresno, cilantro, 

scallion dipping sauce

^ Yuzu citrus tart: yuzu citrus curd, black cardamom, diplomat cream, 

orange supreme, cashew crust

* * * * *

Other food we ate before we thought to take a photo:

Fried pork belly with black garlic puree, soy-tamarind gel, pickled beech and alba mushrooms

Star anise bread pudding with Chantilly cream, poached pears, and bourbon caramel sauce

* * * * *

I jumped on a plane

flew across the country to Columbus, Ohio

landed in the evening and soon fell fast asleep.

Next morning,

I jumped into a car

drove to Ann Arbor, Michigan,

and ate dinner at a restaurant called Peridot.

Oh, the food was delicious. Modern Vietnamese, the reviewers say, with a decidedly American point of view. Served on small plates for sharing, which is my absolute favorite. And my companions for the meal were highly entertaining; I dined with my first- and second-born daughters, as well as my nephew who lives in nearby Detroit. But none of those are the reason why I went to such lengths to eat at Peridot.

I went because my youngest nephew is a chef at Peridot. He has a fierce and fiery passion for cooking, this nephew of mine, and I could think of no better way to support him and cheer him on than to show up in person and eat his food. When he came out of the kitchen and saw us sitting nearby, you can't imagine the smile that lit up his face. 

I don't often travel 2,200 miles for my dinner. But I'd do it all again just to see my nephew, the chef, smile.

* * * * *

Photo credits to my first-born.

I was too busy eating. 

* * * * *

How lucky am I to have two chefs in the family?! 

Read about my two brilliant nephews who love to cook.

Dinner At Peridot

Dinner At San Fermo

Dinner at San Fermo

The Pump Room

Italian Village

Cafe Provencal

Elliot's Pine Log

The Bergoff

Philanderer's 

And every last one of the crazy, inventive Lettuce Entertain You restaurants around at the time.

A study in understated chic. 

Back in 1980, when I first landed in the Chicago restaurant scene, fine dining was all the rage.

Yes, there were countless diners and crab shacks and burger joints, most famously The Billy Goat Tavern where you could get cheezborger cheezborger cheezborger and maybe a Pepsi but certainly no Coke. 

But in my boughie world of professional accounting, we ran in the circles of fine dining.

Rooms with a view, decorated to a T.

Hushed waitstaff trained in crisp efficiency and discretion.

Lush linen tablecloths and heavy silver place settings.

And the food. Elegant, inventive, flavorful, fresh. 

I was fortunate to enjoy many an extravagant lunch or dinner on the company's pocketbook and I came to enjoy these pleasing meals as if they were second nature.

Crusty baguette, creamy butter, ginger carrot soup. Yum, yum, and yum.

Then, in a flash, my life changed.

I traded in my power lunches for a couple blueberry muffins to share with my toddlers or maybe a pizza lunch buffet. And then there were the Happy Meal years when my growing gang of girls figured McDonald's to be the end all and be all of fine cuisine.

But, you know, times change. Eventually I became a regular at hippie pita shops, semi-authentic Mexican restaurants, and that one Thai place down on the Ave that still blows my mind. As I eventually got opportunities to travel the world, I gained new respect for the food stalls, the street shops, the everyday dives that bring out the locals. Those, for my money, are usually where the best food is to be found and nowadays, those are the places I seek out for my meals away from home.

Genuine, authentic food for sure. 

But not what you'd necessarily call fine dining. 

We ordered several salads and passed them around. 

Then the entrees arrived and we stopped taking photos. 

The other weekend, I got an opportunity to eat at San Fermo, the Ballard restaurant where my brand-spanking-new nephew-in-law is working as a chef. And to my delight, I realized - as we slid past a row of two tops and squeezed past the standing crowd at the bar to work our way to a large table on the back patio - I was about to enjoy some post-modern fine dining.

The restaurant lives in a former residence, and the rooms are mostly intact, yielding a cozy, domestic vibe. The kitchen is in full view, and diners watch their meals come together just as they do at home dinner parties. Spotlights highlight formal portraits hanging on shiplap walls, looking like anybody's upscale farmhouse kitchen. Calm and cool, down to earth, the waitstaff is professional yet friendly in the egalitarian way that the postmodern world prefers. Our food is served up on a variety of mismatched vintage-esque plates; the place settings are pleasingly posh.

The food is good. Elegant, inventive, flavorful, fresh.

And while I delight in the heady experience of tasting, sharing, and chattering with my family as we enjoy our food, another part of me simply sits back and smiles to see how my dining experiences have come full circle. 

I'm enjoying a rare moment of fine dining. And I am pleased. 

* * * * *

Photo credits to my first-born.

I was too busy eating. 

* * * * *

How lucky am I to have two chefs in the family?! 

Read about my two brilliant nephews who love to cook.

Dinner At Peridot

Dinner At San Fermo