May Birdtalk

I got back from Northern California and noticed that my baby red tailed hawks had left the nest. Saw them bouncing around on nearby trees and starting to fly.

I hope to find time to get better pictures of them before they finally fly away to fresh pastures and new valleys.

I saw one on the road this morning that took off in flight before I could really grab a decent shot.

I took this shot through my car window.

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Lots of action at my feeder too, like this black headed grosbeak male dipping into the grape jelly.

Whales and Grapefruit

It was nowhere near what you would call an ideal day for whale watching. The skies were gray, it was a bit chilly and the water had a bit of a chop. I didn't have time to get my ideal whale watching lens from the shop and would have to contend with my very slow Sigma zoom.

Still the worst day whale watching is still fantastic and nature decided to cooperate with us.

Leslie and I were treated to quite a show as we encountered about ten finback whales, the second largest animal on earth after the blue whale. 

These whales run about 80 to 90 feet in length.

We were barely out of the harbor when we first encountered a cow and her large calf. Normally we have to go about ten miles out to see these magnificent leviathans. The krill that they feed on was evidently quite close to shore and we saw them in about 80 meters of water.

Remarkable.

We sat in the middle of the whale action for about two hours, no need to travel far when they come to you.

Chris was our captain, Tican the crew and we have gotten to know them over the years. We go a lot. Yesterday was special  for us because we had so few people on the boat.

Fin whales don't usually breach like humpbacks (although we have seen them breach on a rare occasion) but their presence is still magical. We once had three tightly circle our boat for forty five minutes on a Catalina trip with Doug, Retha, Kent and Renee.  Perhaps it was the Marvin Gaye we were blasting.

Whales dig Marvin Gaye, don't ask me why.

The lack of optimal photographic conditions allowed me to just enjoy myself rather than being forced to record the experience. It was nice.

Later we ran into a small school of dolphins.

All in all, it was quite a nice day.

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We stopped by our great friends Ron and Lena's home in Cardiff after our excursion for an anniversary champagne toast and appetizers.

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We then went to the restaurant for dinner. Pamplemousse Grille is our favorite place to eat in San Diego County. Located across from the Del Mar Racetrack, their food is always exceptional as is their chef, Jeffrey Strauss. Check out their menu. It was a tough choice.

We usually go for Restaurant Week when it is cheaper but what the heck, this was our thirtieth anniversary so we went for it.

We started with their smoked seafood medley; Smoked lobster, shrimp, scallop, salmon and a potato galette, with a caviar pepper Beurre Blanc. Our server told us that everything but the salmon was smoked on site.

It was beautiful and delicious.

Leslie had the crispy duck, I went for the game duo of a venison chop and quail. Or as the menu says: Venison Chop Au Poivré & Lemon Thyme Marinated Quail and Crispy Half Duck with Sweet White Corn, Porcini Mushrooms, Sautéed Gnocchi in a Cherry Balsamic Reduction.

Both of our dishes were beyond delicious. We shared and loved each other's dish. If I had to be critical I would say the potato was sort of underwhelming but it was quite useful in holding up the end of the chop.

Leslie thought her gnocchi was a bit blah and perfunctory. But now we are splitting hairs. 

They brought us a candle in a strawberry with some praline candies to mark our celebration that was also not very incredible but hey, it's the thought that counts, we appreciate it.

We skipped dessert. Leslie wanted ice cream and had her heart set on An's Hatmakers Gelato in Del Mar, supposedly rated number two in the entire country. I guess they try harder. She had a roasted pistachio cup which she loved.

I was full from dinner.

I love Pamplemousse. I love the whales. I love my wife. I love you. There, I said it.

Thirty year anniversary

 

Rolling Stones - 2120 South Michigan Avenue

A rare Stones instrumental. The amazing Brian Jones on harp. 2120 South Michigan Avenue was the address for Chess Records in Chicago.

Slowdown

With David Sanborn.

Grass Valley Shindig

not exactly a blast...

Well, I'm back, mostly in one piece. It was a tough trip up north, one I am not going to fully break down at for you at the moment, but will give you a few outstanding high and lowlights. 

I got back yesterday afternoon. I was going to try to empty my van this morning but remembered that I had something on the calendar. Yes, that was it, a visit to the podiatrist. Nine o clock this morning, van would have to wait.

My big toe has been aching for two months, ever since my pedicure. I saw an emergency room doctor, he ruled out the gout.

Doctor was a few minutes late. Patish is a nice young guy, from Belarus originally. 

His nurse thought the nail color was really off. Hmm. 

He took a quick look and then pulled out two long needles. 

Froze my toe and then gave me the injections. 

Told me not to look.😓

I had an ingrown toenail that was the result of an improper pedicure that I had received at the place near Grocery Outlet. 

He said that they cut at the wrong angle and left a sliver of nail in. 

It had apparently abscessed and left a lot of scar tissue. 

He said that he pulled out the second most cystic material he had ever retrieved from a toe.

I asked him if I could feel the old tissue and it was firm and rather pliable. Never had anyone dig into my toe before.

Strange stuff.

Antibiotics now for ten days. I am bandaged and he wants me to chill out for a day or two.

Guess he dug rather deep.

I think I need to find a new manicurist. 

The vibes weren't so good with the last one anyway and now this.

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Grass Valley was strange, a  western show that was once the class of the genre, people still talk about the day the Koch Brothers dropped over three million in one visit.

Those days have evidently passed.

I stopped by my stepmother's in Fresno on the way up. Taught Shela and my stepsister Sara how to make my scones recipe.

Not sure why but these cranberry blueberry ginger scones came out extra good. I was pretty careful because I was teaching. 

They wanted me to bring scones and I said no, but I will teach you how.

Drove by the very intriguing and venerable Madame Sophia Palm Reader joint in Fowler and made a mental note to come back one day with a camera when I had more time.

The next morning I had coffee with my good friend Bert Levy, a tradition of mine while in Fresno.

I made my way up through Sacramento, then onto the Highway 49 and finally Grass Valley.

Known for great historical, advertising, western and gold rush material, there was a robust swap meet occurring outside in the parking lot when I arrived. 

I saw faces I had literally not seen in decades, caught up with some old friends. 

I bought a beautiful Navajo floor rug outside.

I started bringing my show material in around eight in the morning. There was no move in help and no double doors. 

My painting boxes were too wide and had to be brought in one at a time. 

I looked around.

The show seems to have gone to seed in some way, but let's face it, who hasn't?

Both the clientele and dealers are aging. 

My booth was not nearly what I expected, not the full peg board I had been promised and a strange short wall separating me from the next dealer. 

Oh well, I would make do. What else could I do?

This was like a way back booth for me from thirty years ago.

I decided to forego lights and paper and just blend in like the other dealers. Rather Spartan.

I don't think they have really had a fine art dealer before. 

I had low expectations.

Which was good because the show didn't really pan out all that well for me. 

Sold a couple paintings and other things, did all right but not what I needed or expected. 

I bought a good illustrator painting on the floor which I have already sent to auction.

I had not been to the area since I went up with my ex wife about forty years ago to see the Jerry Garcia Band and the Band play together outside on the lawn.

It has changed.

While some are championing Grass Valley as the new vanguard of psychedelics, I didn't see any of that. 

I saw long haired men with pistols strapped to their sides, many of them missing large numbers of teeth. 

I went into the Humpty Dumpty for breakfast one morning wearing a Hawaiian shirt and gave the place the once over. People stared back. 

I noticed that everybody there dressed quite drably, all in blue and gray, might as well have been wearing potato sacks. Color is out. I know that I am prone to hyperbole but I am not exaggerating, no one, male or female, had anything sporting color.

I felt like a drag queen at a Wisconsin picnic in my Hawaiian shirt, which, a long with my blue jeans, is my normal costume du jour at the shows. 

Politically the conversation, both dealer and clientele was heavily MAGA. Lot of white flight escapees to Idaho, heard some racist stuff, made it a point not to engage. I was there to try to make money, not win political arguments.

Had a man bemoan the fact that all these Bay Area people have moved into Nevada City and were ruining the place, one guy said his own sister in law was one of the principal offenders and she was running for office!

Place is evidently pretty polarized, like much of America right now. I had two decent meals all week, at Maria's and at Pine St. Burgers, the Heisenburger the best I have had in a long time. 

Went out with a couple dealers to the former place, an old rodeo bull rider and his son from Bakersfield and another guy who had a booth near me. 

We told jokes all weekend to keep ourselves occupied, spent a few days laughing. I had a couple cocktails at Maria's and ended up leaving the place feeling pretty good.

Show started Friday and sometime in the late morning I dodged the bullet. 

That flimsy wall between the booths decided to come down. 

I jumped up and grabbed a falling painting with one hand and held the entire wall up with the other.

The guy next to me, Shannon, said I looked like Hercules standing there for about two or three minutes until help arrived to stabilize the mess.

I had $30,000 dollars of paintings on that wall and I managed to escape with about $650 dollars damage. 

The wall crashed into a table and broke the glass on top and gouged the table pretty good. I ended up giving it away.

I barely received an apology from the promoter and never any offer of compensation for my loss. 

The man that built the wall said that he had neglected to put a brace on the back. I guess a major tragedy was averted and things could have been a hell of a lot worse but I expected something more from management, frankly.

Not sure I will be returning, that is for sure.

I manufactured a sale to a client who was walking through the place. I knew where this painting was in Berkeley... I got up at four on Sunday, drove to Marin to drop off a painting, picked up a painting in Berkeley, stopped by Oakland for a cup of coffee with my friend Melissa, then drove to Ojai to sell the painting. 

My GPS sent me out to this god forsaken region near Taft and I realized that I didn't have enough gas to attempt the geographical traverse. The phone routed me another 45 minutes to Maricopa and then through the amazing Maricopa Highway for a three hour ride through some of the most marvelous scenery I have ever seen in Southern California. I had done Highway 33 from Wheeler and Casitas Pass the other way but never all the way through or from the east.

Miles of ceanothus lilac, two months later and a shade lighter than my local stuff. Wildflowers I have never seen before, a giant river bottom and then a climb into the most beautiful pine hills of the Los Padres National Forest. 

There were nine washouts to get through where the road was now one way. My only regret was not seeing any of the condors that now live in the area. I finally made it to my client's beautiful hacienda, did the deal and then on to my hotel in Ventura. I drove somewhere between fourteen and sixteen hours this day and was completely wiped out.

Got home yesterday, pretty whipped and clutching for breath. Bank is holding the big check for five days. Nothing is easy. I guess this is what I have signed on for. Little hawks have now fled the nest but I saw all though of them on distant boughs and snapped a couple shots today.

I'm glad to be home, bandaged foot propped up on the couch.  Anesthesia just wearing off. Just found out that new client up in Atherton wants to see paintings early next week, might not even unload the van. Another thousand miles or so to go.

Such a life...

The Jimi Hendrix Experience

Rolf Stoll

 

This is a painting by Rolf Stoll (1892-1978). Stoll was a German American artist who was a major figure in the Cleveland School in the twenties through the forties. It is a large work, 40 x 44".

I sold this painting eleven years ago, to a woman in Santa Barbara, for a good sum of money. I think it is one of the most powerful paintings I have ever sold. 

Why? There are several reasons. There are various narratives at work here; there is a master servant relationship, notice the patrician figure with the pearls being served by a dark skinned maidservant with a fertility symbol on the necklace around her neck and a bowl of fruit that suggests fecundity. Let's call this the classist dyad. There is also an obvious underlying racial and miscegenation component that leads one to wonder about the fact that they are both naked and the possibility of a sapphic sexual relationship that might exist between the two figures of varying shades.

All of these dueling narratives create a lot of dynamic tension yet the piece is rendered in a classical, renaissance manner that softens it and makes it extremely charming to me.

Stoll did some very provocative work but this might be his best, or at least it is to my eye. Reminds me of George Tooker a bit. Tooker meets Caravaggio.

In any case, the woman is downsizing and wants to sell it back and I agreed instantly. 

I love the canvas and always wanted to see it again.

I talked to a major curator about the painting last week and he was hesitant. And also talked to a big shot art wheeler dealer today who also was nervous about it. Why, I asked? The first man said the painting was very loaded, whatever that means.

What the man said today floored me. He said that museums might be reluctant to have the painting because a possibly straight man painted a canvas depicting a pair of nude women who might be gay and that is deemed appropriation by today's standards.

Seriously? Has it come to that? Are we in an age where only women can now paint nude women? Has the woken generation fixed its perfect millennial eye on the artistic masters of the past and will Picasso and Lautrec now be forever banished to the locker room for their sins and perfidy?

I have a client who is interested in the work, I am not really sweating it. I just find the colloquy quite disheartening and grotesque. Perhaps I should have seen it coming.

I predict that a very strong person will end up with this painting. It would not be a good fit for the intellectually weak psyche.

A brief bio on Stoll from AskArt courtesy of Spanierman Gallery LLC:

Rolf Stoll was born in Heidelberg, Germany, in 1892.  As a boy, he attended a military academy, during which time he developed an interest in art. He received his early formal training at the Academy of Fine Arts in Karlsruhe and at the Academy of Fine Arts in Stuttgart.  He emigrated to the United States in 1912, settling in New York City.  A decade later, after studying at the school of the National Academy of Design and supporting himself by working as a commercial artist, Stoll decided to leave New York. Upon the recommendation of Warren Pryor, one of his teachers, he decided to move to Cleveland, Ohio.

After arriving in Cleveland, Rolf Stoll continued to work as a commercial artist.  However, in 1926, he joined the faculty of the Cleveland School of Art, where he taught drawing.  Two years later Stoll was appointed head of the school's portrait painting department.  A talented portraitist, Stoll's sitters included industrialists, community leaders and many prominent members of Cleveland and Ohio society, as well as over twenty faculty members from Case Western Reserve University.  Stoll also gave portrait classes at the John Huntington Polytechnic Institute from 1926 to 1953.  In his male portraits especially, he was admired for his ability to convey the dignity of his sitter's professional position without sacrificing individuality.  As noted by one contemporary reviewer, Stoll was a "master of rich color, a searching student of human types, a forceful portrayer of all that the face reveals of the mind and the soul." [1]

In addition to his activity as a portraitist, Rolf Stoll painted figure subjects and floral still lifes.  He was also known for his views of the Ohio countryside and Canada.  Stoll also painted views of Spain and depictions of Spanish peasants, inspired by an extended trip to that country (1926), during which time he was entertained by the famous Spanish portrait painter, Ignacio Zuloaga.  Moving easily between oil and watercolor, Stoll worked in an direct realist style, combining his characteristic firm draftsmanship with the use of simplified forms and decorative color.

Rolph Stoll was a member of the Cleveland Society of Artists, the Cleveland Print Club and the Kokoon Art Club.  He exhibited his work widely throughout the United States and was the recipient of numerous awards and prizes.  Stoll also had important solo exhibitions at the Columbus Gallery of Fine Arts (1928) and at the Cleveland School of Art (1927, 1936, 1943).  Following his retirement from the Cleveland School of Art in 1957, Stoll moved to Lake Worth, Florida, where he painted depictions of flowers and fruit until his eyesight failed.  He died there on 19 November 1978.

Representative examples of Stoll's work can be found in major public and private collections throughout the Midwest, including the Cleveland Museum of Art; the Dayton Art Institute; the Toledo Museum of Art; the Nebraska Arts Association; and the Columbus Museum.  Stoll also produced a number of murals including a WPA (Works Progress Administration) for the United States Post Office in East Palestine, Ohio.

Cowboy Junkies - Anniversary Song

Chugging along...

Things are moving forward a little bit in my world. McDaniels sold their maintenance unit, the new guys just mowed my fields. All good. A good house painter just came and applied some much needed to paint to a few places where it was sorely lacking. Taxes are paid for another year, yuck, but we did it. Leslie has a new mini fridge in her shop. Cars have had needed maintenance.

We are making some progress towards normalcy, not quite there yet but have to give ourselves a pat on the back.

We're coming up on our thirtieth anniversary of marriage on the fifteenth, quite a few of you attended. 

Can you believe that it has been that long?

Happy to have made it this far, very happy to be married to my wife. Marriage isn't easy, especially when there is illness and financial difficulty.

Yet we have stuck it out and I am glad. Easier to quit. But we love each other.

We are going to our favorite restaurant for our anniversary, Pampelmousse in Del Mar, after an afternoon whale watching.

They have been seeing all kinds of whales off the coast, including a blue whale on April 6th.

I look forward to getting out on the water.

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Loved this story, chimps and herbs.

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Ancient typeface rides again.

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Donald's Story

Not so woke

I fall into that funny little gray area between woke and asleep. Or so I like to think anyway. Those that live on either fringe have a way of pissing me off.

Look at this headline on Huffington Post today.

Mean old rich white guy is standing in the way of a historic black candidate, or so the headline intimates. I hate to sound like an asshole but is this what we have come to; forget about merit and let's just give it to the candidate because she is a black woman? Is that all the criteria that is required here?

I don't know either of these individuals, reading the article they both seem quite capable. My problem is with how the article is spun and the narrative is framed. Is there a liberal thumb on the scales here or what?

I believe that this is why the Democrats are losing such a wide swath of support across our country. Things should matter beyond their income, the color of their skin or their gender. White males are not inherently evil and should not have to pay reparations of any kind.

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Last night Hamas operatives fired 14 rockets and mortars at Kerem Shalom, a checkpoint that was allowing humanitarian aid into Gaza, killing three Israeli soldiers and wounding others. 

Will the progressive demonstrators at colleges throughout our land now celebrate the deaths of these horrible Zionist occupiers and will they decry the shutting down of the aid checkpoint as more proof of Israeli inhumanity?

Yes and yes.

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And then there is this.

A student group from Columbia Law reportedly declared that no Jew is "safe" or "free" until Palestine is free.

In an email allegedly sent by Columbia Law’s National Lawyers Guild organization on Friday, the group condemned the school’s administration and the NYPD for clearing out Hamilton Hall after it was occupied by anti-Israel protesters.

Responding to Jewish critics, the group insisted that they did not speak for "all Jews" and argued Jewish safety cannot be assured until Palestine is "free."

Robert's Chicken Piccata

I made chicken piccata last night. 

Our parents loved piccata, marsala, scallopine and dishes like this and so do we.

My wife said that it was one of the best things I have ever made but she says things like that so that I will feel good. 

In any case it is a simple dish and easy to make and I thought that I would share my version with you.

As you can see, I served this with pappardelle. 

One of the toughest things for me as a new chef who came to cooking late in life is timing dishes and side dishes.

You hate waiting for something to cook while other things get cold.

 I often misjudge.

In order to improve my timing, I had everything assembled mise en place, ready to go when called upon.

Four cloves garlic minced, four tablespoons butter diced into smaller cubes, one tablespoon capers coarsely chopped. Half a lemon cut and squeezed into a small bowl.

The first thing I did was to pound approx. 2 lbs. of chicken filets between wax paper with a wooden mallet. I cut them into manageable portions. I then took one of my nice new old restaurant platters and salted and peppered both sides of the chicken. I drizzled olive oil on the filets, worked it around with my hands and then dredged them in a seasoned flour mixture, coating both sides.

We started the water for the noodles. The pappardelle should take approximately twenty minutes and if everything went to plan, it all would be ready in a perfectly syncopated crescendo.

I pulled out my largest calaphon saucepan and put two tablespoons of olive oil in the bottom, swirling it around on medium high heat. I seared half my chicken in the olive oil for two minutes and then turned it for thirty seconds on the other side and then removed them to a waiting plate. 

I repeated with the remaining chicken. For some reason the second batch always browns better than the first batch, not sure why. I cheated and added a cube of butter to the oil and added a little more oil too to finish the bird.

After all my poultry was removed to the clean plate I added my garlic and another splash of oil and reducing the heat, allowed it to cook for about two minutes and golden up a little. My god, does this dish smell good.

I then added a third of a cup of white dry cooking wine that we keep for such an occasion and a third of a cup of chicken broth (my secret ingredient). 

I deglazed the pan, using the beautiful new acacia spatula that I had bought for just such an occasion to loosen up the flavorful bits on the bottom.

I let the liquid cook down and evaporate to practically nil for about two minutes and then added a half cup of water and my butter, swirling it around and mixing aggressively so that the butter would meld with the water into a thick emulsion. 

This took about a minute.

I put the chicken back in the pan and made sure to both cover the filets with liquid but also to turn them after a minute.

My sauce looked a bit thin. So I added about a quarter cup of half and half into the sauce to thicken it, removed it from the heat and mixed in my approximately two tablespoons of lemon juice. Some recipes call for whole cream, some omit it entirely, I thought it needed it.

I checked it for salt and taste and actually it didn't require anything.

I plated our dinner, scooping sauce over the now cooked pappardelle noodles and added parsley that Leslie had chopped on top. Bon appetito!

Voila. It was perfect.

We paired it with a 2015 bottle of Tuscan wine that Leslie had put away for just such an occasion, a Casone a Toscana. 

Dessert was a haagen daz bar.

I have now made chicken piccata on numerous occasions, sole piccata and veal piccata.

If my wife says this was the best dish yet I will take her word for it. 

The chicken was perfectly cooked, juicy and flavorful.

We can't wait for leftovers tonight. 

We are going to add mushrooms and give it a little twist.

Sweet shade tree

A few years go we were visiting our friend's Bob and Shela at their lovely home in Encinitas and became enchanted with a tree in their yard.

Not only did it have lovely leaves and foliage but it possessed the most beautiful, plumeria like fragrance.

We knew that we had to buy one.

We ended up finding one and planting it between our home and the towering redwood in our back yard.

I guess that it has been in the ground for about three years now.

We know that, in a brief matter of time, the lovely scent will be wafting right up into our upstairs kitchen window.

Bob mentioned that it can get rangy so we also know that we will have to trim it a bit from time to time.

But it is a welcome addition to our garden.

The sweet shade (Hymenosporum flavum) is a native of Australia, principally Queensland and New South Wales. 

But it also can be found in New Guinea, in the rainforests.

It was introduced to California in 1900 by the Italian botanist Dr. Franceschi, in Santa Barbara, where many magnificent specimens are still found. 

It can get about forty feet tall and half as wide.

Other common names include Hawaiian Wedding Tree and Queensland Frangipani.

Neat tree!

You might want to pick one up. 

One smell of its blossoms and you will be hooked.