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I drove home from work last night with trepidation.
And was greeted to the sight of the Christmas lights twinkling on my building's front door.
The power has been restored.
A big thank you to all that offered your heat, homes, company and support over four very cold and depressing days and nights.
As of 8:45 this morning, I still had no power. For those of you counting, that makes four (!) very cold nights. According to Seattle Power and Light, about 16,000 households in the city are sans power. They've fixed the central power supplies, and now, are in the process of restoring the lateral lines that bring power to residences. They hope to have power restored either tonight or tomorrow night. Sigh...
When I got into my car Sunday morning to drive to Green Lake for running club, I couldn't help but notice the loud beeping in my car, indicating that the temp was in the mid-30s. I don't think it was much warmer last night, when I whined to Carrie about the lack of power, while cocooned in my room surrounded by candles that I hoped would produce heat.
I think I've reached breaking point with this whole power thing...
The worst part: most of my neighborhood is supplied, meaning that I can look at the twinkly Christmas lights on the buildings across the street, mere footsteps away. I hate all of you and your fucking christmas lights.
When deciding whether to accept the job and move to Seattle last February, I had many conversations with the recruiter and my manager about, well, everything. Including the weather, which I was told “is great. Mild weather, and while it rains, it’s really more of a mist and the once a year if it snows, its flurries and gone within a few hours.� Considering the few months of winter thus far, somebody lied to me, big time.
I have yet to witness what the Seattle natives call "mist"; it rains just like in the Bay Area, big buckets of rain. The Seattle snow flurry that looked so charming became a nightmarish few days of snow, ice and bitter cold in the 20s and the low 30s. The Bay Area girl in me had a hard time – I’m not a cold weather person, I don’t know how to drive in the snow (in fact, snow driving scares me), and the heat in my apartment kind of sort but not quite works. Campus was shut down for two days, although I didn’t know about the shut down the first day, but did wonder why the gym was empty and only discovered when I sat in an empty conference room for 20 minutes and finally read the e-mail announcement. The roads were icy and slick. Luckily, Lolita is fundamentally a German car, so did quite well on the icy roads. Regardless, it was a crazy few days. By Thursday, life - the weather - settled back to normal.
And then this week happened. My week has been bizarre, for many reasons – lost cars, showers that didn’t take, odd meetings, two sleepless nights in a row, issues with the holidays, important items (such as wallets and cell phones) left at home, and a power outage Wednesday morning that caused me to oversleep by two hours (figures, that was the night I took a sleeping pill). By Thursday afternoon, I felt like things had sort of returned to normal. But alas, a giant rain and wind storm and flooded streets turned my commute into 1 ½ hours of hell (Lolita does well in floods, too). I got back to Seattle in time to meet Asra for the end of happy hour at Sun Liquor, and when I finally made it back home at 10:30, the power was out. I slept to the sound of fierce winds and it turns out that the storm was one of the most powerful on record.
Two days later, I still have no power. Luckily, not all of Capitol Hill is affected; the areas with restaurants/cafes still work, and thankfully, the gym still has power, so at least I’m able to take a hot shower (I couldn’t help but notice that many others had the same idea this morning).
Joe Bar has now become my second home. I’ve made new friends, bonding with other refugees using the café for sustenance and warmth and the Internet connection. As someone noted, it could be worse. At least I live in an urban area and can walk to the grocery store or café or whatever, unlike those that live in the middle of nowhere, or what I refer to as “the eastside� (snicker). I don’t think that we’re being neglected – according to their website, Seattle Power and Light is doing the best that they can:
“Emergency shelters open as City Light crews restore power to more than 10,000 customers on Saturday. Currently, the Utility has approximately 39,974 customers without power, down from a high of 175,000 on Friday morning when approximately 50% of our customers were without service. A total of 65 feeders in our above-ground system went off line. Currently, 37 feeders have been restored, or partially restored. Feeders are the lines that bring electricity from substations to neighborhoods. Feeders can carry 2,000 to 4,000 customers each.
City Light crews are working continuously on rotational shifts throughout the weekend, day and night (Saturday, Sunday and Monday) to restore service as quickly and safely as possible. However, after the weekend, a small number of miscellaneous outages will remain, or trickle in, due to the severity of the wind damage. Unfortunately, some customers may be without power for 48-72 hours, and others could experience extended outages of up to four (4) days. They should plan accordingly. The utility estimates those continued outages will be scattered throughout the city in isolated areas.�
Almost everyone I talk to tells me that this winter weather is highly unusual. It never rains buckets and buckets. Wind storms are rarely occurring instances. Blackouts don’t ever happen in the city. The weather is really wonderful and mild. Right. I’ll keep that in mind when I go back to my cold and dark apartment tonight.
Tony and I chose Gary Danko in San Francisco for our annual holiday dinner. As a chef, I suppose you know that you’ve made it when people don’t snicker at the vanity name. And, at every step, the Gary Danko brand is presented, emblazoned on match boxes at the door, the sticker on the toilet paper roll in the bathroom, the pen used to sign our receipts, the old-fashioned purse holder attached to the table.
Gary Danko ranks as one of the most amazing meals I’ve ever had. It’s definitely at the same level as the French Laundry and Michael Minna, it’s that fabulous. In combination, all of the elements that count – the food, the atmosphere, the service – were simply exceptional.
The menu is fairly unique. The chef pulled together a five-course prix fixe meal, or if that wasn’t interesting (it wasn’t to us), we could mix and match our own meal, choosing dishes from “appetizers�, “seafood�, “poultry and meat�, “cheese� and “dessert� and selecting a three, four or five course meal, each course a set price. We went with the four course, a decidedly rich and complex meal.
Chef’s favor: venison stock with a grilled orange segment and clove biscotti. I’m not sure that I liked the citrus, but the venison stock was deep, smokey and delicious, complimented well by the smokey spice of the clove biscotti. I can only imagine how much time someone spent making the stock.
First course: Tony selected oysters and caviar, I, seared scallops. While both dishes may sound somewhat simple, each were served with complex sauce and were rich and delicious. This is the only dish that we didn’t fully share, instead handing each other a bite. Partly because neither of us had said, “hey, let’s swap plates halfway through� and partly because I am selfish and scallops are one of my all-time favorites.
Second course: Our server told us that they had white truffles available. Remembering how much we loved white truffles (I can still taste the white truffle angel hair pasta at Quince), we splurged. White truffles were thinly shaved on seafood risotto (creamy white goodness studded with chunks of lobster) and foie gras seared with a sweet apple sauce. The tangy garlicky earthiness of the white truffles went perfectly with each dish.
Third course: I chose duck, coated in spices and seared. It was accompanied by duck hash, a sort of pancake and a few vegetables. Tony chose the yellow tail tuna, which wasn’t bad, but fairly ordinary considering that everything else was so spectacular. It came with a roll containing some sort of pickled vegetable and monkfish liver, a decision that definitely elevated what was a somewhat unexceptional dish.
Fourth course: Cheese. All cheese. I should have written down our cheese choices. A cart with at least 30 different types of cheese was wheeled to our table, every piece was explained to us, we made decisions and four very generous servings arrived on my plate. On reflection, I think I chose a Sally Jackson, a goat gouda, a cowgirl creamery and something else, but I can’t quite be certain. I was sad that I couldn’t finish the cheese – but at a certain point, I was done.
Of the drink to accompany, we began with kir royals (had to wait at the bar for a few minutes) and enjoyed a bottle of champagne. It’s a standard with us.
One last note. The restaurant was elegant, dark wood and mirrors. And the bathroom was just cool. A little fountain under the sink, paintings, flowers, and the som held the door open for me. That is service.
In what can only be described as an ugly win, Cal very ungracefully beat Stanfurd in the hundred and something annual Big Game. We didn’t really care how they won, we just cared that the axe remained in Berkelely, where it belongs. Plus, by the time we hit the game, we had been fueled by Kanaka’s golden bears and jello shots and beer and food. Our Big Game Traditions are solid – pre-game party with the standard Cal drinks and food, catching up on life and happenings, the game, the post game, the amazing Cal band, always made better by the general suckiness of the Stanfurd band, who by the way, couldn’t perform because they were suspended by their own school for vandalizing their OWN band house. Think about that.
We had the party catered this year, a good move considering that some of us traveled from out of the area and life is busy. Plus, we’re now really adults, and cost is no longer an issue. Rick and Ann’s provided us with excellent food: a platter of bagels, mini-biscuits with bacon, lettuce and tomato, a Spanish frittata platter, a ham and cheddar frittata platter and balsamic garlic grilled portabella mushrooms on skewers. We decided that in two years, we’ll punt on the bagels and do another biscuit platter – they were pop in your mouth tasty. I also brought blondies, for the traditional dessert. Cynthia volunteered her Grandparents house for the party (located near Clark Kerr Campus, easy stumbling distance to the game), the start of what will hopefully be a new tradition.
I’ve written about Big Game at least 2 years for this blog (I’d link back, but alas, the old images are trapped on a server now collecting dust in London). I suspect that the entries are fairly identical: the game, friends, food and drink. Big Game is really one of my favorite traditions. Michelle, Kanaka, Suzette and I have been attending the games together since 1994 or 1995. Beyond the food and the drink, it’s the one time of year that we, plus the others that have become core to our Big Game group, gather, discuss our lives and what we’re doing and where we’re going. In fact, Big Game serves as a perfect reflection of how are lives do change, reflected in our group: husbands Justin and Drew (both of whom proudly wear blue and gold); old Cal friends Cynthia and Emil who became an integral part of the group in the years after graduation; and new friends that cheer for Cal like Carrie and Tricia and James (who is actually a Cal alum, but we didn’t know each other until he and Tricia began dating). It’s a good tradition to have.
I expected Carrie to do a drive by pick-up when I flew down to the bay area for Big Game weekend. I stumbled across Nilay instead, just on the other side of the security area. “What are you doing here?� I said, in my half awake state (It was 11:00, I’d been up since 5:30 and I’d had enough time to try Vino, the new wine bar at Seatac before the flight, which by the way, was decent). After chiding me for not being happier to see him, he explained, "we have a surprise for you."
After a slight snafu with directions and restaurants, Carrie and Emil greeted us at Cesar in Berkeley. “Happy (late) Birthday Schelley!� A bottle of Moet and desserts (pots a creme, bread pudding and goat cheese drizzled with honey, my favorite) decorated with a festive candle and a Happy Birthday song. We caught up on life, details, made fun of each other.
Surprise!