Thursday is farmer’s market day

The best thing about being a professor is keeping professor’s hours.

The best thing about living in San Francisco are the farmer’s markets.

The result of these two facts is that every Thursday morning I am at the Daly City farmer’s market. I’m pretty sure I’m the only thirtysomething, unaccompanied, non-professional-chef male who has ever been to this (and maybe any) farmer’s market. So I feel a bit conspicuous when I go, but I still love it.


And I usually get a little carried away. This week I came home with:

Tomatoes
String beans, both green and white
Apricots
Nectarines
Peaches
Raspberries
Lemon cucumbers
Herbs: rosemary, dill, thyme, parsely, basil
Green onions
Snow peas
Fresh eggs

It seems weird to have a produce shopping problem.

Tiny camera day

I have been obsessed with tiny digital cameras for a few months now. Historically, two or three times a year, I become obsessed with a particular gadget until I somehow get my hands on one. However, I confronted my addiction a while ago and have been clean since my September ‘04 “birthday-gift-to-myself” iPod purchase. But I fell off the wagon last week and ordered this:


I’ve been tracking it and UPS will be delivering it tonight, by my estimate, around 7:10 pm. In my own defense, I have to say that Marcy has been egging me on (reason #113 that I have the world’s best wife, by the way), although I think she just wants me to take secret spy pictures of all the neighborhood freaks.

Bay Area Ribs, LLC

M. and I are mourning the end of Jimmy’s Rib Shack. We went there on a whim a while ago, even though (or maybe because) it looked totally seedy and is in the bad part of town. Jimmy, this retired-truck-driver guy from Louisiana (I think), made us the best pulled-pork sandwiches we ever had. The secret ingredient? Love. The place was a bonafied dive with lots of charm. On the wall was this cool painting of two dudes in the parking lot of Jimmy’s laughing and eating ribs. It had photos up of Negro League teams. Etc. But when we showed up on Saturday, Jimmy was gone and a new, beady-eyed money grubber had taken over the place. It was like buying ribs from a used car salesman. The best was when someone asked if they could substitute cobbler for a side, and he said “Of course! I always say, money talks.” Translation: Nope, it’s extra but I want you to think it's not until it's too late and you've already ordered. Two days later, just when I thought I was ready to move on, I pulled out the receipt from lunch to record it in my register and saw listed at the top “Bay Area Ribs, LLC.” Don’t advertise a BBQ joint as an LLC! Stupid yuppie. I hate him.

Still bloggin'

It’s funny that I still think of this as a blog, since I haven’t posted for like 8 months. But I’m keeping the dream alive over here. I got engaged and married to Marcy since my last post. This might be my favorite photo from our wedding:


It captures the best moment of the day--our first trip to our awesome wedding buffet. Anyway, Marcy was a beautiful bride, just about all our close friends and family were in attendance (either in UT or TN), and everything went great.

That was in January. Now, five months later, I’m ready to add blogging back to my routine, so stay tuned for the occasional post.