nectarina: I haven't forgotten, I've just been testing you to see if you're paying attention

Dear reader, by now you may be a bit perplexed. "Um," you are saying. "What about the food?"

At the beginning of this blog I had my chest all puffed out about my new identity as a food blogger, yes indeed. And trust me when I tell you that the puffery was sincere. I had every intention of developing this space as a cohesive tribute to my experimentations and epiphanies in all things epicurean, from procuring my food (oh, those sweet bicycle-rides down to the farmer's market) to cheery ventures in front of the stove, to revelations in flavor.

So, yeah, best laid plans, and all that. It turns out that I still love to blather on at length about Deep Life Topics like right livelihood and pesticides and health care and such things. And oh, how I *love* to write about my many feeeeeeelings. They are dark and angst-ridden; they must be recorded!

(I ask myself, just like Angela asked Jordan Catalano in the boiler room, "why are you like this?" ["Like what?" "Like, how you are." Ladies? Can I get an amen.] Not sure. Would love to know. Parents would also love to know. But that's another story. I digress.)

Anyway, so, this blog has undergone a kind of de facto expansion in its range, which is pretty fun for me, and I hope you are having a good time too. Dear reader, I just want you to be happy! And I haven't forgotten about food, you know. I've been buying it and cooking it and eating it pretty consistently since I started this blog, and expect to continue within those general parameters for quite some time.

As does all things, food goes in waves. Sometimes I enjoy periods of all home-cooked and home-prepared meals using the finest, local organic ingredients; sometimes I am buying breakfast from the Bagel Street Cafe and lunch from the Golden Lotus and dinner from Mitama Sushi. Not all the time, I promise (mom), but sometimes. I recently purchased a breakfast crepe from a place called Metro Cafe, where all of the crepes are named after cities. I.e. the Mill Valley has eggs, tomatoes, and cheese, while the Barcelona has turkey and pesto. I swear to you that there is an item on the menu called the Las Vegas: "any crepe and a spanking." $25. Would I lie about such a thing? No.

This weekend I ate some Indian food which just didn't agree with me, and I was depressed for about 36 hours. The connection between food and mood is amazing. So now my fridge is stockpiled with leafy greens and radishes and other cleansing vegetables. Oh, the body knows, the body knows.

Really, though, the reason I'm writing all of this is because I wanted to share two bona fide food blog items with you.

Thing One:

I think that the executive chef at this restaurant just moved into the studio apartment downstairs from me. I enjoyed a fine dish of tender duck meat and savory potatoes there in January with my beloved Cuz, and it was perhaps one of the most flavorful meals I have ever experienced. And now the dude is my downstairs neighbor?

AWESOME.

Thing Two:

Could there be a more compelling package for a loaf of pumpernickel bread?