Jan and I were comparing notes the other day about favorite blogs and Oh Joy! is high up on both our lists. And knowing how much Anna lusts after any type of paper goods, I suspect she’s a big fan also. Here’s some of Joy’s new designs for Chronicle Oh Joy!: oh joy for chronicle….
Archives: August 2009
cool things jon has seen
El coma, departmento guias? Nope. These are a series of fictional books sold in Mexico with a strong sense of style. Remind you of anything?
abaya style
A recent trip to Dubai and Abu Dhabi was a lesson in style, as per this lovely Arabian woman whose bag complements her abaya so perfectly, it made me want to go out and purchase the whole ensemble. I didn’t… but it does make one realize that a good sense of fashion can come in all variety of dress and style
moroccan tomato soup
I’m not a natural chef, but I am a spaz, and to undiscerning eyes, the two can look awfully similar. For instance, I simply cannot be bothered to measure. I pull things out of the fridge—random things—and I cut them to my whim and I throw them in, or mix them together, or hurl some cheese on top and it looks an awful lot like confidence. Maybe it is at some level, I’ve eaten in scores of great restaurants (thanks, eat.shop) and maybe I’ve picked up a thing or two. But basically, it comes down to this. If your ingredient list includes some of the following: copious butter, garlic, cheese, and salt, the tasty will follow.
Yet recently, I was moved by a recipe to try it. It was a rainy Sunday, perfect for cooking, so I tackled a New York Times mag recipe, Moroccan Tomato Soup (http://tiny.cc/NZC7d). I was equipped with fresh garlic and tomatoes from my local farmer’s market and was ready to go.
It was good, very good. Needed more butter.
the purdiest dining room
A couple of weeks ago I went down to Gearhart, Oregon for my beloved friend Chris’s 50th birthday party. This was a hot damn fun party, i.e. dancing like crazed teenagers doing the African Anteater Dance to Peter Frampton (yes, you can dance to “Do You Feel Like We Do”) and eating (no surprise as Chris is a chef) fantastic Mexican fare.
Then there was the house that Chris rented for the party. Probably circa early 1900′s, shingled and properly weathered, looking like what a beach house should look like. It sits plopped smack dab in the middle of Gin Ridge—origin of name obvious. The inside is littered with family mementos and trinkets that all had an intriguing providence. But the highlight of this house was the dining room. It was a ’40s fantasy of pink. I kept up looking for my Grandmother Leona to step out of the kitchen with a dish of German sausage and some lemon bars.
This room made me goofy happy. Of course the gorgeous birthday cake acting as the ultimate pink dining room accessory helped a bit.
the land o’ cabazon
Somewhere towards the end of the last century, I was somewhere between my second and third decade. This was back in the day when, if my friends and I wanted to take a vacation, we just quit our jobs. There were no mortgages, children, pets or twitter to weigh us down, and one of us always seemed to have a working credit card.
During these years, my friend Amy and I would drive the 10 freeway east from Los Angeles heading to 29 Palms and Joshua Tree. There would usually be two stops along the way. First stop: Claremont, where we would check in at our friend Nick’s Cafe Trevi. After a little infusion, we’d get back on the road until we came to the super-sized metropolis of Cabazon—population 2,000 or so humans and 2 whopping dinosaurs.
Over the years, and many stops to pay homage to Dinny and Rex—Amy and I decided that if we ever had our own businesses (to note: we had probably just quit another job to take the trip we were on), we would name these businesses in honor of Cabazon.
Though the mythical Cabazon Films never came to pass, both Cabazon Design (my design studio) and Cabazon Books (the publishing entity for eat.shop) are actual functioning entities. Miraculous.