Thanking the Kardashians

Surely you've seen the latest in the silly string of reality celebrity TV shows - Keeping up with the Kardashians. I managed to watch one episode and was impressed. First of all that I could stomach an entire half hour of socialites trying to advance their social status. But I actually found a bigger payoff. While watching the antics of amazon-sized Khloe, petite Kim and Kourtney I realized something unique in the E! obsessed media. These girls are not, nor will probably never will be Paris pencil thin. Matter of fact, these girls revel in their fat, round asses and lush (albeit, saline altered breasts).

And you know what? They look great! They flaunt gorgeous dusky rose skin, inherited from their Armenian ancestry. Big brown eyes and glossy brunette manes. Matter of fact, they are the anti Paris. And I for one am thrilled. If those girls shake those abundant booties, which make mine look modest by comparison (not taking into account the extra 10 camera pounds) then why the hell do I slam out hours on the Elliptical? Hell, I'm gonna lay off the afternoon salad and hit bottles of champagne with dinner.

I'll say this, good thing mamma Kardashian can't cook as well as my Mom.

A Holiday of Excellent Excess

Thanksgiving has always possessed special significance for me since it falls close to my birthday. Special means while the family gathers for the 3 - 4 Thanksgiving functions, my birthday is always cause for celebration. Now you ask, why would you have so many Thanksgiving dinners? Silly, so that all the members who arrive from out of town can congregate at Aunty Ardys' one day and Aunty Lilly's the next.

This year was no exception, delightful chow at Aunty Edna's for the big turkeyday fest. And yes, we did have a turkey, currified and delish along with spinach balls and divine coconut rice. Matter of fact, so much did I partake that all I could manage that evening was a Telegu movie with the parents, the names of the actors I can't remember but it did feature 2 young kids - Siddhu and Hasini gamboling in a modern Hydrabad Romeo and Juliet.

Friday was devoted to shopping - cashmere cardigan, blue topaz ring and a stunning tri colored gold necklace compliments of Mom and Dad. But in the evening we hoofed it over to our favorite South American joint Azucar for Golden Margaritas (best in the DC area), fish stew, ceviche and the side salad for no reason but the tangy lime buttermilk dressing.

Saturday was lunch at Aunty Jaya's for sour rice littered with fried cashews and onions. Two types of gongera (a sour leaf much like spinach) curry - meat and vege and a glorious Oreo ice cream birthday cake. Hanging with my guy cozs Amit, Anup and Chinnie and running Duke ragged at the local Elementary School. Did my heart good to see him crashed on his bed half an hour later.

That evening, to further celebrate my birthday on Saturday, many of my cousins (12 to be precise) joined me for dinner at Rice on the very chicly renovated 14th Street. Dinner was followed by a live performance by my cousin Rekha at HR 57 . Tons of fun as Rekha fronted piano for her newly formed East Coast band to perform some original and her own jazz. A second chocolate mousse birthday cake was passed around to all the friends and family who joined the celebration.

Sunday was all about Mom. Crunchy dosas the size of tires accompanied by chutney compounded with tomatoes, chilies, onions, garlic, chana dahl and the skin shavings from a bitter gourd. Simply the best dosa and chutney you'll ever have. A chapatti or two thrown in with a brinjal mutton curry while sipping coffee. Raking the leaves (what else is a Rekha to do?) and then I was off with cousin Suj back to New York.

Long, delectable weekend.

Local Gem

It's certainly not the kind of place you'd expect in Woodridge, NJ. Or anywhere in NJ for that matter. But Martini Grill does reside on hilly street and I can tell you it serves up the best Martini's ANYwhere in the tri-state area. That's saying a lot since big sister - New York City - is merely miles away. How can a tiny joint so ostentaciously named shake such a bad boy Martini? Well it starts with a bad ass owner, this one's named Aret Cakir (that's French and Armenian, and yes, he's as sexy as he sounds). Aret impeccable training (French Culinary Institute) and apprenticeship (Maxine's in Paris, Le Cirque in NY) shows in his nouveau Mediterrean menu. And even more so in the cocktails. Well-aged mixologists Al and Tommy blend innovative top shelf vodkas with fresh juices and liquors into frothy fantasy martinis. Even better, they use fruits and garnishes the likes of which I've not seen anywhere except perhaps the Sonoma County rage Cyprus Restaurant . Like Scott Beattie , the bartenders at Martini Grill use the freshest, juiciest, highest quality mangos, pears, citrus, edible flowers and berries. I've seen blackberries the size of a kiwi!

The distinguishing factor between Cyprus is the use of locally grown ingredients, a practice that mixologist extraordinaire Scott Beattie vehemently endorses. How else could he come up with cocktails using opal basil or red Hawaiian sea salt or lollyberries? But since I can't hoof it over to Cyprus (located in Healdsburg, Sonoma County) anytime I've got the hankering for freshly muddled Ciparinas, I'll stick with my local Martini Grill for a Jackie O or scrumptious Peartini.

Here's the info for Martini Grill:

187 Hackensack Street
Wood Ridge, NJ 07075
Tel: 201-939-2000

Oil: the Great Evil

So how long have men been fighting over that Texas gold? And I don't just mean George senior and junior. I'm talking about the Far East, which religious claims aside funnel down to one factor: possession of oil-rich land.

But if you think oil wreaks havoc on land, just wait till you see what it does in the water. The inhabitants of San Francisco Bay had that unfortunate honor when the container ship Cosco Busan rammed into the base of Bay Bridge's western tower November 7th due to radar failure.

Governor Schwarzenegger suspended all fishing in areas affected by the Bay spill, accounted as the worst in nearly two decades. The type of oil that spilled "bunker fuel" is sticky, packed with pollutants and slow to break down as reported by AP. "Bunker fuel is the dirtiest fuel on the planet," said Teri Shore, campaign director for the marine program at Friends of the Earth, which has started a petition drive seeking a ban. Accordingly to environmentalists, it's an ecological nightmare for the water, environmentalists say. The spill inspired the group Friends of the Earth to ask Congress to ban the use of bunker fuel.

For those of you interested in the plight those animals injured by the spill, or wish to donate funds or your assistance, here are a few links:

Donations
Volunteer to help
International Bird Rescue

Winter in the Garden of Evolvement

The first freeze hit my garden this weekend. The coleus were hardest hit, their fragile "stain-glass" leaves shriveled and brown from the frost. The Portulacas - succulent by nature also wither in the frigid climate so removed from their native Mexico. However the Geraniums thrive as hardily in frostiness as well as they do in the burning heat of summer. The silver dust Cineraria with uncanny lacy but robust leaves is another survivor.

So I am left to play one of two roles; Circumspect Gardener who tends to the needs of the flora as determined by the seasons. Or the Goddess Gardener who allows the whims of temperature to destroy or incubate as it will. Think I'm shooting for the latter.

The Apple Tree

One of the most endearing traits of nature is finding it in unexpected places. A bunny rabbit in your boxwood hedge. Deer grazing on the Garden State Parkway. Cosmos growing wild in a highway median. I was able to catch nature at her stealthiest on a bus, no less. All throughout New Jersey run little buses that shuttle passengers from the garden state to New York and back. These buses are labelled "community transportation" and are usually run by someone of Latin descent. I call them Merenge buses since they blare loud Latin music and are used by members of those communities.

One fall day we idled in Union City, the city closest to the Lincoln Tunnel. For those of you familiar with Union City, it's not a place you wish to idle for a long period of time. But I was at the mercy of traffic and the bus driver, a man intent on squeezing as many passengers as humanly possible in the 20 seater. I happened to look outside the window and what did I see? Not bumper to tail light traffic vying for a spot in the Lincoln Tunnel. Not an accident nor a police incident. I saw an apple tree - 10 feet tall and bearing green apples that would shortly be blushing pink and crimson. Don't know about you but that thrilled me to my bones - unexpected nature.

Om is where the heart is

Om seems to be a trend of late. I've written about the birth of a wee boy name Om. And this weekend I had the distinct pleasure of experiencing a tuning fork set to the frequency of Om. The location was Newark, NJ - my friend Lourdes' home. I know what you're thinking - driveby gunfire, car alarms, thugs on the street corner. Oh no no no. First of all, she has priviledge of living in the uptown part of Newark. More importantly, her home couldn't be further removed from inner city violence and ugliness. Imagine an English cottage garden in the front yard. Think on flowering perennials and herbs tilting in the breeze. Sage so pungent that she dries and ties it with string for homemade smudges. Then picture a cosy house painted in brilliant colors and festooned with Disney characters. How un-innercity can you get? Moreover, the staggering supply of crystals, dieties, candles and assorted talismans keep this home as safe and protected as the Rosetta Stone.

It was in this setting that Lourdes brought out the tuning fork, informing us that it was set to the frequency of Om. Of course we had to test this declaration by thumping it vigorously to hear the low decibel vibrations. Placed to the hand the emissions went straight through bone and muscle. We thought it capable of breaking up muscle distress, memories and even disease. Perhaps you would like to try it yourself?