Spring Awakening

God damn it I'm horny.  This time of year always makes me crazy...and with a boyfriend in Ghana (not all the time, please, he does actually live in the States - and yes, I did just say "The States") I can easily be classified as Desperaux.  

I'm regressing with each passing day...returning to my adolescent days of chronic masturbation and prolonged eye contact with boys leading to nothing (except early stages of carpel tunnel perhaps).  I blame Spring.  Just because I live in Los Angeles where it's Spring everyday of the fucking year doesn't mean I don't still feel the push and pull of of the Big Four.  It's a little more subtle but there are three, clear, red flags that Spring is upon me (or in me, if you will). 

1.0  The Jacarandas - trees I ignore all year long burst into purple blossoms and rain petals like something from a Disney cartoon...or nature. 

2.0  My ability to find the biggest car crash of a human being attractive sans alcohol (e.g. there's a picture of Mel Gibson going around the web right now.  I think it's supposed to scare me but I immediately shot up on a lady geyser upon seeing that homo erectus with that Jew hating look in his eye...beard burn?  I'll take it!)  

3.0  The gin and tonic.

Back in the day, I lived in an apartment building called The Barcelona (the awning would remind you in case you forgot) along with one of my best pals, nickname:  Fahx.  Come springtime, circa 5pm, I would go a'knocking at Fahx's door in search of gin.  He had the Sapphire (our pick at the time) and, more importantly, the secret weapon:  Elderflower Syrup... from Ikea.  A tablespoon of this special treat, a couple of fingers of Sapphire, some TJ's tonic and it tasted like we were actually drinking Spring. 

Every night after I teach class I think I'd like to have one of these, but I no longer live in The Barcelona.  So plans have to be made, texts sent, and spontaneity abandoned.  Sometimes we still get together for homemade G&Ts, but more often than not I'll get my fix at The Hungry Cat in Hollywood.  It's a wee bit pricey, sure, but I tasted Spring there recently...and for $12?  It was a hell of  a lot easier than trying to fuck a jacaranda.

Run don't walk!

The Hungry Cat

1535 North Vine

Hollywood, CA  90028

323.462.2155

www.thehungrycat.com

final word:  The food is great, yes, but the cocktails are some of the best in town.  Trust your bartender.  The daily specials - at this time of year - are guaranteed to sate any Springtime cravings (well, most).  

On my last visit I had a tangerine gin and tonic that almost made me weep.  They were kind enough to give me the recipe.*  Do it!

* A Midspring Dream

(from The Hungry Cat)

1.5 oz. of Plymouth Gin

1 oz. fresh lime juice

1 muddled tangerine

3/4 oz. simple syrup

splash of tonic

Put everything but the tonic in a low ball packed with ice.  Muddle to your heart's content, top with tonic, stir once and enjoy.    

I Heart Mexicans

I don't consider myself to be particularly racist.  I mean, I pass copious amounts of judgement on people based on their ethnic background but...racist?   That's some strong language - until now.

I'm obsessed with Mexican Coke.  Not cocaine you partying fool:  Coca Cola.  The Coca Cola that is bottled in Mexico is far superior to the stuff made in America, certainly the United Kingdom, and God love me if I ever get near an Indian Coke.  But Mexican?  I'll take it.  And on a hot day?  I'll take TWO.

Two Mexicans, por favor.  Por que?  (that's "why" in Spanish - just in case you thought I was speaking in tongues...or code).  Because it is made with SUGAR or AZUCAR to use the language of my new best friends.  Corn Syrup - worse then any Moonshine your daddy used to drink - is the lead player in American Coke.  Yeah, that's the main ingredient in the "Secret Formula" they keep going on about.  Hence why it leaves that awful coating on your teeth, that acidic sensation in your tummy, and that layer around your middle if (got forbid) you make it a habit.  

But Mexican Coke?  First ingredient:  SUGAR.  Something found in nature (as opposed to a lab).  It tastes like American Coke but...better.  Lighter.  Like a Pimm's Cup but more familiar.  And refreshing...God is it refreshing!  Straight out of the fridge is pretty f'ing good or you can dress it up on the rocks with a wedge of lemon if you really want to blow your socks off.  

Now is the time to put down your Santa Cruz Natural, your Reed's Ginger Beer, your fill-in-the-health-food-store-soda-blank down and race to the closest deli, bodega, or supermercado and stock up before the mercury hits 90 (again).  It's like sensory air conditioning.   And, I mean, Mexico is pretty hot so they'd know how to make a refreshing beverage down there, right?

Right.

Coca Cola:  La bebida numera una de Mexico - y ahora, America!  Salud!

How to Avoid Shingles

I am a trainer...a fitness trainer.  

Recently one of my clients accused me of eating healthy all the time.  Clearly, she has not been stalking me.  If she had, she would have realized that - as she accused me of staving off indulgences - I stood opposite her with a savory treat from Umami Burger (850 South LaBrea, Los Angeles, CA  90036) making its way through my small intestine.  I got their signature burger:  sirloin cooked medium rare with roasted tomato, shitake mushroom, and a parmesan crisp wedged in between a perfectly sweet, soft-on-the-inside-crispy-on-the-outside bun (that I'm pretty confident) descended from heaven.

I could have lied.  I could have nodded and smiled, flexed my abs, and told her I swear by Yoplait and think Bob Greene is a God.  But that would have been a bold-faced bag of trash.  The one time I tried a diet (The Fat Flush by Ann Louise Gittleman) I got shingles.  I'm not lying.  I broke out in this strange rash (on only one side of my body - that's how it works...cheers!) whilst guzzling the "Long Life Cocktail" (a cleansing tonic which involves flax meal and cranberry concentrate) and shoveling various vitamins and minerals in my face.  Perhaps it was a coincidence.  Maybe ye olde Fat Flush didn't give me the shingles...  Maybe Barack Obama isn't hung like a moose?  Who's to say?  Alls I know is:  I've been faring a lot better since I embraced my Grandpa's favorite adage:  Everything in moderation - even moderation.  

I have set aside the ways of many a fitness crazer and continued on my own food foot path...one that involves meat, cheese, bread, alcohol, caffeine and the occasional recreational drug.  I think it's good for us...all of it.

That AND I'm pretty much starving all the time.  I use my body a lot.  I run around a lot.  I teach group fitness classes which is like being in a musical and trying to get the audience to do it with you.  I love it - don't get me wrong - but I burn some serious calories.  Way more than I ever did working sixty hours a week in an office (which almost killed me - worse than the Fat Flush...seriously).  Now I work concentrated hours pouring my energy into people, workouts, and the occasional machine (which, I realize, makes me sound like a chronic masturbator addicted to her Hitachi Magic Wand but I was thinking more along the lines of a treadmill in this case).  I need food.  My mother says she eats to live.  I think, at this stage in my life, I may have crossed over...and now:  I live to eat.

Run don't walk!  

UMAMI BURGER

850 South LaBrea Ave

Los Angeles, CA  90036

HOURS:  11am - 10pm, Monday - Sunday

www.umamiburger.com

Final word:  it's all about the burgers.  Sides were a little weak in comparison to the rockin' burger, the Mexican Coca Cola, and the Cake Monkey sweet treats.