The Wonderful World of Amsterama

How I Became Mr. Hamburger Press

2010-09-15T10:48:00.000-07:00

It started with a few simple questions:
Do you like Judy Garland, Barbra Streisand or Bette Midler?
Was your mother a Cub Scout leader?
Have you ever considered the priesthood?
Have you ever taken Valium?
Complete this phrase: “Clang, clang, clang.”
And: Did your mother have a hamburger press with a rooster on it?
These questions were often posed by my friend Lloyd as a “gay test.” If you answered yes to one or more of the questions, you were probably gay, he said. Lloyd asked a lot of people these questions, so one year as a joke Christmas present, I decided to find him a hamburger press with a rooster on it. I was driving through Sonoma and dropped into a thrift store, and there was one: a wooden hamburger press with a rooster on it. I presented it to Lloyd, and he was suitably delighted.
Little did I know that this would set me on a path where I would achieve my Warholian 15 minutes of fame. I often frequent thrift stores, and suddenly hamburger presses started appearing. It seemed like fate, so I kept buying them. There was one store in particular, where every time I went in, there would be three or four. In very little time, I had a collection. I decided that if I had a dozen or so, I would enter the collection in the San Francisco County Fair. This was back in the ‘80s, when the City had a tongue in cheek county fair, with lots of odd competitions, like a parking space race.
As the fair approached, I decided to make a great presentation, so I bought red and white, checked gingham, fake parsley, and even crafted a fake hamburger out of a Gaines Burger dog food patty, complete with airbrushed singe marks. I even made up little cards, explaining the lore and history of the hamburger press. Truthfully I made most of it up, but if you say anything with authority, people will believe you. The display looked great, and I loved standing back and watching people view my collection and say things like: “Why would anyone collect those?” Quite to my surprise, I took third prize, losing out to a fossil collection, and the first price winner, a collection of blotter acid. Only in San Francisco.
Soon after the fair, I received a call from the San Francisco Chronicle, they were doing an article for their Image magazine about people with odd collections. They interviewed me and took my picture with the collection. After the article ran, people started bringing me hamburger presses. It was around this time that I decided that this was an interesting conceptual art project and I would ride it as far as it went.
Shortly after the fair, I moved back to Orange County and decided to see how my collection would do at the OC Fair. Unfortunately, people didn’t get it as they did in SF (big surprise), but it did garner me an article in the Los Angeles Times.
It was during this time that I opened a thrift store, and after the article appeared, many more hamburger presses came my way. Eventually, the collection swelled to over 125.
It was becoming overwhelming, dragging around all of there hamburger presses, and I tired of the collecting and the “fame” being Mr. Hamburger Press brought me, but there was one more shot that would be the pinnacle of this project and also the end of it.
The Fullerton Museum, located in the Orange County city of Fullerton, is a institution dedicated to pop culture, and always has off-center exhibitions. One day while viewing a show dedicated to Fender Guitar founder Leo Fender, I saw that they were seeking out people with odd collections, mostly purchased on eBay, for an exhibition called “Gotta Have It.”
I wrote up a brief description of my collection and submitted it, not really expecting to hear anything back, but to my surprise, about six months later, I received a letter instructing to bring my collection to the museum and be prepared to speak about it for a video interview. I dropped off my collection a few weeks later, did the interview and was told that the exhibition would open a couple of months later. I was told to be prepared to speak at the opening night about my collection.
As I entered the museum, there was my collection, housed in a huge plexigalss case with a description, as if it were high art. I decided a long time ago that the character of Mr. Hamburger Press was slightly off-kilter and maybe a little insane (who else but a mad man would collect these things seriously?). On opening night, I donned my loudest Hawaiian shirt, handed my sister a video camera, and proceeded to give a serious lecture about the lore of the hamburger presses, one eyebrow cocked slightly higher than the other for effect. You can actually hear my sister on the tape saying, “He’s gone completely off his rocker.” I consider it one of my finest moments.
After the exhibition closed, I kept getting calls from the museum to come pick up my collection, but I had already decided I was done with it all and was just going to leave it there. I kept putting them off. Nearly two years later, the curator called and said he was going to be in my area and he would drop it off. I had no choice but to accept. Over the next six months, two boxes of hamburger presses sat in my office, as I would hand them out to anyone who dropped by.
Today, I have perhaps three or four.
While I may not be the only collector of Hamuburger presses in the world (there are always a few dozen for sale on eBay), I was certainly the foremost. In fact, if you search my name and hamburger press on the internet, there are still references.
So, that was my 15 minutes of fame. I suppose there are worse things to be known for than collecting hamburger presses.
By the way, my mother didn’t have a hamburger press with a rooster on it.

Holocaust Survivor and Hitler Youth Speak in Piedmont

2010-02-25T17:09:00.000-08:00

Click here to read my latest J. Weekly article about a Holocaust survivor and a former Hitler Youth speaking in Piedmont.

Thrift Store Articles

2010-02-23T12:53:00.000-08:00

Click here to read my article on AIDS-benefiting thrift stores in the Orange County and Long Beach Blade.
Click here to read about my expereinces running Dorothy's on Broadway Thrift Store.

Bay Area Jewish Food

2010-01-28T15:12:00.000-08:00

Click here to read my article about unexpected Bay Area Jewish restaurants in J. Weekly.

Ada Burko Story

2010-01-14T17:22:00.000-08:00

Click here to read my story about JFCS's Ada Burko in J Weekly.

Chanukah Cards

2009-12-01T18:07:00.000-08:00

Click here to read my article on Chanukah cards in J Weekly.

New Articles

2009-11-24T16:49:00.000-08:00

Click here to read my article on Marion Rosen in J Weekly.
Click here to read my article on Laguna Outreach in the Orange County and Long Beach Blade.

The Sholem Aleichem of San Francisco

2009-10-09T16:45:00.000-07:00

Click here to read my article on Joey Liebman, the Sholem Aleichem of San Francisco in J. Weekly.

Same-Sex Marriage News Stories

2009-09-24T12:11:00.000-07:00

Click here to read my SF Bay Times story on same-sex marriage in Maine.

Click here to read my SF Bay Times story on challenging Prop 8 in 2010.

First SF Bay Times Story

2009-09-03T15:50:00.000-07:00

Click here to read my first assignment for the SF Bay Times about the efforts to rescind Prop 8 in 2010 vs 2012.

New Articles

2009-08-28T18:13:00.000-07:00

Click here to read my article on Warren Hellman and Tricia Hellman Gibbs' Bnai Mitzvah in J Weekly.

Click here to read my article on Centro Cristiano Oasis in the Orange County and Long Beach Blade.

Holocaust Survivors Article

2009-07-30T15:36:00.000-07:00

Click here to read my article about the Holocaust Survivors Memoir Writing Group in J. Weekly.

San Diego Pride

2009-07-01T17:02:00.000-07:00

Click here to read my article on San Diego Pride in the Orange County and Long Beach Blade.

Torah and Tacos

2009-06-26T16:01:00.000-07:00

Click here to read my article about Torah and Tacos in J Weekly.

Discovering the Artist Within

2009-06-16T13:37:00.000-07:00

Click here to read my article Discovering the Artist Within from J. Weekly.

Burrito Web Site

2009-06-10T13:52:00.000-07:00

I am working on an article about a program called Torah and Tacos, and Rabbi Jonathan Jaffe of San Francisco's Temple Emanu-El told me about this great Web site for burrito reviews: http://burritoeater.com/main.php

San Francisco Article

2009-05-27T13:16:00.000-07:00

Click here to read my article about San Francisco in the Orange County and Long Beach Blade.

Recent Articles

2009-02-21T09:20:00.000-08:00

Click here to read my article on Congregation Sherith Israel's Leisure League in J. Weekly.

Click here to read my article on the Dunsmuir Hellman House in J. Weekly.

Ennio

2008-12-19T12:29:00.000-08:00

Click here to read my article on Ennio in Edge Magazine.

New Article

2008-11-29T20:49:00.000-08:00

Click here to read my article on philanthropy in J. Weekly.

My Yma Sumac Obsession, or Once in Love with Amy

2008-11-20T16:35:00.001-08:00

The recent passing of Yma Sumac seems like a good time to finally write the tribute to her that I've been thinking about for years. Less a tribute, I suppose, than my memories of this singular singer.
Like with so many things in my life, my knowledge of Yma began with a call from Lloyd Stensrud and Richard Moss in the late '80s, asking if I wanted to catch a performance by Yma Sumac. I had never heard of her, but they assured me that I would enjoy the concert. They told me about her story: a Peruvian singer with a five-octave range, she released a series of popular albums in the '50s, did a couple of movies, and was now making a comeback.
She was performing in a small theater in San Francisco and as the lights dimmed and the band finished the overture, she emerged from the shadows. An exotic creature, he looks had faded somewhat from her heyday, but she was still striking. She proceeded to give a whirlwind concert, plucking favorites from her repertoire, abusing her band (a trend, I would learn later), and teasing the audience who wanted to hear nothing more than one of the songs from her popular Mambo album. She would make that number her encore and "faked" her way through it. I was smitten, and over the next few weeks I bought every recording of hers I could get my hands on. (My obsession isn't as bad as Richard's. He has to not only have every recording, but every packaging of those recordings, from CDs to 78-rpm records and everything in between.)
Moving from the Bay Area to Southern California in 1988, I found that Yma started performing regularly at the Hollywood Roosevelt's Cinegrill. My ex and I caught every performance there, and they were pretty much the same set, more of her abusing her band (I think she loathed most musicians), the audience wanting more from Mambo and her obliging grudgingly, and her holding court afterwards for autographs. By 1991, she would do one more concert at The Strand in Redondo Beach (often interrupted by the sound of the dishwasher) and would again retire.
The crowd at those concerts were an odd combination of original fans now in their 60s and 70s, gays, and younger hipsters, the latter in the minority. That would change with her final concert at the Hollywood House of Blues in either 2000 or 2001 (I'm not sure). By then, the Space Age bachelor pad music fad was booming, and the room was filled with hipsters and hipster wannabes.
Overall, it was the same set she'd been doing all along, but there was one somewhat disturbing surprise. Yma was outfitted in a very low cut, green sequin dress, and at one point in the concert, it literally fell off. There she was, bare-breasted on the stage-embarrassing to say the least. That, unfortunately, would be the last time I'd see Yma.
My two favorite Yma stories are ones where I didn't see her, one fact and one fiction. The factual one involves my taking pictures for the cover of IN Los Angeles magazine, where I was working as an editor. We were doing a cover story on the Sunset Junction Festival, and needed a shot of the street where it is held as a background for the cover model. I wanted to get a shot from up high, looking down on the street, so the festival director and I climbed the stairs of the building where their offices were located. I couldn't get the shot I wanted from any of the windows by the stairs, and by chance, we spotted someone coming out of their apartment. We asked if we could shoot some pictures out his window. After I finished getting my pictures, I turned to leave and noticed stacks of pictures of Yma on a table and memorabilia everywhere. I asked him why he had all the Yma stuff, and he told me he was her personal assistant. Yeah, right, I thought, so I started quizzing him. He had enough obscure knowledge about Yma that I decided he was telling the truth, so I asked him if there was any possibility of getting autographed pictures of her for Richard and I. Two weeks later, the pics arrived, and the autograph was authentic, I had some items she autographed after a concert to compare it to. That picture is up in my living room, draped in black once I heard of her passing.
My other Yma story is complete fiction: that she was a villainess on the TV show Batman. Her character was the Siren, and she was paired with the Joker. They would rob jewelry stores together: Yma would enter and hit one of her high notes, which would stun everyone and break the glass on the display cases. The Joker would then snatch up all of the loot and they would make their escape. Completely false, but utterly believable.
I shed a few tears when I heard of her passing Yma was one of a kind, and there will never be another voice like hers: notes as high as a bird, and as low as a dog's growl. Rest in peace Yma, mi amor.

Jewish Museum Article

2008-11-13T10:01:00.000-08:00

Click here to read my article on the Jewish Heritage Museum in J. Weekly.

Harvey Milk Article

2008-11-08T12:48:00.000-08:00

Click here to read my article Harvey Milk and Me in the Orange County and Long Beach Blade.

RIP Yma Sumac

2008-11-03T12:58:00.000-08:00

I have just received word of the passing of Yma Sumac. I will post my personal memories of her at a later time.

http://www.yma-sumac.com/

John Cleese Brillance

2008-11-02T16:08:00.000-08:00

John Cleese came up with one of my favorite moments from Campaign 2008. Appearing on MSNBC's Countdown with Keith Olbermann on Oct. 31, he said:

"If Carl Rove had been working for the Democrats, he would have run something about John McCain saying, 'This man—so-called hero—spent five and a half years, the most formative years of his life, in a Communist country, speaking only to Communists. He never had to pick up the tab, all his accommodations were free. Do we want someone as president who has been palling around with Communists?"

My Favorite Ad of Election 2008

2008-10-30T15:44:00.000-07:00

I'm glad they finally used Palin's wink against her:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_ZtOFiO0R0U

It reminds me a bit of Johnson's "Daisy" ad, but a lot subtler:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IkWAhuXtalw

Mock Thanksgiving Turkey

2008-10-28T12:54:00.001-07:00

With Thanksgiving approaching, I thought this would be a good time to post my famous Mock Thanksgiving Turkey Recipe.
Eat your heart out, Martha!

Cook two-dozen fish sticks until crispy and brown. Mix up about a quart of instant mashed potatoes. Arrange the fish sticks on a greased baking sheet into an oval. Top with a layer of mashed potatoes. Continue alternating the layers of fish sticks and mashed potatoes until you have an semi igloo-shaped “turkey body.” Cover outside with more mashed potatoes. Using toothpicks, attach two cooked, large broccoli spears to resemble drumsticks, and cover with more mashed potatoes. Sprinkle the “turkey" liberally with paprika and bake in a 350-degree oven until golden brown.

The Mighty KlezTones

2008-10-26T15:01:00.000-07:00

Click here to read my article on The Mighty KlezTones, as seen in J. Weekly.

Joe Six-Pack

2008-10-19T09:42:00.000-07:00

The Real "Joe the Plumber"

2008-10-17T15:32:00.001-07:00

Folsom Street Fair

2008-10-17T10:16:00.000-07:00

Check out my photo spread from the Folsom Street Fair, as seen in IN Los Angeles magazine:
http://www.inlamagazine.com/1118/social_whirl/sw.html

Piggies at the Trough

2008-09-25T15:41:00.000-07:00

I can't help but think that this $700 billion bail out will benefit no one but the rich. I am also concerned about the proposed lack of oversight the administration is asking for. It's just another power grab and a way to ensure that the rich get richer. Listening to Bush's language in describing why we need to take action quickly sounds ominously familiar. I wouldn't put it past him if Obama gets elected to declare a national emergency. I sure hope people won't be fooled this time, but I'm not hopeful. And McCain canceling the debate?? C'mon, what a wuss.

Letter to the editor

2008-09-19T12:28:00.000-07:00

There was a letter to the editor in the San Francisco Chronicle that was so absurd, I had to reply:
A peanut butter and jelly sandwich is not a peanut butter and jelly sandwich without either the peanut butter or the jelly. It does not take a law license or a religious preference or a high IQ to understand this. In fact, even a child can recognize basic reality, often better than we adults. In the same way, a "marriage" that lacks a husband or wife is not a marriage.

Whatever it may be, it is not a marriage. And calling it so does not make it so, unless we are willing to delude ourselves. Let's not delude ourselves and others - it hurts both of us. Vote "yes" on Proposition 8.

My response:

Just when you think opponents of same-sex marriage have run out of arguments for their stand, they come up with... sandwiches? Yes, everyone knows what a peanut butter and jelly sandwich is, but there are a variety of sandwiches that should be acknowledged and celebrated. Should everyone be limited to just peanut butter and jelly sandwiches because a segment of society only recognizes that as a sandwich? No, other sandwiches must be included, because not everyone likes peanut butter and jelly. So, celebrate diversity, have a egg salad or a roast beef sandwich (or even peanut butter and banana if you're daring), and vote "no" on Proposition 8.

Treasure Island Music Festival and Harrison Street

2008-09-17T11:30:00.001-07:00

Read my article on the Treasure Island Music Festival: http://www.edgesanfrancisco.com/index.php?ch=entertainment&sc=culture&sc2=features&sc3=&id=80468
See my pictures of the Harrison Street Festival, as published in IN Los Angeles magazine: http://www.inlamagazine.com/1116/social_whirl/sw.html

Latest Articles

2008-09-03T14:35:00.000-07:00

Read my latest article about Bnai Mitzvahs:

http://www.jewishsf.com/content/2-0-/module/displaystory/story_id/35962/format/html/displaystory.html

See my photo spread from the Dore Alley Festival:

http://www.inlamagazine.com/1114/social_whirl/sw.html

Two More and the Hypocrisy of the Religious Right

2008-09-02T15:08:00.000-07:00

Two more look-alikes for Gov. Palin have been brought to my attention: Tina Fey and Peggy Hill.
While we're on the subject, if it had been anyone else's daughter (except a darling of the religious right), the fundies would have been all over it. The girl is a fornicator, look it it in the Bible.

Separated at Birth?

2008-09-01T11:25:00.001-07:00

Am I the only one to notice the resemblance between Vice Presidential Nominee Gov. Palin and Karen from Will and Grace?

Very Old Stories

2008-08-02T19:26:00.000-07:00

I recently went through a lot of old discs (only five of 50 survived), and found some of my essays and articles when I first started writing. They sure have a different feel and tone from what I do now. I suppose the difference then was that I was writing for pure enjoyment.
Here are two from 1993 and 1994:

2/13/93
We spent the day in San Juan Capistrano. As we were getting ready to leave we came across a VFW rally. There was a politician speaking, we believe it was Ron Packard. He said that he was introducing a bill that would make the ban on gays in the military permanent. The crowd applauded. I felt like a nigger.

STONEWALL: THE JUDY CONNECTION OR HOW I LOST MY VIRGINITY
I remember it clearly. I was thirteen years old that summer. My boy scout troop was camping out at the entrance to Anaheim Bay in Huntington Beach. The car radio was set to a news station and the announcer said that Judy Garland was dead.
For some reason, this news affected me, but I didn't know why. I didn't really care that much about Judy Garland. My only memories about her from that period were that she was in The Wizard Of OZ. Suddenly she was dead and for reasons unknown to me, I felt the loss.
I don't remember hearing anything about the riots in New York just after Judy's funeral. Riots were becoming fairly common in the late 1960's. I don't think it was even reported in The Los Angeles Times. I certainly didn't know the riots could possibly be connected to Judy Garlands death. I wouldn't know that until many years later. I also had no idea how those riots would affect the rest of my life.
What I do remember from that summer was losing my virginity to another member of my scout troop. For years I told people I lost my virginity to a woman when I was sixteen. At the time what we had done in the summer of '69 seemed like no big deal. As my mother said years later, "lots of boys do that sort of thing at that age," which is true, but they don't spend the next seven years obsessing over it, hoping it would happen again.
To paraphrase Theodore White: one never realizes history when one is experiencing it. It's odd looking back on that summer, how it all fits together: Judy Garland's death, the stonewall riots and a hot summer day in my best friends bedroom.

Latest Articles

2008-07-17T10:01:00.001-07:00

I've been writing for J. Weekly, the Jewish newspaper for the Bay Area lately. Here's a link to my articles: http://www.google.com/search?q=amster&domains=www.jewishsf.com&sitesearch=www.jewishsf.com

A New Low

2008-07-16T17:42:00.000-07:00

While watching my current favorite cartoon (next to Robot Chicken and The Venture Bros.), Code Monkeys on G4, I saw a commercial for what has to be the new low in TV programming: Hurl. Of course, I recorded an episode (I even watched an episode of Cavemen just to see how bad it was) after I heard the description: contestants eat massive quantities of food, are put through stomach-churning gyrations, and the last one to puke wins. It looks like it was shot in the Broadway Tunnel in Los Angeles. Can they come up with anything worse? I'm sure they will. I don't need to see it again.

Let My People Eat!

2008-06-28T12:27:00.000-07:00

One of my great laments since moving to the Bay Area is the dearth of anything resembling a decent deli. There are few things I miss about Los Angeles, but one of them is Canter's, which I virtually used to live at. The last good deli I went to was Katz's in Manhattan in December, and I have had a serious Jones for some juicy pastrami ever since. I've asked every Jew I know around here if there is good deli to be found in the Bay Area and they all respond "no." I've always found this odd, since San Francisco is known as foodie central. I have been advised to stay away from David's on Geary, as most consider it an overpriced joke. On a recommendation, I went to Saul's in Berkeley once, and found it woefully lacking. Others have told me about Moishe's Pipick in San Francisco, but I've heard mixed reports.
One place mentioned to try was Miller's East Coast Deli on Polk Street, and I am pleased to report that this picky deli maven is happy with the results. While not extraordinary by New York or Los Angeles standards, the food was far better deli fare than anywhere else I've found. Their menu is large and chock full of the standards like pastrami, corned beef, lox, whitefish, kugel, cabbage rolls, kishka and kasha varnishkas. I couldn't decide between pastrami and corned beef (the eternal struggle), so I went for "The Chief": pastrami, corned beef, russian dressing, and cole slaw served on rye. This generous sandwich was just right, with lots of steaming meat, wet cole slaw and the bread just the right thickness and slightly hard texture. I was a happy man. They also scored points for having Dr. Brown's Cel Ray, my favorite deli drink. Yes, it really tastes like celery, and it's refreshing accompaniment for corned beef or pastrami. Next time, I'm trying the matzo ball soup, which looked good and perhaps a Reuben (they have seven different varieties).Then again, maybe the fish platter, a feast for two for just $18.99. Overall, their prices are reasonable, with most basic sandwiches running $7.49 for 6 oz of meat and $9.49 for 9 oz. Another feather in their cap at Miller's: the serve H & H Bagels from New York, considered my many to be the best. Every time I visit Manhattan, I bring back a dozen, and brought one home with me for my next morning breakfast.
While not the perfect deli experience (no crabby waitresses), Miller's is pretty darn good, and by Bay Area standards for a deli, great. You'll be seeing me there lots!

Miller's East Coast Deli
1725 Polk St. (between Clay and Washington)
San Francisco
(415) 563-3542
www.millersdelisf.com

Work at last!

2008-03-12T17:20:00.001-07:00

It's been a long six months, but I finally have a job!

Editing vs. Sausages

2008-02-19T22:03:00.000-08:00

You know there's something wrong with the world when you can make more money frying sausages and putting them on toothpicks than you can being a newspaper editor.
As I was perusing the job boards tonight, I came across an ad for an editor's position for a tri-weekly newspaper. The salary offered was $25,000-$30,000—an insulting amount. Then, while checking the retail jobs (yes, I'm thinking of going back into retail), there was a job advertised for a "sausage demonstrator," which paid $15 per hour (plus mileage allowance). That equals $31,200 per year!

Yes, you can earn more by frying up sausages, slicing them, putting them on toothpicks, and distributing coupons than if you "have experience in Quark, front-page layout, AP style and be ready to lend a hand in writing stories" and can produce a three-times-a-week community newspaper. The message: we value sausage slicers more than wordsmiths.

New Outlet

2008-02-05T08:49:00.001-08:00

Be sure to check out my new food columns at www.novometro.com

Bubbalicious

2008-01-16T13:43:00.001-08:00

When my friend Richard Moss told me that Bill Clinton was appearing in Oakland, I jumped at the chance to get some pics. I'd still vote for Bubba if I could, although I'm supporting Obama.

Bye Bye Carl, Hello Lou

2008-01-13T18:15:00.000-08:00

Seeing the obit for Carl Karcher (Carl's Jr.) made me think about Lou Sheldon. I remember back in the late '90s, when I first became a gay activist and was involved in battling Shedon and his Traditional Values Coalition www.traditionalvalues.org that Karcher was a big suporter of Sheldon's. At that time, Sheldon was a small-time anti-gay bigot involved in stopping the first Orange County gay pride celebration (he didn't succeed, but that's another blog). I don't know if it's still true, but back in those days, no self-respecting gay or lesbian would be caught dead eating at Carl's Jr. The boycott even went on for years after Karcher had nothing to do with the company except for being a figurehead.
Anyway, seeing Karcher's obit made me want to check in with my old nemesis Lou, so I went on his site. The only thing I found were the "TVC Comics," which once again prove that conservatives have no sense of satire, they only know how to attack.
http://www.traditionalvalues.org/comics/index.php

Gonzo Foodism

2008-01-12T13:54:00.000-08:00

I have a new Web site: Gonzofoodism.com. The site will serve as a repository for links to Web sites and blogs that deal with eating on the edgy side. I currently have a blog up, where I'll be posting some of my "different" food writing. There's also a link to Anthony Bourdain's blog. Please forward anything you feel is worthy of inclusion.

Eating My Way Across New York

2008-01-04T13:25:00.000-08:00

I was in New York over the holidays, unfortunately for only a few days. With only one day in Manhattan to myself, I indulged in one of my favorite pastimes: enjoying New York City's culinary pleasures. My day began with a trip down to the Lower East Side (my favorite part of town) and a trip to The Pickle Guys (www.nycpickleguys.com), where they still sell pickles out of barrels. This place is legendary and for good reason, the pickles are great (love the full sours—lots of garlic), and they pickle everything you can imagine. The place is tiny and noisy, just as it should be. I have not had good deli since I left L.A. For some reason, the Bay Area doesn't have a good deli, which is odd, considering what a culinary town San Francisco is (but that's another blog). Getting a pastrami fix when in NY was a high priority, so I walked a couple of blocks to Katz's Deli (www.katzdeli.com). This place exudes atmosphere, the odd ticket/billing set-up is interesting, and their pastrami has just the right ratio of fat to lean. After a side trip to Strand Books (www.strandbooks.com), the world's greatest used book store, and Forbidden Planet (www.fpnyc.com), a great comic book store right next door, I proceeded to my prime target. Unfortunately, the line outside of Zabar's (www.zabars.com) was a block long (it was Christmas Eve, something I didn't take into account. Fortunately, New York's best bagels, H&H (www.handhbagels.com) was right next door. Hopping on the subway, I proceeded to Times Square, with its plethora of hot dog and halal meat on a stick stands. I didn't partake, but my nephew and I had "we think it's chicken" on a stick a couple of days later, and it was great. It also lead to a discussion among the family about how everything tastes better on a stick (well, doesn't it?) I was on a search for hot chestnuts, but to my extreme disappointment, wasn't finding them. Finally, I found a stand by Rockefeller Center, now it felt like Christmas!

I finished the day with a half dozen oysters and beer at the Grand Central Oyster Bar (www.oysterbarny.com), and they were wonderful. The problem with oysters is the more I have the more I want. Everyone in my family are oyster eaters (I was fed them as a baby, really). We had heard there was an oyster bar in Manhattan that patterned itself after the legendary Swan Oyster Depot in San Francisco (a must if you're ever visiting San Francisco, I've been going there since the '70s). After some research, I found Pearl Oyster Bar (www.pearloysterbar.com), and we set out on Dec. 26, only to find it closed for the holidays. Better luck next time, and hopefully more time to eat on my next visit. The good news is that with all of this eating, as well as birthday and holiday feasts, I only gained four pounds!

Going Back Behind the Orange Curtain

2007-12-21T13:56:00.000-08:00

This is from March 21, 2006, originally written for MetroG.com. The artwork is my obligatory Laguna seascape.

I’m actually going back to Orange County in a couple of weeks. It takes a lot to get me down there—I’ve only been back six or seven times since moving to West Hollywood. Usually, I go to cover events for IN Los Angeles magazine, and this is no exception—I’ll be there for the 20th anniversary of the AIDS Services Foundation Orange County.
I worked for ASF 16 years ago, as the manager for their thrift shop Dorothy’s on Broadway. Running tiny 900-square foot store in downtown Laguna Beach was the best time I’ve had in my working life. Every day was an adventure, because we never knew what donations would come through our doors. We got a lot of donations too—people were extremely generous. Dorothy’s became a popular local hangout, and it had a circus-like atmosphere—I’d wheel and deal all day long. I figured we had way too many donations—seemingly and endless stream—and the goal was to get money into the cash register. We made a lot of money in my five years of running the store; with sales of $500,000 by the time I left to become editor of the Blade.
Although there’s still a thrift store at the location, it’s no longer associated with ASF, but I’ll always fondly remember those five years. Unfortunately, I’ve lost touch with the wonderful army of volunteers from those days, so I hope some of them will be at the ASF event.
It’s always hard for me to go back to O.C. I was born in L.A., but moved behind the Orange Curtain when I was seven. Today, I tell people that I spent the next 40 years trying to get back up here. I never really felt like I fit in living in O.C., until I moved to Laguna Beach, where I lived for 23 years with my ex. Laguna has changed a lot since 1980, when it was in its last throes of truly being a bohemian art colony. The change would come slowly, with local businesses leaving, rents rising, and increasingly rich residents moving in. Also, development in the communities bordering Laguna, and that awful MTV "reality" show were changing the character of the town.
One of the last times I was in O.C. was for an ASF fundraiser (big surprise), and the visit was bittersweet. I had some time to kill, and I walked around visiting my old haunts. That’s an ironic choice of words, because there were ghosts. Not literal ghosts, but ghosts of my previous lives, previous loves, lost youth, and a town that looks the same but has a different personality. I walked around the old courtyard of shacks where my ex and I first fell in love, looked up the avocado tree where our cat would knock down the fruit so they’d split open for so he could devour them, and remembered our beautiful rose garden. It was sad, but it also made me realize that you truly can’t go home. That trip to Laguna strengthened my resolve to focus on my life here in West Hollywood, where I’ve found so much positive energy and growth.
Perhaps memories are best being just that: vestiges of the past, sepia colored photographs in the recesses of the mind. I still spend too much time living in the past—sometimes with happiness and sometimes with anger. There have been many times in the last few years that I wish I could go back to that shack on Third Street with the avocado tree in the back, or that thrift store on Broadway, but you can’t just click you heels together and say, "There’s no place like home." L.A. is my home now, and as Auntie Mame said, "Life’s an adventure, and most poor sons of bitches are starving to death."

Today I am a Man: Confessions of a 50-year-old Bar Mitzvah Boy

2007-12-19T11:52:00.000-08:00

This is another golden oldie, written right after my June, 2006 Bar Mitzvah

Remember that episode of The Dick van Dyke show where Buddy Sorrell finally had his Bar Mitzvah because he didn't have one when he was 13? On Saturday, June 3, that was I. (Ironically, Morey Amsterdam, the man who played Buddy, is a distant relative.) I was part of an adult B'Nai Mitzvah at Congregation Kol Ami in West Hollywood: seven of us in our middle ages who decided to have a rite of passage normally reserved for 13-year-olds.
We came to the experience with different needs and perspectives. All but one of us never had this ceremony as children. Nearly half of us were Jews by choice, and many of us have been taking this journey together for the past two years, beginning with adult Hebrew. The current class had been studying together every Tuesday since October, learning everything from ritual and history to theology, concluding with our Torah portions and the sections of the service we'd perform. The last month was the most difficult, as some of us were thoroughly unnerved by having to read our Torah portions in Hebrew from the actual scroll.
But enough of the mechanics of our studies and what led up to Saturday. As is my habit, I arrived early at the Temple that morning, buzzing with nervous energy. As the time approached, however, I relaxed somewhat. Before our friends and relatives arrived, the seven of us agreed we'd meet at the Temple's rooftop garden for a quiet moment of reflection together. Afterwards, I felt centered and ready to face the wave of friends and family filling the Temple, meeting, greeting, schmoozing, and sneaking back to my seat from time to time to go over my Torah portion again.
Finally, the service got started—our big moment. I was the first to deliver a prayer for the service, and as I stood on the Bimah, I was astounded to see that the Temple was filled to standing room only. I knew we had a big crowd, but I wasn't expecting that many. Each of us took turns doing our part of the service, and although we'd said those prayers many times before, it was different: deeper, more meaningful, and communal because the seven of us were bound up in the words together.
Then came the Torah reading, the highlight of any Bar or Bat Mitzvah, the moment all of us looked forward to, and I can't speak for anyone but myself, the moment I was dreading the most. Languages don't come easily to me, and learning Hebrew was especially difficult. Truth be told, I'm still very poor at reading it and can speak it only phonetically. My Torah portion practices in class were unnerving, but I practiced at home endlessly and felt fairly confident I could do it.
First, we took our congregation's four Torah scrolls out of the Ark, said the Shema prayer (our declaration of faith) and paraded the scrolls around the room. It's tradition for Jews to touch the Torah with their prayer book or prayer shawl and kiss it, plus everyone had to kiss us and congratulate us. It was an overwhelmingly joyous moment. The particular scroll I carried had enormous significance to me. I was carrying the Temple's Torah scroll that was rescued from the Holocaust. The first time I attended the Temple's High Holy Days services in 2004, Rabbi Eger told the congregation the story of that scroll. As is the tradition at Kol Ami, that Yom Kippur night, the Torah scrolls were being passed from one member to another, and suddenly it was heading my way. As I held it, I felt the presence of God in my heart for the first time and I knew whatever I went through, I would never be alone. That was the day I decided I was going to have my Bar Mitzvah.
We then took turns reading our portions, and everyone did theirs fabulously. Since I'm a singer, I decided I would do my portion more musically. From what people tell me, I took the cliché “sing out Louise” literally—let's just say they had no problem hearing me in the back. I like to think that I wanted to be sure that my father, who died in December and insisted on paying for the class, would hear me wherever he is. I wish he'd lived to witness my Bar Mitzvah, and I believe in some way, he did. When I was done, I did the blessing after reading the Torah, and as I said the last "amen," you could tell it meant, "thank God I got through it!" As I hugged the Rabbi, she whispered in my ear, "Your father would be so proud." I kind of lost it at that point, but managed to keep my composure until I made it back to my seat.
Next came the Haftorah (a reading from the second part of the Jewish Bible), and a wonderful Dvar Torah from our classmate Julie that not only put our Torah portion into context, but also beautifully summed up the mindset of the class. After a presentation of gifts, a very emotional blessing before the Ark and concluding prayers, it was over. We were greeted to a sea of hugs, kisses, and Mazel Tovs.
The ceremony may have been over, but I think we all recognized that the journey we began in October would never end. The weekend before my Bar Mitzvah, I went to see the film Keeping Up with the Steins, encouraged to by my classmate Reva. I'm glad I did, because it took a lot of the pressure off me. The message I came away from that film and from Saturday with is that a Bar or Bat Mitzvah is not just about that day when you stand before the congregation, your family, and friends and read Torah, it's about the journey. We all chose to participate in that ceremony; none of us were forced to do it as children. We chose to take that journey together, and I think we'll continue on the journey together. I came out of that day feeling like a new person, a little more holy (not holier than thou, but a holiness within me), a lot more centered, and with a deeper understanding of what it means to be a Jew. For me, that's fighting for justice, studying, helping the downtrodden, and making this world a better place than I found it. I feel forever changed by the experience, and although I have plotted out some steps for the future, I never know where this journey will take me. Isn't that half the fun?

Cheapest Eats

2007-12-19T10:53:00.000-08:00

Living on unemployment isn't easy, and stretching my food dollar has become one of my main goals. I usually make a huge batch of pasta or chili and living off that for a week, but it one can only eat the same thing for so many meals in a row. I have always been on the lookout for cheap eats, and living in Chinatown affords me lots of opportunities to seek them out. Perhaps the cheapest, and best, I’ve found recently are banh mi—delightful Vietnamese sandwiches that sell for $2-$2.50. Served on a light and crusty French roll and filled with meat and vegetables, you’ll be hard-pressed to find a cheaper or tastier lunch anywhere. The two in my neighborhood are within neighbors: Ba Le, 812 Franklin St. and BC Deli, 818 Franklin St., Oakland. Each sandwich is a meal in itself, with a choice of pork, ham, fish cake, chicken and various combinations, served with cilantro, lightly pickled daikon and carrot, cucumber, peppers on request, onions, a light mustard mayo, and salad dressing. If you’re on a budget, or just want a good lunch, check them out. Also, as if the price wasn’t cheap enough, both places offer a sixth sandwich for free if you buy five. Such a deal!

Art for Sale-Cheap

2007-11-14T15:49:00.000-08:00

This seems like a good place to start: I'm selling framed 8 X 10 photos from my produce series for $50 each. They make great holiday gifts. Here are three examples, there are many more—name a favorite fruit or vegetable and I'm sure I have it.

Astroboy Made Me Gay

2007-11-11T18:12:00.000-08:00

“Cosmic ranger, laugh at danger. Everything is GO Astroboy!”
-Theme from “Astroboy.”

When did you know? At what age did you get first feel the attraction to someone of your own sex? I first experienced those feelings around the age of seven, but it was only recently that I figured out what triggered them. I knew I had developed crushes on various males throughout my childhood, especially people on television. I recently bought a DVD of the Japanese cartoon “Astroboy,” which was popular when I was a child. Watching this tape, I realized that he was my first male crush.
Who wouldn’t love Astroboy, he could fly, was strong and courageous, had great adventures and he was so damn cute. I remember imagining Astroboy and I having adventures together, he would hold onto me as we would fly through the sky together. I know it sounds strange having a crush on a cartoon character, but I swear it’s true.
As I grew older, I continued to have crushes on male television characters; at least my next one was a real flesh and blood human being: Sandy from Flipper. Looking back, this crush probably had a lot to do with locking in my taste in men, I’ve had a life long obsession with blondes ever since. Sandy was so sexy and he was always usually dressed only in cutoffs. Again, I would imagine him and me frolicking in the water together with Flipper, having all sorts of fun adventures.
At the time I didn’t identify these crushes with being gay, since I didn’t know what being gay meant. All I knew is I wanted to be close to these people, I wanted to have fun with them, I didn’t know anything about having sex with them. After all, I was only nine at the time.
My next crush definitely had me moving in a more adult direction. I was a bit of a loner as a child and would usually come home and watch TV after school. I normally preferred cartoons and comedies. I usually didn’t like action and adventure shows, but suddenly, I was coming home everyday to watch reruns of “Sea Hunt” starring Lloyd Bridges–again a show starring a blond who usually had his shirt off. I used to love watching him.
I never had any contact with my childhood crushes (which also included Cary Grant and Sean Connery), excerpt once many years later. I was covering a campaign rally for Bill Clinton in 1992. I had been admitted through the press entrance, which brought me through the VIP area for the rally. After the event ended, there was a crush of people backstage. As I was trying to get out, I suddenly almost bumped into a rather tall man. I looked up and was surprised to find Lloyd Bridges in front of me. I hesitated for a moment and wondered if I should say anything about my boyhood crush on him. Ultimately I decided that discretion is the better part of valor and said nothing but “excuse me.” Some things are better left in fantasy anyway.

Copyright 2007 Amsterama Global Productions

Where Have I Been?

2007-11-11T18:09:00.000-08:00

I just looked, and realized that I haven't blogged in nearly two months! Truth is, I just haven't felt like writing anything. Nearly three months of unemployment have taken their toll, and it seems like the only way I feel motivated to write is with a deadline hanging over my head. I'll probably post some food blogging next week. In the meantime, I'm going to put up some of my unpublished work.

My Favorite Buritto

2007-09-14T17:47:00.000-07:00

I've never understood why Southern California doesn't have any good taquerias and Northern California doesn't have any good sit-down Mexican restauraunts. I know this is an overgeneralization, but it holds pretty true. Don't even get me started about the state of Carne Asada in SoCal: most places fry it on a griddle instead of char-broiling it as it should be made.
While San Francisco's Mission District is the home to many fine taquerias (most in the 16th and Valencia area), my favorite by far is Pancho Villa Taqueria. This place is nothing fancy: you stand in line and give your order, which is prepared while you wait to pay. The line is always long, and yet as held true from a conversation I had with a parton in line, there's always a table available no matter how crowded it is. The choices at Pancho Villa are numerous, with every Mexican favorite you can think of. They also have a large variety of meats (and tofu) to fil their huge creations, including lengua (tongue), al pastor, chili verde and chorizo. Their salsa consistently wins awards at the state fair every year, and their aguas frescas are great thurst quenchers.
While their tacos are fine, I adore their huge burittos filled with everything but the kitchen sink.
Pancho Villa is a favorite spot with San Franciscans, and to add to the cool factor, Beck shot part of a video there.
Pancho Villa Taqueria
3071 16th St
San Francisco, CA 94103
(415) 864-8840
Fax: (415) 864-3484
www.panchovillasf.com

The Right to Write

2007-08-29T09:17:00.000-07:00

I feel like I'm getting rusty at writing. After 13 years of being a magazine editor and writing at least two articles a week, I went to a job where I didn't write a word for three months. I've always found it hard to write without a deadline hanging over my head, so I haven't done any recreational writing either. I guess that's the purpose of this blog, but I'm still having trouble getting motivated unless I find something interesting like a restaurant to write about.
Not writing was one of the things I found most annoying about my last job (it's a long list). I was supposedly hired to take care of all communications for the company, but I ended up simply taking dictation from the owner. He'd talk very fast, had little patience and I can barely read my own handwriting, so I hated doing this. At least toward the end, I would record his missives.
So, what's the purpose of this blog? I'm not really sure, but the title is misleading: I denied myself the "right to write," and I guess I wanted to find something to write about and get some things off my chest.

First Church of Christ Scientist

2007-08-24T16:18:00.001-07:00

Beer and Clams?

2007-08-23T22:39:00.001-07:00

As I was driving to Las Vegas recently, I saw a billboard in Spanish that advertised a new product that's a combination of beer and Clamato® juice. I only caught a glimpse of it, but decided to investigate further upon my return. Apparently, Latinos have been doing this combination on their own for years (So have rednecks according to my friend Denise, who worked in a bar many years ago. She said the call it "breakfast."). With an eye on a marketing oportunity, Budweiser has brought Chelada® to the market for your convenience, so you don't have to buy your own Clamato®. The results for me are a bit mixed: although effervescent, tangy and somewhat refreshing, there was something wrong—I just couldn't put my finger on what it was. Hot sauce and more lime would have improved the product, but overall, I thought it was vile—and yet I couldn't stop drinking it! I'm going to play with it and try additions like the forementioned hot sauce, as well as a shot of vodka. Another idea is to use it as a base for the Mexican style shrimp cocktels I love. These are not your American shrimp cocktails, but are presented in a thin tomato juice base, with lots of cilantro, chopped tomatoes, avocado and cucumbers. I think Chelada® may be the perfect base for this dish. I'll report the results.

Free at Last

2007-08-21T13:18:00.000-07:00

I'm finally free of my job. When I gave notice, I said I wouldn't work until I was paid over $1,200 in expenses I submitted on August 3, and the still haven't been paid. I still worked for a few days, but it became obvious that payment wasn't forthcoming any time soon (I was offered $100 to work for one day). I packed up my things yesterday. I feel much better now, but also a bit scared about facing unemployment and being owed so much money by someone who has a bad history of paying ex-employees.
I've been told that he's been telling people that I left because I'm weak (he says this about everyone that leaves), but I've never felt more empowered in my life. It's always been difficult for me to stand up to tyrants, and I've faced a lot of them in my life, but this time I did it with dignity and strength. I don't feel weak at all—just the opposite. Perhaps that's the wisdom the journey that last few years has brought me: to finally put myself first, not accept second best (I almost did this time), to make decisions based on my heart and personal standards, and to do what's right.
Time and time again, I keep coming back to the two Jewish values I try to define my life by: tzedakah (acts of loving kindness) and tikkun olam (healing the world), and I almost lost sight of them by a force of evil who waived money in my face.

Will Write For Food

2007-08-14T18:38:00.000-07:00

I finally quit my job today and I better find one soon or the above title may come true. I was surprised that I hadn't done any writing whatsoever on this job, but was simply dictated to. Dictated seems to be the keyword to this job, and I'll elaborate on this at a later date, suffice it to say that this is the worst job I've ever had. I actually feel relieved not to have to go into this cauldron of hell every day and can't wait until my two weeks notice is over. As those who know me can attest, I am the most cooperative person in the world and it takes a lot to make me take action for my self-preservation, but once I'm crossed-look out.

SF Eats: First Entry

2007-08-12T16:11:00.000-07:00

I tried a new restaurant last night I highly recommend. It was my boyfriend's birthday, and I wanted the night to be memorable. He'd never had French cuisine, so after doing so Web research, I settled on Garcon! in the Mission district, and I happy to report an excellent evening of fine cuisine, attentive but unobtrusive service and romantic atmosphere. Garcon! has an extensive wine list (it comes in a binder), but since the evening was a celebration, we had delightfully fruity Champagne whose name I can't recall. It had a touch of yeast and at $35 a bottle was a bargain. For appetizers, we went for their generous charcuterie platter and a warm and hearty foie gras mixed with egg and served with bread-French comfort food of the highest degree. The entreés were generous and satisfying. I had a wonderfully rare steak with spinach and pomme frites, while Eddie dined on a pork chop with fava beans and artichoke hearts. As it was his birthday, our waitress (she was delightfully friendly) brought a light merangiue floating in a sweet creme sauce, topped with a candle and sang happy birthday in French. The restaurant has a fair sized dining room, but we sat in the back lounge, which made the evening even more romantic-this is a great place for a date. An added attraction for the back room (for me at least) was watching and smelling everything coming out of the kitchen. Apparently, Garcon! is famous for their mussel dishes, because at least 20 plates went by in the course of the evening-that alone is reason enough to go back.
Garcon!
1101 Valencia St.
San Francisco
(415) 401-8959
www.garconsf.com
Reservations recommended

On our way back, we stumbled on a place I heard about from some friends: Weird Fish. This restaurant is a hole in the wall, which is my favorite kind of place. My friends raved about it, and it was packed at 10 p.m. on this Saturday night. I'm going back soon to try it and will report on the results, but in the meantime, I grabbed the menu. Among the highlights are Hell Fish (seitan with sesame ginger and vegan wheat-free batter), Suspicious Fish Dish (the menu simply says "take a risk"), and dijon-almond encrusted rainbow trout. Nothing on the meno is over $12 and most fall into the $5-$7 range.
Weird Fish
2193 Mission St
San Francisco, CA 94110
(415) 863-4744
www.weirdfishsf.com

Bad Craziness

2007-08-07T21:16:00.000-07:00

I was hoping to blog everyday, but that road to hell just got paved a little more. Actually, I needed some well-deserved rest after my three days in Vegas. Due to various problems that I won't go into (except none of them were personal), the trip was pretty bad. In addition, I'm totally bored with the place. I had a wonderful, relaxing weekend, but the craziness is back with the work week. The best lesson I've learned through all of this is that I actually can stand up for myself and win. Yes, today I am a man—I thought that was at my Bar Mitzvah, but it's all part of the journey. I've also learned that it's OK to take risks once in a while because the rewards make it worth it.
So to sum up: Life is crazy, stand up for yourself and take risks or you'll never get what you want.
Say goodnight Gracie.....

Raoul was Right!

2007-08-01T23:25:00.000-07:00

This was supposed to be posted the night of 8/01, but my connection went down: I've just spent an evening among the great unwashed on the strip in Vegas (unfortunately, I forgot to take my camera). I have to say that even though "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas" was published over 30 years ago, if I'd been taking what the good Dr. Thompson was ingesting that fateful week, I would have had the same visions. Tonight I saw too many overweight people in overly tight clothing. Too many images and snipets of conversations to remember, except the wiff of backslapping, general yahoo ugliness and the voice of Judy Garland. Perhaps Thompson had the right idea about checking out. I know that most of his decision was based on his physical infirmities, but seeing the crest of the wave of the Bush/Cheney years breaking in Vegas like I did tonight reminded me of how we got into the sorry state we're in today. Thompson knew this and it was too frightening for even him to stand. I need to get back to the Bay Area and leave these people behind.

Sunset

2007-08-01T19:04:00.000-07:00

This long day is finally coming to an end as the shadows fall across the desert. The only real sunshine is on the hills to the east. It's been like a monsoon here all day and everyone's drenched. I've been to Vegas many times, and it just seems to get worse—the fantasy world and unobtainable dreams. I watched "Fear and Loathing" recently, and the only difference I see is that Vegas is more "family friendly," whatever that means. There's still plenty of debauchery under the surface, and I guess the food's better—if you can afford it. I suppose I'm going to spend my eveing doing what I love best: watching the freakshow, taking pics of whatever catches my eye, looking at kitsch and playing the penny slots.

In search of the American dream

2007-08-01T09:20:00.000-07:00

It's morning in Las Vegas. I'm here in my non-luxurious suite at the Saharah getting ready for a full day's work with a slight sense of fear and loathing. Compared to the other resorts, this place is stuck in time—there are tributes to Buddy Hackett everywhere! The Sahara has seen better days, as evidenced by the guy who came up to fix my TV last night, grumbling about how the place was falling apart the whole time. No American dream here, especially this morning, just senior citizens trying to squeeze some meager winnings out of the slots at 8 a.m. We'll see how the day develops.