Born in the USA

Hmong egg rolls by WUHS Asian Club advisor Mr.Vue, AKA "Burnt Noodle."
Manicured nails by a Vietnamese man at "Happy Nail" salon.
Photo taken with iPhone 4, made in Korea.
"Chung's Egg Rolls": Proudly made in the USA.

Hey baby, que paso?

I thought I was your only taco...

So Robertito's, the Easton taco truck and several hole in the wall Mexican joints in Selma have been replaced: I have found the best taco truck in Fresno. Located about 7 minutes from school (not including the time it takes me to reroute after I get lost), this taco truck not only serves up fresh tacos, it has a beautiful view of Jensen Avenue. 

My buddy C., from the district office (formerly from our campus....sniff, sniff), took me there and I am a convert. They don't offer carnitas, but I am willing to forgive that since the $1.25 carne asada tacos were seasoned just right and topped with fresh salsa, cilantro, tomatoes and lettuce (or was it cabbage?)-even avocado!

The taco truck is as quasi-permanently stationed within walking distance from West Fresno school.  So, let's see, they have better ice than us and now this: the best taco truck in the central valley?  If only I had a union to even out this inequality!

"Pappa" Don't Preach

Pappa al Pomodoro soup: simmering carrots, garlic, onion, fennel bulb,
tomatoes, basil, ciabatta bread, red wine and chicken stock. As if
that wasn't enough yumminess, it's topped with crispy basil, pancetta,
bread cubes and parm. My son loved it, particularly the "calamari" he
was certain he saw in the bowl.

Baby I'm a want you/Baby I'm a knead you...

Once again, my shameless allusion to the band "Bread" as I describe my
love of a hearty, artisan bread.
The kids and I were planning on visiting my grandmother yesterday, but
it didn't pan out. Good thing, too, because as we walked in today, my
six year old started sniffing and asked what was the yummy smell.
That aroma is instantly recognizable and means only one thing: my
grandmother made homemade bread. Those of you who have had it know it
is the BEST bread ever...A crunchy and crispy exterior with a soft,
pillowy interior. I prefer the heels of the bread because it has the
best of both worlds.

Early in our marriage, David told me I needed to learn how to make my
vovo's bread. As if it is that simple. I told him that was impossible.
Only she can make her bread. One time she sent the dough home, already
a shaped ball in the bread pan, and all my mom had to do was bake it.
When we pulled it out of the oven it didn't look the same and didn't
taste nearly as good as Vovo's. He still didn't buy my excuses. Of
course, David is the same man who sat in a bar in the Azores insisting
that somewhere there was a map of my mom's earthquake evacuated and
deserted village and that we could use the aforementioned map to find
her old home of rocks. "Every inch of this earth is mapped!" he
insisted as the Azorians scoffed at his ridiculous pipe dreams. The
next day, he found the map. We soon found ourselves surrounded by
overgrown blue hydrangeas in the middle of a desolate village on an
Atlantic ocean cliff. He may have a point.

Hey, shorty...it's your anniversary!

Fourteen years later and I'm at one of my favorite Fresno restaurants:
Livingstone's. David offered to take me to a hoity toity place, but
this is exactly what I want. Potato crusted halibut, pilaf and a good
bottle of wine. Life is good.