Bonjour, Montreal

Tomorrow, at 7:15 a.m., I board an Air Canada plane to Montreal. A couple hours later, my boyfriend will also board a plane from London, to meet me in Montreal. We haven’t seen each other since mid-October. I miss him a lot, more than any words I can write here now. This is a much needed trip for both us, not only because we miss each other terribly, but because we both really feel the need to just get away from it all. Life is changing, on more ways than one. Or, life has been the same for too long and we’re fed up of it either way.

I’ve heard such great things about Montreal. The Paris away from Paris, they call it. It was not only named the 10th cleanest city in the world by Forbes Magazine in 2007, but was recently ranked 16th in a list of the world’s most livable cities in the 2008 edition of Monocle Magazine. While I was doing some research, I found out that Montreal is a sister city to Yerevan, and that made me smile a bit. Apparently, Montreal has a large Armenian community, about 25,000, so that’s really exciting. There are a number of Armenian schools and churches. It would be nice meeting some Armenians away from the confines of Glendale. Most of them live in Laval, a suburb of Montreal. I have also found a couple Armenian restaurants there, the most significant and blatantly Armenian of them being Massis Restaurant, located in Laval.

The Montreal Jazz Festival will also be taking place while we’re there! I am so ready to get away.

I’ve had a series of horrible events take place in the last 2 weeks where I’ve cried many tears and sulked numerous times. For the past few months I’ve been going to the gym in hopes of getting in shape for the summer. For the amount of hard work I’ve put in, I accepted to see some difference, but that difference barely came. Which makes me think there is an underlying medical condition to this unfair curse. On top of that, a position I was vying for at work was yanked from under me and although I didn’t feel the sting then, this week it has definitely sunk in. But wait, there’s more. For the first time in probably a handful of years, I received a hair cut that really truly ruined my life. I spent the entire weekend crying. That should be enough information for you. I went to the Bokaos Aveda Salon at the new Americana shopping complex in Glendale. For a $100, the stylist, Angelica, gave me a hair cut fit for a Japanese doll. Don’t worry, I got my money refunded to me. Take that, Bokaos Aveda. It was just horrible. Then on the same night, a woman by the name of Diana Ljungaeus ruined my life with her snotty and holier than thou attitude at the SoCal Journalism Awards Gala, an event which I was sent to cover as press.

Work has been unbearable this entire week as well. If there was ever a time I needed to just clear my head, it’s now. I know I’m complaining and I wish so many things were different in my life, but really, I am so lucky to have such amazing family and friends that not only help me out, but most importantly make me laugh.

I always say, that the best things in life are the ones you have to work the hardest for, and I have. I’ve worked hard. I’ve worked hard for the things I love and in the end, the rewards are amazing. Sometimes though, I wish things weren’t so hard. Just the simple things. Like feeling good about myself, for starters. I’m 23-years-old, and there are a lot of times when I don’t feel comfortable in my skin at all. There are times when I hate myself, there are other times when I love myself, but most of the time, I’m never satisfied. And this is a horrible feeling to have, because it not only starts to eat away at you, but it affects other aspects of your life.

My hair will grow back, I got my revenge at Ljungaeus by writing an editorial and I got my $100 back.

But I digress. Back to Montreal. So I’m going to Montreal tomorrow. I’m going to Montreal with the love of my life. And I’m happy. And at this point, I’m going to let everything that’s bothering me disappear, because we both deserve to have a good time, dammit. I will be back, with photos and stories to share.

Photo of Montreal Museum of Fine Arts (or Hearts!) by appaloosa via Flickr

Quote of the Week: Walt Disney

Too many people grow up. That’s the real trouble with the world, too many people grow up. They forget. They don’t remember what it’s like to be 12 years old. They patronize, they treat children as inferiors. Well I won’t do that.

A Day at the Santa Monica Farmer’s Market

Next to swap meets, attending farmer’s markets is one of my favorite ways of spending time. To me, there’s nothing more exciting than picking your own fresh and organic vegetables and fruits that were grown nearby. It’s nice seeing the faces of the people who plant, maintain and harvest crop that I later eat. Nothing is better than getting food from a farmer’s market, except baking and cooking with it. Now that takes the cake, no pun intended.

I work literally steps away from the Santa Monica Farmer’s Market that takes place every Wednesday morning and afternoon on 2nd Street. There were times when I used to go every single week, but I hadn’t been in a while, so when this Wednesday rolled around, I was really excited.

In addition to picking up fresh produce, you also learn what fruit and vegetables come into season at which time during the year. If you chat up the sellers, you can even learn some recipes or two. It’s a great way to spend at least some of your morning and definitely gives me a break from office life.

Carrots are definitely available year round, however they grow best when planted in early Spring. They are one of my favorite vegetable, although I will be the first to admit that I don’t eat them enough. Holtville, which is located in California’s Imperial Valley touts itself as the “Carrot Capitol of the World.” They even have an entire festival devoted to the vegetable.

Oh peaches. What can I say about that hasn’t been already said? You’re lovely and I think you know it. You’re a food fit for the Gods. Are you feeling tired and listless on an unbearable hot Summer day? Just take a bite out of a ripe, juicy peach. You’ll instantly feel better. I swear. At this point you might be thinking, those aren’t peaches, they’re nectarines! Not so fast. Nectarines are actually smooth, fuzzless peaches, for your information.

I tasted a couple samples that happened to come from Regier Family Farms. As God is my witness right now, they were perhaps, the BEST fruit I have ever tasted in my life. I mean at that moment, candy did not exist for me, because I was in love with nature’s candy: peaches from Regier Family Farms. I ran out of cash when I came upon them, but when I go back again, rest assured I will be stocking up. My mouth is totally watering just thinking about them.

Have you ever tasted fresh walnuts? I’m not talking about the kind you buy in a bag from the grocery store. I’m talking about the ones above. The ones you get to crack open yourself. They are heavenly. And they make all the difference in a recipe that calls for walnuts. Fresh walnuts are juicy and soft and so much more delightful to eat than regular walnuts. Plus, cracking them is so much fun, especially around the holidays.

Don’t they look beautiful? There’s a Salmonella scare currently going on, and California is one of the 30 states where cases have been reported, but I don’t think buying locally will put you at risk. Plus, I think the number of people affected references tomatoes from other places, not California. Salmonella or not, these look so amazingly good.

Olive you! I never used to like olives when I was younger, but that goes along with most things. I was never a fan of broccoli or spinach. Now I love them. Having olives with some Feta cheese and dry cracked bread sounds so good right now.

Cherries are in season! Although I do love cherries, they’re very iffy for me. They have to be really firm for me to be able to revel in them, like I do peaches.

Have I told you how much I love figs? Oh I love them. I love them fresh and made into jam and with tea. My mom usually makes a huge batch of fig jam (with whole figs intact). I could live off it. I don’t know with what intention I bought these. It’s a bit early for fig season, so I’m hoping these taste good. I looked up some recipes recently and I found some good ones, including one for fig muffins. If I don’t do anything with them, they’re being handed over to my mom for some delicious jam.

I have to say that I love asparagus, even though it makes your pee smell funny. They are so good on their own, with a little lemon sauce or as part of a dish. If there is any vegetable I’d love to grow, it would be asparagus.

This goat milk feta is from the award winning Redwood Hill Farm. Let me just say, that you haven’t tasted cheese until you taste some of the many varieties of goat cheese that Redwood Hill Farm has. In addition to feta, there is fresh chevre, camellia, California crottin and bucheret. If you are a cheese aficionado, this is the place for you. They also have tons of recipes on their site, including one for ‘goat cheese creme brulee. Wow.
If you ever get a chance to attend the Santa Monica Farmer’s Market on 2nd street, you really should.  It will be hard for you walk away without something in hand.

Gardening Glee

Somehow, someway, I got involved in co-hosting an internet radio organic gardening show, eHow’s Edible Gardens, a couple months ago at work. It happened quite simply. The regular host was out sick, and so when they asked around the editorial team, I was the only one who not only said yes, but enthusiastically said yes. I have always been interested in gardening. To me, it’s just another form of creation and creativity. I remember my grandmother’s backyard so vividly. It was full of strawberry plants, a lemon tree, orange tree, herbs, tomatoes and rich colored roses. That garden was her pride and joy. I have tried to somehow replicate her success over the years, but for one reason or another, I’ve failed. The thing is, just like a pet or a baby, you have to devote considerable time and energy to foster growth and that’s something I never had. I was too busy running around in high school pursuing my dream of that out of reach, illustrious journalism career.

But now that I am co-hosting this show, it gives me such a great opportunity to talk about and learn about something I love. Gardening expert Willi Galloway is who I co-host, and believe you me, Willi knows more about gardening than anyone you’ll meet. She loves it, so it kinda comes naturally I believe. In addition to being Queen of the garden, Willi also is West Coast Editor of Organic Gardening magazine and she also has this really awesome site called DigginFood, where she gives advice about gardening, posts personal gardening stories and also shares recipes! It’s a great read and I suggest you check it out.

I’ve enjoyed doing the show a lot so far. I’ve learned so much about strawberries, container gardening, growing your own hops, different varieties of tomatoes as well as unusual herbs. I got so inspired this last week especially, that I planted some seeds today. I don’t know if I’m doing things right to be honest, but it’s more or less a first try, so we’ll see how it goes. It’s definitely a learning process.

Here are some photos from my garden…

This is perhaps my favorite thing in the back yard. A pomegranate tree. The fruit up above is the first one it’s given this year.

This is a photo of last year’s fruit. There is nothing better than home grown fruits and vegetables. It was delicious. Pomegranate is very significant to me because of my background. It’s the central fruit in Armenian culture and usually represents fertility and abundance.

A blossom from the lemon tree (also below). This was initially a small tree, taken from my grandmother’s backyard after she passed away last year. With some extra care, it has managed to not only bloom, but bear fruit!

The pots above have tomato and spinach planted in them. I hope they give some seedlings. I hope I remember to water them.

This is also a remnant from my grandmother’s yard. I believe it’s an orange tree, and is relatively small. It has not given any fruit as of yet.

This garden is Henry-approved!

Lazy Sunday

It was so hot today in Los Angeles that we decided it was time to put our pool and backyard to use. So we ventured outside, with towels, sun tanning lotion and two vegetarian pizzas from Trader Joe’s. I gave Henry a bath just before we went outside, but as a trade off for not being able to get wet in the pool, I let him dry off naturally in the sun. I think he enjoyed himself.

Gargantuan Graduation

Today, my sister graduates from one institution of learning to another institution of higher learning. I can’t believe it was 6 years ago that I graduated high school as well. I can’t believe all that time has gone by. Four years from now, she’ll be graduating college, and God only knows where I’ll be. When you leave school, your life becomes sort of a big gray blur. School keeps your grounded. You know where you’ll be tomorrow (in class), a month from now (taking finals), or a year from now (one step closer to graduating.) But when all that goes away, and you’re left with no one to tell you what time to wake up, or what to read or study, or do, life gets complicated.

Although she rarely reads my blog, I want to address this part to her anyway. Alina, the advice I can give you to guide through life (at least for the next 4 years) is simple: Be yourself. I know you’ve heard that a dozen times and seen it on inspirational posters in some teacher’s room, but it’s true. There is nothing better, than to be yourself. Because when you try to be other people, it just doesn’t work. You owe it to yourself, to be yourself. Stand up for yourself. I’m sure that won’t be a problem with you, because you’ve done it all your life, and I’m so proud of you for that. This will come in handy for the rest of your life. No matter how self-conscious you feel, no matter how embarrassed you feel, stand up for yourself. You’ll see that this pays off in the end. Take risks. Take as many risks as you can. Risks are what make life interesting and they’ll not only get to know other people, most importantly, risks allow you to fully understand yourself. Have passion. Passion is what life is all about. Feel passionate about something. Have a fire in you about something, whether it be a class you’re taking, a relationship you have or life in general. Remember Jack Kerouac’s quote:

The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes Awww!

That’s all, I think. What I’ve written will only sound like words now, but one day down the line, you’ll think back and realize that they are so much more.

Almost Tortuga Rum Cake

It seems that every Saturday, I develop a greater desire to bake than any other day. This is probably due to the fact that I’ve spent the greater part of the day relaxing, doing nothing and de-stressing. I got around to looking at recipes last night to see what kind of concoction I will make this time around and it occurred to me that I had been thinking of rum cake all week long. I set off to Epicurious to find a recipe, however, my search didn’t yield and desirable results, so I headed off to the next best thing, Google.

I searched for “rum cake” and amidst all the results, I found one from Recipe Zaar entitled “Almost Tortuga Rum Cake.” Oh how the memories came flowing back to me. The first time I ever lay eyes on Tortuga Rum Cake, a food fit for the Gods, was when Nat returned from The Cayman Islands, cake in hand. “This is the best thing you’ll ever taste,” she told me. I had my doubts, as at 16, I didn’t think anything that combined cake and alcohol as ingredients could ever taste good.

Oh was I wrong. I was so wrong. One bite and I was hooked. The cake melted in my mouth, the essence of the rum dancing around on my tongue. It was the best thing I had tasted. After that, me and Nat forgot about rum cake for years, as it was sold exclusively in the Cayman Islands, Jamaica and Barbados. We could have it shipped to the U.S., but the cost and the hassle was just a bit too much for two teenagers.

So last Saturday, I had my eyes set upon making this luxurious cake, that is, if I already had all of the ingredients. It was 9 p.m. and I was not about to go down to the super market to buy missing pieces of my rum cake puzzle. Miraculously, I happened to have it all, even the vanilla pudding mix the recipe called for ( I used French vanilla, I don’t think it makes too big a difference, if anything it made it better). The real hunt came for the rum. I need whaler vanille rum, otherwise known as Hawaiian style rum. What I found instead of Bacardi Puerto Rican Rum. I had my doubts, but when I took a whiff, it smelled more or less like Tortuga Rum Cake. Thank God for ingredient substitutes, as the recipe called for cake flour and I only had regular flour. Turns out you can substitute about a quarter of corn starch in with regular flour (for a 2 cup measurement) to make cake flour, which means I used 1/4 cup corn start and 1 3/4 cups flour.

So I set off to make my rum cake. And let me tell you, it might be the creation I am most proud of to date.

Although nothing can ever beat the taste of Tortuga, this almost takes the cake.

Quotable Quotes and Things

There are certain quotes you read or melodies you hear that stay with you for life. They define you and you define them. They become a part of you, reminiscent of some mantra that you keep close to your heart. I’m very attached to quotes, lyrics and melodies of songs. When I hear one that’s just so fantastic, I feel like a small part of the Universe explodes, because it’s so great. Like when you listen to Satie’s Gymnopedie No. 1. It melts me, that song. It’s like everything turns into slow motion. If you’re ever in a bad mood, or you’ve been crying, or you just don’t feel well, listening to Gymnopedie No. 1 will make things just a little bit better. It’s therapy.

If you look at the “Quotes” category of this blog, you can see that I really do love quotes. Today, a co-worker and I were discussing quotes. I don’t like calling the people I work with “co-workers,” if I’m being honest. They’re more friends than just people I work with, but I digress. He mentioned a quote that I can’t stop thinking about.

Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books that are written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will find them gradually, without noticing it, and live along some distant day into the answer.

It’s by Rainer Maria Rilke, the German poet I was first introduced to in English class in high school. I can’t remember what poem it was of his that we read, but I just knew that I loved it. In college, I read “The Book of Hours: Love Poems to God,” in a religion class that I took. The quote above was taken from Rilke’s “Letters to a Young Poet.” It’s so simple, yet so significant. It’s been a long time since I just stopped and thought about anything semi-philosophical.

A lot of my other favorites come from Milan Kundera’s “The Unbearable Lightness of Being,” quite possibly my favorite book of all time.

He suddenly recalled the famous myth from Plato’s Symposium: People were hermaphrodites until God split them in two, and now all the halves wander the world over seeking one another. Love is the longing for the half of ourselves we have lost.

We can never know what to want, because, living only one life, we can neither compare it with our previous lives nor perfect it in our lives to come.

When the heart speaks, the mind finds it indecent to object.

Still, I have more, like this one from William Saroyan…

Try as much as possible to by wholly alive, with all your might, and when you laugh, laugh like hell and when you get angry, get good and angry. Try to be alive. You will be dead soon enough.

Or this one from Robert Fulghum…

I believe that imagination is stronger than knowledge-myth is more potent than history-dreams are more powerful than facts-hope always triumphs over experience-laughter is the cure for grief-love is stronger than death.

Going back to songs, Camera Obscura’s “Country Mile” usually fills my eyes up with tears. For the first few weeks of my new job, I would listen to it while I was dying a slow death in traffic. Traffic is not only bad because, well it’s traffic, but because it gives you time to think and examine and over analyze certain aspects of your life that you usually don’t think about or want to think about.

I wish you could be here with me
I would show you off like a trophy
The road it winds, it twists, it turns, oh my stomach burns

I won’t be seeing you for a long while
Oh I hope it’s not as long as these country miles
I feel lost, I feel lost.

Or Bob Dylan’s “Make You Feel My Love”

I’d go hungry, I’d go black and blue
I’d go crawling down the avenue
There’s nothing that I wouldn’t do
To make you feel my love

The storms are raging on the rollin’ sea
And on the highway of regret

The winds of change are blowing wild and free
You ain’t seen nothing like me yet

If you haven’t heard Adele’s version of “Make You Feel My Love” yet, you should be ashamed of yourself.

All these quotes and songs, they’re just snippets of things that inspire me, that I stand for and believe in, that help me. I can’t explain it, but whatever I’m going through, they make the stress and pain or whatever it is that I’m feeling, a lot less intense. To know that four lines of words helped you overcome some kind of angst, or taught you something knew or changed your perception of things, well, that’s why I decided to be a writer.

Quote of the Week: And You Will Tell Them, Yes.

All your life you are told the things you cannot do. All your life they will say you’re not good enough or strong enough or talented enough; they will say you’re the wrong height or the wrong weight or the wrong type to play this or be this or achieve this. THEY WILL TELL YOU NO, a thousand times no, until all the no’s become meaningless. All your life they will tell you no, quite firmly and very quickly.
AND YOU WILL TELL THEM YES. - Nike Ad

Adventures in Press Junkets

The press junket is perhaps one of the most surreal experiences I’ve ever had. I attended my first ever junket today for the movie “The Wackness,” starring Sir Ben Kingsley, Josh Peck, Olivia Thirlby and Method Man. I saw the movie on Monday and fell in love. It was almost everything I wanted in a movie and more. Three days later, I made my way across town from Santa Monica to the Four Seasons in Beverly Hills, up to the 14th floor in a mad rush, only to be confronted with a room full of publicists and journalists.

As usual, I was the youngest one there. As I gave my name to one of the publicists, I heard someone say “Are you Armenian?” I turned around and it was a young guy my age. We got to talking about why we became writers, how every other Armenian young person we know have either gone the Business or Dentist or Lawyer route, how print is dying, how press junkets work. Somewhere along the line, we discover that one of his friends is the brother of one of my sister’s good friends. This situation right here, this would only happen to us Armenians. Out of all the most obscure places, the Four Seasons Hotel in Beverly Hills on a Thursday afternoon for a press junket, do I meet someone I can play six degrees of separation with.

Let me explain what I gathered from how press junkets work. They gather a bunch of journalists into a sort of “holding room,” jam crammed with more food and drinks than you can fathom. You wait and you eat and you wait and you eat, until they assign you rooms to talk to the talent. You mosey on to the room where there is a big round table (hence the term “roundtables”) accompanied with about six or seven chairs for writers. The publicist and the talent walk in the room. The talent sits down, literally 2 feet away from you at the table. Everyone turns on their tape recorders and pushes them towards the talent. Questions ensue. This repertoire continues on for about 15 minutes until the publicist comes in, gives a 2 minute mark and jots out the door. Two more minutes of questions take place. The publicist comes back in, the talent thanks everyone and is ushered out the door. The tape recorders retreat back to their owners and remain on standby, until the entire process it repeated again with the next person.

I was stuck in a room with women older than my mother who (I think) had a hard time understanding the entire film. Sure they asked questions and looked interested, but all around, they just couldn’t begin to understand how many kids growing up in the 90s can relate to the character in this film. When they heard Method Man was going to be part of the interview process, they scoffed. Why him, they asked. They knew nothing about him or his music and they didn’t want to know either.

The shining light of my day was sitting across the table from Sir Ben Kingsley. It was as if I was interviewing Ghandi himself. He is so humble, kind and down to earth. And so articulate and intelligent. What an amazing man. I feel lucky just to have been able to sit in the same room with him.

I didn’t ask any questions during the entire process. It’s not that I didn’t have any, but I didn’t feel it was the right time to ask. I’m not sure. It was either that, or I was nervous. A combination of both most probably.

On the way there in my car, I kept having these day dreams of Ben Kingsley singling me out to talk to me. I don’t know why I would think this. I knew I wasn’t really going to be talking, so I kept imagining him saying in his soothing accent, “You, you over there, you’re not saying anything. Talk to me.” And then I saw myself talking to him, just me and him, no old cranky journalists around, no publicists, just me and him. Then I took a wrong turn on the way to the hotel and my daydream bubble popped.

Method Man is quite charming and handsome. And he has a booming voice. Like the voice of God or something. Olivia is beautiful. She’s only 2 years younger than me. Again I wanted to banish the other women in the room and talk to her like we were friends. She had gorgeous hair as well. Josh Peck has the most striking blue eyes you’ll ever see. And he’s so handsome and nice and funny. I wanted to put him in my pocket and take him home.

When the junket was finished, I came out with two tapes full of recordings from Director Jonathan Levine, Ben Kingsley, Josh Peck, Method Man and Olivia Thirlby, and a pounding headache that still has not gone away. I drove back to work in traffic, stayed for 3 and a half more hours, then headed home.

I will post links to my review and interview once they’re published. Thanks for reading, if you did.