Walt at Random

It’s that wonderful time of the year…the weather’s pretty much settled down to “summer conditions” (which here means most days have highs in the mid-70s, maybe into the low 80s: our hot spells are still considered atypical) and it’s stone fruit season!

Last year was a disappointment. I seem to remember there being very few cherries, and most of those not very good. Our apricot tree produced just a little fruit… But we managed, with peaches, plums, etc.

This year, so far, much better:

• My wife had to hand-pollenate the apricot trees (near-absence of bees earlier in the year), but that worked. She thought the apricots were all going to ripen while we were on vacation, but that wasn’t the case. Instead, there was loads of fruit ripening in late June and early July. Too much fruit, really–and I missed a few days of great Blenheim apricots because of ALA Anaheim. Still, for a couple of weeks, we were getting more first-rate apricots (the only kind that really taste like apricots, the ones picked directly from a tree) than we could eat. A few neighbors got bags of apricots… And we’ve seen one or two trees in the neighborhood that make us sigh: Heavy with fruit, in one case ripening now (two weeks later than ours)…and apparently nobody using that glorious fruit. Sigh. (Our second apricot tree isn’t doing well: One bearing branch.)
• The Bing cherries from California growers were good, but they’re gone. The Bing cherries from Washington are here now, and they’re great. (Not as cheap as in some years, but plentiful and excellent.) Dunno how much longer we get them–two weeks? Three?–but I’m enjoying them while they’re here.
• Rainiers, on the other hand… There were some decent local ones at the farmer’s market in early July, but the California season’s been over for a while. We have yet to see any northwest Rainiers that we’d buy–apparently they’re just not holding up to shipping very well. (Too many of them bruised.)
• Peaches. Ah, peaches. They’ve ranged from very good to the kind you can smell six feet away and are just incredibly satisfying.
• As usual, some new-to-us varieties of nectarines and other stone fruit–mango nectarines, black apricots, what have you. Some of them excellent. Some not so much.

If you love apples and don’t care about buying local, I suppose you always have good fruit available. Neither of us do well with apples. So for us, the absolute best fruit season is stone fruit season…and I hope it stays around at least a month more.

‘brary web diva points to a new blog about wine, from a former library worker. One of the first posts at that blog discusses the many “hidden” Gallo wines.

As a wine drinker (and as one whose family home was eventually purchased by Gallo to make part of a parking lot, allowing my parents to move to a nicer place), I’ve been aware of the Gallo-created regional brands such as Anapamu for some time, and certainly aware that Gallo–and especially Gallo of Sonoma–makes a lot of excellent wine, along with some cheap stuff (the really cheap stuff such as Carlo Rossi never saying Gallo on the label). Gallo’s also picked up a surprising number of well-established wineries through the years, including Mirassou.

I also knew one “trick” to identify some, but by no means all, Gallo brands that don’t say Gallo: UPC codes starting with 85000. (”Modesto on the label” is a particularly bad way to locate the best Gallo wines, since most of them have Healdsburg on the label, that being the headquarters for Gallo of Sonoma.)

Turns out there’s a much easier trick. Gallo’s not trying to hide its brands. This page leads to descriptions of all Gallo-owned wines, broken down by category.

So, for example, Gallo doesn’t hide the fact that Burlwood and Copperidge (and Liberty Creek) are hotel/restaurant brands; you may have been poured Copperidge at Midwinter receptions (or at Embassy Suites, for example). Nor do they hide the fact that they import Black Swan, Ecco Domani, Red Bicyclette and others. And in the premium category (other than the ones with Gallo on the label, some of which are world-class wines), there are the ones I knew about–Rancho Zabaco/Dancing Bull, Anapamu, Marcelina–and a couple I didn’t realize Gallo had acquired (e.g., Louis M. Martini).

Yes, the page also lists the cheap stuff…but only ones that are more-or-less varietal wines, not the fortified and fruit stuff. So you’ll find Carlo Rossi and Peter Vella, but not Thunderbird. (Ripple? Gone. Not missed.)

Three-quarters of a mile from my almost-former-place-of-work (I’m terminated as of 9/30 and in any case the remainder will be moving to new smaller quarters) is a block with two food facilities. One building (and big back lot, with a decent-size parking area) is a sports bar that’s mostly a restaurant during the day. I think I’ve written about it before: good food, inexpensive, particularly noteworthy for the $2 freshly-made “cup” of soup that’s most restaurants’ bowl-size.

The other building is a big rectangle with five food places: A Subway with maybe half a dozen seats (almost entirely takeout); Bueno Bueno, a very good burroteria (like taqueria but their specialty is burros) with no inside seating at all (but two outside tables); a small corner place that’s been through four different iterations in the three or four (?) years we’ve been here, most recently the second iteration of a Japanese restaurant; a fairly good-size sit-down place that was Indian when we moved here, has been a Hawaiian lunch-plate place (and a couple of others), and is now a wrap/falafel/gyros place.

And a big sit-down space, probably 150 or so seats in all, that was always New Ma’s, a Chinese Muslim restaurant that served very good food and frequently had busloads of tourists *from* China visiting. (By unfortunate happenstance, the first time I tried it must have had an assistant cook on a really off day–but after staying away for a year, I went back and found the food quite good, as did my wife.) No sweet & sour pork, of course, or pork of any kind; all meat Halal; they did compromise enough to have a beer & wine license.

About a year and a half ago, New Ma’s closed for remodeling. The process turned the light, airy space into more of a nightclub space–black walls, heavy curtains, flat-screen TVs up on the wall. Eventually, after what seemed like way too long (and with an incongruous permit application for a full liquor license), it reopened–sort of. As a Japanese restaurant with almost no menu. They said “Oh, we’ll have Chinese too, next week.” By “next week” it was closed.

Then it reopened as an Italian restaurant with the emphasis on 5-9 p.m. happy hour. Tried it once for lunch. Wholly dispiriting “buffet” (four items, I think) or half a dozen menu items. The only thing I could plausibly imagine eating was the burger. It was OK, but seriously overpriced. That restaurant lasted for oh, three or four weeks.

Now…well, last week the doors opened again, this time as a different Chinese restaurant, with its name followed by “@ Green Lantern” (Green Lantern was the name of the shortlived Italian restaurant), and with the Green Lantern “grand opening” banner above the Chinese restaurant “grand opening” banner. Oh, and the building still says “New Ma’s”–the other rapidly-changing spaces always manage to replace the building-mounted signs, but maybe the management(s) here know something…

So, to get to the second part of an absurdly long lunchtime post, I tried the place today…after all, I’ll still be here three weeks…

Huge menu, but the lunch specials were the usual list, most of them $6.25. Ordered one. What I got: slightly gloppy hot-and-sour soup (plenty good enough for many suburban areas, way below what you’d expect in Mountain View) with a standard metal soup spoon. Then, a platter of the chosen entree (really too much for one person) and a cup of white rice. Fork and knife: No chopsticks, no separate plate for dining, no hot tea offered. The food? Again, adequate for some suburban areas (I think), but gloppy and dreary by local standards. $6.25. I won’t return.

At which point I thought about the little (50-60 seats) shopping-strip Chinese restaurant I went to last Friday, and will probably go to every week or two from the end of this month until we move out of Mountain View (if we do that, which we might if job possibilities continue to, um, pan out so well–we can take some money out of our house), and what I got there for $0.30 less:

• Cup of light, non-gloppy egg flower soup (with porcelain spoon)and
• Nice little salad and
• Plate of fried wonton strips.

after which, you get

• Slightly oversize dinner plate with a rational-size serving of your chosen entree, fresh, not gloppy, nicely prepared
• Plenty of vegetables added to the entree if needed–and the broccoli, at least, is just properly cooked, still bright green and al dente
• A good-size scoop of either white or vegetable fried rice
• A crisp, light, small egg roll
• A small serving of vegetable chow mein

and, of course, both chopsticks and fork–and tea unless it’s a hot day and you indicate you don’t need it.

Oh, and with the check:

• Orange slices
• Fortune cookie

Let’s see. Big-deal big restaurant versus inconsequential little neighborhood restaurant. No contest. At all. China Cafe (the one near home) actually belongs in Mountain View. The new place might just belong in Modesto…I give it a month, two tops, but I won’t be around to find out.

[We have Saturday dinner fairly frequently at China Cafe, even though it's a slightly shorter walk than we might prefer, 0.7 miles each way. All of the dishes we've had are lively, fresh, well-prepared, "ungloppy"...]

Hmm. Wonder how the neighborhood Chinese places are in Fremont or Livermore or, maybe, McMinnville or Portland…

Good things about going to ALA Annual this year (partial):

• Another chance to see people I only see twice a year–and a few I’ve never met face-to-face before.
• Some good conversations about possible personal futures. (Nothing solid yet; there’s one big contracting situation that I think would be a real win_win situation, but no decision’s been made yet. As a result, I’m still open to contacts and offers.)
• Much better weather than expected–in DC, that is.
• The exhibits felt a little more varied and interesting than in some other cases (and better attended).
• The distances were such that this was mostly a walking conference for me (during the day, I’ll typically prefer walking for up to 1.5 miles), which is always a good thing.
• Great LISHost dinner, great OCLC Bloggers Salon, I was very pleased with LITA TopTechTrends, the other program I attended (!), on orphan works, was first-rate.
• My earlier decision not to base essays or commentary on “second-hand conference reporting” was confirmed by reading reports on my own TopTechTrends comments: Some big differences between what I believe I said and the spins put on it by various writers.

Not-so-good things about going to ALA Annual this year:

• Missing six days of Blenheim apricots at the peak of ripeness: Our tree yielded a large number of small (unfortunately) apricots, nearly all of which were ready to pick during the same week. My wife gave away scores of them, and based on what I’m eating now, I could have had six or eight a day of the kind of fruit that inspires passionate writing; Blenheims are simply magnificent.
• Missing six days of being at home, my wife, our cats, writing, etc…but that’s a direct tradeoff with getting (back) in touch with lots of other people.
• The prices, especially for breakfast and a glass of wine here and there…
• Having to spend time thinking about my personal future in terms of income rather than in terms of possibilities for extracurricular stuff.
• The journey back home (already discussed), although it clearly wasn’t as bad as some others endured. Still, it took me until Saturday to fully recover from the process.

Next up: Philly in January. All my Pennsylvania friends assure me that the frigid conditions last time around were an aberration. I’m not sure. Will I be there? That depends in part on how things go with the search for a personal future…

For those who care, I think all I have to say about the job situation appears here. I hope the one “majority of time” contracting possibility works out; it’s one where I think I’d bring a lot to the work–and it’s work with a group I respect. But it’s just not feasible to stop looking elsewhere, given the uncertain nature of when (and whether) a decision will be made… Otherwise, some interesting discussions about piecemeal possibilities–training, teaching, and exploring the kinds of things I’m good at and that are in demand.

As for my Twitter experiment: That’s already been covered. I’m still being “friended” by new people. But, account or no account, I’m just not there.

The question’s simple enough, aimed mostly at people outside the U.S. “far west”:

Have you ever heard of tri-tip? Do supermarkets in your area sell it?

Here’s the background. Two Sundays ago, my wife and I attended a biannual get-together of a distantly-related family (she’s doing genealogical research, located these folks, answered some questions from them, got invited). In the Altamont pass wind-farm country (near Livermore). The primary barbecue was tri-tip–marinated and seasoned.

Last Sunday, my wife and I went to my brother’s first-anniversary party, at his house in Livermore. He provided the barbequed meat and drink. The meat was tri-tip, marinated and seasoned.

We were in Santa Maria year before last, and of course I had tri-tip for dinner, since Santa Maria tri-tip is a key local dish.

At the get-together and again at the first anniversary, people familiar with the meat industry said that tri-tip is unknown outside of the West–that it gets used for hamburger or sold as parts of different cuts elsewhere. It’s a tricky cut: It really needs thin-slicing and typically marinade to avoid being too tough to eat. But it’s also a great barbecue meat when it is marinated and thinly sliced. (One of my favorite lunch spots, years ago, used to serve a tri-tip sandwich once in a while: Great.)

So: Is this a Western urban legend? Do you get tri-tip in New York or Texas (well, Texas may count as “the west”) or Illinois or Great Britain or Australia or Toronto or Wisconsin?

(We’re finishing a trifecta today, really unusual for a not-terribly-sociable couple: Going to brunch today with a dear long-time friend…once again, in Livermore, but this time in a restaurant. I suspect tri-tip won’t be on the menu.)

Beyond that: We seem to be well into stone fruit season, and the local farmer’s market is rich with great peaches, superb plums, wonderful apricots, and magnificent cherries. We’re hoping to get a few Blenheim apricots from our own tree, but the birds may beat us to it… I do love stone fruit season, particularly as it ends the several-week near-drought of fresh local fruit!

Shortly after we moved to Mountain View nine years ago, we started walking to dinner every Saturday night–either some place really close (0.7 miles each way), some or one of many further away (about 1.2 miles to Los Altos, about 1.5 miles to downtown Mountain View).

For a while, there was really only one “nearby” restaurant: a local pizza parlor that also happened to produce really good food–calzones with no grease on the plate, pizzas with vibrant flavors, a small assortment of very well made Italian dishes. Local (not part of a chain), and a “neighborhood pizza place” to the extent of sponsoring youth soccer teams and having a banquet room where various kids-league teams would hold end-of-season dinners.

We went there anywhere from once every two weeks to once a month–more often in the winter (when the longer walks are less desirable), a little less often once we discovered that the Chinese restaurant in the same neighborhood center was really quite good.

The last year or so, we started encountering situations where we really couldn’t enjoy our meal: In addition to the big group in the banquet room, there would be another big group in the main dining room, with parents making no efforts to keep their kids from shouting. So, for a while, we’d call before going, ask if there were going to be multiple parties coming in during the time we were planning, and plan accordingly.

That started breaking down a couple of months ago and finally broke down entirely last Saturday. First we’d call and the person answering the phone either didn’t understand my question (being only marginally English-speaking) or just said “No problem.” We’d arrive, the place would be intolerably loud with parties that had made reservations, and we’d go eat Chinese food.

Last Saturday, we called. The person wouldn’t or couldn’t answer the question. We went over. Walking in, we asked; the hostess said “Just one party, and it’s in the banquet room.” Good enough. We ordered.

And the kids started trooping in. By and large, the kids moved along to the banquet room, but some of the parents wanted to stand around with their kids, and one of the kids was literally whooping every few seconds. (Eventually, that parent took the kid outside…and then came back a couple of minutes later, and the whooping resumed.) But as it turned out, this time the kids weren’t the main problem–or at least not the underage kids.

This time, apparently many of the parents didn’t want to be with their kids. So they stood three-deep around the “bar” (beer and wine, but they weren’t ordering anything), talking loudly and MORE LOUDLY and EVEN MORE LOUDLY as more of them gathered. (There was about 3 feet between the bar and the booths; we retreated to the most distant booth, 6 feet away, but that made no difference.)

We could not and did not enjoy the meal. We finished it, paid (yes, with a good tip), and left. And my wife said “We’re not going back. Ever.” I can’t disagree.

The owner has obviously chosen to give precedence to big groups–and not to make any effort to remind them that it’s also a restaurant and that others may not be as excited as they are. I think that used to be different. As my wife said, it’s probably the right decision–for the 12 weekends/24 days a year when there are team banquets. But if enough regular customers feel the way we do, it may not be such a hot decision for the other 288 days. Used to be, we’d see half a dozen or more couples and family groups there when we were there. This time? One other couple, and they didn’t look real happy either. (This is actually passing strange, since the owner also recently switched from one-sheet paper menus to nice multipage menus with an expanded menu–seemingly trying to attract the same diners he’s driving away.)

I noted that, the previous Saturday when I’d planned to have lunch at the Chinese place, there was a sign on the door: “Banquet in progress. Takeout only.” Those owners decided that they really couldn’t handle both at the same time, and didn’t attempt to. Unquestionably, they would have answered a phoned question correctly…and we would have come back another day.

Library implications? Maybe. Meredith Farkas posted about her husband’s experience seeing a favorite magazine go bad because it shifted its attention and resources to the web. (An excellent post, by the way, which you should go read if you haven’t already.) Part way through, Farkas adds this note:

(Aside: As I’m writing this, I realize this offers another lesson that librarians need to heed. While it’s important that we provide better services for teens and those in their early 20s, we shouldn’t do it at the expense of services to the rest of our patrons. We do not want to lose that core audience any more than we want to lose the Gen Y folks.)

Yep. Don’t look for a denunciation of gaming in libraries here because such a mass denunciation would be as absurd as saying that every library needs a gaming librarian (which I’m sure nobody would actually say). But I do wonder: Are those wonderful at-the-library gaming tournaments, particularly ones with such quiet pursuits as DDR, driving out older patrons who have loyally supported the library? If so, will they come back or will they just give up–and vote against the next tax override?

I don’t know the answer. Well, that’s not true: I do know that there is no single answer. I’m sure some libraries, maybe even every single one that does these gaming nights/tournaments, have set things up so that the noise and disruption from one activity doesn’t upset the browsers and readers in the rest of the library.

But I also know that it would not be an answer to say “We need the gamers, so we’ll just have to let the old folks go.” And, just to clarify, I haven’t heard anyone say that either.

Oh, and Meredith? That magazine isn’t the only one. PC Magazine has dropped almost all specs and details from its printed reviews, substituting glossy columns and big pictures; effectively, the print magazine is now sort of a sideshow to the web version. Except, of course, that I’m not interested in the web version…and will think long and hard before renewing the print version. (After all, I get the web version free anyway…)

Yeah, I know, September 20, and if there were still “typical weather patterns” we’d probably get a few hot days this month, but realistically, Labor Day marks the end of summer around these parts.

Particularly because it nearly marks the end of stone fruit season. (It’s also getting cool enough that I’ll probably start wearing a jacket on the way to work…)

Since I did a few posts about fruit last summer, I thought I’d offer a few updates. (I’m not linking to the earlier posts. This is Labor Day, and I’m doing as little labor as possible.)

Last year was the Summer Without Cherries, particularly the summer without decent Bings.

I’m delighted to say that this year’s cherry crops were reasonably plentiful and first-quality. First from California growers (buying them mostly at two local farmers’ markets, one a true California Farmers’ Market, the other more ambiguous), then from Washington State after the California season was done.

Great Bings. As cheap as $1.99 at Safeway, $3.99 at the purist farmers’ market. First rate in both cases.

Great Rainiers–and I always thought all Rainiers came from Washington, but that’s not true: We had weeks of first-rate Rainier cherries from local growers.

The season’s gone (a couple of weeks ago, what was left in the stores was too pathetic to buy), but I did my share to keep growers and farmer-sellers happy during the season.

Last year, I was enthusiastic about Apriums (Apria?), apricot-plum hybrids. Turns out that, after one good experience, we never really got good ones–but once we found the local farmers’ markets, we got really good apricots. True this year as well. A good thing, because our own apricot tree gave us almost nothing (and may not be doing well), and the second tree’s too young for fruit. We even got some acceptable apricots at Safeway, but of course the farmers’ market fruit was better.

Plums? A great year for plums and pluots, with some Santa Rosa plums and dinosaur-egg pluots simply spectacular. Those are still hanging on–yesterday’s breakfast featured some plums, some pluots, some truly first-rate white-flesh peaches, and some gold kiwifruit that was better than the kiwifruit’s been for a while–but, as with the peaches, they’ll be fading away.

We’re also finding more and better organic produce, both at the three certified organic stands at the Mountain View farmers’ market (which, unlike the ambiguous one, runs year-round: This is California!) and at Safeway. Of course, organic no longer means “small operation” by any means, but…

So, despite the disrupted vacation plans and still slightly enigmatic work situation, I have no complaints about the summer. We’re still here, we’re supporting local produce whenever possible (”local” meaning “within a hundred miles or so”–while the area we live in used to be prime cherry orchard territory, there’s just not much of that left in our immediate area.

I probably shouldn’t write at all until at least yesterday, since I’m now 15 hours into the “travel day” and just skimmed through 458 library blog posts and 150 others (and, surprisingly, only flagged a dozen to look at again later–but I’d say at least 100 of those posts are repetitions because of Bloglines or blogging software glitches).

Still, before I forget, in no particular order, and with zero cosmic significance:

• There is no Ten in the LITA Top Tech Trends. I’ve seen that extraneous word in at least two blogs. It’s TTT: Top Tech Trends. Not TTTT.
• The time given for each TTT panelist was decided, at Midwinter, by the TTT committee and the TTT panelists. I wasn’t there. I was just The Enforcer. (Actually, a one-minute sign and a red “time up” sign were being held up in the front row of the audience–but I quickly realized that the panelists couldn’t see the signs. Too bad. I really was hoping not to say anything after summarizing Sarah Houghton’s trends…). I think five minutes is probably about right; in this case, it was literally the only way to save half an hour for managed audience questions. I think the managed-questions portion went very well (as did the whole thing, and since I’m no longer a panelist, I can say that): Most questions were included, while avoiding diatribes. (And I must apologize to Sarah: I left out “brighter” in the range of adjectives that distinguish the LiB from the bozo offering her trends.)
• I wonder whether we’ll ever have an accurate number for how many people were at ALA–which is not necessarily the same as the registration count. Exhibits felt light; my hotel noted that a number of people had cancelled at the last minute; I wouldn’t be surprised if a thousand or more people just didn’t show up. Why? Because of the “lift” problem I noted pre-conference: There just weren’t enough airplane seats on the key travel days. I know of people paying $700 for flights booked more than a month ahead, $900 for flights booked fairly well ahead–and of one person being quoted $3,000 for a coach seat a week ahead. I can say that a $900 fare would have increased my total conference expenses by nearly 50%; for a lot of people, the extra $300 to $600 or more–or just the inability to book a flight at all without staying late or going in early–may have prevented attendance.
• That said, there were still probably at least 15,000 librarians and vendors in New Orleans, and I believe most of us found attendance worthwhile. I wouldn’t have missed it…
• Apologies in general to people who might have expected to run into me and didn’t. Thanks to a combination of factors–the strain of the last couple months, four or five days of pre-ALA weather in Mountain View where the lack of air conditioning made 92 to 96 degrees difficult to bear, getting a really bad night’s [lack of] sleep Friday night, the effect of the front half of the Convention Center being closed–I was just plumb exhausted by mid-day Saturday, and took what measures I could to protect energy. That meant spending less time at social functions and marginal (for me) programs than I might otherwise have, definitely not trying to stay up for the 10:30-midnight blogger/Louisiana librarian gathering, skipping a couple of kind invitations to fancy dinners that would keep me up too late… and generally laying a little bit low.
• I’m grateful to all the folks who asked how things were going in terms of OCLC-RLG and my future. I think the short answer “It’s probably going to be all good, personally at least,” is better than the slightly longer answers I was giving. [OK, I might not word it exactly that way, but, well...]
• And, given that cheap entertainment playing slot poker was one way to preserve a little energy and sanity, I should report that Harrah’s New Orleans has good music–I’m guessing it’s more or less the same blend of oldies used in other Harrah’s, but with every third or fourth song replaced by something local (songs about New Orleans, zydeco music, songs by other NO musicians, etc.). And, unlike some casinos last time we were in Reno, the music wasn’t playing SO LOUD IT HURT YOUR EARS.
• Sure, I went to some programs. Sure, I toured all of the exhibits. Maybe I’ll have something to say about them later–but seems like lots of other people are covering things pretty well. (Cop out? You betcha.)

Oh, and I have to mention the LITA breakfast for 23 of the former presidents, as part of the division’s 40th anniversary celebration. (LITA isn’t 40 years old, but the division is: It originally had a different name, Information Science and Automation Division or ISAD.) Great stuff, and a good chance to see a bunch of people I really don’t run into that often.

Added next day: It probably isn’t obvious from the above, although my pre-conference posts may have hinted at it, but:

• Keeping ALA in New Orleans was exactly the right thing to do. Exactly. I believed it when the decision was made. I believed it after the misreported story about killings in a drug-infested area of New Orleans. And I believed it even more while I was there, starting with the cabbie who, while grumping a little about ALA’s proficiency at sending people to the airport shuttles, expressed delight at us being there (his house is “OK,” but his furnishings were a total loss)–and all the way through.
• Despite all the wonderful voluntarism, donations to NOPL funds, “over”tipping, ALA wasn’t there as a charity operation. We were there as a conference, with conferees having the usual good time in and after events. (”The usual good time” for NO being a little different than “the usual good time” for, say, Orlando.)
• As I commented on John Blyberg’s first-rate post-ALA note: We did good. New Orleans did good.

Trader Joe’s now officially exists: They’ve opened a store in New York City. And Slate has a story to clue in the Most Important People in the World.

The “Insider’s guide to Trader Joe’s” offers a set of “tips and warnings,” generally worthwhile. Including two sets of “fan favorites,” stuff that TJ does particularly well. (About 80% of what’s sold at a typical Trader Joe’s is exclusive to Trader Joe’s, according to one story I’ve read–and I believe it, since other than booze, wine, and beer, there are few national brands on display).

Reading those lists of favorites, I was struck by what I call the “Word paradox”: That is, “only ten features in Word really matter”–but your list of ten may have zero in common with my list of ten. That is, of the six categories I care most about at TJ, only two are mentioned among the sixteen categories mentioned in the Slate lists.

Here’s what we rely on TJ for, noting that we do most of our grocery shopping at two other stores, a medium-size Safeway and Andronico’s (a tiny little chain):

• Dried fruit, e.g. three different varieties of dried cherries, three different kinds of dried cranberries…and dozens more that I don’t buy. Nobody does it better. Yes, TJ’s even has unsulphered dried apricots, if you don’t mind the looks.
• Vitamins & supplements, the purest around (”vitamins” are mentioned in the article).
• Nuts and sunflower seeds in a staggering range of varieties (including the world’s largest cashews) at very good prices.
• Kauai coffee (yes, 100% coffee grown on Kauai), similar to Kona (which TJ’s also sells in a 100%-pure version), but about 1/3 the price–I’ve never seen Kauai coffee elsewhere, and TJ doesn’t roast the heck out of their coffee (except for their special blends designed for Starbucks/Peets customers)–”coffee and tea” are also mentioned–and, oh yes, unbleached #4 filters at 100 for $1.60 or so
• Chocolate–in my case, the three-packs of Trader Joe’s Dark Chocolate 1.75oz bars (58% cocoa solids, just the right balance for my taste), from Belgium, for a staggering $1.29 for three bars. There are, to be sure, many other varieties.
• Clif bars at reasonable prices ($1/bar), although that’s becoming a little more common.

But that’s us–the things we want that either aren’t available elsewhere, are done better by TJ, or are a lot cheaper for the same quality. (I don’t think anything we buy except coffee filters and Clif bars falls into the third category.)

Oh, sometimes TJ’s own wine label (or set of labels) is excellent for the money (not two-buck-chuck, but stuff under the Trader Joe’s label). Sometimes not. Frequently it’s not available, because they can’t get the quality they want at the price they want.

I respect TJ’s commitment to avoiding additives and fillers where feasible, and to using reasonably minimal packaging (except for some produce, and we don’t buy fresh produce there). It is a strange place to shop; no question there.

In passing, I note that Slate also had a slightly snarky take on Whole Foods and the whole question of “organic” food when you’re not in an area that grows it locally. We don’t shop at Whole Foods, but the points in the article are very well taken. We do pay attention to where our produce comes from–and even in California, that’s an issue–and increasingly to whether “organic” is an overriding concern. Safeway’s introduced a huge range of organics under its O brand, and apparently plans to beef up the organic fresh produce selection in the future; right now, most of the organic produce we get is at Andronico’s (which has a nasty tendency to overchill its produce). Given the choice between organic produce from Chile and non-organic from 50 miles away? For fruit known to retain a lot of pesticides, we’d probably wait for the California season to emerge; otherwise, we’d take the non-organic. But, as the Whole Foods article notes, most organic food in the U.S. comes from California anyway, so we don’t often have to make that choice.

Now, if California only produced ruby grapefruit…but I guess we’ll keep buying that from Texas, transportation and all.

There will be an extremely informal gathering of (a few) C&I readers at

5 p.m., Monday, January 23, 2006, in San Antonio

Update January 9, 2006: We have a winner: The Menger Bar. See here for slightly more details.

In this post I asked for advice on possible watering holes at which we could gather, given that I’m not planning to make reservations or arrangements, just show up.

I’ve remembered a little more and done a little more looking (via the web, of course) at the places I was suggesting. They’re all a little problematic:

• Boudro’s, probably the best option for quality of wine and like that, is really a restaurant, not a restaurant/bar, and you really need to “be seated” to order. I don’t think it will work for this purpose.
• I now remember that, while Republic of Texas is fun, the riverwalk portion (as opposed to the inside portion) is small and busy. It may not be ideal either.
• Menger’s bar, while historic, is both off the riverwalk and sort of an unknown. You have to really know you’re going there.

So here’s a couple of other possibilities–and I’d really love some informed feedback, before I make a decision (which will be some time next week):

• Rio Rio Cantina/Naked Iguana saloon: I know Rio Rio has good food, and I believe (but can’t remember for sure) that there’s a pretty good size open riverwalk area.
• Tex’s Riverwalk Sports Bar at the Hilton Palacio del Rio (my favorite chain hotel in SA, although not where I’ll be staying); the outside portion is directly off the riverwalk, and strikes me as a plausible candidate–the Hilton is very close to the convention center and Marriotts. (There’s also Ibiza patio restaurant at the Hilton, probably OK for drinks at 5 p.m., and Durty Mary’s, but the latter tends to be insanely noisy.)
• Steers & Beers in the Rivercenter Mall–I think, but I don’t remember it all that well. (Otherwise, the mall’s mostly been conquered by chains, and Hooter’s is not a candidate!)

Feedback? Other suggestions? Right now, I’m leaning toward Tex’s. The Menger bar is still a possibility.

Oh, and if you’re coming, do let me know, with (of course) no obligation, since nothing’s being done in advance.

This morning I carted two canvas bags in to work: A red Time Life Books/African Americans/Voices of Triumph bag and a blue Midwest Library Service 30th Anniversary ALA Dallas 1989 bag.

Sidebar: Anyone at Safeway or Andronico’s who pays attention can pretty well spot the two of us as library people. We use canvas bags for our groceries–and all of the canvas bags come from various state library conferences and the like. Who else would have that collection of bags?

Both bags were about three-quarters full of lemons. Meyer lemons. Huge Meyer lemons, mostly orange-size.

Another sidebar: If you don’t know about Meyer lemons, too bad–and, unless you’re in Santa Clara or San Mateo County in California or dine at certain hotshot restaurants, you may not know about them. They’re not really a commercial crop–they don’t ship worth a damn–and, in fact, the benighted California Department of Agriculture apparently tried to eradicate them because of some disease that Meyers carried, that didn’t hurt them but did hurt commercial lemons. Fortunately, the effort failed, at least some areas, although Meyers are still really not a commercial crop. What Meyers are are big, sweet, lower in acid, flavorful. Apparently they’re a centuries-old cross between lemons and either oranges or some other citrus fruit. Used in desserts by quite a few top chefs…

As usual, I set the red bag down on a counter in RLG’s “kitchen,” and sent out a general-staff junk mail noting that Meyer lemons are here. I’ll replenish the red bag from the blue bag (so people who don’t get here by 7:30 a.m. have a chance at them). This place is pretty deserted this week, but I’m guessing the hundred or so lemons will still be gone by the end of the day–and that “hundred or so” is at least 30 pounds worth of lemons.

That scene’s been repeated once a week for the past three weeks, and will be repeated weekly for most weeks over the next three months, give or take, although there may be only one bag some weeks. It’s an odd perk of working at RLG: Free, bright, shiny, clean, sweet, organic Meyer lemons (well, semi-organic: my wife fertilizes the Meyer shrub/tree but we’ve never used pesticides or other sprays on it).

What we have here is a supply:demand situation made possible by the odd soil and weather conditions in the Mountain View/Los Altos area (and some points north and south on the Peninsula): To wit, one Meyer shrub (I guess it’s a tree, but it looks more like a shrub) will produce better than a thousand lemons over a four-month period. Fortunately, the lemons really are good and people find lots of uses for them. (We keep three or four a week, but we really don’t use a lot of lemons.)

My wife does the picking (she knows which ones are ripe). We cooperate on the cleaning (she rinses, I dry): Presentation is part of assuring demand, and we’re not about to bring in a bunch of dirty lemons. I do the hauling, and since I get in to work a lot earlier I also send out the announcement.

This year’s unusual for two reasons, which probably interact. The summer was a little hotter than usual, and a few hundred immature lemons shriveled–having the effect of thinning the crop. Then the first sustained “cold” spell (that is, weather in the 50s dropping to 40s at night) didn’t hit until much later than usual–and lemons (at least Meyers) don’t fully ripen until it gets cold, but they keep growing. The result: Some lemons are almost the size of small grapefruit, and the smallest ones are two or three times the size of usual supermarket lemons.

No moral. We’re not touting our beneficence; it would be a shame to have all those lemons rot or thrown out, and we know the folks at work like them. (Other people bring in oranges at the right season; we’re not doing anything special.) Just a little story about big sweet lemons.

For Cites & Insights readers only:

Are you going to be at ALA Midwinter in that best of Midwinter cities (personal opinion, to be sure), San Antonio?

Want to get together for a chat and a drink (no-host) to celebrate a half decade of C&I?

If so, let me know (comment here or mail me, waltcrawford at gmail.com).

If I hear from at least three or four of you by January 5, I’ll suggest a place and time.

I don’t expect a big response, and I’m not sure how we’d handle that–it’s easy to find a place where 4 to 10 people could gather; 20 or more is tough without formal arrangements, which I wasn’t planning to make.

Time would probably be Monday afternoon between 5 and 6, or something like that; I haven’t put together my schedule yet, but Saturday and Sunday afternoon and evening tend to be pretty crazy, particularly when San Antonio is the site.

I have no idea what the location would be except “On or near Riverwalk”–which covers a lot of territory even within a ten-minute walk of the Convention Center. I was thinking of Lone Star Cafe only because they used to serve some decent Texas wines, but they seem to have dropped the Chardonnays at least. If there’s a response, I’ll do a little checking (or one of you who’s been in San Antonio recently might have a suggestion).

No pressure; there are way too many things to do at Midwinter, way too many things to do in San Antonio, and lots of you probably fly home Monday evening.

I tried something like this four years ago; the two of us who were there had a great time. For two, I’ll skip it, but for a few (probably anywhere between 3 and 10 responses–I’d be astonished to get more than 10) it might be fun.

Update and apology: I hadn’t intended to publish this until I reviewed some stuff; I hit Publish instead of Save yesterday. One paragraph has been removed–but if you know what it is and you’re actually interested in the “bribe” just let me know.

Second update, December 19: Since there will be at least three of us there, the event’s on, Monday at 5, and now I need to decide on a place. This post–whoa! #200!– offers some suggestions and asks for help and advice.

Third and final update, January 9: The time is still Monday, January 23, at 5 p.m. The place is the Menger Bar, in the Menger Hotel. Slightly more details here.

We live in a neighborhood with lots of kids (all of them pretty well-behaved, possibly because there’s a great local school system, possibly because it’s a real neighborhood, possibly because the working parents care about their kids).

So, of course, even though we don’t do Xmas decorations, we do at least minimal Halloween decor (just a big spider web and a skeleton, but we’ll look for those 5-foot spiders next year…), and we do have an adequate supply of candy to last 6 to 9 p.m. or so. (And we have a stupid “scary sounds and stories” CD, obviously digitized from an old stupid scary sounds LP with no extras–it’s one 57 minute cut, but it was cheap; we play it when kids are at the door.)

And, being sensible folks, we buy candy that we like; in this case, one of Target’s medium-sized bags each of M&Ms, KitKat bars, and Reese’s Cups. (”Medium-sized” equals 28 to 36 snack-size servings.) My wife–who doesn’t much care for candy, really–sometimes likes M&Ms, sometimes Reese’s; I have a fondness for KitKat, but only eat them in early November…

But my wife has also taken to eading Lindt bittersweet chocolate bars, one bar over the course of a week or so, and I’ve found my perfect level of chocolate–Trader Joe’s Dark Chocolate (from Belgium, 58% cocoa solids, three 1.75oz. bars for $1.29; I eat one-quarter of a bar each workday, 57 calories worth).

So last night, we do the usual (the wife wears an all-black outfit and has a witch’s hat; I hang around in the background; we put a flashlight-lighted plastic pumpkin in the front window), drawing a pretty good crowd. The kids really go for KitKat, digging through the other two candies in some cases (offered in another plastic pumpkin)… But we wound up with maybe five KitKats, three Reese’s, and six or eight M&Ms. So I figured I’d have one KitKat last night and keep two for later (we take the rest in to work…where they disappear rapidly). She figured she’d have one Reese’s and save two or three for later.

A funny thing happened to both of us. We didn’t enjoy the treats. They were just too sickeningly sweet.

Who woulda thunk it?

So we went up to Reno to celebrate my 60th birthday, as alluded to in another post. Stayed at the Eldorado, with a 24-hour restaurant (Tivoli Gardens) that used to have an absurdly long and varied menu and still has a fairly long and varied menu.

First morning after getting there, my wife was under the weather, and didn’t finally make it down for “breakfast” until something like 1:30 p.m. All she really wanted to eat was oatmeal.

Most of Tivoli Gardens’ menu is either available 24 hours a day or available from 8 a.m. to 3 a.m. Oatmeal, as she guessed it might be, is an exception: The menu says it’s available from 7 a.m. to 11 a.m. I don’t know: Maybe there’s something mystical about making oatmeal.

She asked. They said “You’re about two hours late.” The best they could do was Cream of Wheat, which is not really in the same ballpark. She coped.

Next morning, we were still a bit late to breakfast: We got there around 9:30 or 10. She ordered oatmeal. They were out: “ran out a little while ago.” She ordered something else.

Final morning in Reno, we made it in pretty early: Around 8:15-8:30. She ordered oatmeal.

They were out. Less than two hours after they started serving oatmeal.

Either there’s something special about oatmeal and Reno, or all they fix is one little pot at 7 a.m., or maybe they don’t really serve oatmeal at all.

Oh, the next morning we were in Sonora, at the Best Western Sonora Oaks. Had breakfast at the Pine Tree, a restaurant on the motel’s grounds. She ordered oatmeal. They brought her oatmeal. Good oatmeal, too, she says.

[What? You're waiting for the big moral? Deeper significance? Did you notice the name of this here blog?]

The even-lower-than-usual frequency of postings can be explained simply enough:

We went on a little vacation to celebrate my 60th birthday. (We don’t buy each other gifts; for birthdays, the one whose birthday it is gets to choose where to go out for dinner. For a decade mark, we made an exception–or, rather, I chose Harrah’s Steak House in Reno, instead of a Mountain View/Los Altos/Palo Alto restaurant.)

I may log about some aspects later, including an open letter to Reno as to why we’re unlikely to return unless some things change…(cough cough hack hack)

Meanwhile, I’d like to say I’m back and blogging, but that’s only half true. I’m back, and expect to be blogging with a little more frequency (my usual “target” is 2 posts per week), but it may take a while. Some stuff began just before the vacation, and I need to work out how it’s going to play, before I decide what can and can’t be written about…