And When All Else Fails

Thank goodness for food.

All the Fixins

In honor of President's Day last weekend, we went to Macy's and went out for lunch at the Claremont Diner. I ordered this gut-bomb you see below. Yes, that's mayonnaise atop swiss atop grilled onions, with a chocolate malt standing frosty and proud in the background. Although I'm sure this "went straight to my hips" as the kids would say, my heart is still operational because I've been getting fit at the Oakland Y as of three weeks ago. It was a veggie burger, though it hardly matters. I didn't quite make it to the clean plate club. And a good thing--the mall is no place to head when you're stuffed to the gills.



Leaning back in the booth, digesting, we were kindly treated to a gaze at the slowly looping model train which decorates the upper echelon of the dining room. Choo-choo.

Sweet

When not one but Two Friends emailed this New York Times article to me, I supposed I ought to just put it up here so that we can all discuss together what the heck it is about salted caramels that have people so smitten.

I've tasted several others, truth be told, and I have to say that because mine are always fresher than the kind carried by fancy food havens and not so fancy food havens alike, I think they stack up pretty well. Everytime I run out (like right about now) I'm always thinking, "Should I even bother making more? It's so much work and maybe the world will be very much the same without them," and then someone asks for a bag or two. And next, I get several gracious followup messages about people's happiness upon receiving some that I am inevitably convinced that my little candy venture must endure.

I'm not shocked that Barack Obama likes salted caramels because he has pretty reliable judgment. As things go, Fran's of Seattle is one of the top specimens, along with Little Flower Candy Co. of Los Angeles, but I'll say it: I bet he'd prefer mine.