Tivo Travails: end of season wrap-up

 

With Memorial Day weekend having just kicked off the summer season, and closed off the 2005-2006 TV season, we have a lot to celebrate. Here are some of those things (and just to keep things from getting out of hand, I'll limit my list to ten -- or twelve -- items)*:

1. Everwood did not make it to the CW. After four seasons, the show was getting too expensive to produce and the ratings were decent but not good enough to warrant a pick-up.

It's a miracle that the show lasted long enough for Delia to get Bat Mitzvahed, but thank you CW for knowing when to say when. Sorry fans but your campaign was a failure...

2. I don't know if I am happy or sad about this, but I'll put it on my list anyway...Scott Wolf, former object of my desire back in his Po5 days, seems to have had a series picked up for the fall schedule. So even though Jake from Everwood will cease to exist, Scott lives on.

3. Veronica Mars got picked up for a third season. Full 22 episode order. Though season 2 was not quite as strong as season 1, the show was able to sustain its unique tone, as well as continue the mystery elements from last season in a logical, compelling manner. Thank you, CW. Airing after the Gilmore Girls next year, I believe this show has a chance to find an audience.

4. We won't have to wait another 2 years before we see the next installment of the Sopranos. Even without Adriana, this has been an excellent season and I applaud having brought Drea back for the brilliant cameo with Cosette last week. New episodes will air within the next six months or so.




5. We learned who the Carver was, and it was horrendously predictable and anticlimactic. No more need to EVER watch Nip/Tuck again. Take that one off the season pass, permanently.



6. I have kicked my Real World habit. I watched neither the San Diego nor the Key West editions. I did watch the RW/RR challenge (Gauntlet 2) but I think I'm even tiring of those. No Miz? No Trishelle? Pshaw.

7. Joey got cancelled. 43 episodes late, but it got cancelled.

8. Rather than just being a re-do of its British predecessor, the American 'Office' found its own rhythm and produced often hysterical results. The funniest show on television.

9. That is, the funniest show other than Kath & Kim. You must watch this. It's ghetto-ized on the Sundance Channel (not sure why it wound up there, it has nothing to do with independent filmmaking) but seek it out and you will be rewarded. Warning, it takes a while to get used to the accents, so give it a chance.

10. Though I've only seen about five minutes of the much praised Top Model, I thank Tyra Banks for teaching me how to 'smile with my eyes'. It was the most informative segment of reality television I have ever encountered. I now understand why ANTM fans are so rabid in their support of the show.

11. Sometimes, great TV isn't actually on TV, but on the internet. Thanks to sites like TV-Gasm and YouTube, we can all catch missed segments -- like the Clay Aiken K.D. Lang makeover on American Idol, which the Dabbler can't watch without the threat of divorce, or old pre-SNL Andy Samberg clips -- as well as viewer-created montages and mini-films that are sometimes as entertaining, if not more so, than network fare. Take for instance this merger of Marissa Cooper's death on The O.C. with the aforementioned Idol. So much more than the sum of its parts. Brilliant. The revolution will be internet-ized. (And a big thanks to Fox, too, for letting the acting-challenged Mischa Barton out of her contract.)

And finally, what you've all been waiting for...

12. Lost got more confusing over the past year, but all is not lost (I couldn't resist, even though the pun, if it's even a pun, is completely unfunny). Help is on the way in the form of my friend (and DoD subscriber, I believe) who is joining its writing staff. I know she will make sure the show stays both interesting as well as challenging.

In the meantime, I would like to offer my theory of what's really going on with the folks stranded on that mysterious island. If the Lost writer happens to read this, I'm sure you will confirm how brilliant and spot on this theory is compared to others circulating on the web.

To recap, the final episode showed us some backstory for Desmond, the character who Locke et al first encountered when they discovered the Swan hatch (though Jack had met him some years before while both were doing some athletic training in the same stadium).

We learn that Desmond was on some sort of self-imposed exile, a journey in a sailboat named for the love of his life whose father forbade him to see her, trying to buy Desmond off unsuccessfully. Unfortunately, Desmond's journey saw him wrecked on the same island Oceanic would eventually crash into. But it would be more than three years before Locke would open the hatch and find Desmond stranded there alone, to push the button every 108 minutes.

Except for that one time, which Desmond and Locke come to realize caused the plane crash of Oceanic on September 22, 2004.

So here's the theory: if Desmond had been in the hatch for over three years at the time of its discovery by Locke, then that put him there as early as September, 2001. You see where I'm going, right? Wrong!

When we see the hatch in 2001, it is equipped with the same washer/dryer as it is in 2004. A late model GE or Maytag (or maybe Kenmore, since this is the network that brings you Extreme Makeover, Home Edition) set with an orange color. Having purchased my own washer/dryer around 2001, I know for a fact that these models were not on the market.

Therefore, the Lost island is actually a top secret appliance testing lab, which requires really dirty, grungy people in order to get the washers as effective as possible. Some nasty ring around the collar can result from continuously sweating for 50 days on end without bathing.

Further proof? Kate, Jack and Sawyer were all very clean and groomed when taken by the others, but since Hurley continues to be a veritable perspiration factory, the others sent him away. When people are too clean, they either die, or are taken by the others who will then train them to become either appliance repair technicians, customer service reps (you thought you were calling Bangalore?) or Best Buy salespeople.

Forget the whole purgatory theory. Forget the whole virtual reality mental hospital theory. Poo-poo to those who claim the island is a eugenics lab started by an escaped Adolph Hitler (who is now named Alvar Hanso, even though Alvar Hanso's bio plainly states that he was part of the WWII resistance). Clearly, Lost is where new washing machines are born!

-------

And there you have it. Tivo is taking a much needed break. See you all in September. I highly recommend watching the clips that I've offered links to and offer a money back guarantee to anybody who enjoys them less than they did Cinderella Man...

Barista 101: Latte Art Contest!

 

Have you been making espresso at home and practicing your microfoam technique these past few months?

If so, take a photo of your best Latte Art creation and send it to Whole Latte Love for a chance to win some not so bad prizes (though not as good as the Gaggia Titanium they gave to somebody last month).

Just click on this link for some more Latte Art tips and the contest rules.

Play-Doh Perfume + Ramen and Family Mart News

 

It has been brought to the Dabbler's attention that Hasbro, in association with cosmetics company Demeter, is issuing a new scent in their line of perfumes. Demeter has puzzled me in the past with offerings including Cotton Candy and Grass. But apparently somebody at the company has the same response to certain childhood items as the Dabbler (I never claimed I was unique in my interests). You guessed it -- Eau de Play-Doh! The marketing angle on it is:

"Those fresh-from-the-can, full-of-potenial, childhood memories. Now in a convenient spray."

Personally, I don't know too many people who want to smell like Play-Doh, even if the smell of Play-Doh itself is comforting. Hurry up and get your Play-D'eau -de-toillette (I like my name for their product better than their's), to celebrate the toy's 50th anniversary, while supplies last.

Next, I wanted to add another restaurant entry as well as a small discovery in Little Tokyo (east) to my Japanese food blurb...first, the ramen joint Chabuya, on Sawtelle, is not your garden variety noodle shop. Here you can get just about the best gyoza and fresh ramen, with Kurobata pork slices, that I have had anywhere outside of Japan. It's probably no coincidence that Chabuya also has a location in Tokyo. Photo to the left is of the Los Angeles franchise.

Finally I discovered an actual 'Family Mart' on 1st Street in downtown's Little Tokyo. No bao offered, but it's a peek into the more downscale convenience store that has spawned upscale offspring Famima!! (Famima is 'Fami' from family plus 'ma' from mart; I have no idea why they thought this was a good name for the U.S. market, though I suppose it's more hip than its namesake). I suspect this particular store is a tad more run down than the average Japan based Family Mart (pictured right).

Wine of the Week: Bargain Edition

 

Finca Luzon Verde, Jumilla, Spain, 2004

The Dabbler says:

Picked this up at John & Pete's recently, because of the pretty label, the price, and past luck with its importer. At $7 a bottle, it seemed worth a try. And even with my challenged palate due to the tail end of a headcold, the wine was incredibly pleasant. FYI, the 'Verde' in the name stands for the organic farming of the wine's 100% Monastrell (aka Mourvedre) grapes, not to its color which is a deep garnet.

Robert Parker says:

The dense ruby/purple-tinged, medium-bodied 2004 Luzon Verde reveals a crisp, elegant, sweet nose of blueberries, plums, lavender, and anise. With lovely sweetness and purity as well as a spicy, long finish, it should provide plenty of enjoyment over the next 2-3 years. One of the oldest estates in Jumilla, Finca Luzon was founded by the Gil family in 1916. It has been a consistent source of high class values for a number of years, and readers should be happy to know this is completely certified organic agriculture. This offering represents a superb bargain. 89 points.

In LA find it at John & Pete's for $6.99 a bottle. In New Jersey, at Gary's Marketplace for merely $5.99 a bottle! This is an amazing steal, even at the $8 it sells for elsewhere.

Importer: Jorge Ordonez, Fine Estates From Spain, Dedham, MA; tel. (781) 461-5767.

I think I'm turning Japanese I really think so

 

So I'm not sure if I've touched upon this yet in DoD, but I've been a longtime fan of all things Japanese. When I was a kid, I watched Battle of the Planets and Starblazers (aka Space Battleship Yamato, pictured left), played not with Voltron (defender of the universe) but with Daitarn, a largescale, die-cast metal robot whose box was completely in Kanji (I still mourn the loss of Waltham's Mr. Big's Toyland, which stocked unconventional items).* I collected manga (though I called them comic books) because I liked the aesthetic, since I surely couldn't read the words. On the more girly end of the spectrum, I couldn't get enough Sanrio. Hello Kitty, Patty and Jimmy, Little Twin Star...you name it, I had them all. Too bad the outstanding Chococat wasn't around back then.


This fascination has morphed over the years, and with three trips to Japan under my belt, it has matured into a true interest in the history, culture and popular culture of the country. I have a small collection of contemporary Japanese art (yes, the image to the right is 'Art'), a subscription to the Japanese equivalent of Dwell Magazine (Casa Brutus), and I like to think of myself as something of a Nipponophile.

But the thing I love most about Japan -- and possibly know the most about -- is its food. I have grown to appreciate the culinary delights that the Land of the Rising Sun has to offer. And now there are several places in Los Angeles where I can find out of the ordinary Japanese treats, and not just your standard Ramen or Sushi.

The first, Beard Papa, is worth the trip to the brutal Hollywood and Highland complex. Beard Papa specializes in cream puffs, made to order, with vanilla or green tea whipped cream custard filling. They are delicious. They are cheap. They are currently not on my diet. But they should be on yours. Go get them! (FYI, they are also available in New York and have recently opened up in Boston at Fanueil Hall Marketplace.)

The second, Famima!! (the two exclamation points are so very Japanese), is the U.S. name of Japan's Family Mart, a 7-11 type convenience store. In addition to band-aids, tweezers, magazines and prepared foods, they offer several types of steamed bao, prominently displayed in a case next to the check-out register. Actually, bao are not technically Japanese in their origins -- they are either Chinese or Vietnamese -- but the way they are sold here, and the feeling of the store in general, is exactly the same as it is in the countless convenience stores found across Japan; hence you will have an authentic Japanese experience, if not a singularly Japanese food. Though the convenience items are pricey, the bao are about $1.50 each and quite filling. Yum. Famima!! is quickly sprouting up all over L.A. as its American test market, and hopes to open elsewhere across the country.

Finally, on the westside's Sawtelle strip (aka Little Tokyo West) check out the generically named 'Tokyo Japanese Outlet' in the mini-mall north of Olympic, on the west side of the street. There, you'll find Pretz and Pocky sticks (apparently the official snack of anime) among countless other Japanese treats, like a mysterious starburst-esque candy that tastes like yogurt. In addition to food, you can stock your kitchen with items such as a mandolin to slice green onions with, or an omelette pan in which to cook your tamago. Most of the products sold here are $1.50 or under, so I call this the 'everything for 100 yen or so store'.

*Wow, how I love the internet. Please click on the Mr. Big's link above, and you'll be directed to YouTube.com, where you can see an actual television commercial for the one and only Mr. Big's, touting their huge selection of hard to find Starblazers and Battleship Yamato diecast metal toys and robots...

Pinkberry is spreading like Bird Flu! (but in a good way)

 

Just had lunch at local fave M Cafe de Chaya, and a new tenant is building out the space next door. Pinkberry! One of the men there, presumably an owner or employee of the yogurt specialty shop, told me that the company is also opening up shop in Koreatown and Studio City...and other places too.


While I am overjoyed at the thought of three Pinkberries within a mile and a half radius of my home, I pray they don't pull a Krispy Kreme.

If I were really clever and had photoshop, I'd put together a map showing the rapid spread of Pinkberry across the Los Angeles landscape. It might look sort of like this map to the right, only instead of noting the death and disease of birds and humans, there would be little smiley faces to represent the infectious health and happiness that the availability of 'yogurt that tastes like yogurt' will bring to the masses.

Art Galleries -- free booze and culture! New York Edition

 

Go see this show if you're on the island of Manhattan.

Souther rocks. He shouldn't be relegated to Giant Robot (though GR has it's own cool/outsider factor goint for it), he should be represented by Zwirner, Boesky, or someone of that ilk. This is art to live with, and might prove a great investment too.

Fascination of the Week: An American Girl Place

 

Saturday, I went to the Grove in Los Angeles -- something I rarely do anymore, and even more rarely on a weekend -- expecting the usual droves of tourists, Valley-ites (LA's 'bridge and tunnel' equivalents), pseudo hipsters, families, etc. And there I encountered something unexpected: a marked shift downward from the usual demographics, towards not just the tween set, but to kindergarteners. And almost all of these micro-shoppers (accompanied by adults, of course) were girls.


Mesmerized, I followed a veritable sea of pink to the newest flagship store at the Grove: An American Girl Place. There are so many things I could write about this experience and how odd it was; how conflicted I felt about the early indoctrination to the world of consumption these tots were receiving; at my delight at observing a girl check her 'doll' into the 'hospital' to get its 'injured eye'...'healed'. This made me lament the old days, when if Ollie the gel-filled octopus got punctured, into the bin he went. This 'hospital' was surely a win-win situation for all involved. I'm sure the parent was happy she didn't have to invest the $90 it would have cost to get a new doll rather than the $20 or so for the 'hospital' visit; her offspring was happy to have Molly back to normal, rather than having to either rename her Helen Keller, or having to resort to an eye-patch solution (while American Girl offers historically themed dolls, they don't offer pirates (yet) as a category). But I also worried about what might come next. Health insurance for dolls?


I also started adding up dollars on boxes, counting the number of dolls offered, the sets of books associated with each doll, the price for the child and doll photos that seemed to be a must-have souvenier, and the cost of getting a dolls hair braided at the 'beauty salon'. to name a few. Oh, and let's not forget the brunches, lunches or afternoon teas at the cafe, with parent, child and doll, for $16.95 a pop (doll's meals are happily free).


For merely $270, an adult and child can spend a full day at the store-cum-theme park, and for merely $60 a head, a child can host a birthday party to remember, lasting a whopping 90 minutes. The sheer amount of money that can be spent at this store is astounding. While most of the parents seemed to delight in their kids' reverie, I could see sweat forming on the brows of others, probably wondering how they would pay their mortage and buy the "Addy" Civil War era escaped-slave doll (and the twelve outfits, including the cotton -- I mean "flower picking" one below -- that she'll need to safely traverse the dangerous underground railroad). Forget about college savings. How about American Girl funds? And to fit all that crap in the house, a McMansion (with matching McDollhouse) will need to be built.Personally, I felt relieved -- another reason not to dabble in parenting, my hubby and I agreed. Or at least a reason to pray for that Y chromosome, since apparently market research has shown no need for the creation of 'An American Boy' store (though my husband, a former boy himself, pointed out that there are plenty of other items to capture a boy's imagination and their parents' wallets...video game consoles, for instance).


In any case, while I decided that I must write about American Girl, two days later I am still not really sure what I want to say or how to say it. And I am too lazy and tired to really think it through on this Sunday (now Monday) afternoon. Fortunately, I am not the only person fascinated with American Girl. And I am certainly not the best writer. Lucky for all of us, Pulitzer Prize winning Dan Neil, of the LA Times, has articulated his thoughts in a much more convincing and provocative manner (not to mention concise...) than I ever could (or will). And so timely, too.


In keeping with my laziness, I direct you to his column from Sunday's Los Angeles Times Magazine (curiosly, now called 'West') on the very topic I had planned to ponder...and sort of already have. Because you might have to register for the LA Times in order to read it, I have reprinted it here in full. Please let me know if this causes any format issues with the blog.


________________________________________


800 WORDS
Thank Heaven
Dan Neil
May 14, 2006


If you have daughters of a certain age, you've probably heard of American Girl—a lot. American Girl is, first of all, a brand: The Mattel-owned direct-marketing company sells dolls, little doll outfits, charming novelettes about the dolls in Nancy Drew-like adventures, and an array of doll accessories so vast as to founder the cargo ships upon which it all arrives from China.


American Girl is also a place, an "experiential" retail environment (read mind-numbing monster store), the latest of which recently opened in the Grove shopping mall in Los Angeles. With its own sugarplum café, theater, photo studio, doll hospital and doll hair salon, American Girl Place is to doll-obsessed preteens what bars near the airport are to alcoholics, a place to indulge their addictions to bathyspheric depths.


My plan at the grand opening was simply to stand outside and observe the families coming and going, to watch the little girls and—well, you see the problem. Such is the beleaguered state of innocence that no man's motives can be taken for granted, and it wasn't long before, under the sidelong glare of suspicious parents, I began to feel distinctly like a creep.


I introduced myself to a group of 10 parents and children gathered outside, knee-deep in the store's carnation-red bags. To celebrate Paige Mathias' ninth birthday, her friends from school and her Brownie troop made the trip from Corona in two minivans. "We had our reservation for the café in January," says Paige's mother, plainly an enthusiast. Paige was wearing an old-fashioned lavender party dress—an American Girl design, of course—and white patent leather shoes, and she was holding, boneless and limp in the crook of her elbow, her new Samantha doll, part of a haul worth $250.


As a commercial phenomenon, American Girl is as charming as it is appalling. With annual sales growth of 15%, the company racked up $436 million in revenue last year, with an estimated $100 million profit. For all its retro rag-doll simplicity, American Girl is mega-commerce, exploiting children's most primal hoarding instincts—the sort of collect-them-all mania that has provided Barbie with an income comparable to the GNP of oil-producing nations. American Girl is yet another gateway drug to the addiction of mass consumerism.


So said my cynical self. But then at some point walking around the store, I fell in love.


There is much to commend in the American Girl universe. The company's mainline products are his-torically themed dolls, such as Molly, a little girl growing up during World War II; Kit, who endures the hardships of the Great Depression and eventually becomes a cub reporter (she's my favorite); Addy, an escaped slave who makes her way north on the Underground Railroad; and Kaya, a horse-loving little girl of the Nez Perce tribe growing up in 1764 (not a particularly auspicious time for Native Americans).


It's not simply that these dolls are educational, civics lessons in Cabbage Patch drag. It's that these dolls' personal narratives take place at some time other than the present—the oppressive and hyper-sexualized, relentlessly trendy, precociously cynical reality that most children and their toys have to contend with. Forget Barbie and her late-model Corvette. Have you ever seen Bratz dolls? I give you the Bratz Wicked Twiins Ciara and Diona, raccoon-eyed, gothy tweens in platform boots looking like—in the beautiful phrase from "Sex in the City"—baby prostitutes.


I think that children, especially girls, are railroaded into their sexual awakening, a kind of premature psychic menarche that robs them of some fraction of their childhood. As a result, even the most progressive-minded fathers can be driven by the princess-making impulse, the desire to keep their girls naïve, if only for another day. Such fathers would be only too grateful to pull out their platinum cards at the American Girl counter. Plenty of mothers would too.


"When you consider all the awful things that are out there, I don't have any worries about this," says Paige's mom, Ann Rita Mathias, gesturing to the collection of store bags, and the recreational shopping binges they imply. "At least this is wholesome."


The store's other big-selling items are the "Just Like You" dolls, which are a series of 23 figurines of varying ethnic phenotypes, from dark African-featured dolls to blue-eyed Swedes. And, like Paige, girls can purchase adorable outfits matching their dolls' clothes. Consequently, you see a lot of little girls clutching tiny, cloth-skinned versions of themselves.


This seems important. At some point, before or at adolescence, girls must become aware that they have a target on their backs. Perhaps the intuition comes even earlier. As I watched the little girls wandering among the Grove's crowd of bored hipsters in mirror shades and coeds in jailbait couture, I couldn't help thinking that these dolls might serve as some sort of talisman, ever wide-eyed and vigilant, accompanying them on their long and scary walk among strangers.

Wine of the Week

 

Waterstone Cabernet Sauvignon, Napa Valley, 2003

In the last week I have read about this wine at least twice, though I admit I have not tried it myself -- nor is there a Parker score (yet) to back up the hype. Considering the buzz, this could become The Prisoner of 2006. Even the folklore surrounding this wine is similar: some suggest that it's made from grapes hailing from declassified lots of several of the Valley's most prestigious cult cab vineyards (Harlan is cited on one website). At the very least, the team behind this wine says that their aim is to offer luxury wines at reasonable prices.

Likened to a "finely crafted Merlot but with the flavor profile of a plush Cabernet" in one newsletter, and praised as "immensley enjoyable now, no need to decant" in another, this seems worth a try if you can track it down.

Available in Northern California at the San Francisco Wine Trading Company ($23.95) and K&L Wine Merchants ($19.99), in Southern California at 20-20 Wine Merchants ($24.00), and at the Wine Shop in New York ($19.99).

Acidophilus Alert!

 

Recently, a few shops on Larchmont Boulevard closed. Among these were the drab and dreary Cafe Chapeau, a diner that could have been special but didn't even rise to the standards of places like, let's say, Denny's. A neighbor of mine informed me of the closure, lamenting not the loss of the dining option, but the rumor she heard that some yogurt or ice cream store was moving in. She wondered what Larchmont needed with a dessert shop just a few doors up from 31 Flavors.

But my eyes lit up. I told her that maybe the shop would turn out to be Pinkberry, the divine West Hollywood (but Singapore feeling) yogurt outlet with the most delicious, albeit basic, plain or green tea soft serve 'yogurt that tastes like yogurt', with appropriate toppings like fresh fruit and not gummy worms offered elsewhere. The chances of this? One in a million. Well, maybe not one in a million, but probably pretty slim.

Still, every time I walked by the shuttered storefront, I searched for a sign or some sort of indication of what would be taking over the space. For several weeks, the plywood clad exterior wall remained blank, but for a handwritten request to 'post no bills'. At the sight of this, I would go into a Walter Mitty-like haze, entering a world filled with rivers of plain yogurt and raspberry flowers. A girl can dream.

Imagine my excitement, then, as I was walking down Larchmont this morning, to see the 'post no bills' sign covered with a color poster that said, "Coming Soon: Pinkberry". My prayers have been answered! This is the best addition to Larchmont since I have lived in this city. This will have a profound effect on my life, especially during the upcoming summer months. Pinkberry chose the perfect location for all sorts of reasons -- Larchmont is a heavily trafficked walk street, the shop has a distinct Asian feel and the locale is closely situated near Koreatown, there is nothing else like it available for miles around -- but I bet they didn't think of the best one...that the Dabbler lives nearby.

I couldn't be happier. On the other hand, the woman next to me a few moments later couldn't have been more upset. A longtime patron of Cafe Chapeau's, she told me she hated yogurt. Especially the kind that didn't aspire to be ice cream. She's out of luck. I am not.

Enjoy Pinkberry, folks. I know I will.

Disappearing Madeleine: Jell-o Pudding Pop edition

 

It occurred to me as I was looking through the freezer section at my local grocer, seeking a low-cal treat (though still craving a deep fried apple pie), that sometime -- without any protest or fanfare -- the Jell-o Pudding Pop disappeared from existence. When did this happen? Why?

Wasn't the dessert, along with spokesperson Bill Cosby, a fixture of the 80s? It was all over the place -- not just a Marathon Bar that a few loved and most ignored, but a staple that may have even overtaken in sales the inferior Fudge-sicle. The Popsicle brand even tried to bring back the dessert in 2004, but apparently it didn't take. I'll add the Jell-0 Pop to my list of disappearing Madeleines, and I'm also curious (considering NOBODY commented on my last post on the matter, not to mention my recent posts on ANY matter) what foods/toys/whatever you might remember fondly from your youth and for which you currently pine.

Just so you know, I'm not the only one thinking about these things. If you, too, miss the creamy, low calorie delight of the 'puh-deeng' (Bill Cosby-onics pronounciation) pop, then feel free to add your name to this online petition. Or start your own petition for something else. Just let me know what it is -- the Dabbler is interested!