The Byrne Report

July 4-10, 2007

Last week, I was talking by cell phone to Leslie Angeline, a Santa Rosa resident who was on the ninth day of a hunger strike in Washington, D.C. She refused food until Sen. Joe Lieberman of Connecticut met with her about his call to bomb Iran. (She has since been hospitalized without meeting Lieberman.) Angeline is supported by Codepink, a women’s peace group. I asked her if she knew of the United States Institute of Peace, a quasi-governmental agency created by Congress in 1984 to pursue nonviolent alternatives to war. She did not, but said it was worth looking into, on the off-chance that the U. S. cares about peace.

It turns out that the “peace” institute is a congressionally funded think tank staffed by neoconservative “thinkers” who supported the seizure of Iraq’s oil fields and are now swiveling their sights toward Iran. Under the guise of promoting peace, the institute facilitates war and occupation on an operating budget of $23 million.

The chairman of the board of directors is J. Robinson West, who is also the chairman of PFC Energy, based in Washington, D.C. According to its website, “PFC Energy has been a trusted advisor to energy companies and governments across the globe [since] 1984.” In other words, it lobbies politicians on behalf of Big Energy.

Check it out: Secretary of Defense Robert Gates sits on the board of the “nonpartisan” Institute for Peace; he headed the CIA under G. H. W. Bush. Another board member, Charles Horner, hails from the ultramilitarist Hudson Institute. Former Chevron board member Condoleezza Rice administers the institute’s endowment fund. The institute is a nonprofit corporation, which allows it to solicit donations. Chevron Corp. gave $10 million toward a $100 million building to be constructed on the Mall. The Annenberg Foundation donated $1 million. War contractor (and Sen. Dianne Feinstein’s husband) Richard C. Blum gave $100,000.

The building will be named after George P. Schultz, who is a board member of Bechtel, a major defense contractor. Schultz, a Cold Warrior, advised Bush-Cheney to advance the doctrine of preventative (first strike) nuclear warfare. The public education center at the George P. Schultz Great Hall will be named the Chevron Theater–which is, after all, what the peace institute is: theater.

The president of the institute since 1993 is Richard H. Solomon, formerly a senior staff member of the National Security Council. Solomon made his bones working for the RAND Corporation, the think tank that designed the Vietnam War. The institute’s CEO, Patricia Thomson, learned her trade while working at IBM Business Consulting, where she serviced the departments of Homeland Security, Justice and Defense. Vice president Charles E. Nelson emerged from RAND and the National War College. The institute retains Rudolph Giuliani’s law firm, Bracewell & Giuliani LLP.

Institute of Peace staffers organized James Baker’s Iraq Study Group, a collection of neocon brainiacs who figured out that their war on Iraq is unwinnable. The Study Group was composed of executives from PFC Energy, RAND, Bechtel and Citigroup as well as armchair soldiers from the Heritage Foundation, Hoover Institution, American Enterprise Institute and the Hudson Institute. To lead the study, the peace institute partnered with the Center for Strategic and International Studies, a nonprofit organization run by executives from the Carlyle Group, the Coca-Cola Company, Merrill Lynch & Co., Exxon Mobile Corp, Lehman Brothers, Morgan Stanley, Time Inc. and alleged war criminal Henry Alfred Kissinger.

The institute supports seven Iraq “specialists.” The most notable is Iraq Foundation founder Rend Francke, an Iraqi expatriate who, along with the infamous Ahmed Chalabi, abetted Bush-Cheney-Powell-Rice-Rumsfeld as they bullied and lied their way into invading Iraq in 2003. Francke later became the representative to the United States for the puppet government in Baghdad. Other Iraq specialists (many of them former military officers) learned the art of war inside the National Security Council, National Defense University and the Office of Secretary of Defense. The institute’s specialists for Africa trained at the World Bank, RAND, the State Department Bureau of Intelligence and Research, and the Defense Intelligence Agency.

The institute spends tens of millions of tax dollars researching symptomatic problems, such as, “Why suicide bombers?” It does not study the root causes of terrorism, such as America’s arming of the Israeli Weltanschauung, or our habit of brutally invading Third World countries to snatch their natural resources. Institute fellow Jill Shankleman has written a book praising oil companies for advancing what she calls their “social responsibilities” in developing countries. Shankleman, not surprisingly, “has extensive experience as a consultant for the petroleum industry,” according to the institute’s website. No wonder that the institute heavily lobbied the Iraqi congress to pass the hydrocarbon law that privatizes Iraqi oil fields for Big Energy.

It’s enough to make you puke. Or go on a hunger strike.

or


Timber!

July 4-10, 2007

On the east bank of the Russian River slightly northeast of Monte Rio lie 2,700 acres of prime forestland. Portions of the property are home to old-growth redwoods, those rare survivors of extensive clear-cut logging that slashed through this region in the late 1800s and early 1900s. Some of these ancient giants have been growing here for a thousand years or more. They stand proudly among what’s known as second-growth redwoods, trees that have thrust their branches skyward relatively undisturbed for more than a hundred years. The steep hillsides also hold towering Douglas firs as well as tanoaks and other less lofty flora.

This green area known as the Bohemian Grove will be the focus of intense national and international attention starting July 13, when it hosts the Bohemian Club’s annual summer encampment. The somewhat boozy all-male gathering of world and business leaders relaxing privately together in the woods always raises concern because of its elite and secretive nature. But while it’s good not to miss the forest for the trees, in this case it’s equally important not to miss seeing the trees because of the activities of the people.

After eight decades of a hands-off policy, the San Francisco-based Bohemian Club began logging its Russian River land in the 1980s, taking out about 500,000 board-feet each year, for a cumulative total estimated at 10 million to 11 million board-feet of timber. For the past year, the club has pursued state approval for what’s known as a nonindustrial timber management plan (NTMP), giving permanent permission to cut down more than 1 million board-feet annually without a lot of additional review.

Like anything associated with the Bohemian Club, the NTMP application has generated controversy. The related files at the California Department of Forestry (CDF) office in Santa Rosa are more than five inches thick, stuffed with letters of support and opposition, and filled with conflicting advice and reports.

Club officials say expanded logging is needed to sharply reduce the fire risk and to restore a forest that was deeply disturbed by clear-cutting more than a century ago. The money from the timber sold, they say, will be used to pay the costs of shoring up access roads and clearing away underbrush, tanoaks and other potential fuel sources.

Opponents argue that the plan will increase rather than decrease the fire danger, destroying habitat on the land and in the two streams that cross the property. They charge that the club is treating its relatively pristine property like an industrial tree farm.

These conflicting viewpoints are based on differing visions of what an undisturbed forest in this area once looked like, and the steps needed to preserve and protect this increasingly rare stretch of riverside forest.

Sustainable Harvest?

“They call forestry a science, but there’s a heck of a lot of art in it,” laughs Ron Pape, a CDF employee who’s worked in forestry for more than 30 years. He’s responsible for leading what’s officially known as the second review process for the Bohemian Club’s NTMP application.

“The rural-urban interface is a real sensitive issue in general,” Pape notes in a phone conversation from his Santa Rosa office. “I think because of where this is and who this is, the [Bohemian Club’s] NTMP is probably drawing a little more lightning.”

Prior to the early 1970s, Pape says, landowners could file a single piece of paper with the state and start cutting down trees the next day. They could log extensively, including next to rivers or creeks, without regard to erosion, sediment or the loss of wildlife habitat.

That has changed. According a 2003 CDF report, they have to file a timber harvest plan (THP) and do environmental impact reviews, a process that can cost roughly $6,000 to $40,000 for each THP. The plan lasts for three years, but can be extended for another two. Any additional logging requires the extensive review process of another THP.

However, small landowners with less than 2,500 acres of forestland can choose to file for an NTMP. Getting one approved costs 25 percent to 50 percent more than a THP but it’s a single-shot deal; there is no expiration date. Once an NTMP is officially in place, it’s no longer necessary to file a THP for each logging operation allowed by the plan, just what’s known as an operations notice. The Bohemian Club property totals 2,700 acres, but it’s applying for an NTMP on the 2,470 acres that are heavily forested.

The CDF estimates that there are more than 300,000 private non-industrial forest owners in California. They collectively hold about 3.2 million acres of trees, with another 4.2 million acres belonging to commercial companies. Started 17 years ago, NTMPs give a break to owners of smaller properties, cutting the red tape and overall costs for those who aren’t harvesting trees on a commercial basis. In exchange, the state gets a promise to avoid clear-cutting and to abide by a timber plan tailored for that specific property.

An NTMP is intended to yield a sustainable harvest, where the number of trees removed is less than the predicted annual growth. The reviews required by state and federal forestry, fish, wildlife and water resources officials cover such aspects as erosion, water quality, sediment control, stream crossings, wildlife habitat and access roads.

It sounds straightforward, but critics say the CDF is too harvest-oriented, and that once an NTMP is approved there’s not enough oversight or accountability, or any way to incorporate new methods and the evolving knowledge about forest ecology and preservation. The Bohemian Grove NTMP approval process has prompted a range of opinions on the impact of proposed logging, such as whether the fire danger will be increased or decreased by methods like opening up the overhead canopy to allow more light and space into the forest.

“It’s not clear-cut,” Pape says. “You’ve got scientists on one side who support the opening up of the stand, and you’ve got scientists on the other side. Whatever one side says, you’ve got somebody on the other side [saying something different]. It’s battling scientists and experts.”

Save the Grove

The Bohemian Club’s NTMP is based on the concept that at some ideal point in history, North Coast redwood forests had widely spaced trees, open canopies, multi-age trees and a clean understory, says Don C. Erman, emeritus professor of biology at UC Davis. He disagrees with that image.

“Such a picture is surely the condition that will prevail under the proposed plan, but it has little basis in science as the natural condition,” Erman asserts in a letter sent to the CDF on April 25. “The description of this early condition sounds quite similar to the myths used to claim that the Sierra Nevada forests looked the same way before intensive logging. Such a picture also implies that larger, older trees are a fire hazard, when all evidence suggests that these aged trees are the most fire-resistant.”

In a phone conversation from his Davis office, Erman says that what particularly bothers him is the way fire danger is being used as a threat or weapon.

“There’s a certain amount of ‘the sky is falling, everything’s going to burn down’ as a means for driving otherwise reasonable people to say, ‘Oh my gosh, I’ve got to get rid of everything that might burn.’ I don’t think this approach is good, particularly in the redwood region.”

Approving the Bohemian Club’s proposed NTMP, he believes, will create a developed harvest area with a permanent road system, fewer large (and slower growing) old trees and the use of herbicides to control undergrowth, instead of the tall stately trees and ample wildlife habitat that current exist.

Also opposing the proposed NTMP is Philip W. Rundel, distinguished professor of biology at UCLA. Having studied both Sierra and coast redwoods, Rundel asserts that the Bohemian Grove NTMP appears designed to maximize the logging of redwood and Douglas fir trees.

“This is not meant to maintain natural resources and ecosystems,” Rundel charges in a phone conversation. He adds that the idea that these forests were historically open is based on looking at a very narrow period of time, which isn’t accurate or backed by scientific evidence. Cool redwood forests, even those containing other trees, don’t burn easily.

“If their goal was really to reduce the flammability, they wouldn’t cut any large trees. Large trees don’t burn in redwood forests,” Rundel explains. “As long as you keep that humidity in there, it’s not very flammable. But open it up to the light and put cut branches on the ground and it’s going to burn really well.”

In a letter to the CDF, Rundel argues that the NTMP overestimates the annual timber yield by including the old growth redwoods in the main encampment as part of the total annual growth. Since that area won’t be logged, Rundel says, this inflates the amount of logging allowed in other places. “The areas where they’re actually logging will not be sustainable. They can only say it’s sustainable if they count the areas they’re not cutting.”

Log the Grove

Bohemian Grove logging will be carefully managed and completely sustainable, claims registered professional forester Nick Kent, who’s creating the NTMP for the Bohemian Club. The proposed timber yield isn’t based on a percentage of growth as Rundel assumes, Kent explains, but was created using a computer modeling program called Cooperative Redwood Yield Project’s Timber Output, or CRYPTOS.

“The old growth area is treated independently,” Kent explains. “Each area that harvests and grows is independent of other areas. We’re not lumping it all together and determining a percent of inventory [to decide] how much we’re cutting. We’re cutting less than what will be growing over time. We will be checking those figures every 10 years. We’ll be monitoring to be sure we’re getting the growth modeled by CRYPTOS.”

The computer program is a modern forest-industry tool, but in this case, Kent says, it’s being used for preservation and restoration, not maximizing output. Right now, Kent adds, the grove is an extremely dense second-growth forest, with the majority of the large trees dating back to the heavy clear-cutting of a little over a century ago.

“What you’ve got is a dense overstory with very little regeneration of younger trees. There’s not enough light reaching the forest floor to get a regeneration of trees,” he says. “It’s not a natural condition.”

Critics argue that many of the century-plus second-growth trees are acquiring old-growth characteristics that make them perfect for habitat and forest restoration, and they should be saved. Under the NTMP, true old-growth trees with diameters of 40 or more inches and specific old-growth characteristics will not be harvested. However, larger second-growth trees could be cut to let in light and reduce the fire fuel.

But the allegation that the NTMP will maximize timber output is completely false, Kent says.

“I’ve never been told [by the Bohemian Club that] we need to harvest trees to generate money. They’ve told me that all the money that’s coming off the forest [is] going back into the road system and reducing the fire hazard. They really want to protect their forest.”

He adds that the NTMP is the club’s direct response to realizing there’s a high and continuing fire danger on the property. Bohemian Club general manager Matt Oggero says the club is doing what’s best for the grove and the entire region to maintain the forest while reducing the risk of catastrophic fires, such as the one that hit the Sierras recently.

“The experts that we’ve consulted–and we have some of the biggest names, the best experts in the country–contend that the best way to manage the forest is to eliminate overcrowding which can lead to serious crown fires that can be devastating not only for loss of property but for loss of life,” Oggero stresses. “We want to see the grove continue and flourish, and we think this is the best way to do that. Be assured that we’re not talking about clear-cutting in any way, shape or form. This is selective logging.”

One of the Grove’s consultants is Tom Bonnicksen, professor emeritus of forest science at Texas A&M University. He’s a staunch supporter of President Bush’s Healthy Forest Initiative, which calls for allowing increased logging on federal lands, then using the timber money to pay the costs for thinning fire-prone areas. Environmentalists counter that this gives timber companies an excuse to overcut national forestlands.

Bonnicksen says he created a conceptual plan for the Bohemian Grove based on his 35 years of experience and his understanding of the area’s historical condition.

“This is not your typical foggy redwood forest as you would find on the coast,” Bonnicksen explains by telephone from his Florida home. “This is a redwood-fir forest with tanoaks. If anyone is picturing this as a wet redwood forest, they don’t know what they’re dealing with.”

He says he’s not familiar with the specifics of the Bohemian Grove NTMP, but that critics who assert that selective logging heightens the fire risk are “saying the same old things. They’re using information from limited sources and generalizing from it in ways that are inconsistent with science.”

It’s important, Bonnicksen adds, to use history as a guide in managing forestlands. This, to him, means creating a more open forest. “You can’t have big tress if they’re all crowded together. Nor can you have a big harvest of corn if they’re all crowded together. You’re not going to get big trees if they’re overcrowded in the forest. There is a way to manage the forest to protect the big old trees that you have and to provide room for new ones to grow. It’s ultimately philosophical.”

‘It’s political, says Richard Coates, executive director of the Cazadero-based Forest Unlimited and the owner of 40 acres of timberland between Cazadero and Fort Ross. Forest Unlimited’s mission, Coates says, is “to preserve, enhance and protect the forests of Sonoma County.” In the past 15 years, he’s read hundreds of timber plans and NTMPs. The Bohemian Grove proposal, he claims, will increase the fire danger. “When you want catastrophic fire, what you do is cut as much of the redwoods as you can.”

Coates claims he’s not opposed to timber harvests per se, but asserts that while individual CDF employees are dedicated and hard-working, the department itself and the entire review process is skewed in favor of landowners and industrial interests.

“It’s a systemic problem that the landowners are allowed to purchase the opinions of people like the foresters and geologists and so on. That sets up a conflict of interest,” Coates says. “The real problem is at the political level. The whole agency is tied up politically, because there’s a lot of money involved. It’s a classic case where the industry has captured the regulators.”

On the contrary, argues San Mateo-based professional forester and Bohemian Club member Ralph Osterling, the high profile of the Bohemian Club has caused unreasonable delays in the standard NTMP process. In an April 18 letter to the CDF, Osterling argues that this effectively prevents “the property owner and their RPF [registered professional forester] from implementing legal and sound management practices, all of which are clearly within the forest practice rules. These rules apply equally to all property owners, yet it appears that this proposed NTMP is being singled out for added scrutiny by others.”

Political Party

The Bohemian Club has certainly been scrutinized over the years. The nonprofit, nonpartisan group was founded in 1872 for socializing and enjoying the arts. Mark Twain, Bret Harte and Jack London were among the early members.

Held the last three weeks of July, the annual summer encampments by members and their guests began in 1899. The club acquired its 2,700 acres near Monte Rio over a period of several decades in the early 1900s, buying up properties that were considered relatively worthless after they were extensively logged.

Over the years, the membership-by-invitation-only club has attracted the nation’s wealthiest and most powerful men, as well as well-founded criticism and far-fetched conspiracy theories prompted by its exclusionary and secretive ways. Club members say they simply want privacy as they relax with their peers in the forest. Opponents of the annual summer encampments allege that it’s an elite gathering where friendships are formed between powerful men, who later negotiate with each other over lucrative government contracts and decisions that shape this country’s future.

In a 2005 radio interview, Ralph Nader argued that no one in the government serving as a judge or on active military duty should attend this “exclusive, corporate-dominated, no-trespass confab. You can be sure that inside this grove they’re not planning the salvation of Africa or abolition of poverty, universal healthcare, a living wage for people working to support their families on measly wages like Wal-Mart.

“What are they doing? They’re getting to know each other, to reacquaint themselves from last year and to see each other in uninhibited poses that develops a kind of personal cement that further tightens the ruling cliques.”

The annual summer encampment has continued despite repeated protests. The property’s extensive forest was left untouched until, in the 1980s, citing concerns about the dense amount of potential fuel on the property, the club began logging operations under the guidance of professional forester Edward Tunheim. But the Bohemian Club and Tunheim parted ways in 2004, and club leaders hired Kent to create an NTMP allowing them to remove timber more rapidly and use the proceeds to remove fire-feeding tanoaks and brush. Tunheim declined to comment.

Kent says Tunheim brought out 500,000 board-feet annually from less acreage, and that the proposed NTMP will better manage the forest by cutting 1 million board-feet a year from a larger area, as well as creating what’s known as shaded fuel breaks around the old growth to protect it from crown fires. The forest is mostly Douglas fir, Kent says, with redwood scattered throughout. Logging will be on a 20-year cycle, giving a relatively long interval between harvests. Stands of tanoaks will be removed and replanted with conifers, mostly redwoods.

“We will be monitoring those areas for brush control and regeneration,” Kent explains. “If we need to replant those areas, we will. We’re not just walking away. We’re monitoring those areas.”

Speaking for the Trees

John Hooper’s great-grandfather, grandfather and uncles were all Bohemian Grove members, and as a kid he visited the grove with his grandfather. An organic farmer and avid hiker, Hopper was thrilled to become a member in 1999 and immediately started exploring the property’s backcountry. He wasn’t thrilled, however, when he saw the impacts of ongoing logging.

In 2001, Hooper raised concerns about a specific group of large trees marked for harvest, and club officials held things up until they could be sure no old growth was being inadvertently cut. But Hooper continued to come across logging-related damage.

“I’d go out on hikes, and a place that I loved had been logged the year before. It just got to be no fun.”

Yet his ongoing questions were virtually ignored, he says. In July 2004, he discovered a remote little valley in a steep area along Kitchen Creek, home to several acres of large, majestic trees. Many were more than 40 or 50 inches in diameter, yet still splashed with blue spray paint as a sign that they would soon be cut down and turned into timber.

“When I saw the old growth trees marked, I just thought it was a mix-up,” Hooper remembers. Once again he approached the club leaders, but this time, he says, “they pretty much ignored me.”

In December 2004, discouraged and having been accused of “un-Bohemian” behavior, Hooper resigned his Bohemian Club membership but not his determination to fight for the property’s preservation. He alleges that the original NTMP didn’t disclose the existence of nine stands of magnificent redwoods on the property, that the logging will create a younger, smaller forest, and that important habitat will be lost. He charges that the property is being mismanaged and that the majority of Bohemian Club members don’t understand what’s really going on.

“This NTMP is proposing to double or triple the logging,” Hooper charges. “Even with the modest level of logging that was going on in the last 20 years, a lot of damage was done.”

Not true says Launce E. Gamble, a club member for 28 years and a property owner who’s managed his own timberlands in Napa County. He says he’s walked the Bohemian Grove property after it was logged and was pleased at how well the process was managed and how little damage was done.

“It’s very environmentally correct. It’s selectively done,” he says by telephone from his San Francisco office. “It’s a parklike atmosphere, and they have worked very hard to reduce the fuel loads all through the place, particularly up on the ridge tops.”

He dismisses the concerns of professors Erman and Rundel. “Oftentimes, experts tend to not have a lot of practical experience. While they’re entitled to their opinion, I would say they’re wrong. By managing the property as it is being managed, it offers the community a buffer, not only for wildlife enhancement but the loss through fire.”

Largest & Oldest

Wildlife habitat is one of Stacy Martinelli’s chief concerns. Just as water-resource specialists and geologists have done in the past year, Martinelli, a staffer with the California Department of Fish and Game, Bay-Delta Region, has visited the property and reviewed the NTMP. She’s mapped out about 20 acres of old growth stands that weren’t listed in the original plan, and she’s recommending they be preserved from logging. The Bohemian Grove, she says, has a “higher component of large old trees than most [NTMPs] in Sonoma County,” and she believes a tentative agreement has been reached to protect the specified 20 acres.

“Most of our concern at this point is keeping the largest and oldest trees on the landscape and providing some recruitment for those trees, letting them develop over time,” Martinelli explains. “When these trees fall down, leaving hiding and nesting places, there will be big trees to replace them.”

When an NTMP application is filed, a first review is done on paper. Then representatives of interested agencies visit the site for what’s called a pre-harvest inspection. The next step is the second review, a back-and-forth between the agencies and the landowners’ forester to create a final NTMP document.

Because this NTMP has been delayed, the California Water Resources Department is working directly with Kent and the Bohemian Club to fix existing roads and stream crossings on the property this summer, before the rainy season. A National Marine Fisheries biologist recently filed a 46-page review, reporting that after logging resumed in the grove in the 1980s the road system roughly doubled. More roads are planned, but the federal report asserts that the total road miles should be reduced, and that “Instead of converting the site through industrial silviculture and adding to existing disturbances, the Bohemian Grove should be protected and enhanced.”

The next (and possibly final) second review session for the Bohemian Grove NTMP will be held in August. It’s open to the public, but it’s not a public meeting; questions must be addressed to the government officials, not to the representatives of the landowner. Kent will have about 10 days to reply to the second review recommendations and then, because of a recent court decision, the public will have 30 days to review the final NTMP document.

Stacey Martinelli hopes people will pay attention. “Essentially, the public will not have the opportunity to comment on timber-harvesting activities in the Bohemian Grove ever again. This is it.”

And Hooper still hopes Bohemian Club members will take a more in-depth look at what’s being proposed and save more of the tall, beautiful trees on their property.

“They’ve already done irreparable harm,” he says of the logging operations. He adds wistfully, “When you get into those really old trees, you’re walking into a cathedral.”


Show Me the Music

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July 4-10, 2007

Live music is appealing because it is live. Recorded and preprogrammed music infiltrates many segments of our everyday lives, from shopping at the grocery store to watching commercials on television to hearing a cell phone ring. Most of the music we listen to for pleasure is recorded, which has its own advantages: you can revisit it the way a child obsessively re-reads a favorite picture book, and every time, the song can be counted on to open up a little world but hopefully surrender new details as well.

But live music is ephemeral, infused with a dangerous energy. Even for the most polished musicians, there are a number of elements that can’t be completely controlled when performing live, and the tension of that balancing act–poise and confidence in the face of the unknown–is what makes a good show magical.

That’s why it’s disconcerting to me that, of the last five times I’ve seen bands play live, three of them performed under a veil of images projected onstage. While movie or slide projectors can do the honors, the convenience and versatility of an Apple laptop computer is de rigueur.

This may be more of an indication of the sort of shows I frequent (smaller bands playing largely instrumental music in small venues) than a nationwide trend, but it’s gotten to the point where the sight of a large white screen hanging at the rear of a stage serves as a tip-off to grab a chair and get comfortable. Sometimes the visuals are abstract blobs of color and squiggly lines intersecting; sometimes they’re snippets of oddball found footage cleverly edited together. Once, a band projected images of themselves frolicking outdoors à la A Hard Day’s Night, which, if you’re not the Beatles or Madonna, is pretty lame.

But almost always, the visuals serve to siphon, rather than saturate, the intensity of the band’s performance. Though musicians may incorporate light shows out of artsy, multimedia aspirations, which can pay off, the gesture runs the risk of coming across as the performers shrugging their shoulders or reaching for a crutch. “Sorry we’re so boring. We brought something interesting for you to look at instead.”

Perhaps I am an unqualified judge. While I claim to despise television, if I’m at a bar with a TV up on a shelf above the Long Island iced tea glasses, I will ignore my companions and stare, glassy-eyed, at the close-captioned antics of Chevy Chase in Fletch Lives flickering on the screen. People of my generation are conditioned to obey media–a childhood invested with thousands of hours of watching cartoons and M*A*S*H reruns can’t easily be unlearned. But I don’t go to bars to watch TV, and I don’t stand around way past my bedtime to see a band lurking shyly behind a chopped-up silent movie.

But concerts come in all sizes and dynamics, and it’s possible that fans in the $90 nosebleed seats checking out Justin Timberlake’s FutureSex/LoveShow tour appreciate the giant projections of a gospel choir framing the tiny fedora-wearing dot dancing onstage acres away.

But in smaller venues, the intimacy is what matters. Part of the joy of a live show is watching musicians pluck, strike, kick, slam, coo, writhe, scowl, frown, smile, hammer and do whatever it takes to make music happen. Eyes aimed at fancypants visuals miss these nuances, and perhaps their ears miss out as well.

Mr. Bir Toujour’s old band the Rum Diary deeply associated themselves with their visuals–they even had a projectionist as a band member for a while. And they projected good footage, too: lost family vacation reels from the 1960s; science education films; Godfrey Reggio’s epic Koyaanisqatsi. The footage complemented the cinematic scope of their music, but it got to the point where, when the projector malfunctioned, the band didn’t perform as well. In fact, their most dynamic shows were the ones where they skipped the projector altogether.

When touring in support of their album 2002 Murray Street, Sonic Youth, who often incorporate projections into their concert setup, tied a cheap digital camera to a mic stand and pointed it toward the audience. Hence, we were treated to real-time projections of ourselves superimposed on a flesh-and-blood Sonic Youth. Whether this was employed to make a point or simply because it was easy for the band to set up was never established, but the mirror image of the crowd didn’t upstage the band. It was a great show.


Yucatán Dreams

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July 4-10, 2007

The first time I see Mateo Granados, it’s at the Santa Rosa farmers market early on an Wednesday evening. He’s tucked away in a booth along the strip, cranking out tamales.

He immediately catches my eye. While the other vendors at the event are dressed in rumpled jeans and T-shirts, Granados is dolled up in pristine chef’s whites.

I’ve strolled past the typical food concessions–the enormous turkey legs, sausage sandwiches and fresh-baked pastries. Yet Granados’ menu board is provocative for parking-lot cuisine, tempting with Yucatán tamales stuffed with slow-roasted suckling pig, Rosie organic chicken, CK Lamb, roasted local vegetables and Bodega Bay goat cheese.

I’m not even that hungry, but I can’t resist. I pay my $5 for a tamale, grab my paper plate and retreat to a secluded stretch of sidewalk. I take my first bite and wow! The fillings are intensely seasoned and the silky masa torpedo is capped with spicy pickled onions and roasted tomato-habañero sauce for a distinctively non-Sonoran experience. This isn’t ordinary street food–this is art.

I cozy up back to the booth and try to get the chef’s attention. As busy as Granados is with his banana-leaf-steamed tamales, he chats with me about his inspiration. The banana leaves are better than cornhusks for dense, moist masa, he explains, and he chops the meat instead of shredding it for better texture and flavor. There’s no lard; he uses olive oil instead.

The recipe is his grandmother’s. Born to a ranching and farming family in Oxkutcab (a village known as “the orchard” of the Yucatán), elaborate meals were an ordinary part of Granados’ everyday life growing up. He loves making tamales, he says, and is proud that he almost always sells out at events like this. Yet he’s a little bored today. His idea of cooking is so much bigger than savory stuffed masa bundles. Rather, he’s focused on what he believes should be the next major culinary statement for northern California: modern Yucatán cuisine.

Intrigued, I ask for some of his time later, when he’s better able to talk, and he cheerfully agrees.

Back home at my computer, I do a quick Google. A Food & Wine article pops up, all about a Sonoma group called the Moonlighter’s Society. That’s where “wine scientists” gather after hours at different vineyards to experiment with their unique visions. Last year, the magazine profiled Granados as one of the would-be vintners, detailing how, as he monkeyed with a garage-brand Syrah, he fed his cohorts succulent braised lamb prepared out of a tiny 1930s Airstream trailer parked amid the grapes.

Granados teaches cooking classes at Relish Culinary School in Healdsburg, and his name often pops up as the official caterer for high-end Sonoma events and private parties.

A little more digging finds a background at some of the Bay Area’s best restaurants. His résumé includes stints chefing at Charlie Palmer’s Dry Creek Kitchen in Healdsburg, as well as at Manka’s Inverness Lodge and San Francisco restaurants Masas, 42 Degrees, Alain Rondelli and Rubicon.

So why is Granados now pushing tamales at festivals and farm markets, preaching the word of modern Yucatán cuisine to passersby on the street?

Comida Natural

The state of Yucatán is located on the Gulf of Mexico, west of Cancun and north of Belize. Before the arrival of the Spanish, the Yucatán was home to the Mayan civilization. Due to its isolated location, much of its culinary influence came from visiting Europeans, Cubans and Caribbeans.

Therefore, authentic Yucatán cooking is a tumble of Mayan corn, chocolate, honey, venison, wild turkey, squash, cucumbers, chiles and tomatoes alongside Spanish spices, pork and Seville oranges next to Dutch cheeses–all served atop Mexican tortillas. The results are such traditional foods as frijol con puerco (chunks of pork with black beans, rice, radish, cilantro and onion) and papadzules (chopped hard-boiled egg rolled in a tortilla with pumpkin-seed sauce).

It’s a rich, creative cuisine, Granados tells me when we meet for coffee at the Cafe Newsstand in Healdsburg a week after our farmers market introduction. But, he adds, it’s also a cuisine so steeped in tradition that very little has changed over the centuries. As his great grandmother made chicharrones (essentially, pork rinds) in a large kettle in her backyard, so does his mother today. And as his great grandfather prepared his cochinita pibil (pig marinated in bitter orange, flavored with annatto seed and cooked in a banana leaf), so does his father still. (When he suggested his father try a different cochinita recipe, utilizing a pig’s succulent cheek, tongue, ear and brain, the idea was shot down.) There’s also lots of lard, frying oil and grease.

Granados’ restless curiosity soon led him from Oxkutcab to San Francisco, where, in 1989, the young chef quickly found a foothold, training under such great chefs as Julian Serrano of Masa’s and Alain Rondelli. He learned quickly, made good money and important contacts. He says it was a thrilling “rock and roll lifestyle.” Yet he found himself reflecting on his Mayan roots, and wondering: Why did it feel like something was missing?

He set out to define his own culinary style, borrowing his employers’ kitchens after hours to experiment. He began synthesizing classic cooking with Latin American flavors and local ingredients. He liked big flavors, dramatic spicing, wine-electric pairings and a healthy emphasis. He called it “comida natural,” and played with substituting olive oil for the lard in his tamales. He utilized every part of a rabbit for other dishes, cooking it for eight hours and making gravy from its bones, because bones are the terroir of an animal, he says.

He took traditional foods like empanadas and gave them a contemporary, California twist by stuffing the little turnovers with salted cod, draping them in poblano cream sauce and decorating them with jicama citrus salad. For the Mexican mainstay of suckling pig, he used premium organic pork from Black Sheep Farm in Occidental, pairing it with handmade longanisa sausage ravioli, lettuce from Sonoma’s La Bonne Terre and cinnamon-cured red onions.

The ensuing after-hours “family meals” he served to the restaurant staff were outrageously popular, Granados laughs, but never appeared on any menus.

Finally, at the end of 2004, he abandoned a well-paying, high-profile position as executive chef at Dry Creek Kitchen to take a chance on his own. He set up his tamale stand, established Mateo Granados Catering and started planning a restaurant.

As we talk, Granados jots notes on a pad of paper. He’s been planning a catering menu for the past week, he explains, and as we chatted, some ideas suddenly popped. Almost frantically, he starts rhapsodizing about what he might prepare. Dried-shark empanada. A liquid tamale, cooked like a crème brûlée. Pumpkin seed crackers. Spinach doused in cold water, then dropped into hot oil so it explodes and pushes the grease out, all with a big Syrah or Zinfandel to kick up the spice. He’s so excited now he’s almost biting his hand.

Between the chef’s thick accent, his mile-a-minute cadence and speedy skipping from topic to topic, I can’t keep up. To truly understand, I’ve got to see him in action.

Missing Link Madness

A month later, I’m standing in the dining room of the small clubhouse at Healdsburg’s Tayman Park golf course. It’s 5pm, the start of a Missing Link dinner, a monthly, invitation-only event that Granados has hosted over this past year. Limited to 60 “insiders” per dinner, each multicourse feast showcases this chef’s northern Mexican cuisine, fine wines from Sonoma and cooking exhibitions.

Granados is whirling about the tiny kitchen, elbow to elbow with four associates in a frenetic ballet of cooking. His assistants, room manager and servers for the evening are volunteers who have worked with him in his other ventures. They’ve come in after toiling long days in San Francisco, and certainly will be first in line for jobs when he opens his new restaurant.

Guests are crowding into the cottage-style lodge room, nibbling on cheesy rabbit croquettes, extraordinarily tart chili-cinnamon baby carrots and fresh-popped popcorn drizzled in olive oil. As Granados checks on the splayed carcasses of pheasant being stuffed with homemade longanisa (sausage) that will be our entrée, a server trots up to the pass-through and calls for more lemons. It seems the chef’s dangerously sharp and delicious Meyer martini with pomelo rosa pulp is a huge hit.

Granados, who started working on this party at noon, is rumpled in a long-sleeved white shirt and ragged black jeans. Because the kitchen is so small, a prep area has been set up in a tent outside; the door between kitchen and tent is held open by a cleverly tied apron.

Everything, from the White Crane Springs Ranch cream of spinach and fried quail-egg appetizer, to the dessert of baked yucca-root dumpling in citrus marmalade, is being crafted from scratch. The kitchen refrigerator is too small (and too full of beer) to have anything prepared beforehand. And besides, fresh is the Yucatán way, Granados says, cracking what seems like hundreds of eggs into an enormous metal bowl.

An assistant is in the tent, pressing masa in a tortilladora, then placing the little rounds on a long table lined with plastic bags. They’re about ready to be stuffed with salt cod and grilled on the comal (a cast-iron cooking plate ordinarily used to cook tortillas), but the sun is setting and no one has thought to light the tent. Another assistant scurries out with a miniature kerosene lantern and she works in the glow of a virtual flashlight.

Inside, the crowd is growing a little restless. It’s almost 7pm, and despite the live music playing by the fireplace and the seductive powers of Granados’ hot margaritas muddled with jalapeño, habañero and cilantro, these guests are ready to get this dinner going.

Yet Granados is still working on the puffed Spanish rice that accompanies the pheasant, too often distracted by guests coming up to the pass-through and asking him to explain every step of his labors. He does so happily, carefully folding whipped egg white into the giant kernel paella rice so that the casserole will aerate and fluff in its ramekins. Several female guests push themselves over the pass-through to kiss his cheek; he accommodates while keeping an eye on the crispy bird coming out of the oven behind him, juicing more lemons, blending crema and lime for the empanada sauce, and explaining to a guest sticking his finger in the rice bowl that the rice is properly “bubbled” when it springs back as it’s poked.

A tray of wine glasses falls in the corner, someone has forgotten to turn on the range fan and the room smells of poultry smoke, and I speak to one beaming guest after another who gushes that this is the best dinner party they’ve ever been to.

Half an hour later, we’re sitting at our tables, sipping lovely Pinot Blanc and Grenache provided by Mendocino winemaker Robert Perkins and his Skylark Wine Company. We’re digging into our exquisite spinach and quail egg starter, and I peek at Granados, still whirling like a dervish in the kitchen. He looks intense, tired and very, very happy.

Not Lazy in Your Mouth

Several weeks later, I run into Granados at the Santa Rosa Original Farmers Market on Maple Street. He is no longer doing the Fourth Street fair. He is not doing tamales, either, as a prior vendor already had that dish in his contract. Instead, he arrives early each Saturday morning and visits neighboring market booths. Whatever is freshest and most interesting goes into his menu.

Today, he is crafting a Spanish tortilla of Full Circle Bread, crumbed queso fresco and tomato habañero sauce. Plus, he’s got Yucatán-style huevos rancheros with thick tostada chips instead of tortillas, creamy black bean purée and salsa. A tortilla is too soft, the chef explains. Food needs textures. You don’t want it to be lazy in your mouth.

Working with only a portable camp range, he’s also prepared salted cod hash with a fried Triple T duck egg, Two Rock Valley cheese, capers, habañero tomato salsa and a salad of frisée, lamb’s ear, pickled onion and radish. The dish is exquisitely salty, sour, crispy and soft, and even more mind-blowing since I’m eating it off a disposable plate in the middle of a parking lot.

I sip an agua fresca that blends Love Farm’s strawberries and Dragonfly Floral’s rose petals; on other days it might be a drink of Gayle Sullivan’s Dry Creek peaches with Armenian cucumber, or Tierra Vegetables’ watermelon with fresh mint and lime from White Crane Springs Ranch.

This is crazy, I say. When will his restaurant open so we all can eat like this every day?

The problem with passion is that banks don’t take it as collateral. In September of 2005, it was reported that Granados had just signed a lease for his new restaurant. It was tentatively called Cafe de la Cocino, and was scheduled to open last spring in Healdsburg.

But starting a business is expensive, from the $4,000 charged to credit cards to get his farmers market booths and permits, to the $8,000 for a website and marketing materials for his catering company, to the cost of the catering truck and its $1,200 signage–hit by a graffiti tagger the same night it was painted. He needs a proper Wolf range to serve the farmers markets, and the Missing Link dinners, while very successful, don’t make enough money (he puts too much into the meals, he admits, because he doesn’t know how else to do a party).

In fact, the Missing Link dinners have gone on hiatus while Granados concentrates on catering and putting a little money in the bank.

People look at his résumé and connections, he says, and figure he’s a celebrity chef, so everything should be easy. But he’s the first to admit he doesn’t take well to being told what to do (by bosses or controlling investors).

So his cafe is on hold, and meanwhile, so is our opportunity to eat such innovative dishes as a Liberty duck tamale with spicy chocolate mole sauce and deep chocolate goat milk ice cream.

At 42, Granados is working very patiently toward what he believes should be the next major culinary statement for northern California: modern Yucatán cuisine. He’s got the recipes, the talent and the willpower. He’s got the customers, lining up for his food at the Healdsburg and Sebastopol farmers markets.

The only thing missing is his restaurant.

Mateo Granados Catering. 707.433.2338. www.mateogranados.com.

Quick dining snapshots by Bohemian staffers.

Winery news and reviews.

Food-related comings and goings, openings and closings, and other essays for those who love the kitchen and what it produces.

Recipes for food that you can actually make.

News Briefs

July 4-10, 2007

We, the jury

The citizen-volunteers responsible for independently reviewing local government agencies recently finalized their 2006-’07 efforts in Marin, Napa and Sonoma counties. These Grand Jury reports cover everything from fingerprinting school volunteers to wastewater usage, open-space planning, services for an increasingly aging population and more.

The Marin County Grand Jury provides thumbs-up reports on the county treasurer’s office, underpublicized local vocational education efforts and the county’s disability retirement process. It issued wake-up calls about potential costs for retired county employees and the growing senior population in general. Statewide, 10 percent of residents are 65 or older; in Marin County it’s 14 percent, which is projected to rise to 17 percent by 2030. The Grand Jury also reviews four charter schools and lists potential challenges at the College of Marin, as well as recommending that the county delay its plans for a $71 million Health and Wellness Center in the Canal District in order to do more in-depth review and planning.

In Napa, the 2006-’07 Grand Jury report reviews improvements to the county’s child-welfare system, recommending hiring more bilingual staff members and citing an “urgent” need for respite babysitting for foster parents. The group also suggests that the Napa County Sheriff’s office should control the county jail to allow more accountability and cross-training; finds that the Hope Center for the homeless in downtown Napa is inadequately funded; provides a fairly favorable review of the Napa Sanitation District; and found no truth in rumors about mishandling of student funds at St. Helena’s Robert Louis Stevenson Middle School.

Perhaps one of the more controversial recommendations is the Sonoma County Grand Jury’s suggestion that local schools should fingerprint all volunteers. Some applaud the increased security, but others say it isn’t practical. The grand jury report also reviews four law enforcement-related citizen deaths between August and December 2005, and decides they were followed by thorough, detailed investigations.

In other topics, the grand jury says more oversight is needed on the number and legal status of local billboards; there’s no overall plan for managing groundwater, surface water and wastewater disposal; all county employees, not just first-responders, should be trained in emergency procedures; and Santa Rosa Junior College may put too much emphasis on diversity in its hiring practices. The report also recommends hiring more correctional officers and creating a comprehensive long-range plan for the open-space district

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Wine Tasting

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When in the course of human events, it becomes necessary to publish a wine column on the Fourth of July, one might well expect a theme. Wine for the barbecue? No-brainer. Save the Pinot, pair the grilled product with a big hearty red. The all-American wine? “Zindependence” celebrations regularly crop up wherever America’s “heritage wine” is the thing. But as we can’t even agree on California’s state grape, how about an all-American winery, the true red, white and blush, some fiercely independent, family-owned place that embodies the Jeffersonian agrarian ideal?

Larson Family Winery fits the bill. At the end of a tree-shaded lane south of Sonoma, it features vineyards, rustic barns and pet sheep. On Sonoma Creek, steamboats once delivered new Americans to this land of promise, and General Mariano Vallejo passed through on his way to secularize the Sonoma mission (and on 07/07/’07, it’s happy 199th, General).

The tasting room is in a barn, with various memorabilia on display. Site of Northern California’s largest rodeo in the last century, the ranch was also a training ground for Seabiscuit, whose story is as plucky and democratic as it gets in horseracing. The bar is backdropped by a mural that weaves the area’s history with the winery today.

Let’s crack open some wine. The 2005 Pinot Grigio ($19.99) is a crisp quaff with a hint of honeysuckle. The 2005 Gewürztraminer ($16.99) is rich and dry with a pungent floral aroma. More complex than strawberry lemonade, the 2005 Pinot Noir Rosé ($25) is just as drinkable. Get that fresh-baked berry-pie noseful of the 2003 Meritage ($24.99). Like all Larson reds, double gold medal winner 2003 Cabernet Sauvignon ($50)–scented of orange rind, fancy candles and black currant–is easy-going on the tannin. Barbecue wine alert! The 2003 Sonoma Red Table Wine ($19.99) is a Cab-heavy, smoky, juicy blend with crackling acidity. Screwcap, in a liter jug, of course.

As for America’s grape, Larson pours a Zinfandel from DenBeste, who parks his cars here during NASCAR and whose wine is made at Larson, with a few others. As it turns out, they have a lot of extra capacity because they formerly operated the 100,000-case Sonoma Creek here. The Larsons built the supermarket brand during the boom of the ’90s, overexpanded and declared bankruptcy following the bust. They reorganized and sold the brand in 2003. What could be more American than that?

Larson Family Winery, 23355 Millerick Road, Sonoma. Tasting room open daily, 10am to 5pm. $5 fee. 707.938.3031.



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First Bite

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July 4-10, 2007

The couple across the sizzling teppanyaki table are grinning from ear to ear.

Since Hikuni opened last month near Montgomery Village in Santa Rosa, they won’t be slogging more than a hundred miles round-trip anymore to get a fix of their favorite food: Japanese meats, seafood and vegetables seared on a giant metal griddle, sliced in dizzying theatrics by a chef wielding an extraordinarily sharp knife and flung through the air to (hopefully) land on their plates.

Bizarre as it sounds, for the past several years this dining duo had regularly been driving, often weekly, all the way to Benihana in San Francisco. They’ve been telling Mom and me about it since they sat down about 15 minutes ago, joining the group of four other new friends at our communal table.

No wonder they’re giddy. At today’s gas prices, I figure they’ve been spending almost as much just on transportation as their entire meal costs tonight. (In addition to its excellent food, Hikuni has impossibly low prices San Francisco can’t match.) The hibachi tuna I’ve been feasting on is easily a pound of primo soy-marinated fish, grilled exquisitely raw inside as I requested, and costs a mere $18.95.

Mom, meanwhile, has been valiantly working her way through a wealth of tooth-tender calamari and chicken ($22.95), dipping bites in house-made ginger and mustard aiolis alongside mounds of sautéed mushroom, onion, zucchini and fluffy fried rice. We’ve been at this task for a while now, but we’re barely making a dent.

And this is after we’ve already stuffed ourselves on the go-withs, including a fine miso soup and an enormous green salad under a lovely homemade dressing of puréed pineapple, cantaloupe, orange, lemon and ginger. Then, as the waitress had cleared the plates (gorgeous pottery, by the way), our chef arrived and–zip-zip!–fired up some freebie lemon-soy shrimp for us.

We’ve got so much good food, in fact, that our appetizers–tamago (egg custard) sushi ($3.50) and naruto roll ($10.95), a fat mosaic of salmon, tuna and yellowtail cradled in rice, avocado and a thick blanket of tobiko–have largely gone untouched. No worries, though; these leftovers are coming home with us, clutched fiercely to my bosom.

The chef is playing now. He makes a tall funnel out of an onion, douses it with sake and touches it with fire. Flames leap up to his chin, he shouts, “Volcano!” and the Benihana couple cheer. The chef hurls a piece of scrambled egg at the man, who catches it in his mouth. The woman screeches with such happiness that I’m almost expecting her to burst into tears.

They live about half an hour away, they gush, which saves them more than an hour’s drive each way over that other place, their favorite . . . whazzit called again? Beni-who?

Hikuni Sushi Bar & Hibachi, 4100 Montgomery Drive, Santa Rosa. Open for lunch and dinner daily. 707.539.9188.


Quick-and-dirty dashes through North Bay restaurants. These aren’t your standard “bring five friends and order everything on the menu” dining reviews.

Ask Sydney

July 4-10, 2007

Dear Sydney, I’m a fairly together person, and that sure has drawbacks! I get tired of being the one who is so safe to be around that people can let down their hair and act out all the things they won’t do when they’re being their own fairly together selves. I don’t want to become one of those self-centered jerks who takes and takes or is oblivious to other people’s feelings or keeps all relationships at a superficial level, but it sure would be nice to not have to always be the bigger person. It’s hard having to always enforce my boundaries instead of having friendships or romantic relationships where I get to just relax for a while. How do I turn myself into a partner rather than a mentor or teacher or therapist–or advice columnist?–Not Their Mom

Dear Mom: It seems you naturally find yourself in the role of caretaker, otherwise known as the maternal figure or perpetual nurturer. Because this is a role you take on for yourself, it makes sense that those around you, once they discover your strengths in this regard, will willingly allow themselves to fall apart and become needy in your presence. The best way to deal with this is to examine your own role in these relationship paradigms. It’s not your job to mother the entire world, and if you try, you are apt to become waiflike and depleted, like Angelina Jolie.

Perhaps past experience has told you that your ability to be supportive and helpful is what attracts people to you in the first place. Consider whether or not you take care of others as a way to gain their love or because you genuinely enjoy it. After all, who is more needed than the eternal mother? Defining clear boundaries is important, but so is knowing what it is you need from others.

Begin a new pattern in your relationships, where you provide others with your excellent mothering services, and they provide you with something equally as important in return. If there is no return, then put your energy elsewhere, otherwise you run the risk of becoming the resentful mother, a bitter and unattractive role that many mothers find themselves in and which is detrimental both to themselves and everyone else around them.

Dear Sydney, I met a woman with whom I would like to become friends. We’re both people with busy lives, so I haven’t even tried to arrange a get-together. Kids in school find it easy to make friends, because they’re thrown together every day. The same goes for adult co-workers, but it’s a rare and wonderful thing to find myself in a workplace with people I can be more than happily acquainted. Regarding co-workers with whom I have become actual friends, it’s hard to carve out time for more than a watercooler chat. This woman would be fine to know as a happy acquaintance, but I’d like to see about becoming actual friends. How does one go about this when nobody has time to even go out for coffee any more?–Not a Stalker

Dear NA Stalker: Until you reach retirement age, and unless you are unemployed and childless, it can be difficult to keep up with the friends you already have, much less find time to make new ones. Add to this the fact that we live in a cautious society, and it can seem impossible to meet cool people and make them a part of your authentic life. You can always plan a social event at your house, and then extend a casual invitation. This is a great way to get to know someone better. But who has time to go to parties at someone’s house they hardly know?

Try beginning a friendship through e-mail. If you meet someone interesting, find an excuse to get her e-mail address, then drop her a note. If you say something inquisitive, like “Loved your top, where did you get it?” or “Have you heard about that new play in town?” it will prompt her to write back. Let your relationship travel through cyberspace. Soon it will seem natural to suggest meeting for coffee somewhere, and now that you have shared enough information to know what you have in common, you will both be far more willing and motivated to make time for each other.

Dear Sydney, what is a “coincidence,” exactly? Some people say that there is no such thing as coincidence, that everything happens for a reason. Others feel the exact opposite, that everything is basically one big coincidence, and that life is made up of totally random happenings that have no deeper meanings than the ones we read into them. I have an ongoing debate with a friend as to whether or not everything happens for a reason, or if life is made of genuine random coincidences that we make important by believing they happened for a reason, when really they didn’t. I’m hoping you could lend some perspective to our argument before we “coincidentally” stop talking to each other.–No Deeper Meaning

Dear Shallow: A coincidence, according to Webster’s Dictionary, is a striking occurrence of two or more events at one time, apparently by mere chance, accident, luck or fate. The word “apparently” is very telling–even Noah Webster was clearly unsure as to the true meaning of the word. The three definitions–accident, luck and fate–don’t answer your question either. Which is it? All three are intrinsically different. It’s the nature of coincidences to be mysterious; this is what makes them so fascinating and tantalizing.

I’ll give you an example. Recently, I drove past a car in Carmel that was the same make and color as mine, and with the same bumper sticker that was stolen from my car in Santa Rosa a few months ago. I’ve never seen the bumper sticker on any other car. So I left a note with my e-mail, and asked her where she got her sticker, as I purchased mine on Valencia Street in S.F., and now the store no longer carries them.

She e-mailed me back and said she got hers on Valencia Street, and hers had also been stolen, so she bought another. Not only that, but she saw my car the last time I was in Carmel, with my bumper sticker still intact. And get this: We have the same first name. Life is full of coincidences, and whether they are accidents, luck or fate depends on what you find most satisfying to believe. You and your friend may never agree, because the fact is, you’re both right.

‘Ask Sydney’ is penned by a Sonoma County resident. There is no question too big, too small or too off-the-wall. Inquire at www.asksydney.com or write as*******@*on.net.

No question too big, too small or too off-the-wall.


News of the Food

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July 4-10, 2007

Adult guests hoping to enjoy a nice dinner at the popular Simmer restaurant in Corte Madera will have to make other plans. You’ve been usurped by a bunch of uptown toddlers.

Owners Ken Harris and Lesley Kohn have just closed their year-and-a-half-old California-French eatery in order to focus on a new concept called Chefables, a catering company that specializes in high-end meals for children.

And not just any children, but really wee ones, between the ages of one and five. Apparently, pampering the palates of well-heeled rugrats is more profitable than attending to those of fine food-loving grownups.

It was only in April that Harris and Kohn sent the Boho a lyrically worded press release, gushing about hiring a new chef at Simmer. They wooed us with promises of new dishes like la plancha of dayboat salmon with spring rhubarb chutney, watercress and rhubarb Vincotto; chili roasted tofu with tender baby bok choy, apple emulsion and carrot chiffonade; and spring white asparagus with Coppa ham, pistachios and white balsamic.

But at the same time, they had been tinkering with the Chefables idea, which offers custom, three-course hot meals plus optional teatime snack programs delivered daily to select northern California daycare centers and schools. The hoards of deep-pocketed parents too time-pressed to pack a PB&J for their precious progeny responded better than expected.

“We will still be here daily ‘cooking up a storm’ for our littlest of customers,” soothes a notice posted last week on Simmer’s front door and website, “but [we] need the space, time and resources for this rapidly expanding business operation.”

The inspiration came to executive chef Harris after the birth of his first child, Emily, when he found himself creating haute highchair creations for her. That morphed into creating a personal chef service for the sippy-cup set, “like Oprah uses to eat healthy and stay in shape,” the Chefables propaganda exclaims. “Her chef creates tasty, well-balanced meals for her daily, and keeps her on track. Our Chefables Children’s Food Series does just that–chef-created, child-inspired food offerings as easy as ABC.”

That means instead of slumming it with brownbag tuna salad sammys and prefab pudding packs, gourmet guttersnipes can nibble on from-scratch wood fired pizza, seasonal vegetarian lasagna, creamy polenta with quinoa and Parmesan, organic whole-wheat corn bread and LaLoo’s Goat’s Milk Ice Cream.

No word if Chefables execs will pop in a note reading, “Mommy loves you” for an additional fee.

To learn more, go to Chefables at www.chefables.com or call 415.299.2800.

Quick dining snapshots by Bohemian staffers.

Winery news and reviews.

Food-related comings and goings, openings and closings, and other essays for those who love the kitchen and what it produces.

Recipes for food that you can actually make.

Baa to the Bone

July 4-10, 2007

We can never get enough cinematic lessons reminding us that there are some doors we must not enter. That Black Sheep, one such lesson, comes from so very far away gives it some special urgency. I accuse the New Zealand government of putting its money into Jonathan King’s Black Sheep as a way of luring us punters to vacation there.

Richard Bluck’s photography, far better than this kind of movie deserves, is sterling. On the one hand, Black Sheep urges us Kiwi-ward with its seascapes, hills and fine blue skies. On the other hand, it warns us of the all-too-real prospect of having our throats torn out by mutant woolies. That’s the perfect vacation–the beauty of nature combined with a hint of peril. Hell, I’ll go.

Black Sheep, written and directed by Jonathan King, tells a story as old as Cain and Abel. The gentle young Henry dotes on a pet lamb; his evil older brother, Angus, slaughters it and jumps out of the darkness of the barn dressed in its gory skin. The trauma causes Henry (played as an adult by Nathan Meister) to suffer from “ovinophobia,” a mortal terror of sheep.

Fifteen years later, on the urging of his therapist, Henry returns to the family farm. Meister, who has all the requisite soulful-sufferer sheepishness the part requires, sweats bullets as his taxi is surrounded by hundreds of ewes. When he arrives, he discovers that Angus (Peter Feeney) has become a remorseless genetic-engineering rancher, trying to create a breed of supersheep and tossing the genetic throwbacks into a toxic dump.

Hiding in the underbrush lurk a pair of eco-activists. The dim Grant (Oliver Driver) and his female, doctrine-spouting companion, Experience (Danielle Mason), steal a gene-spliced lamb as evidence of the cruel experiments going on. The monster escapes, infecting the flock and making them thirst for blood. Their viral bite turns men into murderous weresheep.

It’s surprising how few genuinely million-dollar ideas come along during the course of the movie watcher’s life; it would be even more surprising if Black Sheep‘s original angle on primal terror were a complete success. What does work famously are the shots of sheep looming over the camera, their bald, impassive faces concealing some hidden emotion–fury, maybe, or perhaps they’re just wondering where their next mouthful of cud is coming from.

The cast quivers appropriately whenever a sinister “ba-a-a-aaaaaa” rends the darkness. Feeney boasts an antipodean version of Bruce Campbell’s muttonhead skull, full jaw, vast forehead and slicked-back, Hitler-colored hair. In short, Campbell couldn’t have improved the role. And the scenes of the sheep butting through doors (they’re Weta Workshop puppets snarling with homicidal rage) really bring back happy memories of The Killer Shrews.

The problem is, as always, the case of someone making a cult movie without the twitching fanaticism of a serious filmmaker. One natural way to improve Black Sheep would be to promote Tucker, the Maori manager (Tammy Davis), from merry sidekick to hero. After all, George Romero’s work in this particular end of cinema has a subtext about prejudice: society’s black sheep rising and putting up a hero’s stand.

Another possible strategy would have been to take the material at least a little seriously. The eco-terrorists are clowns, although, at times, good ones. When Experience says that she hopes their mission won’t be a debacle like their previous action at the salmon farm, Grant replies, “Those fish died in freedom!” He’s bleating even before he gets bitten.

But King takes a cozy middle-of-the-road approach to the subject of organic farming and GE. One of his characters mutters good-naturedly about how you can’t brew up a cup of tea in New Zealand without do-gooders interfering. If some Kiwis are cranks on the subject, who can blame them? They must know that their islands will be probably the last hold-out for humanity, from whatever Eurasia, Africa and the Americas do to themselves in the coming century.

Now, if they can just ward off those merinos, a superior intelligence watching their green pastures with envious eyes.

‘Black Sheep’ opens Friday, July 6, at select North Bay theaters.


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