Lalimes for July and August, 2008

Spring Break  

This Spring, after having missed a couple of the past Springs, Wendy and I headed down the coast for another backpacking trip to Sespe Wilderness in the hills above Ojai, California. Ventura County.

The wilderness was as beautiful as imagined, even the parts that had been burned to the ground by the Day Fire in 2006. Already new growth had seized the spots of the dead and burnt plants and looked fresh and green. We hiked and hiked across the chaparral that was miraculously in full bloom (and anyone who has ever sought out the desert bloom knows you come across it by pure luck or divine guidance, there's no planning). At every turn there were flowers of many colors, from a myriad of tenuously tiny plants. There were snakes and Arroyo toads, one time there was an owl hooting in the night. And when the sun goes down and the sounds of the raw landscape deepen, with a belly full of rehydrated backpacking food (oh, it does taste good in the backcountry) and a slug of single malt Scotch backpacked in its lightweight flask, Sespe is one of the most beautiful places I've ever seen in my life.

But what about the food you ask?

Well, for us there are two places worth going to in Ojai. Used to be three but they closed the old Oh-Hi Frostie, a burger joint straight out of the Fifties. So sad. There's Gourmet Tamales where you can walk in and get a rather excellent green chile tamale that's bigger than your hand, but for a sit down dinner there's nothing like Boccali's at the east end of town. When you head out at dinner time the sun is going down and the light becomes beautiful and you can suddenly smell the orange orchards that fill the valley, sweet as can be.

You order the pizza or the plate of spaghetti with the gigantic meatball and you finish with the strawberry shortcake. The tablecloths are red and white checkers. The wine is a glass of zesty Ojai Red. You don't overanalyze it too much or deconstruct it. It is what it is: a really fine meal. The wait staff is so nice and the customers are all having such a great time.

When you leave, the sun has gone down, but there's still light and the air is even sweeter with orange blossom. Right outside of the door there's a stand with avocados, oranges and mandarins. You put money in an old coffee can and drive off taking the side roads back to the hotel, the roads that go through the orange and lemon groves. You breathe deeply of the sweet dusk air thick with citrus. Nothing like it. Ventura County.

-Chef Steve Jaramillo 

Lalimes for May and June, 2008

Haig Reminisces…Cooking School & the Restaurant Business

I went to the California Culinary Academy in the late seventies when it was still on Fremont Street. I graduated on April 25, 1980. That was twenty-eight years ago! The other day, by chance, I bumped into a classmate that I hadn’t seen since graduation.

We sat down and chatted for a while. She smoked, I had a cup of coffee, and we reminisced. She had spent 12 years at Stars (Jeremiah Towers’ exceptional restaurant of the 80s), then had done miscellaneous stints at some other reputable restaurants. For the last nine years, she’s been the catering chef at one of our friend’s catering and restaurant operation in San Francisco. After I graduated from the Culinary Academy, I became the chef at my friend, Khajag’s, restaurant, the Orient Express where One Market Restaurant now sits. For a short stint I was chef at Narsai’s in Kensington, then my wife Cindy and I opened Lalime’s in 1985. We’ve been doing that for the last twenty-three years. I stopped smoking, but haven’t given up coffee yet. It’s amazing how things change over the course of twenty-eight years.

I shouldn’t really be looking back. I usually look ahead, while hopefully learning from the past. Always, I will be appreciative of Khajag Sarkissian and Narsai David as my mentors.

So what is it that makes it all fun after all these years? Now we have, not one, but five very different restaurants to oversee. I get up in the morning and head over to T-Rex. Our chef Miles Kline is always there with a smile. Most of the cooks in the kitchen take turns making breakfast at T-Rex for the morning crew; it’s too tempting to pass, so I always end up having a small bite with a good cup of espresso. We have a new bar crew at T-Rex now, headed by Megan, so I check in with her. I rustle over the previous night’s tips with Adam, our very patient and hardworking manager at T-Rex, and leave because there are too many people in that tiny office.

Next, I move on to our office at Fifth Street, where the two Cindys are found. They always have too many things on their agenda. It’s too nerve wracking, so I say a quick hello and rush quickly to the adjacent room where the pastry kitchen is, hoping for a croissant left behind. The pastry chefs are busy with their pastry production for the restaurants, as well as croissants for Caffe Trieste. The pastry kitchen is loved by all who pass through it, because there’s always something fun to taste.

Often it’s on to Sea Salt for a meeting with our Dining Room Manager, Soterios; our chef, the devoted and diligent Anthony Paone or our landlord and friend, Hal Brandel. It’s always cheerful at Sea Salt; I think it’s the light that fills the space and the garden. Since we added the adjacent room, Soterios and Anthony seem to be living at Sea Salt. The Sea Salt team got us to our third star in the Chronicle. Our staff is glowing and we are really proud of them!

Meetings are always interrupted by emergency phone calls. So, I cut it short and go off to Fonda, where there’s a trash pick up issue or one of the fryers is down and needs our man, Tod, to the rescue. August Churchill, our beloved Fonda chef, will be there fretting over everything. Michael Hutchings, will be checking in about dining room and bar issues with Matt, our bar manager. We are also proud of the Fonda staff for making the top 100 in the Chronicle!

Next there’s a call from Kuby at Lalime’s; about an issue with the computer. Before calling the emergency repair person, we try the magic ‘fix it’ recipe for all computer problems; reboot the computer. Presto, it works. Our dedicated Lalime’s chef, Steve Jaramillo lets me know the sample chickens from Soul Food Farms have arrived and we need wines to pair with the special dinners. Steve just returned from the farmers market with some goodies. Ari Wagner, our Dining Room Manager, reminds us one of our servers, Alex is moving Back East, we will miss her. Any good resumes from the other managers?

As the day goes on, I taste the new batch of T-Rex smoked baby back ribs, they have a little bit more smoke on them. Max, Jimmy Bean’s manager, calls. The big glass pane is broken, because someone decided that throwing a golf ball at the window while driving by was fun. Oh! And by the way, the ice machine is down. It’s changing of the guards at Jimmy Bean’s, the morning crew headed by our longtime chef, Moises Curiel, is leaving and Ken Okino and the crew are coming on.

By now it’s about 5:30 in the evening the T-Rexers are in the latter part of their Happy Hour. I need to go in and just remind them of a few things, pick up a little bit. I know everyone is tired, but let’s keep it going, we have another six hours. It’s not always this much fun, but if, once in a while, I can end up at Lalime’s with Stacy, bartender extraordinaire, making me a Fernet (on the rocks with muddled orange), the best in the Bay Area, then it’s all worth it.

After twenty-three years, Cindy & I thank you all for being our patrons and friends.

Haig Krikorian

Lalime’s for March and April 2008

London: Then and Now

Thirty years ago I spent time in London as an exchange student. I recently returned for a cousin’s wedding. London had changed, but so had I. Rereading my journal from that student teaching semester, I found it was jam packed. Any time off and our American student group would travel to the farthest corner a Brit-rail pass and a sense of adventure could take us (to Inverness to find the Loch Ness monster! or to Land’s End in Cornwall to look back over the Atlantic). If we had a three-day weekend, it was off by boat to Amsterdam or Paris.

During our stay in London we did have to do our practice teaching, create unending lesson plans and take other courses of study. Somehow we still fit in at least two performances or plays or shows a week. (It was helpful that as poor students, the school offered us student priced tickets). As a young student from rural Maine on a first visit to London, there was nothing like going to hear the 1812 Overture at Albert Hall with the cannons to boot (even if I was up in the 15^th balcony)! We tried to take in every museum and see all the historical buildings and monuments. I learned my way around London fearlessly by bus, by Underground and by train. For meals, the worst was at a Wimpie’s, a good meal was Indian food but the best meals were at friends’ homes ( traditional meals such as Christmas pudding with surprise coins).

Of course, in more than thirty years, London had greatly changed. And so had I, no longer maneuvering my way around fearlessly. Now I had to rely heavily on guide books & maps. How could I have forgotten it all? We only had a day and a half because we had come for the wedding. A new convenient item was the speed train from Heathrow to Paddington station. After spending a mere 36 hours trying to rediscover the London of my previous stay, we barely made our connection from Waterloo to Woking to get to the wedding due to getting lost, not connecting and long lines.

The wedding was splendid, a truly English country wedding held in a small, stone, 15^th century church. The reception was held in a 16^th century hunting lodge. All the female guests wore hats (I was so obviously un-English) and everyone was extremely polite. The bride and groom had invited their whole rugby team of friends and we noisily danced into the wee hours of the night to great Irish music until the non-wedding guests of the lodge complained of our ruckus. The highlights of our family weddings are to spend time with all the relatives we never get to see often enough as everyone lives so far away and on many different continents. All in all it was a great wedding.

What of our 36 hours? Well, of course, we found a couple of really good restaurants, as our existence revolves around serious eating. Walking along Edgewater Road, it had all become Middle Eastern. Haig was searching for a specific Lebanese restaurant, therefore we walked and walked, which is the best way to see everything. We did find the specific "Maroush" restaurant he had in mind and had comfort food of mezza and more.

My favorite meal was at an unusual restaurant called St. John’s. It’s really difficult to get a table there so we had planned ahead and booked through Open Table. However when we got there, they didn’t have our reservation, (panic on our part)! First rule of a good restaurant they solved the problem and were so nice about it. We had booked it for the next day, but they fit us in that night.

The restaurant is a former smokehouse, situated around the corner from London's Smithfield Market. The building had fallen into serious disrepair since ham and bacon smoking ceased in 1967. Now this odd -angled space of a restaurant feels open, clean, spacious and fun with it’s whitewalls and all the servers in white chef coats. Nothing seems very fancy but the food is taken very seriously. There are cuts of meat and unusual parts of the pig, as well as unusual parts of other animals, all over the menu. We had bone marrow, sprats (a smoked fish) and a puffball mushroom for appetizers. For entrée, Haig chose venison offal and I the Roast Middleweight (pork shoulder). Desserts chosen, which we had no room for, were poached quince and treacle pudding. Good wine and food, good feelings, pleasant and helpful staff, what a fun evening. Thank you, St. John’s.Back at home I look for odd pieces of meats (I’ll find lots of regular meat at T-Rex). Haig and I went to the end of the Whole Hog Dinners at Oliveto’s and we had ears and trotters (and even brain). I always love our Chef Steve Jaramillo’s sweetbreads at Lalime’s. Recently Anthony Paone, chef at our sister restaurant, Sea Salt, tried lamb sweetbreads, duck tongues and lamb tongue. The latter was just a trial. I’m not sure what percentage of people are ready for too many odd meat parts. So we’ll go back to London again with more than 36 hours to find lost places (like the school in which I taught). It will be my husband, Haig’s, turn to write about it. While I was doing my teacher training back then (1975) Haig was also living across town, going to school and working in his food & beverage job. We never knew each other then and never met until the Bay Area brought us together. So we’ll be going back. And we’ll surely go to St. John’s again, too.

-Cindy Lalime Krikorian

January and February, 2008

This is the last bit of our trip to Italy. A short trip, but in short trips you can find great things. First I have to say that just being able to travel is special and should not ever be taken for granted.

The last day –An Island

After viewing it from many corners of the Sorrentine peninsula, we did get to Capri, barely, a quick day trip. It was the usual unprepared decision. Haig, who doesn’t do boats well, decided he would try the ferry. Always the planner, I wildly sought out my guidebooks to try to find an interesting restaurant that would peak everyone’s interest. Something with good food, far enough from the crowds but not too far from the ferry to get back in time (always the worry with island day tripping).

We chose a family run restaurant, Gelsolmina la Migliara, that was on the top of Annacapri. You get dropped off by cab at the highest piazza and then have to call the restaurant car to get you and take you on a long upward road that fits one tiny vehicle. The food was wonderful. They made their own wines that weren’t bad. When we finished eating, the staff sent us to see something we shouldn’t miss. Here is where we realized we were REALLY on top of an island. Walking only about five minutes down an ordinary wooded path, we came to an opening that revealed an incredible, dizzying 2-3 thousand foot drop to the sea with boats so miniscule they were little dots. Our camera couldn’t even contain the depth of what we saw. So I have taken this moment and imbedded it in my mind….. the perfect beauty of that spot and that moment.

Since we were high up (as you can tell I’m not fond of heights) I tried not to close my eyes on the way down to the bottom to the ferry of Capri because the views were so lovely, even though meeting up with buses on the hairpin turns unsettled us all (someone has to back up often).

Finally, on the way to the airport the next day, we thought all magic moments were over. All secrets of the peninsula within our reach on this short trip had been disclosed. We were going down a road I swear we had gone down before and there was another stunning view of what we realized was both sides of the peninsula. We were as if in the saddle of a horse. Looking to the left below us was Sorrento and to the right we could see down the Amalfi coast. We were riding the cap of the peninsula. A tiny hairpin turn showed us a view that we couldn’t even stop long enough but to take a mental picture (or someone would crunch behind us). This could have been a great view-laden hike all the way to Positano (it is actually a real hike called "Pathway to the Gods") but, but, but… it was time to go home. Trips are never quite long enough, though you can keep those little jewel-like moments in the back of your mind for cold, gray days back home, back at work, when you need something a bit more glistening in your life.

Looking to the New Year

I always have to reflect upon the past year before looking to the new …..

In the last couple of years, a few Lalime friends & patrons passed away whom we will dearly miss; Herb McClosky, Nelson Polsby and Chester Zinn all intertwined UC Berkeley with Lalime’s.

At Herb’s memorial on campus I was amazed to find just how connected everyone we knew was to each other. (We have always been especially attached to the Political Science Dept. from the time of "Little Lalime’s" on Solano Ave). As people spoke about Herb’s contributions to his field and how he affected others, I could see how he brought many of the people I knew to UC Berkeley, including Nelson Polsby.

Nelson was one of the first to write up a food review of Lalime’s which is on the wall when you come in to the restaurant. He was not normally a food writer. As a UC professor and beyond, he had a huge impact in American political thinking. I would often hear him on the radio expressing his views on the American political scene.

Finally, there is Chester Zinn. Haig and I were invited to Mr. Zinn’s 100th birthday last march. Chester was Cal Alumni, president of ASUC in 1929 and an avid golfer. At his birthday celebration, his family invited the entire Cal Marching Band to play for him. It brought tears to my eyes. So to Chester Zinn our possibly oldest Lalime’s patron I am naming his favorite table, table 18, after him, the Zinn table.

— Cindy Lalime Krikorian

November and December, 2007

Tastes and Colors of the Restaurants

A little while ago, Haig and I were able to go to Southern Italy for seven days. To some people that's too short a time, but to us it was wonderful. Since we work constantly, to have a week off feels like a month. We headed to Naples via Frankfurt. As soon as we were in the German airport at the bar near our connecting flight on Air Dolomite, we found Italy. Fernet Branca served by Italian staff was our first drink. Even the security man who asked us where were we going, upon being told, proudly said, "I'm from Naples". I knew this was a good omen. On the flight were young Italian teens that sang boisterously the whole way and no one minded. When we touched down they all cheered and clapped. That was a second good sign. Besides how can anyone not love Southern Italy (every inch of Campania)?

Each day we proceeded to take in everything we possibly could. St. Agnello next to Sorrento was our first two nights, then two nights in Naples and three nights on a farm in Massa Lubrense. Each of the three areas in which we stayed held little surprises. I suppose that is what it is to travel with fun friends looking for something specific yet adventurous.

The very first day we headed down the coast to Positano, where our friends hadn't been. They were hooked. We had our best lunch of the week at the least likely place you'd think would be good…on the sand's edge at La Buca di Bacco. Here we started our appreciation of local wines, mostly Greco di tufo and Falanghina. Later on we had to stop at La Zagara for the best pastries on the coast (especially the mound with lemon filling). Nothing is quite like floating in the Mediterranean gazing up and seeing the old towers and craggy cliffs of the coastline, watching the busy boats go in and out of the little beachtown. One just has to survive the drive there on the twisty roads; I shut my eyes. Take me to Positano anytime…

Then it was on we went to Naples. Now it was "city time" with an appointment at La Chalupa in the Borgo Marinaro area to spend time with Eugenio, a Piazziolo (pizza maker). We spent several hours watching him make perfect Neapolitan pizzas, absolutely perfect, before we finally sat to eat with a new appreciation for his art. Wandering the streets of Naples was fun also. It's so easy to get completely lost, like being in Venice without the water. We did normal things like find the National Archeological Museum to see the stunning mosaics from Pompeii and Herculaneum Then the abnormal when I insisted we try to find a church that supposedly housed the bones of St. Gregory, an Armenian saint. We finally found the church after it had closed, then got lost again trying to get out of the circular streets. We took an early morning walk, found the funicular, and therefore moved more efficiently up and down from our hillside hotel to the sea level of the city. Then we went for a late night walk way past midnight (as we were still adjusting to the time zone), and fell upon a lively café world of six sidewalk restaurants alive with local people dining at 1:00 am (seemed normal, we surely ate normally).

The third leg was back to the country, a farm and bed and breakfast, called Le Tore. This was a working farm, an agriturismo that produced it's own wine, olive oil, jams, lemon products (limoncello) and produce to sell or use for the staff and visitors who came for dinner. We were given a special tour because we were so interested in how the olive trees were treated (organically) to keep pests away. Finally we got our questions answered on why there were always nets over the lemon trees on the Sorrentine peninsula (it controls the climate for harvest). This part of the trip revealed more little jewels of adventure. After a long hot hike down to a remote beach and a drive around the little towns, we rounded a corner to find a stunning view of Capri. Here we stopped at an almost empty; tourist-y looking place to eat and had an absolutely delicious plate of fried baby fish.

-Cindy

September and October 2007
Road Food

Kathy Hashimoto, who for many years was the tireless editor of the Lalime's flyer, once asked me if I'd been to any great restaurants lately and while all of us "in the trade" trade endless stories of the latest greatest hot new restaurants opening up in the Bay Area, it's often the tiny out of the way places one stumbles upon while traveling that, to me, remain the most memorable. The monumental fried chicken I had in Sweetwater, Texas, where everyone sat at community tables and the servers brought big bowls of food that were shared by all: "Hey, can you pass me that plate of cornbread, please?"; the red chile enchiladas at Doras, a tiny hole in the wall in southern New Mexico, oh, my god, only a plate of enchiladas I once had in Morelia were even in the same league; the man selling the grilled quail and roast potatoes out of a truck at the Orange, France, farmer's market (Where else but in France would one find oneself sitting at a train station with a grease-stained bag full of roast potatoes and quail?)

These are all meals that will remain forever mouthwateringly memorable. A little closer to home a place that pops to mind is up in the northern Sacramento Valley in the small town of Corning. It has one of the great Mexican restaurants I've ever been to outside of Mexico. La Plaza. It's one half grocery store, one half tiny restaurant. The menu is posted on the wall: chilaquiles and machaca for breakfast, sopes, tacos and carnitas for lunch. The tacos alone are worth a side trip if you're ever within 50 miles of the place. They pat out the tortillas to order, top them with chicken or carnitas, some salsa and shredded cabbage and put them on paper plates with a lime wedge. Amazing food. A bottle of Coke, some coins in the jukebox for some banda or musica romantica and you're back in Mexico, or, more accurately, you're home. Because no matter where you are, when you're digging into a plate of great food, you're home.

As far as La Plaza, you'd better check ahead if you're planning on going. I haven't been for a few years and that's the thing with these far flung road food discoveries: they're of a fleeting nature. The food is not quite the same one year or, more often than not, the place simply disappears completely. And now the food memory becomes that much more precious; the amazing place that no longer exists.

- Chef Steve Jaramillo

Lalime’s for July and August 2007

Family Reunion and 50^th Birthday:

I needed an excuse to avoid having a party thrown by my wife relatives and friends for my 50^th birthday. What better than go visit our son who lives in New York for my brithday coupled with my cousin’s daughter’s solo cello recital at Carnegie Hall. So off we went, my daughter, Cindy and I to New York. We had lists upon lists of recommended restaurants, shows and museums to go to but we did the logical thing; we didn’t plan anything. We just had our son Aram find us a fifth floor walk up vacation rental for a week and had one restaurant reservation.

Worried that we may never go to New York City again, we embarked on a restaurant hopping vacation, trying to cove all the places we wanted to go to that we had read about in the Zagat guide or that had been recommended by our New York born chef from T-Rex, Anthony. Here’s a list of the restaurants: an elegant lunch at Bouley the first day set us up for our one week food binge. The neighborhood pizzeria Zoe for dinner that night mixed in with a few stops at our local Irish pub , Fanelli’s on Prince and Mercer (they put up with our requests of Fernet Branca). We ate lunch at the Aquagrill the next day with our son when he took a break from work to join us. Then we did a four-hour walk and ended back at the apartment just in time to freshen up and head out for dinner at Babbo’s (110 Waverly place between MacDougal and 6^th Ave.) Babbo’s happens to be one of my favorites in NYC and I had requested that we all have dinner together. My son had made a reservation for us two months ahead and the only thing they had was at 10:30 p.m. (we actually ended up getting in at 9:30). That was one of our all-out splurging dinners. The meal, service and wine were great as usual. We did manage to walk back to our apartment then go to some clubs where we met some of Anthony’s friends. The meat packing district is where the club scene was. On Friday night all the places were packed at 1 a.m. It took Cindy and I about 10 seconds to realize we were at least about 25 years older then most of the patrons, so off to bed we went.

Saturday was the day of the recital; we woke up late and walked up to the Shake Shack for a burger and shake. If you ever are in NYC you have to go the Shack, it’s in Madison Square park, you will stand in line for about 45 minutes for your burger, but it’s an experience that’s worth the wait. We did quite a bit of walking that afternoon and we ended up at Carnegie Hall for Ani’s cello recital, which was incredible. After schmoozing with the relatives for a while, we then headed back to Soho for a midnight Kaiseki dinner at Omen on Thompson Street. The following day was relative-visiting day in New Jersey, which ended up with great Armenian food. The following three days were quite similar eating sessions- lunch at Hampton chutney’s, great fun; lunch at Fatty Crab (Malaysian food); lunch at Spotted Pig (English gastropub food). The best was dinner at Craft on Monday; it’s a very special place, if you get a chance you should try it out, it’s excellent.

All in all we ate up New York all because of becoming 50.

Two V.I.P.s

I was going to write about my trip to New York, but I think I'll postpone that for another time. Instead, I'm going to talk about some of the behind-the-scenes things that happen in the restaurant business, in this case, ours.

O.K. so it all sounds fine and dandy…until:

The lightbulb burns out (so change it already!)—but what if it’s at T-Rex and it’s 25 feet above your head? What if the convection oven goes out in the middle of a busy Sunday breakfast shift at Jimmy Bean's or the ice machine goes down at Fonda on Friday and we’re expecting another 300 guests to show up?! The bathrooms start backing up one after the other. On and on and on, sinks leaking, the smoker at T-Rex has a problem with its computer program or the log burner almost catches on fire, the juicer that makes 20 to 30 gallons of juice suddenly starts eating the lemons and limes…

Who do you think comes to the rescue? Moi? No way, I can’t even change a lightbulb. The man who is known as the all-knowing, the guy who shows up when it’s pouring rain and freezing cold when the heater stops working, who has to go up a slippery ladder to the roof, is Tod. Having an all-knowing is so important in our line of work that our managers panic if there is mention of Tod going on vacation; maybe we’re all too spoiled.

There's more! How do the plants in front of Jimmy Bean's stay alive? Who takes care of the chipped walls in all the restaurants, makes sure that the cushions are always clean, the chairs are reupholstered, the concrete floors are power-washed, the wooden floors are maintained? The organizer of all the face-lifts and fix-its is my sister-in-law, Leslie. Leslie has gotten so much into her work that my brother doesn’t talk to me anymore; his wife spends more time in Berkeley than at home in Lafayette.

It really is amazing to have two people who can take care of so many of our projects--sometimes being coordinators, but most of the time doing it themselves.

Thank You, Tod, for all your relentless hours of nonstop work.
Thank You, Leslie, for putting up with the likes of me.

And NO! You guys out there can’t call them to fix your refrigerators or reupholster your chairs…

--Haig Krikorian

CRUISING!

Cindy and I went on our first cruise ever this January. The trip was planned by a group of our friends and us, about a year and a half ago, after many many dinners together where we were weighing the pros and cons of a cruise versus all of us renting a house somewhere in Mexico and spending a week doing nothing (what a concept!). Needless to say, the decision was made that we would, for once at least, try out the cruise.

This of course was no ordinary cruise. It was the 10^th anniversary of the Armenian Heritage Cruise where a gazillion Armenians get together and go dancing on a ship. Which is exactly what happened: there was Armenian music every night and we all danced till all hours of the night.

Okay, hold on a minute, let’s backtrack here. A cruise with 2,500, give or take 200, Armenians…there’s got to be a dozen jokes related to that alone. How many Armenians does it take to drive the captain of a cruise ship crazy? Answer: Only one (but 2500?!).

We started off in Fort Lauderdale, which is an incredibly fun place to be if you’re starting to feel old (or at least older) and would like to feel like a teenager again. This is the retired people’s colony, not just the people who live there but also the folks in the hotels who arrive a few days ahead of their cruises (Fort Lauderdale is a hub for cruise lines, and the hotels are filled with cruisers).

The other thing that’s really great is that you will feel so skinny that you will cancel any diet you were on after spending a few minutes in the lobby of the hotel with the cruisers.

At this point the fun starts. We did our day of driving around West Palm Beach, Boca Raton and of course all the men wanted to go to the South Beach area of Miami (let me warn you guys, none of these places look like they do in the movies), and after a long day and night we retired to our hotel rooms in anticipation of the next day’s events.

Cruise ship morning: Panic! Do we have enough room in our mini van to shuttle three-quarters of the Armenian folks who hadn’t really read their brochures on how to get from the hotel to the ship? Were there enough of us English-speaking folks to do the translating for them at customs? NO worries, our friend Sako (Super Sako), who had done this many times before had it all under control. All he had to do was wake up at 3 in the morning and pick up last-minute airport arrivers and drop them at the hotel’s lobby, then take a group over to the docks, and then back to the airport, and so on and so forth…Sako, you’re a saint!

So after very few mishaps and managing to smuggle more scotch and vodka than we could ever drink in a year, we were all on board and settled in our suites (or rooms, and some others in closets…).

The CRUISE!

The Patriots were playing the Colts in the AFC championship game that Sunday, and I was having a great time watching the game on this colossal screen, which was outdoors in front of the heated swimming pool. I was able to watch about 20 minutes of the game with no sound until the screen sailed away; it was on the other cruise ship unfortunately. Our cruise ship was Italian, the Costa Magica. Well I guess if the World Cup soccer games were on they would have televised that, but no NFL games on our ship. What a great way to start the cruise—my only request for this vacation and it was sailing away from me…

Finally it was our ship’s turn to sail. Everyone cheered—I’m not yet sure why—but off we went into the sunset! Ah ha! Now, the pièce de résistance: it was time to go to our cabin, get dressed for the most advertised thing about cruises: DINNER (or food in general), midnight buffets, all out seafod displays, Baked Alaska (flambéed with spirito), all of those great things you’ve heard about cruising.

Wow! The term “all you can eat” definitely applies. But how does one go from there to describe the CUISINE? Yes, I admit I am a very picky snob when it comes to food and wine, but this was another category. Let’s put it this way: I admire the chefs and cooks and servers (especially the servers), for being able to handle, feed and serve all us people, especially 2500 Armenians, without killing anyone.

My only comment about the food would be, I would personally like to thank the Costa Cruise Lines for helping me lose weight on this cruise!

Now, on the other hand, if you want to spend quality time with your friends, especially my friends, five of us playing poker in our cabin, and I/we all pretending (except, of course, Super Sako) that my wife Cindy did not mind us being in the room while we were playing poker, then the cruise for me was GREAT. Five of my best buddies together non-stop for seven days. I loved it.

So in my eyes, this cruise was a great success.

—Haig Krikorian

P.S.  I forgot, we did make stops at an assortment of islands, but to me that just took away from quality poker time…

New Year’s Greetings

To start the year, Haig and I want to thank our amazing staff in our restaurant group who have worked so diligently, with many long hours, to make it all flow as smoothly as possible. 2006 was quite a year of growth. An infinite thank you!

The Mother Ship: Lalime’s

Since Lalime’s has been in business since June 1985, I was thinking about who has been a working part for as long as Haig & I. Who are our oldest employees? A few people are in the "more than ten years" group. Elias Gonzalez, cooking in the kitchen, has been tried, true and very dedicated since 1991, and we have hired his son to work in the dining room at Fonda. Michael Hutchings is next, also from 1991; he is the only one who has worked at all five of our restaurants. Michael is beloved by thousands of patrons as "maestro of the dining room world and master of his craft." He can be found mostly at Fonda but is still in charge of the Lalime’s dining room. From Jimmy Bean’s but also having his start in Lalime’s kitchen and our past catering business is Chef Moises Curiel, with us since 1993. Then, not finding him often since he’s been in law school, is Aaron Dritz, who has worked with us since 1993 as a server, wine aficionado and maitre d’. And there is Oliver Mork (1995), who grew up with us from his teenage years and is now a head server and working on a degree from Cal.

One person has been a part of Lalime’s since its inception. If she hasn’t been at Lalime’s all the time, it’s because she was taking care of our children while we worked. This, of course, is Haig’s mom, Nevart. Her official hire date in my payroll ledger is 1989. Our grown children no longer live at home, so she is semi-retired now, but her duties include: checking in the morning deliveries, peeling garlic, snapping beans, folding napkins and general watching over of things until the morning/midday crews arrive. Her path to Lalime’s is on foot from our house, near San Pablo Avenue, up Gilman Street. She no longer drives, which she will remorsefully tell you. Her other octogenarian friends do not live in places as accessible by foot. But from where we live, she can easily go to T-Rex or Jimmy Bean’s for meals or to Tokyo Fish or other fun shops.

Urban access is a topic that has been discussed for as long as I have known Nevart (1977). Often she has told me stories of growing up in the outskirts of Jerusalem on the road to Bethlehem not near anything. Although their family was middle class, her father did not have a car, so bus was the mode of transportation (her father, Hovhaness Kalaidjian, was a well-known bulghur and lentil merchant in Jerusalem’s Armenian quarter). For ten years she lived in Baghdad, where she had a driver, as was normal for the wife of an engineer busy building the House of Parliament. After an episode during a long trip from Baghdad to Beirut (to take her children on their Mediterranean summer holiday) in which her driver did not plan well and they ran out of gas in the middle of the desert, she became inspired to learn to drive. When she finally did, it was well into her marriage and the family lived outside Beirut. She drove into Beirut daily to take her children to Armenian school and do the shopping.

She has come full circle now to a place where she again doesn’t drive. She has to rely on other forms of transportation, preferably her own feet (as her doctor encourages for exercise). At least now, Nevart Kalaidjian Krikorian—the oldest employee of Lalime’s, one who has lived many places all over the Middle East, sometimes driving and sometimes not—is near many things and you will find her six mornings a week, come rain or shine, at Lalime’s.

—Cindy Lalime Krikorian

November and December, 2006

Lalime’s for November and December 2006

A Few Hours in New York City

I had a connecting flight in New York en route to the Bay Area. We arrived a few hours late into JFK Airport and missed our flight to San Francisco. The airlines folks were very accommodating, they tried very hard to put us on a later flight, but by now it was about 8:30 p.m. and the only flight they could book us on was for the next day. The group I was with was very upset and depressed that they couldn’t make it home that night, but we all accepted the circumstances and headed to the Airport Hilton the airlines had put us up at.

Well truth be told, the entire time I was rooting for the overnight stay, and when we were told the outcome, I was celebrating quietly—reason being, our son lives in Brooklyn and this would be an opportunity for me to visit him. So started my eight hours in New York. I called my son and left a message on his cell phone, threw my luggage into my room, asked if anyone wanted to join me from the group, then I got into a cab and headed into Manhattan, alone, wow, what a treat. I instructed the cab driver to take me straight to Babbo’s, Mario Batali’s infamous Italian restaurant in Washington Square and one of my all-time favorite restaurants anywhere. On the way over, my son called and said he was in New Jersey visiting my cousin, and was headed over to Manhattan. I told him to meet me at Babbo’s.

I got to the restaurant by about 9:15 p.m. and asked the host if I could have a bar stool, and he very nicely said it would be about 30 to 45 minutes. I said fine and could I look at the wine list? I ordered a bottle of 2003 Vintage Tunina, knowing my son would help me drink it and I didn’t have to drive. As soon as I did that, the host came over and said my seat was ready (good wine, one bar stool in less then five minutes!). Then the fun began. Where do you start with Babbo’s menu—there are so many great and exciting selections, I could have ordered pretty much the entire menu. But since I only had 8 hours, I decided to shrink down the selection.

So I started with the Warm Lamb’s Tongue Vinaigrette with Chanterelles and a 3-Minute Egg ($12).

Then: Warm Tripe "alla Parmigiana" ($11).

Followed by: Spaghetti with Lobster (I don’t remember the exact wording, but this was a very simple and special dish, the combination worked perfectly).

By now I was friends with the bartender and the guy sitting next to me, and my son, Aram, and my cousin’s son, Alex, had arrived—they basically squeezed in next to and behind me—so we formed a small circle around one and a half bar stools! And guess what, they were hungry and thirsty! Perfect timing, because I didn’t know what I was going to do with the Guinea Hen I had ordered off the pre-set menu. With them there, we easily finished the Vintage Tunina and ordered some reds by the glass, of which Babbo’s has a great selection.

It was about midnight by now and they close at 11 p.m. on Sundays. So as not to feel any guiltier, we left Babbo’s and started walking around the neighborhood. How many places are there on this earth that you can walk around at midnight and go to cafes for dessert and some Fernet Branca and most everyone speaks English? We ended up at my son Aram’s apartment, around 2:30 a.m., where we did something I had never done before: we sat on the stairs of his building and watched the action on the street! Aram informed me that we were "stooping." Wow, I was STOOPING at 3 a.m. with my 24 (now 25)-year-old son in Brooklyn! What a concept. By 3:45, Aram had to go to bed (it should have been the other way around, no?), so I flagged a cab and headed to my hotel at the airport. We got there around 4:20 or so, I went up to my room, took a shower, and went back down to catch the shuttle back to the airport.

All I know from that point on is that I fell asleep about two minutes after getting into my seat and snored all the way to San Francisco (I pity the people sitting next to me, I’m sure they had a hard time sleeping). Thank you Aram for a great 8 hours. Thank you Babbo’s for a great meal. Thank you New York for being such a great late-night (early-morning) city. And thank you United for not having any seats on the flight.

—Haig Krikorian

September and October 2006
Five Days in Paris

Wendy and I had the opportunity to visit Paris this past summer, ostensibly to view the last stage of the Tour de France (in blissful ignorance before all the shame and allegations of doping, positive 'A' and 'B' samples reared their collective ugly heads) while enjoying Parisian food and culture.
I think it was the best time we've ever had in Europe. No traveling from city to city, no connections to make, no trains to catch. We arrived at our hotel on a Thursday afternoon and had the entire city to enjoy for the next five days. And what a city. Paris has to be one of the most beautiful cities in the world and this wasn't even springtime. The architecture, all the little shops and cafes and bistros, great museums; we barely scratched the surface. Some of the highlights included the Musée d'Orsay, which had an amazing collection of Pisarros and a room of Van Goghs that took your breath away upon entry. The Rodin Museum, which was like a garden oasis in the middle of a bustling city, and that one shop that had the greatest selection of Cuban cigars (well, come on, man cannot live by painting and sculpture alone).
The food was, of course, great and we actually ate more ethnic cuisine than French. Our hotel was in the 1st arron., which had a number of Japanese noodle shops. We ate at one that looked like it had been lifted out of the movie Tampopo, amazing noodles. One day we walked 3 miles to Noora, a Lebanese place that was equally great. Chez Omar had some of the finest couscous and tagines this side of Rabat (not that I've ever been, but Wendy has and she confirmed the delectability of Chez Omar), but my most memorable stop had to be Strohers in the 2nd, founded in 1730 by the former pastry chef of Louis XV. I've been a chocolate croissant man ever since I bit into my first one, and these left me speechless. The pastry was so tender, the texture so fine, the flavor of the butter so rich, that the plain croissants were nearly as good as the chocolate ones. The first morning I found the place, a 6-block walk in the morning when the city was particularly beautiful, I bought two plain and two chocolate croissants. They were still warm from the oven. I headed back to the hotel and believe I showed great restraint by making it all the way back with half of my purchase still in the bag. -Chef Steve Jaramillo

Tastes & Colors of the Restaurants
—Cindy Lalime Krikorian

I haven’t written in a while, as I have been busy fretting over too many restaurants. I do reflect daily on what I love and do not love about having five restaurants, but which one would I give up? Right now, NONE—I must be sick! So, a quick assessment of each, starting with the youngest (and most difficult):

T-Rex     1300 Tenth Street at Gilman, Berkeley  527-0099
The Difficulties: It’s so big that it’s difficult to control everything. I can hold all the other four restaurants in my grasp. Handling T-Rex is like holding sand in my palm: it slips away as hard as I try to keep it. We had an uncertain start in November with the smokers installed incorrectly, but in the last three months we’ve finally mastered most of our technical problems. Some dining tables were too small, the bar video and audio needed work, we stopped with the late late night—that belongs to Fonda. My daughter still complains, “Why isn’t there a TV in the ladies’ room if there’s one in the men’s?” “Ask your father…”
The Delights: The space is so beautiful thanks to Kava (architect) and Kathy (interior designer). I can sneak in in the early hours of the day and just sit upstairs to take in the smells, the light and the airiness of the space. We started a fine weekend brunch and even encourage dog owners to sit on the downstairs terrace—tied up of course (just the dog). My favorite dish is the brisket, the “Flintstone-sized” beef short ribs and the cauliflower side dish…and of course the weekend beignets. One of my favorite smells is of smoked BBQ! The beef jerky and corn bread are yummy. Chefs Anthony, Miles and crew never stop to breathe. To me, T-Rex is the color of rust-red earth, bones, yellow bamboo, smoke and baked beans.

Sea Salt      2512 San Pablo near Dwight Way, Berkeley  883-1720
It’s one year old! I am very proud of Anthony’s amazing seafood dishes, Donna’s risottos and pastas. Sea Salt has the nicest physical kitchen in the company (ask August at Fonda if he’s jealous with the smallest of the company’s kitchens). The back garden is finally being developed with the coming of warm weather. Ziya, one of our servers, just did a great makeover of our website. Our talents lie within and I am proud of this crew with Sam the Greek, Damiana and Benji at the dining room helm. The hardest thing is not enough seats at prime time, but it’s being worked on. Sea Salt is brick-solid, sunny-garden warm and blue-green-salt-fluidity colored.

Fonda           1501A Solano Avenue, Albany  559-9006
Five years old, it is always a happy, fun place with August’s delicious little plates of big flavors. Magnifico maitre d’ Michael Hutchings has been there full time+ lately, so his fans are pleased. When MH is absent, Ari’s smile has now been added. Eat/drink a little or a lot, you choose. The colors of Fonda are the warm yellow-gold of wooden floors and walls, red brick, red hot chile peppers, but also cool mojito-mint and lime–green; primary colors of happiness.

Jimmy Beans           1290 Sixth Street, Berkeley  527-3435
Now 11 years open, and situated across from Don’s Tires and Reliance Antiques. This summer it’s due for a touch up. Chef Moises with his brother and sons cook up their secret comfort food—that pesto and chipotle sour cream with your eggs in the morning! Ken or Israel at night offer great specials not available during the day. Rebecca’s pastries and chocolate cake tempt you in. The colors of Jimmy Beans are pancake and coffee brown, warm and comfortable.

Lalime's     1329 Gilman Street, Berkeley  527-9838
We are now 21 years in existence. Chef Steve Jaramillo brings back his seasonal favorites. I myself am most fond of the sweetbreads and his duck dishes. However all the fish entrees get me too. Although we have toned down the frequency of the pre-set wine theme dinners, they also continue to be my favorites. If I am not there I am really stuck at one of the other restaurants. At Lalime’s you can still eat light, or you can eat seriously, but always slowly. We were happy to be included in the Slow Food guidebook. As a green restaurant, I like to think of the color of Lalime’s as a crisp farmer’s produce green, but with a warm yellow homey feeling too.

********************
So where is my Lalime family now? Some of you ask…

I have an empty nest since my kids are now gone (my son is living in NY and my daughter is going to Cal and living near campus). I start every morning at Lalime’s because it’s my center. I collect fresh bagels from down the street at Bagel Boy and drop them at Jimmy Bean’s, then off to Fonda, leaving Sea Salt and T-Rex to Haig. My hosting schedule is often lunches at T-Rex or dinners at Lalime’s. The longest day can go from 6:30 a.m. for bagels to 11:30 p.m. at Lalime’s. If I’m still doing this in 10 years, just shoot me!

The good thing is that I do get a vacation—I’m heading to Maine to see all my sisters. Five of us will be there together (Suzette, sister #6, lives here in the area near me). My oldest sister, Andrea, and her wine merchant husband, Vahe (our original Lalime partners), have left Italy after 11 years and are settling in Maine. Vahe will, of course, still go back and forth to Italy so he can still send us wine. Musician Amy, sister #3, has bought a house in Damariscotta (summers only) as they live in Seoul, Korea. Farmer Jody, sister #5, has retained the family farm in Vassalboro and is trying to get organic standing with her market garden. Teacher Robin, sister #4, is driving up from Florida to spend a month with family in tow on motorcycles. So there are my crazy sisters. I will be eating lobster as many days as I can bear it; it is too early for blueberries.

—Cindy Lalime Krikorian

March and April, 2006

Notes from the Kitchen

Another year has gone by. I mark it by the New Year’s Eve dinners. It’s the one day of the year the entire kitchen crew is on hand. Once you get through a New Year’s Eve service the year is over, and at the end of one of those twelve-hour jobbers it really does feel like a full year has concluded. Nothing to do but open a bottle of champagne and think about next year.

And now another spring waits to be sprung. We’ve opened two restaurants in the last year and at Lalime’s alone the past fourteen months have seen many changes in the kitchen. Excepting, of course, Elias, Norma, Ernesto and myself included. No changes there. The Corp of Cooking seems to go on forever. Year after year. Ernesto Beltran and Norma Pastrana-Salado have held down their dish and prep station most masterfully for years now. This year will mark year eight for me, but that pales in comparison to Elias Gonzales, who clocks in his fourteenth season this summer. He’s the Lou Gehrig of line chefs. Or I guess it’s the Cal Ripkin nowadays. I think Elias has missed three days of work in the 400 weeks that I’ve been here.

We have a new sous chef: Taylor Quimby. I’m sure anyone who’s dined here more than twice has already met him. He’s a very friendly guy. And a great chef to boot. Taylor’s been here now well over a year and has been a pleasure to work with. Josh Bortman was hired as an extern a year ago and is now the weekend grill man, a formidable task. Naomi Okemoto-Davis was hired as an extern just two months ago and now mans the pantry station, a far harder job than the hot line boys imagine. Bryan Medina rounds out the crew; he’s new, too, and a great fit. He’s fluent with Elias and the dish crew and we’re excited to have him. What a great crew. Thank you, guys.

Norma is going to have a baby this spring. She still works as hard as ever but now needs to sit down now and again (I don’t know if you realized, but the kitchen crew never sits down once in an eight-hour shift). Well, let me tell you, it’s a pleasure working with such people, talented, hardworking, energetic and good natured. I hope it comes across to you, dear diners, in the food we serve you, when you care to spend an evening at Lalime’s.

—Steve Jaramillo, Chef

January and February, 2006

Thank You

Our 20th anniversary dinner & benefit for the land at the end of November was very moving and festive. We really want to thank everyone for supporting us. We had such a formidable group of people: some who attended had been coming to Lalime’s since 1985; others were new and connected to SAGE and Yolo Co. Sibella from SAGE and Paul from the Yolo County Land Trust kept the speeches short. It was so important to bring up the point that we have such beautiful organically grown vegetables available to us but must keep protecting the earth from which they come. Prime agricultural lands are being developed at such a fast pace in California that there must be some protection to keep land for agriculture that is reasonably close to urban areas (and in SAGE’s case in urban areas). So in 2006 please keep informed and keep supporting farming (especially those using sustainable methods). My wish for 2006 is not to take things for granted. Think and act locally.

So Many New Things

In 2006 we have our work cut out for us. Two new restaurants are a part of our group. Sea Salt opened in July and T-Rex BBQ opened in November (finally).

Did you know T-Rex was in the works before Fonda? It is most difficult to start from the ground up as opposed to taking over an existing restaurant. Haig managed without losing his sanity, but barely. I lost mine long ago, but continue to act normal. My mission in 2006 is to stop Haig from opening any more restaurants and perfect what we have…which always needs work. I appreciate the comments good and bad. All need to be under consideration...everyone always finds me somehow to discuss things.

I am at Lalime’s (twenty years old) the most and try to be at Jimmy Bean's (ten years old) because Haig likes the newer places. I have been helping our chef August at Fonda (four years old) to become a green business. It’s getting closer. We appreciate the help from the city of Albany, which has a vision and a plan to get many more businesses GREEN. Berkeley is also actively promoting green businesses. Our bank, Mechanics, in downtown Berkeley, just became green—which is easier than for a restaurant to be so (restaurants are one of the highest consumers of energy).

I recycle more than my staff can bear. If I had my way, we would use alternative energy and not depend on PG$E or petroleum products. I guess it’s something to look forward to this year: Solar panels atop Lalime’s roof?? Vegetable oil running our company van??? Stay tuned till the end of the year to see if I can get any of this done! Ask your bank in Albany or Berkeley if they have considered being green. Check with the cities of Berkeley and Albany about their green business programs. It isn’t that difficult.

—Yours, forever lecturing, Cindy Lalime-Krikorian

P.S. If I do get a vacation this year it will be to Korea to see my sister Amy or to Armenia to see my sister Andrea (yes, my ex-partner at Lalime’s after living eleven years in Italy is about to leave) or at least to my beloved state of Maine (to see my sister Jody the farmer).

November and December, 2005

How Do You Measure Twenty Years?

Lalime’s has existed now for twenty years. What marks the time for me foremost is that our daughter is one year and our son is four years older than the restaurant age. They are restaurant children. They grew up around the bustle and the cooking smells, as they played in the vegetable boxes in the back. Time passed; eventually they helped inside. They are all grown up; now we are hiring their peers from school and also children of our employees. We’ve hit a generational milestone.

Other things mark time. My youngest sister said her wedding vows (as have other friends) at the top of the dining room stairs. In the space of twenty years, many people have had their first dates, some people have broken off their commitments, and some have proposed marriage. Other people have hashed out scientific theories, scribbling on the table paper. People have held interviews while they were eating. Business meetings have occurred. Those who are gone have been commemorated in memorial dinners. Couples have had their first night out since having a new baby. Birthday, anniversary, Passover dinners have been celebrated. For the young, Bar/Bat Mitzvah and First Communion parties have been held. People have met up with old friends from long ago. Relatives have been dragged from the airport to our tables or rushed to a plane or the theatre after barely finishing dessert.

The restaurant air and space from top of the ceiling to the bottom of the chair legs and stove legs are filled with people’s thoughts, plots, memories, emotions and conversations. We changed the colors of the restaurant, painted over Joey’s rose-swirled ceiling to a quiet mustard color. We recarpeted the dining room floor several times. What happened? Something escaped: the sigh of a weary server, a little wish, the sweat of a busser, laughter, a prayer, a really bad joke, a swoon of how good a sauce could be.

All the people who have worked for us mark time. Some have gone on to other careers; some came to change their careers into the cooking world. Some have moved to open their own restaurants or begin food or other businesses. We have been mentored by inspirational people and have now guided the new generation towards a new direction. That’s what twenty years have wrought.

—Cynthia Lalime Krikorian

September and October, 2005

Post Office Mailing News from Lalime’s

Neither for the first time nor the last, we have lost part of our database for mailing. Embarrassingly enough, this means people who don’t want it anymore (yes, there are some) will get it. So please forgive us till we can clean this up. As we have reached 20 business years of age, many of you have come along with us all these years. My husband, Haig, who hates email list duty‚ is ready to chuck it all and just offer the Internet access, but I fight him for the old ways. Soon though we will send out a mailing that asks "Do you want to stay on this list or have us email it to you or would you rather just access the Internet address?" We have (or did have) about 6,000 addresses. But it is snail mail‚ as they call it. So if you asked to come off the list or asked to come on, hopefully from word of mouth or Internet access you will see this note. Mailing list nightmares!

—Cindy Lalime Krikorian

Travel News: The Lalimes & Krikorians abroad

For people who like to armchair travel with us, we got to an incredible wedding in France, that of our niece, Vanessa, marrying a Portuguese-French man. Since we can barely leave the restaurants, for us it was a whirlwind affair of barely a week. Of special mention is that the Mayor of Grenoble married them at City Hall—and he doesn’t marry everybody! The mayor proclaimed that he had American relatives as well and that the City of Grenoble has a sister city in Armenia. The best story was that the wedding couple did get a write-up in the local papers as lovebirds who met playing soccer on the field behind city hall. (Vanessa, at the time, was an exchange student from UCSD.)

The Wedding Of course I have to talk about the food at the wedding because we’ve catered many a wedding in our day. Both wedding banquets (two nights) had many small tastes of things, with the cutest tiny dishes that Haig would not let me purchase and carry back to the U.S. ("We are not doing catering anymore," he reminded me.) If you get to the Dauphiné countryside near Grenoble and want to stay at a country inn, check out Auberge Malatras in Tullins. The chef at the Malatras restaurant created a wonderful pre-wedding dinner. Just so you know, French wedding parties (now our second) go on till 6:00 a.m., serious partying. The chef was there till 2:00 a.m.

Paris We had only a couple of days in Paris to check out new restaurants. One problem was food hunting past 10:00 p.m. So our best late-night restaurant was (after being turned away form Willy’s Wine Bar, same vicinity) Le Grand Colbert (2-4 Rue Vivienne 2^nd arr.). Since Sea Salt, our new fish restaurant, has opened we are seafood researching, so Haig and our daughter, Laney, ordered the grand seafood platter and got wonderful treats of whelk and periwinkles in addition to the usual fare of oysters, clams, shrimp, crab, etc. Our favorite meal was at Benoit (20, Rue St. Martin, 4^th arr.) for lunch. When we told the staff we were restaurateurs, they gave us a tour of their place. Who else would get excited about the basement kitchens of other restaurants or the efficiency of small spaces?

—Cindy Lalime Krikorian

My Trip to Spain, Part II

Part I (May/June 2005) covered Madrid and San Sebastian. Now here’s Part II.

Logroño It was so very cold in the train station at Miranda de Ebro. Bone chilling cold. It was the quintessential European train station with the cops shooting the breeze and drinking cups of espresso, the TV on up there high on the wall, one gentleman manning the whole bar, somebody playing a noisy video game. We were changing trains from San Sebastian to Logroño, heading deep into the heart of Rioja.

In Logroño life slowed down. One might think it a city without charm on first impression but by the third morning all was right and Logroño was as peaceful and pleasant as could be. From the hotel window you could see the twin steeples of the town’s main church. Storks had built massive nests at the top and they circled about the towers gracefully in the afternoon, giant birds landing on tiny spires; there was something hypnotic watching them. The town was the same, ultimately lulling you into peaceful repast, everything a person might want within a few blocks: a wine shop, a cigar store, beautiful walks along the river, a lively tapas bars, fine restaurants. It was one of those dreamy magical towns.

Barcelona Barcelona was something else entirely. Compared to Logroño it was practically screaming when you first hit the bustling streets that teemed with tourists. There were great museums featuring Picasso and Miro, a beautiful promenade by the waters of the Mediterranean. Yeah, but what about the food? Well, the food was amazing in both its quality and its breadth, from the mom-and-pop fish restaurant (Can Ros is the name) that had been in business (and had yet to change the menu, thank god) for 55 years, to an ancient place famed for its rotisserie chicken, to a modern tapas bar (Comerc 24) headed by a former chef from El Bulli. The night we ate at Commerce 24 we had an eight-course tapas tasting menu and then headed down the street two blocks to Sucre Espice, a restaurant famed for its six-course dessert tasting menu. Yes, that was a lot of food. Just remembering again the visit to Spain makes me wonder, When’s the next flight back?

—Steve Jaramillo

July and August, 2005

salt of the sea…sal…salé…salz
SEA SALT
sel de mer…demers

One day Haig casually mentioned, "How about doing a seafood restaurant?" Of course I ignored him, not knowing it was a loaded question. As you all know we are in the throes of building a BBQ restaurant (T-Rex) slated to open this summer. This has been discussed and planned for four or five years now, even before we opened Fonda Solana on Solano Avenue.
ANOTHER RESTAURANT: I thought he was joking. Another restaurant? So I was the last to know. Our daughter, studying abroad, e-mailed her dad: "If you are planning to do this, don't tell Mom till opening night-she'll never agree." Yet his plan worked. He had fallen upon a great space on San Pablo Avenue near Cafe Trieste. He secretly involved our staff, told them to reveal nothing to me…could this work if they could see it too? I did find out before we opened-barely. He had to eventually get me to agree to this multiple restaurant madness.
THE SPACE: If you walk into a space that you immediately like, how can you not be seduced by it? It's an old brick building that extends back to a lovely garden and has the biggest kitchen of any of our places. As you enter, the inner space opens up with the skylights. Light from the back doors and windows draw you away from the street noise and bustle into the quiet of the garden. And this on San Pablo Avenue??? You just can't tell looking at the front what's inside or behind. A little gem, a treasure lies there.
THE GARDEN: Basically it was the south brick wall, the huge kitchen and the peaceful garden that got me. Also Anthony Paone, our T-Rex chef, with Ben Baehrend from Lalime's promised to do delicious food. Then Kathy Farley, our good friend of art décor, diligently worked to create a seaworthy look (actually if it weren't for Kathy's huge effort, this never could have happened).
THE NEIGHBORS: We're meeting our San Pablo Ave. neighbors. The Cafe Trieste folks are really great. This cafe is adding so much to the neighborhood. Besides coffee, wine and food, they are providing live music. Trieste is not the only restaurant-Vanni is around the corner on Dwight Way and Bacheeso is across the street. There are shops on both sides of us: Kiss My Ring, Dollybirds, Fiddlesticks, Juniper Tree, Good Vibrations, Sign-a-Rama, Turn of the Century, and Magnet (a new, beautiful clothing store). The Ecology Center is down the street. Omega Salvage is up the street. Two or three nurseries are within three blocks (I love gardens). So now there is SEA SALT, 2512 San Pablo Avenue (at Dwight Way), 510-883-1720.
My grandmother, Anna Demers Lalime, must be laughing up there in the heavens. Such crazy family are we. Just because someone mentioned to Haig, "Just go look at this space." Sel de mer.
-Cynthia Lalime Krikorian

P.S. We want to thank our landlords and now our friends, Hal and Walter and of course Phil and Larry, who actually introduced us to the space. Hal Brandel went all out to help us with getting Sea Salt up and running. Thank you, Hal.

The year 2005 marks a special year for us. We opened Lalime's on Solano Avenue in 1985-that makes twenty years of business. In 1995, we opened Jimmy Bean's on 6th and Gilman-that's ten years of business. Later this year we will be doing some celebratory events. Stay tuned.

May and June, 2005

My Trip to Spain, Part I

Spain was great. That’s all I can say. It’s one of those places that kind of grows on you and as the time passes the memory only increases in stature until you know that at some point you’ll simply have to return.

MADRID

Madrid was something else. Cold as hell in the first week of March when we were there. Spain was cold? everyone asks amazed. Yes, apparently Spain can be very cold. We even saw heavy snow fall in the mountains between Madrid and San Sebastian, tucked in our seats on an amazing train ride. Madrid was frosty cold, but the sky was clear and the restaurants were packed and warm and the Museo de Jamon was loaded to the rafters with hanging hindquarters of hams of varying pedigrees (Psst, look for the one with the black hoof, the man at the square had told me). A ración of cheese and some sliced Jabugo ham made the quintessential lunch.

Around the corner there was an ancient pastry shop we walked into just before the huge mid-day siesta when nearly everything screeches to a halt. The old man behind the counter had on a white coat and the delicate little goodies we bought he carefully wrapped up with paper and twine. It was from another time. Why, in Madrid they even had a famous shop that sold nothing but churros and chocolate. It’s by the Plaza del Sol, San Ginés Chocolateria. It’s been in business since 1894! Inside the walls were all spic and span white tile and the sharp looking young men behind the counter wore snappy bow ties and the hot chocolate was the best in all of Spain. And best of all, the shop was open from 6 p.m. to 7 a.m. You know the people take their food seriously when the hot chocolate shop is open at three in the morning.

SAN SEBASTIAN

One of my favorite memories of the entire trip has to be a Saturday night in San Sebastian. Wendy and I had eaten at the amazing Arzak Restaurant the night before and realized that, car rental-less we’d never make it to Mugaritz for our planned one-two Michelin three-star dining extravaganza. I didn’t have sufficient hundred Euro notes in my pocket for such things so we settled on hitting the old town for tapas and on a Saturday night that’s certainly no poor second choice. You hit a place, have a couple of bites and drink a couple of the tiny pours of Tinto Joven, $1.50 a glass. Then you walk a couple of doors down Fermín, make another stop, eat a couple of plates and drink a couple glasses of tinto (second pour’s always bigger) and by the time you dig into the second ración of mushrooms at the fourth place there’s a guy playing an accordion, the place is packed and perfectly noisy and a certain glow comes over you, from all the garlic and wine, I guess. You realize you’re in San Sebastian, the food is wonderful, you’re with the person you most want to be with and all is right in the world for at least a fleeting evening.

Next up: La Rioja and Barcelona

—Steve Jaramillo

March and April, 2005

Family Ties

Part 1: Merry Cream/Brylcreem

When I was a kid growing up in Beirut, my family would go the airport to pick up my dad from his business trips, or we’d go to the airport to pick up relatives visiting from other parts of the world. When I say "we" I truly mean that—we would go as a family, all of us who were still living at home, so it could be four or five of us. Sometimes we needed to take two cars to all fit.

As my brothers and sister got older and went off to college, my dad, mom and I would sometimes go to the airport just to watch the planes take off and land, even if there were no relatives or friends to pick up. My dad had a weakness for the ice cream that the only concession stand at the airport had; called "Merry Cream," it was one of those soft ice creams that swirled into a cone. He would always tease me and say, Let’s go to the airport, I need some Brylcreem (which he did use for the half dozen hairs left on his head).

That was about 35 years ago… So when my daughter, who just arrived in Lebanon’s Beirut airport, mentioned that not only had her contact come to pick her up but also her contact’s sister and mother, I was in tears, thinking, "Hey Laney, did you get any Brylcreem while you were there?"

Part 2: There’s always a home away from home...

My Aunt Shoghig and Uncle Boghos’s house was the happening place when I was growing up. If Mom couldn’t pick me up right after school, I would walk over to Auntie Shoghig’s house and hang out there for the afternoon. Well this wasn’t a very hard thing to accomplish—I definitely looked forward to the stay, because my Uncle Boghos always kidded with me and Aunt Shoghig had the best food "savory or sweet anywhere," so you more or less had to drag me out of that house by force.

Here in the States, my sister’s house played that role for my kids. They were always there refusing to come home! Uncle Barry spoiled them rotten and always had the candy that they couldn’t get at home and Auntie Haiganoush always had the best food.

We were very worried about our daughter’s stay in Beirut, until we received an e-mail from Houry, the mom that was with her daughters when they all picked up Laney from the airport, to assure us that Laney had arrived safely and that she had a home away from home in Beirut.

Laney’s been there since February 1st and pretty much every day that she is not on campus she seems to be at Houry’s house. When we spoke to her just the other day, I knew she was at Houry’s because of all the joyous laughter in the background, and when I asked Laney what she was doing the next day she said "We’re going to Houry’s mom’s house for the day, of course." Man, what a rough life.

Well, Houry, I think Laney has definitely found her home away from home. Thank you.

—Haig (aka Dad)

P.S. We wish peace and stability for the Lebanese people, they suffered enough through the civil war.

January and February, 2005

Christmas with Dad

I originally wrote this for the January/February 2001 Lalime’s flyer and since then we have had so much change in our lives, but the Christmas spirit continues. I’ve added the last paragraph to reflect the times.

—Haig Krikorian

As time moves on, do childhood memories fade? I was asked a few months ago by one of my sisters-in-law, Have you forgotten things about your dad? The truth is, never. Because as the years go by, things come up that remind me of him and things that he did…how special they were and what an important role he’s played in my life. Christmas is one of these periods; it’s not a day, it’s a season. My dad got into the holiday mode as early as possible. Every year we had a Christmas tree, never a fake one. Ornaments would appear out of nowhere. Dad would take his time decorating the tree. Did we help? Well, my sister and brothers were in and out of the room mostly being annoying, but he continued, all the way till the tinsel was on and the lights were lit. The Christmas presents came at midnight—we celebrated the present exchange on New Year’s Eve, not December 25^th. There was a great feast of Middle Eastern foods (which he had nothing to do with), and somehow Gaghant Baba (the Armenian Father Christmas) showed up, regardless of how old we were. Every Christmas had a different memory, at home or at the Salibians (my parent’s best friends)…these childhood memories are the most vivid. Wherever we were it was fun and the food was scrumptious. My father passed on in 1981, but the tradition of making Christmas festive continued, regardless of where we were.

My wife’s dad, Ron Lalime, had the same spirit. He always came up with unique presents, never the last-minute store-bought type but something from his vast collection of antiques and collectibles. Ron never used wrapping paper, always a T-shirt or a scarf, and the gifts themselves were memorable: pictures from the past, family heirlooms, etc. Ron was like my dad—he loved to have a great meal and there always was one, prepared usually by his Armenian sons-in-law (truly plural, since he had two) and later with some Asian flavors influenced by his Korean son-in-law. Ron was also one to make his house feel very festive, with candles in the windows, bowls of nuts on the tables, sleigh rides in the snow (now tell me, how many of you have gone on a sleigh ride? I have!). Ron passed on in 1999, but his tradition of a festive Christmas also remains with us.

As a dad myself, I was sad because for the first time in 19 years I had to trim the tree with my son away (he’s in Europe). We needed a tree to make the house feel festive. It was a bit more low key, but sitting in front of the fireplace with a glass of Scotch, thinking how my father would have loved to be nursing one with me, all I could think of were the many Christmases with my dad and Cindy’s dad. So to answer my sister-in-law, the memories might not be there on a day-to-day basis, but they will never fade away.

Not to end on a sad note, I couldn’t bear spending Christmas without my son, so we’re going to Europe to trim yet another tree together and have a reunion with my British Krikorian cousins in the Alps, along with my sister, Haiganoush, whose daughter is studying in Grenoble.

Happy Holidays and New Year to All! from Haig & Cindy Krikorian

Christmas 2004 update: Our son, Aram, and our daughter, Elaine, were home. And Vanessa, my sister’s daughter, met a man (David) in Grenoble while at the university there and is getting married to him this summer!

November and December, 2004

BBQ OD

In September I spent a week in Memphis, Austin and Kansas City to do some "research" (a barbecue-eating junket is how one chef friend of mine put it) for T-Rex, our future barbecue restaurant on Gilman Street, and while "How much barbecue can a person eat in six days anyway?" wasn’t exactly my mission I did find out the answer to that question. Apparently a lot.

I ate barbecue in twelve different restaurants in three different cities in six days and I think I could have hit fourteen maybe even sixteen places except for three factors: 1) I simply had to return to one place twice; 2) On my third night in Austin I reached smoked spare rib and brisket saturation and skipped dinner (though, in my defense, I did make a valiant effort at procuring a barbecue breakfast before the next morning’s flight to KC); 3) My oldest childhood friend who lives in Kansas City has been a vegetarian for fifteen years and regretted to inform me that two barbecue restaurants on the same day was pretty much his limit.

Now I know that feelings run high and barbecue is one of those things that you have to be careful discussing amongst friends and acquaintances (like religion and politics), but my favorite places on the whole trip were in the small towns of Lockhart, Luling and Taylor, Texas, where there are four of the greatest little holes in the walls at which I’ve ever had the privilege to dine—Black’s, Kreutz, Louis Mueller’s and Central Market.

The menus are all the same: beef brisket, pork spare ribs, sausages sold by the pound and served up on a piece of butcher paper. Cole slaw, potato salad and beans, soda and beer round out the options. That’s really all you need. My mouth waters as I picture again that pale pink butcher paper piled high with post-oak smoked pork spare ribs and brisket, most of it with a simple salt and black pepper rub. It’s all about time-honored tradition in these parts. Louis Mueller’s in Taylor has been open for over fifty years (the son is the second proprietor) and on a Wednesday at 11:00 a.m. it was Bobby Mueller himself taking my order. I was the only guy in the place, the quiet broken only by the sound of Bobby in the back splitting the post oak himself for the big old smoker. When I left I had a grand smile on my face and the sweet smell of smoke on my clothes.

—Steve Jaramillo.

September and October, 2004

Fly Fishing in the Yuba River with Ara and Vatché!

My friend Vatché has been after me for quite a while now to take him fly fishing, ever since he found out that my godsons’ dad and my very good friend David has a house on the Yuba River. David was generous enough to offer us his house though unfortunately he could not join us, but Vatché’s older brother, Ara, had already planned to come. So here’s what happened when three Armenian guys, of which only one knew anything about it, went fly fishing.

We started calling one another a few weeks in advance to confirm the dates, and as the day got closer the calls became more frequent and the discussions had mainly two topics: what food were we taking, and how much wine!

On the appointed day at 6:30 p.m., Vatché was punctual as usual; he had his gear all properly packed in neat stacks in the back of his new Toyota Four Runner. Ara had his "stuff" in a plastic grocery bag. I proceeded to load my backpack, a case of wine, two six packs of beer, food items (fruits, vegetables, meats, oil, vinegar, etc.)—Vatché of course had a very clean cooler in the back of the car ready to store my contributions. We took off for the river.

It was a pleasant ride, with Ara describing his very short SIX-WEEK vacation, in Paris, Tuscany, Venice and the Cote D’Azur and Vatché and I sympathizing with him as best we could!

We reached the river house at 9:30 and within a 10-minute period we had unloaded the car and laid out a spread on the table for dinner (mostly compliments of Ara and Vatché): Prosciutto di Parma, Bresaola, Basturma, Labné, Bermuda onions, cucumbers, heirloom tomatoes, very fresh and delicious focaccia, thin lavash bread, olives, and of course as always Stephen’s olive oil. This was an amazing meal, simple, ready in 3 minutes and unbelievably delicious. We stayed up till 3 a.m., watching the stars, drinking great wine and reminiscing.

At 7:30 the next morning, for some reason, after only 4 hours of shut eye, we were up and ready for the day! Ara of course had brought his espresso machine, so we had espresso and a bite of toast and off to the river we went. We reached our destination, a spot where we usually go swimming, and Vatché handed Ara and me our own fishing poles, which he had meticulously prepared with a fly, and said, "All right, go ahead!" Hmm…go ahead. I have watched A River Runs Through It, does that count? Well, with the first cast of the day I snapped the line of my borrowed fishing pole, so I proceeded to swim instead of fish, which for some reason made all the fish disappear. With that, Ara and Vatché dropped their poles and jumped in. That was it for the morning fishing!

We proceeded to head up to the house, where I prepared lunch, which was a simple meal of sauteéd pheasant and Tempier rosé. NAP time for a few hours, then down to the river again for 20 minutes of swimming on my part, where I went down the rapids, and about 10 casts by Vatché; we never found out what Ara did. Then we headed back home before it got too dark and relaxed for a while, then started preparing dinner: fresh spaghetti with Heirloom tomatoes, mint and parmesan, accompanied by Armenian sausages (soujoukh). Some red wine and out to watch the stars again.

We slept in the next morning till about 10 a.m., drank espresso and decided that since the previous morning’s fishing had not been successful we would skip the morning session and go swimming instead. We did that for a few hours, then decided it was time to go home and start preparing lunch. This was a fun one, one of my favorite dishes that my mom makes: red lentil koufté and pan-roasted quails, plus a few more glasses of Bandol rosé—and yes, you guessed it, we had to take a nap. When we woke up, it was almost 6 p.m., so we rushed down to the river and fished. I caught one and released it; Vatché caught and released a bunch; Ara…

We could barely get back home, we were so tired. About 10 minutes after we walked in the house, we all fell asleep.

Next morning, we had a great breakfast in Nevada City and off to the Bay Area we went.

—Haig Krikorian

Note: If you are in need of any fly fishing tips, don’t call me.

Mark your calendars! Our sister restaurant, Jimmy Bean’s, will begin serving dinner on Tuesday, September 14! You can call (510) 528-3435 for more info

July and August, 2004

What is July and August?

To me, it’s the only time I can get with all of my sisters (six of us). It’s our rendezvous time in Maine: Robin from Florida, Amy from New York, Andrea from Italy, Suzette and I from the S.F. Bay Area. The best thing is that my sister Jody (the world traveling one) bought back my grandparent’s farmhouse. I missed going last year, so this year is a must. Lots of memories are to be revived.

I have lived in California much longer than I lived in Maine, so why is the taste, the feel and the smell of Maine always so strong? The dominant smells of Maine are of the woods and the water. Through the years we’d search to rent places as our clan couldn’t all fit in one place. There was always the discussion of staying on a lake or on the ocean. My mom now lives on the ocean but the little town in which we were all raised is on quite a large lake, China Lake. It is not wild and huge like the Rangeley Lakes or Moosehead Lake in the deep Northern Woods, but it has all the lake amenities.

First off, I should say I’m a devotee of the film On Golden Pond. That actual lake (Great Lake) is part of a chain of lakes that I spent time on as a child. The movie encompasses all that is real about a Maine lake. The sound of the loons calling wakes you up in the morning or puts you to sleep at night. You hope you’ll get close enough to see their babies or just watch these beautiful, elusive birds. You could go to the store by boat, and the mailboat really existed in my youth. There is a cove like purgatory cove in which navigating your boat is unnerving, though I never caught a fish like Walter there. When I’m missing Maine, I pop in the movie but you can’t smell or taste Maine unless you go there. China Lake will offer some of these things as well as some unknown adventures.…

The ocean part of Maine gives you expansive blue horizons dotted with many islands or crashing waves that work their ways upon worn rocks in craggy inlets and bays (such a contrast from the California coast). I love both coasts for their differences for they are not alike at all to me.

Ah then, the tastes of Maine: lobster, mussels, clams and whatever fish of the day of course purchased fresh from the fishermen’s co-op. The other tastes and smells I’ve look forward to are the fresh produce from farm stands, fresh-picked berries from our woods (inclusive of being eaten by mosquitoes—let’s get real) and our homemade cornbread, blueberry pancakes and biscuits (which I never make when in California). I must say Maine food is plain and simple, but Haig and my brother-in-law Sung will find ways to bend it a little towards Korean or Armenian spices and I won’t mind at all. Bring it on!

—Cindy Lalime-Krikorian, July 2004 

May and June, 2004
Haig and Cindy in the Rhône Valley

Everyone has a favorite part of a trip. Mine was the drive from Moutier to Ampuis (from the Alps of France to just below Lyon). We were celebrating our 25th wedding anniversary while visiting my cousin Krikor, his wife, Anna, their daughter Sara and Sara's boyfriend, Paul (Sara: he's a great guy -- he's a keeper). We had a great time with the family skiing for a week in Meribel's Trois Vallées area. We even got the royal treatment from Krik and Anna: we stayed at their chalet, Genepi, where we enjoyed a huge breakfast, afternoon tea and formal dinner -- all the meals were fabulous. On the morning of our departure from Meribel, everyone was up to bid us farewell. Sara and Paul made us sandwiches for the road, which were a hit a few hours later. The ride to Moutier was gorgeous: the snow on the trees, that cold weather feeling, the light mist in the valley--everything I love about winter was in the air. We arrived at the car rental place and met an older, very efficient gentleman who spoke only French; he took one look at our ski equipment and decided we needed a larger car. I love French rental cars--they have fun gadgets, none of which we've seen in the States. Our car had a small, plastic credit-card-like key. After loading the car with our luggage and skis (which ran down the middle of the car all the way to the front seats), we took off to Ampuis, our first destination in the Northern Rhône valley.

* * *

In this part of our winter 2004 trip to France, we booked ourselves rather tightly, not wanting to miss a moment of adventure. It was a touchdown into the Rhône valley, a first visit to whet our appetite for more. With only four days to explore--three for the lands south of Lyon, saving one day for Lyon -- we headed down river. All of this was thanks to Daniel Madero of Kermit Lynch Wines, who helped us connect to five different wineries, one in the north, Ampuis, and the others in the southern Rhône: Gigondas, Châteauneuf-du-Pape (Bedarrides), Vacqueyras and Beaumes de Venise. The wineries were all connected to wines we have at Lalime's. Now was our time to see where they were created and to meet the people behind them. After many years of having special dinners from Southern France, we finally got to see the soil, to barrel taste and talk with the winemakers and to climb the tops of charming villages that were hanging off the sides of the Dentelle Mountains just to see expansive views of vineyards. An amazing discovery to us was that many of these lands had been producing wines from the time of the Romans (with some very thin and struggling years in between Roman domination of Europe and World War II). A Rhône dinner at Lalime's on June 15 will include many of the wines we tasted on this trip.

Haig Krikorian and Cindy Lalime Krikorian

March and April, 2004

HAIG & CINDY'S TEN DAYS IN PARIS

     We've been to Paris before, but this trip encompassed different things. As every visit to Paris is a new experience unless one lives there, we were drawn to this last minute trip because a good Armenian friend, Viken Tarpinian, was giving a rare concert and we had to be there. Haig's brother, Hratch and my sister-in-law, Leslie came with us. I'll call this trip “The Learning of Arrondissements Trip” or how to spatially place one self in Paris and move about.

Arrondisements are the different districts in Paris starting at one and spiraling around up to twenty starting in the city center near the Louvre and Les Halles. With our favorite guide book to Paris( Patricia Well's Foodlovers Guide to Paris ) and lists of restaurants from our friends and a newly acquired little red book of arrondissements we worked a whirlwind of time in order to not miss anything,,,maybe sleep…..So little time, so many restaurants to experience.

      Having an apartment, which we found through the internet, was ideal, in that we could invite people over or “cook in” rather than ‘eat out”and could pretend for ten days that we lived in Paris . We got our bread from the local boulangerie, wines from shops around the corner, cheese from our favorite fromagerie a couple of  arrrondissments away (Barthelemy in the 7 th arr.-worth the trip) and fulfilled my husbands need for MiddleEast cuisine by going to the “Al Dar' Lebanese Deli & Restaurant a few streets away.

We walked miles/kilometers, took the metro (still having not attempted the bus system), ate too much, witnessed a wonderful Armenian concert, consorted with the relatives and friends and generally had a unique time to be stashed away in the pockets of our memory forever.

    It wasn't an ordinary, anybody's trip to Paris as we had Haig's cousin there and our niece, Vanessa. (the latter is working on her PhD. in physics in French all due to inspiring teachers of Albany High School & the U.C.S.D. program abroad in Grenoble) and our special friend Viken the songster.  I'm not sure anyone would choose to have a trip like this so just take notes and find your own fun at some more civilized pace.

  Day   1

     The four of us arrived at seven a.m. , took a cab on this quiet Sunday to the 16 th arrondissement rue Gustav Courbet, and checked out our short term street while we await ed our contact for keys to the apartment. We roamed the neighborhood to locate the shops, unpacked, took a short nap, barely settled in, then called Vanessa to meet us for an afternoon Sunday dinner. After walking our neighborhood more, we chose a restaurant , Stella ,just down the street, a brasserie that had good fish dishes.

      I suppose we could have called it a day, but no …Vanessa was off to meet Mia, a friend from home. Heading on the metro to Place de Clichy to find a well-hidden music school, Calypsociation, where Mia's father, Andy Narell was teaching steel drums to a large group of very dedicated students … our first concert in Paris.

      After an hour or two, with our jet lag kicking in, we've started to fade, we thanked the Narells for great music and set off to walk home…the plan was to walk until tired , then take the metro, but while walking we, in our misdirection, stumbled upon Montmartre, had to climb up to Sacré Coeur for the view. Of course by then it's really time for a coffee/beer/beverage…sit down café. There's walking down and more walking, until someone needs a bathroom and nothing much is open in the darkness of a cold Sunday night. Finally we succumb to the metro and head to the stop for our ten-day home, Place de Victor Hugo. When we came up from the metro, being at least two blocks from home, still needing the bathroom, and now seven hours from our last meal, regardless that it was ten thirty p.m. or so, it was time to eat again. What might be open in our neighborhood at this hour? Couldn't we have just gone to bed?…no! our first night in Paris ? Our Lebanese- Armenian husbands found their favorite comfort food one block away, Al Dar Lebanese restaurant and Deli., open past midnight in which we had a fine mezze ….so to end our first day seventeen hours of non stop fun on our first day in Paris.

DAY 2    A rainy day-not so crazy

     Leslie & I awoke  to fresh croissants and coffee fetched by the guys, from around the corner stores.

Mondays are closure days for many of the shops, with one umbrella to the four of us, we set out under gray skies to walk along the Seine. As rain came down, we used the riverbank trees for cover until we were soaked through our coats. Then to our amazement, we bumped into a  statue of Gomidas( dakomita  ) an internationally famous Armenian composer and poet of old, just there after passing the seventh bridge of our walk! This is part of the Parisian visiting experience to bump into the unexpected…

     The Louvre became our next refuge. A warm museum is the perfect place in which to dry. First coffee-sit-down- time to rest the feet. Then we went to see Mona(doesn't everybody?) before choosing the Assyrian section. Two hours or so hunger kicks in again, we set of down river towards Ile St. Louis(the 4 th arr.). I'm assuring our travelling companions that it's not far to a really fun brasserie on the little island ( this one is from Chef Nathan's list from Bay Wolf Restaurant it's called of course, Brasserie de l'Ile St. Louis). Alsatian food was the lunch:sauerkraut, sausages and beer. They make a nice onion tart here which we shared. A no room for dessert vote came from the group majority, so I was hoping for a famous Berthillon ice cream from the shop across the street, but it was closed….I didn't leave Paris without it though. I came back another time with just Haig….If you must know the Lalime sisters, all six of us, even growing up in the cold woods of Maine we'll eat ice cream anywhere, anytime of year.Some peoploe have drug/alcohol habits with us its ice cream habits…Tired, we walked to the closest metro and went home to a nap. This was a quiet day because we got take out food from Al Dar and went to bed early. I snuggled up to my many restaurant guides and lists to plot the days to come.

Day 3 Rainy Day #2

     Not knowing there were many umbrellas behind the kitchen door, we set out in the rain with our one good umbrella to find the cooking store E. Dehillerin. After the metro ride, it's coffee time, not from tiredness, but from torrential downpour. Since the rain wouldn't stop, we thought we'd walk and buy a cheap umbrella from the guy at the side of the street.As you probably already know one may as well just hand him the 7 eu and not take the umbrella, 2 steps from the stand, the wind blows it inside out, and tangles and bent it goes in the trash can. We carry on walking in the rain.

   Dusty, creaky Dehillerin ( in the 1st arr.) is my most favorite store in Paris. There you'll find all kinds of kitchen treasures and definitely the best bread knives in the world. You can barely come away without spending your entire vacation budget in copper pots that will not fit into your luggage. Next we went off with our heavy purchases in tow to find, again “just down the street” another café favorite "Tartine" on  rue de Rivoli. One more walk to find Mariage Frères in the 4 th arr., for tea. We had lost Leslie & Hratch by now as they no longer believed my “just a little ways further” spiel. We   rendez-vous ed at the apartment, then headed to our niece Vanessa's apartment for dinner(in the 17 th arr.)

Day 4   No rain! Just gray

   Today we had lunch with cousins in their apartment , then headed to Versaille by RER . We took the usual tourist tour and drove the tour leader crazy with questions. Maybe I'll read up more before I go again. I can ask better questions by then. Versaille took a large chunk of the day so after heading back we rested and discussed which of the many of restaurants to try on my list. We settled for Sousceyrac (in the 11arr.) This was not a light affair: cassoulet, sweatbreads, lamb, pheasant, then rich chocolate cake for dessert. The Maitre'd was really charming, warm and friendly, he even put up with our very poor French. Off to catch the metro before it closed at midnight. It was fun by all, a great day.

At midweek in winter there are still people walking about the streets at midnight.

Day 5 The Concert Day

    Haig & I struck out on our own in the early morning to find Rue Montorgueil.

     This whole day spent getting ready for the evening.We went off to shop for a light supper, Vanessa met us and we headed to the edge of paris getting out to a suburb of Paris was the challenge as we had no car. We got to the end of the line of the metro and could barely talk any Parisiene cab driver into taking us to the town of Chaville Concert Hall. Perhaps if crossing out of the last arrondissment of Paris would be falling off the earth, needless to say we made it.

  The concert was lovely. There were so many Parisienne Armenians there. Viken sang

All his songs that we knew by heart. He even got his son and daughter up on stage to sing. We talked and vivisted after the concert until 1 am. Then of course trouble..we forgot the buses stop, the metro stops. There isn't a cab in sight or available by phone

at that   hour in the burbs. So we all stuffed into two of Vikens small cars thirteen people

and headed to find a place to eat in Paris. Viken's favorite late night establishment is Le Grand Café(9 th Arr.) At three a.m. we ate steak, pommes frites, Haig had calves liver or kidneys, something light…finished with chocolate   mousse…..

Day 6 Outside Paris and back again

We walked all morning, picked up a few things mostly in our neighborhood. Haig's cousin invited us for a day trip outside Paris. Since we couldn't convince him into going to Mont. St. Michel and back in a day (if we got up @ 6a.m.?), we settled for Fountainbleau. There we walked around the gardens, stopped had tea/coffee. Next, on to a little artist's town on the way back called Barbizon. It was all quiet and closed up this time of year, but strolling it is still fun.   After using the men's public toilet, the guys found out how efficient the spray cleaning is in France of these facilities, because someone got trapped inside when the showers came on ….never a dull moment…Back to Paris in time to discuss a restaurant for the evening.   After six days with Leslie & Hratch, we realized how intense we can be about choosing restaurants. They thought we were absolutely nuts in our pouring over the four guide books cross referenced with friends lists. To choose a place to eat, couldn't we relax about it a little? If it wasn't on Michael Wild or Nathan's list, if not mentioned in Patricia Wells book no no no…..Can't risk our precious 10 days with a bad choice. We of course had a great dinner at Port Alma in our 16 th arr. near Pont de L'Alma the closest bridge near our abode. Here, we all had fish dishes as it is famous for that, while we peeked out at La Tour Eiffel all lit up. We could walk home from here no need to worry that the metro would close.

Day 7

    The Weekend…… the streets are packed with thriving Parsienne life….

When we arrived on that cold Sunday morning I thought we had packed unprepared, not a really warm jacket between us. By “DAY 3” with the rain having stopped, we learned to dress in layers. The weather was now gorgeous. I was getting down to my last layer, wanting to toss the extras into the Seine…too much stuff to carry, especially toting only two guide books on walk abouts, just in case….Today is Saturday would it be easier or more difficult to get into restaurants? We had hoped to go to l'Ami Louis a very-hard-to get -into place. This morning took all our effort, we almost gave up and at the end of the meal we couldn't quite figure out what did happen. First we were walking around the neighborhood of the 3rd arr. We passed by but a bit too early for lunch. Haig and his brother went in to make a reservation. They said no, they were all booked. So we tried Vanessa's boyfriend David, calling to ask in perfect French for a reservation, bingo.

We assumed of course that someone had cancelled, the benefit of the doubt. Anyway,

There we gorged ourselves. Roast chicken the most delicious of our trips, huge potion of beef consumed with realy nice Rhone wines. It was the most expensive tab of our trip, but worth every penny. Check out Patricia Wells's description, page 33 .You need to know your arrondissements as her book is organized that way.

DAY 8

   Off we went with the cousins for brunch to the 9 th arr. to a restaurant called

Auberge du Clos. They were trying to present new ideas with an international cuisine a kind of world fusion. Some of it worked, the plates had great presentation and were unusual. Being together with the family was the most fun.

     Since we were in the ninth, we went to check out the cousin's hotel where our son Aram worked one summer. Then it was off to adventure to the flea market on the edge of Paris, Porte de Clignacourt, Puces Saint-Ouen (18th arr.). Here we promptly lost each other in the swarming crowd and met hours later back at home. Leslie and I had eaten out enough today, but Haig, Hratch and Viken went out into the night at 11 p.m.