finish with a fiery finale
this & that 6/9/25
It’s Monday for you, but it’s (last) Friday for me. I’m writing this from the past because I’m up in Berkeley all week visiting the fam, and I don’t know how much time I’ll have to write. Ideally I’ll have lots of time to cook, and maybe even go on a field trip to Berkeley Bowl, which I don’t get to often because my mom lives on the other side of town. For the next main blog, I’m making a very ornate, very Berkeley granola (developed by the daughter of our most famous culinary resident hint hint), and the buckwheat groats from Whole Foods just won’t hit the same.
Last week, aside from the insane amount of tofu with cilantro pesto I consumed (two whole blocks in less than 24 hours while John stuck to leftovers), I made a lovely spring pasta from your old friend and mine, everyone’s favorite recipe developer/cultural flashpoint/upstate shoppy-shop owner/new mom, Alison Roman. Spring Pasta With Peppered Peas (free on her Substack) is about as refreshing and light as a bowl of buttered noodles can be. I made it pretty much as written, using TJ’s multicolored veggie radiatore and frozen peas. I found green garlic at the farmers market but couldn’t rustle up any pea shoots. Luckily, my nudist sprout guy had sunflower sprouts, and an inspired sub like that elevates the dish if anything.
Lunch this week was a pound of Rancho Gordo Santa Maria Pinquitos, lots of sautéed zucchini, sauerkraut, tortillas, and a batch of La Tatemada Cremosa, another salsa from Rick Martinez’s Salsa Daddy. This one was even simpler than the last, just a pulse of tomatoes, canned chipotles, blistered onions and garlic, and a little bit of sour cream. It wasn’t quite as exciting or spicy as La Mañanera, but I downed the entire mason jar in just a few days. The smokiness reminded me of my meaty old al pastor days, dancing around the trompo. One night, home alone for dinner, I made a little pastor-adjacent hash of grated potato, chopped mushrooms and poblanos, all smothered with La Tatemada Cremosa and sliced pineapple. So good.
Wednesday was our anniversary, so we celebrated by making a rare weeknight trip to a restaurant. Kurrypinch is a self-described modern Sri Lankan on that no-mans-land stretch of Hollywood Blvd between Los Feliz and Thai Town. It’s super casual (but not super cheap), and the service is attentive and friendly. The food, at least everything we ordered, was phenomenal. We started with badhuma, a little snack of matchstick potatoes and crunchy peas in a spice blend. John got string hopper (rice noodles) pilau with chicken. I tried the noodles, and they tasted like the best version of a takeout Singapore mee fun curry. I got the coconut risotto with baked mahi mahi (I sometimes eat fish, ok?). The risotto was just on the right side of being too rich with coconut milk, and the fish was cooked perfectly. I’m going back to try the lamprais (eggplant and potato curry wrapped in a banana leaf) and kottu roti (stir-fried flatbread with veggies and egg).
We came into a few bottles of mediocre red wine (Josh pinot and Josh Reserve! cabernet) this week. I don’t normally drink red wine in June, and putting an ice cube in this crap only helps so much. So, I made a little tinto de verano. My sister introduced me to Seville’s favorite summer beverage years ago, when I visited her on her semester abroad. It’s traditionally made with equal parts red wine and lemon-lime soda, but I always remember making it with orange Fanta. We made it my way (2 parts Josh to 1 part Fanta), and it was perfect.
By the time you’re reading this, we’ll all know who won Roland Garros (The French Open). As I’m writing this on Friday, the finals have just been set. #1 Jannik Sinner against #2 Carlos Alcaraz, and #1 Aryna Sabalenka against #2 Coco Gauff. It promises to be a fun championship weekend, but the biggest surprise of the tournament ended up being 22-year-old French wildcard Lois Boisson, ranked #361, who made it all the way to the semi-finals by beating two top 10 players in a row. Boisson, who before this week was known only for being the player Brit Harriet Dart accused of being stinky on court, has completely transformed her career. She is suddenly the French #1, a national hero who will no longer have to toil on the ITF tour (the tennis equivalent of the minor leagues). Who knows if she can rise even higher in the rankings, but her whiplike topspin-forehand and coolness under pressure has made me confident this week wasn’t a fluke.
I stopped doing yoga a couple of months ago because my chest and shoulders suddenly started hurting after every down dog and chaturanga. I thought I was just getting weak, but it turned out (silver lining) to be bacterial pneumonia and pericardial effusion. Now that I’m #healed, I got back on the ol’ Adriene horse, choosing a gentle practice that wouldn’t cause my body to break down again. Yoga for Overthinking was the ideal re-entry point for me. Not too strenuous, but you still get your body moving. If you haven’t done yoga for awhile (for whatever reason), this might be a fun way to get back into it.
I’ll leave you with a piece of good news, something I’ve been waiting for that is finally happening. Jeopardy! is actually coming to streaming. If you’re like me and don’t pay for cable (and aren’t able to sit down in front of the TV at exactly 7pm), this will be life-changing. Now, we can queue it up on Hulu or Peacock whenever we want. Hopefully I’ll start watching again and reverse the atrophying of my brain. Because I tried to watch a few episodes of that Jeopardy Masters show, and boy oh boy was it humbling. I literally was able to answer maybe two or three clues per episode. Apparently, the new streaming deal includes a library of old episodes, so you might even catch the one with me (and Alex, in his last season as host), where I don’t bet enough during Final Jeopardy and lose.
Adriene horse haha (also my partner's go-to). Glad you are feeling better!