I’m sitting in front of my computer eating my lunch yet again—something I swore once I’d never do.



My desk at 7x7  is cleaner than usual, but still a mess. Among the rubble you’ll find the advanced proofs of the new Alice Waters authorized biography by Thomas McNamee coming out in March by The Penguin Press; postcard promos for food photographers with Jennifer Martiné’s (jennifermartine.com) on top; Coppeneur plantation chocolate sent from Fog City News (fogcitynews.com) of which the “Dunkle Chocolade” made with bananas and crystallized ginger is pretty fantastic; a bottle of Excedrin, which as indispensable as the Food Lover’s Companion; a bottle of Fini balsamic vinegar which has been serving as a bookend for far too long; a bottle of pink Pop rose Champagne; stacksof old steno notepads full of interviews that I know I’ll never read again but feel compelled to keep for seven years like taxes; Patty Unterman’s awesome San Francisco Food Lover’s Guide (hayesstreetgrill.com/flg-book.html); the Best Food Writing 2006  (get it); some sushi stationary; a picture of my first son but not my second—poor guy; and a burnt-orange silk ribbon from Soolip in Gump’s (soolip.com) too beautiful to throw away—or use to rewrap for that matter; a very, very small cell phone I will lose soon and a similarly small Nano that I spend a part of every day in a panic assuming I’ve finally lost for good like I did my first one (current rainy day track I’ve recently returned to listening to ad nauseum while getting weepy: Red Right Ankle by the Decemberists).



And then, in the middle of it all are the remains of hot and sour soup and fried rice from Jade Café (18 Geary Blvd., 415-981-6138) which really just hit the spot.