Hollywood handshakes & Pasadena parrots 🦜

Hi friends!

How are you doing? I’m hanging in there. My cat’s fleas are back, which is a total fucking drag. I HATE bugs. I’m writing this on Sunday, and we’re going to give her more medicine tonight and have the apartment professionally cleaned tomorrow, so hopefully that will help. The thing about fleas is that to get rid of them, you really need to keep on top of cleaning and laundry, which my husband Ross and I just… aren’t the best at. Look, we all have flaws, okay? It balances out our perfect personalities.

Some spooky things have been happening to me recently. Two weekends ago, Ross and I came home from my birthday dinner at Bavel* and found our front door ajar. Of course, our first concern was that our cat, Zadie, didn’t get out. Thankfully, we saw her on the couch right away, but when we called out to her, she remained motionless. We got closer and went to pet her, and: “Mrowww!” She meowed her cranky meow that she serves us when we wake her up from a nap. We were so relieved, and have never been so proud of her!!! We checked the apartment and it appeared nobody had been there and nothing was missing, but even if it had, I wouldn’t care as long as Zadie was safe! Everything else can be replaced!

*Bavel is definitely at a “special occasion” price point for us, but omg, everything was so incredibly delicious, from the oyster mushroom that tasted like a juicy steak to the fluffiest, most pillowy pita bread ever! And fabulous service and beautiful ambiance, too!

What we think happened was that we forgot to lock the deadbolt, and air pressure forced open the door. Our front door leads to a long hallway which leads to a door that goes outside, so sometimes, opening that door creates air pressure that does weird things to the interior doors. And luckily, even if Zadie got out of our front door, there is an extra step there before she is outside-outside. But honestly, I don’t even think she got up off the couch, which: respect, girl, respect.

Then, the other day, I went out to check the mail. Our mailboxes are outside, in a little courtyard area with patio tables and chairs. Well, after sorting through my junk mail, I turned around and saw a GIANT HAWK sitting on the table with a smaller dead bird in its claw. We looked at each other for a bit and then it flew away with its prey. It was so freaky!! Birds of prey are kind of terrifying, y’all. I swear, a chill ran down my spine.

I’m not really a bird person, but I’ve noticed we have some interesting birds in my neighborhood. There’s a big raven who likes to chill on lampposts and caw who’s pretty awesome-looking. There are my neighbor’s chickens and at least one rooster, who crows in the morning (luckily, our white noise machine drowns him out most of the time). This is going to sound idiotic, but the thing I didn’t get about a rooster crowing is that the cartoons made it seem like something they do just once every morning, right when the sun comes up. Nope! That bitch is crowing off and on for like an hour straight!

And then, there are the Pasadena parrots. They’re probably my favorite birds in the neighborhood, because they’re so mysterious. They’re beautiful green parrots who make these obnoxious, squeaky noises and fly around in a pack. Here’s a picture I snapped of them outside my go-to coffee shop one morning:

Nobody really knows where the Pasadena parrots came from. Some say they were from a pet shop that burnt down, or from the original Busch Gardens in Pasadena when it shut down. The dumbest theory I’ve heard is that they’ve all escaped from individual owners over the years and somehow found each other and formed a flock. That just sounds to me like someone writing a heartwarming children’s book about found family, which is nice, but most likely total bullshit. What are the odds of so many of the same type of exotic parrot a) living in Los Angeles and b) individually escaping their owners? Anyhoo, they’ve lived in the Pasadena area for at least 50 years now, and sometimes they fly over to my neighborhood next door, Highland Park. You can always hear them, because they’re so loud and obnoxious. I love them. I always think I’m going to have a good day when I see the Pasadena parrots.

Let’s get into some things, shall we?

- The Great British Baking Show, season 15 (Netflix). The thing about GBBS is that while the cast is always incredibly lovable, the last couple of seasons have been, shall we say, “mixed” talent-wise. The first five episodes or so I’m usually sitting there going, “Okay, I can definitely see a few people who need to go home.” Other times, there is such a clear front-runner that the season becomes incredibly dull, and then the front-runner goes home just before the finals, and I’m all, “What was all that hype for?”

Not so this season! This cast is a group of stone-cold weirdos, all of them, but they’re all really talented, even some of the very young ones, which should be illegal! I still can’t stop thinking about the duck cake Sumayah made in week one. Dylan, who looks like a modern-day Disney prince, is my current favorite to win, while Nelly is my personality favorite. At first, she came off as a terrifyingly tall Eastern European woman, but then, as we got to know her, I realized she’s actually very funny and a big softie. I love that she met her husband at a kebab shop. I would just be focusing on not dripping tzatziki and hot sauce all over myself, while she’s over there bagging herself a good man! Love that for her!

One thing I’m not into this season? All the drama around Paul Hollywood’s handshakes! He is actively taunting contestants now, doing the “too slow” move, which is just mean. To paraphrase Yolanda Foster, “Who is Paul Hollywood in this world?” Can any Brits reading this please enlighten me as to why people always act like this man is the Lord and Savior of Bread?

- The Real Housewives of Salt Lake City, season five (Peacock, Bravo). I regret to inform you that, guys… I think I like Bronwyn. I know! I know! Her taste level is questionable (she IS camp), but I like that she takes big fashion swings and surrounds herself with color. Sounds like someone else I know (hi). And while I never really understood women who marry much older men (he’s going to get old and crotchety while you’re still fabulous and in your prime!), I really gained a lot of respect for her when she defended her relationship with her husband when questioned by Britani, who, and I mean this in the kindest way possible, is a total ding dong. How is it that the woman in the Moschino hot dog suit is quickly becoming the most reasonable woman in the room? This is why I love this show.

If you like the Housewives, I have to point you toward Kara Berry’s hilarious recaps on her podcast Everyone’s Business (But Mine). She’s currently recapping like four different seasons of Housewives, which is impressive. She also recaps Sister Wives, in case you are into that mess. I watched a few of the early seasons of that show, but then it got away from me, and now there are like 200 seasons of this epic family saga that rivals a Russian novel. It takes a lot for me to get involved when a reality TV show has that many seasons, especially when everyone tells you “you have to start at the beginning.” Even when I was unemployed, I didn’t have THAT much free time! Yeesh!

- Cooking. I write this after having just finished up dinner, which was my first time making Smitten Kitchen’s chicken rice with buttered onions. It was very tasty, and actually not a ludicrous amount of butter (only three tablespoons for four to six servings). I do have some notes or recommendations, however: 1) The recipe calls for four to six chicken thighs, and I would definitely recommend using six. I only had four, and the rice to chicken ratio was way off. 2) Do NOT skimp on the fresh thyme! I threw in about a tablespoon’s worth of it, plus another tablespoon of fresh rosemary, since I had some in the fridge. They added so much flavor to what is overall a pretty simple dish. 3) Browning the onions took me closer to 30 minutes than 15, but it was worth it, since they are the star of the dish and the main source of its flavor.

- Genghis Cohen. My dear, darling friend of 24 years (!!!) took me out to this New York-style Chinese restaurant in West Hollywood for my birthday where the vibes were immaculate and the music was rock that was cool 15 years ago, a/k/a: exactly my jam. I heard Weezer, I heard the Black Keys and other songs that might have been on the Eastbound and Down soundtrack. And the food was terrific!

Chinese food in Los Angeles can be kind of tricky to find. (Not including Taiwanese food in that, which is its own thing and actually pretty plentiful.) If you want authentic, you go out to the San Gabriel Valley, but if you want really good, greasy, Americanized Chinese food, it can be kind of hard to find. There’s a lot of cheap, mediocre Chinese food that doesn’t really hit the spot for me, as a former New Yorker. My favorite spot on the east side is probably Fat Dragon, although it’s a little pricey for what it is (like $20 for Orange Chicken with no rice). And now that Bao is closing, my favorite spot on the west side is Genghis Cohen! Their lychee martinis really hit the spot, too. It’s rare sometimes to find a Chinese restaurant with a full bar, but when I do, a lychee martini is in order.

Alright, my dears, that’s about it from me for now! I know these newsletters have been on the shorter side lately, but I figure it’s better to send out shorter, timelier newsletters more often than the alternative: longer but rather outdated newsletters that meet a certain arbitrary length.

Good gravy, I was just interrupted in writing that last sentence by fireworks outside my window. Did you know that in some neighborhoods of Los Angeles, people set off fireworks every time the Dodgers win a game? Every. Single. Time. Feels like overkill to me, but then, I’m not much of a baseball fan. 

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Until next time—beware, for spooky season is upon us!

Love,

Liz

XOXO