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under seige


We have swallows at the winery.

A whole lot of swallows.

And every year when they come back to nest, it's like a scene straight out of Hitchcock: Swarms of black wings. Literally, a cloud of birds. Chirping and cooing and making strange clicking noises in their throats. They fly back and forth, building little mud nests in the eaves outside the window at my desk.

And while I think it's interesting that they come back to the same place every year, the sheer number of birds kind of freaks me out.

Especially since they poo on absolutely anything and everything.

It makes me somewhat terrified to go outside. In fact, I've started wearing hooded sweaters (despite the warm weather) in an attempt to protect myself.

My car, unfortunately, has become a poo target. So if you see a grey Camry covered in bird shit, that would be me.

ultra-premium cat food is not enough


Apparently, I am doing something horrible as a cat parent.

Because Meep's latest favorite activity is opening the broiler and crawling inside.

dining out


We still haven't unpacked the kitchen.

Which means we've been dining out or ordering delivery every single day for the past week. Not exactly ideal -- it's an expensive way to live (especially after a move), and you can only eat pizza so many times before you find yourself never wanting to look at a pepperoni again.

But our situation does allow us to justify trying a number of restaurants we've been curious about.

Tonight we finally made it to Le Bistro. We've heard nothing but raves about this restaurant; Yelpers love it, our co-workers love it, even The Chron gave it a nice review.

And man, does this place deserve praise: We had a fantastic meal tonight -- an every-plate-licked-clean type of experience. The restaurant itself is a teeny-tiny space (maybe 12 tables max, plus a bar that seats five), dimly lit, with a slight European feel. While it isn't make-out-in-the-corner-booth sexy like our old favorite French place in San Francisco was (for some reason, red walls have this effect), Le Bistro is definitely romantic in its own way -- lots of candlelight, you can have a conversation without yelling across the table, the timing of the courses isn't rushed, the server doesn't hover annoyingly, etc.

Then there's the menu. It's short and it isn't quite French (no onion soup, nothing made out of liver, no coq au vin), but to me this is bistro fare in the sense that it's well-priced, no-frills but still high-quality food that you can tell is prepared by a chef who knows his stuff.

We started with the tomato and red pepper soup, which was drizzled with pesto. And while neither tomatoes nor red peppers are in season right now, the flavors in this soup were just right -- I could distinguish the tomato from the red pepper, and vice versa, but at the same time, the two were melded together very nicely. For our mains, I had the parmesan-crusted tiger prawns in a pesto Champagne sauce, and he had the special -- Mahi Mahi in a beurre blanc with capers. Both were delicious, and I can't gush enough about the prawns. The parmesan crust was such a nice touch -- created great texture and a hint of saltiness. Then for dessert, we shared the chocolate pot de creme, which was accompanied by espresso gelato. So freaking good! Perfect consistency -- thicker than mousse, but not as thick as custard and still fluffy, not weighted down at all. Loved it.

I heart veggies


No, Homer, you do make friends with salad.

Take today, for instance. I took a writer out to lunch at Mustards, where we started our meal with some rosé wine and a salad of organic greens, candied walnuts, goat cheese and (my favorite ever) golden beets.

The greens in the salad were actually from the restaurant's on-site garden, which to me is very impressive. I'm all for eating locally and in season, and an on-site garden is pretty much as local and as seasonal as you can get! Since I was with a writer, we were invited after our meal to tour the planter boxes and the greenhouse and talk to the gardener.

Pretty damn cool.

settling down


I was doing so well with my posts, and then I went to Montana on March 27 and became completely engulfed in My Brother's Wedding. And then there was no more posting. Just a lot of ribbon-tying. And family-greeting. And picture-taking (with a cruel photographer who made us bridesmaids stand outside in strapless dresses while it was snowing -- I have never been so cold in my life).

Montana marked the end of my travels, but I'm still living out of a suitcase. We finally -- finally! -- completed our move to the new house Tuesday. Everything is in boxes, and we've been living off of pizza since we haven't unpacked the kitchen yet.

Funny, though -- the one thing I have unpacked is all the wine that we store in the wine refrigerator. How's that for prioritizing?