Overall I enjoyed this book a lot for the candor that Vanessa and Helen show in describing their relationship and the insider peek on what it’s like to be a public performer over the long haul. The book was co-written by Vanessa and her tough as nails mother. They alternate chapters sharing their perspectives on key moments in her life. Helen Williams is a great personality and including her perspective adds a lot to the story.

A lot of attention is paid to the Miss America scandal. She describes the events that led up to her nude photo shoot, how she ended up (pretty much accidentally) becoming the first African-American Miss America and the challenges that she encountered during her “reign”. It was honestly heart-breaking to hear about the ugliness she endured in her quest to be a good representative of the pageant: multiple death threats being sent to her parents’ house, incessant racism and criticism from the black community over her perceived lack of “appropriate” blackness. To know that she and her family persevered through those events only to be abandoned abruptly when the pictures came out was a depressing commentary of the disloyalty common in show business. It’s a testament to her talent and durability that she made it in the end. She was marked for years by the scandal. In the book she describes how she was cast in a Broadway show only to lose the role after the producer said, “I don’t want that whore bringing in the wrong kind of people”. I can only imagine the challenge of having to continually confront a mistake made at age 19 well into your 30s. Strangely, her experiences seem ironically antiquated in light of today’s current trend of starlets releasing risque pictures for the purpose of self-promotion.

Like many celebrity memoirs this wasn’t the best-written book. It’s not cohesive in it’s overall editing. There were many underdeveloped stories and unnecessary tangents but despite these shortcomings there was a ton to enjoy about this book! I would recommend it to any fan of celebrity memoirs or Vanessa Williams.

This book is a BlogHer book club pick. To learn more and join in the discussion click here!

After the success of my epic Birthday Big Eat it was decreed that among our friends we would stop doing birthday parties with gifts, cake etc and instead… well Big Eat for everybody’s birthdays. My friend Debi recently had to go gluten-free so for her birthday, we set out on the very first gluten-free Big Eat.

#40-Rice Burger at Sandbox Bakery

Rice Burger at Sandbox Bakery

Sandbox Bakery is located in Bernal Heights which I somehow have never been to. A tragedy indeed because 1) it’s adorable and 2) Sandbox Bakery is there. The Bakery itself is adjacent and full of intoxicating smelling pastries there were most defenitely not gluten-free but the rice burger was gf heaven. The flavor was excellent and the texture of the tofu reminded me of fois gras (sans guilt). It was creamy and rich and asianly delicious.

Verdict: Rice Burger, I’m not going to play coy. I’ve been thinkin on you.

Carnitas Taco at La Taqueria

#41 Carnitas Taco at La Taqueria

I’m going to level with you. I do not know why this is on the list. Was it good? Yeah. Did it change my life? Not in the least. I’m not sure if we went on an off day or if the list-compilers have a sentimental fondness but none of us found this taco to be extraordinary in any way. Solid? Yes. Would I eat it again? Sure, but you don’t drive around on a scavenger hunt to eat average tacos, not in California and certainly not in the Mission.

It makes me wonder if this is an institution or if there is some sort of ambiance that I missed out on? I wasn’t able to go inside because it is located on one of those chunks of Mission St. where it’s almost impossible to drive let alone park. We ended up dropping someone on the curb in a hysterical flurry and then eating these double-parked packed in the car. Our universal reaction was ‘meh’. I feel that eating food in the car was a more exciting event than these tacos. Plus they had pinto beans in the tacos. I do not approve of pinto beans in my tacos.

Verdict: Carnitas taco, you left a taco-shaped whole in my heart.

Why on earth are these tacos so mediocre?

Deflated by the bad weather (drizzly-boo San Francisco!), the fact that our next stop (Mission Chinese) was closed and the feeling that this day was not living up to the level of Birthday fun that I wanted for Debi we stopped to re-group. And by re-group, I mean eat Salted Caramel Ice Cream at Bi-Rite and buy random stuff at Tartine. Ooh, Aaah.

The top was gluten-free?

Afterwards we were revived enough to eat… more dessert. More on that next time. ;)

So much beauty for so little effort. I can’t believe I didn’t do this sooner.

Random projects and biographies are like peanut-butter and chocolate: I just need them in my life. Enter AJ Jacobs who has my dream job. He makes up projects, such as reading the encyclopedia, or getting super-duper healthy and then writes books about them. Awhile ago I read his book “The Year of Biblical Living” in which he spends a year trying to comply with every single rule in the bible. I’m not sure if you’ve ever seen the bible, but following through with even one book of the Torah is a terrifying prospect. He is at a level of advanced craziness that I have not yet reached.  I was raised as an evangelical christian and AJ was raised as a non-religious Jew so it was riveting for me to see the bible through his eyes. During the course of the books Jacobs meets with people ranging from the most Orthodox of Jews to the most liberal, pentecostal Christians. His kind portrayals of very different people and hysterical prose had me laughing for days and I couldn’t help longing for the opportunity to read the bible like he did, with fresh eyes.

Reading the bible has been on my life list for a long time but it was mostly conceptual, kind of like the way you think “I’d like to be more fit’ and then sit down to watch Modern Family. Let’s get real. I wasn’t going to be like “Ooh, after my long day at work, I’ll just sit down and read some Deturonomy” except that now I am. Never in my life did I think I’d be ripping through the book of Leviticus like it was a vampire novel but somehow Jacobs observations breathed new life into the Old Testament books I love to ignore.

For four months now I’ve been sitting in my car with my “Read the Bible in  Year” book every morning devouring page after page of wave offerings and all manner of boring chronology and somehow it is fascinating. Everyday I read some old testament, some new testament and some Psalms/Proverbs. I read the Psalms out loud and given the drama of the past few months it’s been cathartic to read the words of the ancient kings begging God for relief and praising him for being the shelter in the storm. I’m not quite as advanced as AJ so I don’t see a year of biblical living in my future, but I’m already into April and the year of biblical reading is going quite well indeed.

It’s important to remember that the grey days are when the colors seem the brightest.

Lately life has been intense and it’s really passed the stage where Dan Dan Noodles can work their magic. It’s hard to grasp but it’s really that crazy.

My cousin wrote me the other day and said “Do you think we’re being tested?” and somehow the question has really stuck with me. I think it’s because I wonder how I’ll look back on these days where several of my greatest fears are hanging like anvils in the sky. Am I brave? In denial? Being over-dramatic? Was it a test and did I pass or did I fail? Only time will tell but right now I look at these days and feel a sort of bewildered gratefulness that for once even when everything is coming apart at the seams that somehow it’s okay.

I read the book above a little while ago. It’s a collection of short stories, perfect for someone like me who likes to read before bed only to collapse after one page. Each short story tells about a critical moment in the authors life. Some were “big moments” like graduations and births, others were smaller moments like the first time a young child realized their parents lives did not revolve around them. Like many people who enjoy writing as a cathartic activity I constantly narrate my own life into a series of moments, so I enjoyed reading about other reflections. I think you would too, I recommend the book.

“Listening, as far as I’m concerned is certainly a prerequisite of love. One of the most essential ways of saying “I love you” is being a receptive listener…Listening is where love begins. Listening to ourselves and then to our neighbors.-Fred Rogers

Mr. Rogers birthday was this week. Let’s live out his legacy by remembering to listen. Happy Weekend!

Obviously our boyfriend is Jordan from NKOTB. I know that many of you do not understand my love for them. Judge me as you will. We’ve been in an imaginary relationship for 20+ years now. It’s safe to say I’ll be loving him forever. Ahem.

“Emily you are so awesomely notorious baby. I’m so glad you are my imaginary girlfriend. You are a rockstar. Now I will sing you a sex-ay song in my falsetto voice.”

I am just sane enough to realize that my “relationship” with Jordan is almost entirely in my head so I have no problem stuffing myself with food before hooking up for our annual visit. This is the best part about imaginary relationships. No worries about garlic breath or distended stomachs.

#38 The Little Star at Little Star Pizza

My friend Jeannie hypothesized that Little Star was the reason she gained 20 lbs when she moved to the city. My formative research shows that this is a strong probability. Quality deep dish pizza is few and far between on the West Coast and Little Star shines in our barren deep dish pizza wasteland.

The pizza itself has all the important components. Pleasingly oozy? Check. Chock-a-block with fresh ingredients and flavor? Check! The crowning glory was the amazing cornmeal crust that tasted light and crunch and airy like it was made out of the freshest croutons in the world. Lisa and I spent 20 minutes discussing its merits and frankly I’m not sure that was enough time.

Verdict: Go eat pizza. Bring your stretchy pants.

#39 Puka Punch at Smuggler’s Cove

Waiting around for concerts to start is a waste of my limited leg power so we decided to have a little Sunday night happy hour at Smugglers Cove. I was disconcerted as I dragged Lisa to a building that had no markings, blacked out windows and a very uh “suggestively” dressed woman entering the building. She was not going to be pleased if I accidentally dragged her into a brothel. She hates it when I do that.

Despite our concerns we entered the creepy building.  Our jaws immediately dropped open like cartoon characters. Smugglers Cove is like crossing the threshold from San Francisco to Pirates of the Carribbean. It is three stories of Captain Jack Sparrowness.

The specialty at Smugglers Cove is rum (duh) and the menu is like a textbook on rum with little piratey drawings. We were instructed to try the Puka punch which was both giant and satisfying but what I really wished we could try was a drink that was being set on fire behind us. FIRE! Cinamon scented FIRE!

Verdict: Who cares what you drink there? This place is an ex-per-ience and there is rum! Toss some back until you are just punch drunk enough to walk yourself safely to see your “boyfriend”. Not too much though. The girl next to me at the concert was drunkenly slurring “I just NEED Jordan in my LIFE” to the security guards. My friends, that is amusing but way too drunk. No more rum for her.

I was talking with friends this weekend about the beauty in fighting. Without romanticizng the ugliness of hurt feelings and the words that cut to your heart there is a flip side to the pain. There is the possibility for reconciliation and the safety of knowing someone who continues to love you after you’ve shown your worst side. There is the ability to remember that even when it gets really, really stormy there’s still a good chance that it will all be okay.

1) The day after a party or a Big Eat or 2) A sunny day when my optomism is overflowing

Last Sunday did not fall into either of those categories. Last Sunday was a mess,  It was overcast, I didn’t feel good, the batting average for my toddler’s dry sheets in the morning was alarmingly low, I had terrible nightmares all week and we found out that there was a possibility that a wave of layoffs would hit our family.

It was not a day for virtue or platitudes about not hiding feelings with food. It was a day for stop-gap measures and burying your head in the sand.

It was a day for Dan-Dan Noodles followed by a nap.

I first learned about Dan-Dan Noodles from Fuschia Dunlop’s excellent book on Sichuanese cooking. Ever since then I’ve been thinking about them, longing for them, imagining them etc. etc. The basic ingredients boil down to primal basics: carbs, chile, red meat, salt and fat. They are wonderful and decadent.

They are also tricky little beasts. A steady hand is needed when you are using extrmely volatile chiles, sichuan pepcorns, high heat and ludicrous amounts of soy sauce. I have messed up DanDan Noodles more times then they have come out perfect but if you do it right these noodles are heaven: salty enough to cure a primitive survival need, slick with sesame and bursting with chile to burn away your worries for a little while.

Last Sunday mine weren’t perfect, but they were good enough to get the job done. We slurped them down in a frenzy of self-pity and they induced a carb coma of the most comforting variety. Two hours later I woke up ready to face the world. This weekend we’re feeling like fresh veggies, but I have sichuan peppercorns on reserve, just in case. :)

Get Fuschia’s recipe here.

Countdown to restorative nap in 5,4,3,2zzzzzzz