Pho Xe Lua

Pho Xe Lua

5331 Stockton Blvd, Sacramento, CA 95820, (916) 451-8838

I took my hyper-critical Asian mom to Pho Xe Lua during her recent visit and was pretty pleased with the establishment. PXL touts itself as an "authentic asian cuisine" restaurant, but in my opinion their forte is their Vietnamese dishes. The restaurant is squirreled away next to a Budget Inn and not much to look at from the outside but is quite surprisingly expansive inside. Upon walking in, you'll think you've mistakenly wandered into some sort of enchanted Asian Wonderland. The foyer is done up with a river rock encrusted wall where a serene waterfall cascades, then to your left you'll encounter a large gilded ox with a little jockey perched on its back. Not sure what its significance is, but I found it to be charming and a bit humorous. Despite my determination to "act grownup," I couldn't quell the desire to reach out and pet the shiny ox. So I did and got both a dirty look and a sharp whack from moms. Ouch!

During our visit, I found the staff to be quite attentive and friendly. Many of the waitresses were greeting arriving customers by name and seemed to know their standing orders. Pretty impressive in my book, for a place that's only been open for about a month. One of the two waitresses we had was quite patient and spent about ten minutes discussing ingredients with my mom. Also, when asked about smoking (my mom lives in a state that has yet to go smoke-free), the waitress helpfully advised that there was a little shaded nook outside with an ashtray stand where my mom could indulge in her nasty cancersticks.

As for our lunch, I opted for the bun tom nuong (charbroiled shrimp over vermicelli noodles). It was prepared perfectly both in taste and in aesthetics. The serving was quite huge and despite being ravenous, I only ended up finishing about half of it. My mom opted for the pho tai (a beef noodle soup with slices of rare steak that you toss in) along with some goi cuon tom (shrimp summer rolls). I think her eyes were bigger than her stomach, because she barely put a dent in her soup despite happily slurping away for a half hour and she ended up taking the summer rolls home. The pho at PXL comes with the obligatory bean sprouts, cilantro, hot peppers and lemon. Also, the necessary condiments are placed on each table, so you don't have to flag anyone down to get some sriracha. I appreciated this small touch as I don't like anyone or anything to come between me and my sriracha.

After dabbling in the sampling of Vietnamese food for the last several months (thanks to a Yelper friend who turned me on to it), I can understand now why Anthony Bourdain, when asked which food he enjoyed the most out of all the countries he visited during his Cooks Tour, replied, "almost everything I ate in Vietnam." The ingredients are fresh, there's a nice balance of contrasting flavors, and a minimal use of oil ... making the dishes quite healthy. PXL does a great job of sticking to this and hopefully it won't be a flash in the pan, as I hope to continue to patronize the joint. Especially since it's open 7 days a week from 8am-10pm... perfect for a bowl of pho for breakfast on a hungover Sunday morning or a late summer dinner when the sun goes down. Also, the prices are reasonable ( $5-$7 for most dishes). But most importantly, it passed the mom test.

Mulvaney's

Mulvaney's

(Mulvaney's Pig Roast Event)

1215 19th St, Sacramento, CA 95814, (916) 441-6022

While trapped on a plane, I once read a funny quote by author, Frederic Raphael, in which he stated, "Great restaurants are, of course, nothing but mouth brothels. There is no point in going to them if one intends to keep one's belt buckled." And after eating at Mulvaney's, one would definitely have to loosen his or her belt in satisfaction of a truly great meal. As someone who has worked both the front and back of the house in the restaurant industry, I'm a strong believer that service in a dining establishment is as equally important as the food itself. Mulvaney's hits the bullseye on both counts. The service was superb and the food blew me away.

I got there a bit earlier than my dining companions and was surprised to be greeted immediately at the door by a warm smile and friendly welcome from the hostess. She checked me in and asked if I'd like to be seated or to wait in the bar. I opted for the bar. Yes, I know...typical Ally. The bartender was terrific and I wish I had inquired what his name was. He had such an upbeat attitude and genuine smile. He was helpful in my selection of a chardonnay (great rec-- the Hook and Ladder chardonnay) and spent some time answering my questions about the night's menu. He was so enthusiastic about the night's offerings that it made it hard for me to decide what I wanted because EVERYTHING sounded so good after chatting with him.

Our server, Taryn, was terrific. She was knowledgeable about the menu, efficient and quite personable. I loved the fact that she remembered small details (like my food allergy) and was able to make suggests to adapt the dishes so that I could partake in them. Never once did she make us feel rushed despite the fact that it was a full house. We began with a tasty amuse bouche of asparagus wrapped in proscuitto with a hint of balsamic vinegar...delicious! Such a simple dish, but it gave you a sneak peek at how Mulvaney's allows its seasonal produce to speak for itself.

We continued our food journey with the house smoked salmon appetizer and a soft New Zealand Pinot. The salmon was smooth in flavor and served with a thick, squishy soda bread and a creme fraiche. My dining companions opted for the halibut and the chicken with biscuits respectively and were kind enough to swap bites. The chicken was roasted perfectly and enveloped in a deliciously crackley skin and accompanied by asparagus and homemade biscuits. The halibut was a first-rate contender. Not overcooked in the least and joined by flavorful looking beans and a light salad. Each dish was presented exquisitely. Myself? I chose the ribeye with fig butter, sans the bleu cheese. I asked for medium-well and the grill cook was spot on. The meat was tender and savory and did a phenomenal job of appeasing my desire for a worthy piece of red meat. The quarter cut roasted potatoes were robust and balanced the tart greens with almonds.

If that wasn't enough, we topped off our evening with two desserts...yesssss! Count them DOS desserts. One was a decadent chocolately piece of heaven that resembled a childhood treat--ding dongs. The latter, a bananas foster with vanilla ice cream. The bananas were swimming in a pool of ambrosial delight concocted from brown sugar and dark rum. Our bill was presented to us in a bound book and we were told to feel free to express ourselves and leave a written comment.

By the end of the meal, my arteries were screaming, "God save me!" whereas, my stomach was doing backflips in gratitude. Mulvaney's strives for perfection with it's gastronomical delights and comes through with flying colors. I'll definitely be returning...after I buy a bigger belt.

The crack(ed) pot

The crack(ed) pot

once upon a time, to be precise last saturday, I was on my routine round to ensure all was ok in the garden and guess what I found? This beautiful pot broken at the mouth. I know I toppled it while chasing a mouse there behind that pot this morning but who broke it? Oh god, all circumstances point to me although I know I am innocent as I always am.



"I've got to do something real quick. Mom will come around soon and she will spot it immediately and I then I will be in deep trouble."









"The broken piece must be around somewhere here. I will have to find it and put it back before she sees it. Aha, gotcha!"










"OOps! No luck, that doesn't sit. and worse it has fallen inside the pot! Mom is here and I am as good as dead! A life cut short so soon. adieux!"









"Or may be, if I bury my head inside the pot she won't find me! If i can't see her, she can't see me either, can she?"










"Yay, That worked. She went away after calling me a joker! Now I need some rest.

Phew, that was indeed close. But as they say where I come from, all is well that ends well.

And all of you there, thanks for dropping by. Have a great day! Try stretching on the grass if possible.Don't worry. Be happy. That is the secret of my energy!"

Santa Ramen -- MOVED

Santa Ramen -- MOVED

805 South B Street, San Mateo, CA 94403, (650) 344-5918

Yes Virginia, there is a Ramen Santa...

It's Sunday night and I'm still reveling in a post-Santa Ramen orgasmic bliss (I had it back on Saturday morning). For months, I've been on a pho and ramen kick. There isn't a ramen-ya worth a damn in Sac, so I was ecstatic when I got a chance to quench my ramen craving this weekend. A buddy and I had gone to the city to catch a show, afterwards we met up with a local friend of hers for drinks. We were working out the logistics of crashing at his place, when he burst out with a big smile and announced that he had a fantabulous place to take us the next day for lunch to quell our soon-to-be hangovers. I'm not much of a daytime eater, so I just raised an eyebrow...but then as though in slow motion I saw his lips form the words S-a-a-a-n-n-n-t-t-a-a R-a-a-m-m-e-n-n-n. Hell ya! I told my new BFF that I loved him and planned to marry him (I'm pretty easy to please like that). I'd been wanting to visit the S.R. for quite some time. So from there he proceeds to give us instructions... WTF? YES! Instructions... hmmm... instructions for going to a ramen-ya? Ummm-ok. We were told we needed to leave the house at 10:25 sharp, no ifs-ands-or-buts ; otherwise no ramen for us.

So at 10:25, we dutifully scoot out. As we weave manically caravan style through the Bay Area traffic; I'm advised that when we get there, I'm to toss the dogs off my lap, hop out of the car, and run into line? I'm silently thinking, "I hope he at least slows down to 25mph when I have to hop out. Yeah, at 25mph, I could do a tuck and roll and be ok." As we approach the target location, the car screechs to a halt and sure enough there's a frickin' line! I skooch out and join the waiting, hungry masses. As I wait in line, I see several other patrons zoom up to the S.R. and pull the same maneuver. I guess there was a method to the friend's madness afterall. The place doesn't open until 11:30, so we left one person in line and we went off to recon the neighborhood. Thank god, because the delicious wafts of ramen that were being emitted from S.R.'s kitchen were killing me. We find a nearby taqueria/bodega that's open and purchase a few sodas and a coffee and head back with our supplies.

As we wait in line, we sneak glimpses of the inner sanctuary through the plate glass window. S.R.'s menu is a large whiteboard on the wall. Most of the ramens run about $8-$9. This is a ramen-ya, so don't go with any expectations of bentos or sushi; although they do serve a few sides like karaage. They're known for their stewed pork ramen which can run out quite early. Several patrons left the line when the "Out of Stewed Pork," sign was taped on the window. At one point, a kind waitress came outside and took our order so that they could get started on it. We eventually made our way into the establishment and were promptly seated. The place is small, I think the max capacity sign stated 29 occupants. There's counter and table seating, but you don't get a choice where you want to sit...just be happy that you're inside.

At our table, we were offered small glasses of mugicha (a roasted barley tea) to tide us over. As we waited for our orders, I learn the Fight-Club like rules of Santa Ramen. Ramen Rule One: Once the food comes, you do not talk. You eat. Ramen Rule Two: Once the food comes, you do not talk. You eat. Ramen Rule three: Once you're done. You pay and get the heck out. Get the idea? Within 15 minutes, 3 bowls of steamin' ramen are set before us. I had ordered the pork broth ramen (comes with 2 slices of pork), with extra noodles and added menma (bamboo shoots), bean sprouts and a boiled egg. I shook a little shichimi togarashi on my bowl and was ready to commence with ramen slurping. After my first bite, I felt a wave of euphoria wash over me. After a few more bites, I got the ramen sweats. With the steam from the ramen giving me a ramen facial, I worked my way through about 3/4 of my bowl before I had to give up as there was no more give to the waistband of my jeans. However, there was no time to bask in the afterglow, we paid our bill and hurried outside past the throngs of customers awaiting the next wave of seating.

By the way, Santa Ramen does take plastic (although I don't know if they have a purchase minimum). And they do have a restroom for customers. You literally have to walk through the minuscule kitchen to get to it. I tripped over the three cooks in the process as there's no elbow room whatsoever back there and it's about 400 degrees in the kitchen. The kitchen guys were good-natured about it...maybe they're just used to sweaty women pressing themselves against them as they try to squeeze by?

Anyhow, I tend to be the type of person that's very dismissive about waiting in line for anything, but S.R. was so worth it! And when it moves to its new location on El Camino Real, I'll definitely be up and ready to leave at 10:25 to go stand in line for a bowl of screamin' goodness.

WISH

WISH

1539 Folsom St, San Francisco, CA 94103, (415) 431-1661

After catching a show at Slim's, we ducked into Wish for a nightcap. Wish is a bit small and narrow but radiates a come hither attitude with its sultry red walls and flickering tealights. The crowd on the night we visited was a bit diverse, there were couples whispering sweet nothings with their heads tilted together at the bar, girls shakin' their junk to the DJ that was spinning in the back and clusters of friends kicking it on the couch while knocking back a drink or two... or five. The bartenders were courteous, drinks priced reasonably (and were served in proper glassware, not plastic cups) and the bouncer was quite polite and chivalrous. I also loved that they had handbag hooks under the counter, so that you could have both hands free to get your drink on--- ingenious!

The laid back vibe and sexy atmosphere made me a bit mischievous, good thing my alcohol consumption was regulated as I needed to drive later that night. My only "wish" was that we weren't subjected to the rank wave of patchouli incense and BO when we first walked in. It eventually dissipated, but good god!

Feminism - my two bits

Feminism - my two bits

Padma who has pointed out the extremes we could be headed for if the female foeticide and other wrongs against women continues passed the baton to me for my take. On a serious note, we both share a lot of concerns on the status of the girl child in India, female foeticide and the discrimination that uneducated poor women still face overtly and educated employed women face covertly in this country. So on both our behalf, I present the serious side of issues relating to feminism.

What does feminism mean to me? I hate labels and usually stay miles from any isms because I do not want to become rigid in my thinking. But certainly I will not stand by and let anyone, man or woman, treat me or any other woman shabbily in my presence just because of our gender.I cannot be stopped from doing something because "women don't do it." For me there is only one criterion for deciding what I can or cannot do - whether it is right or wrong from a humanist point. I am not unduly sensitive or paranoid and dont go about looking for discrimination everywhere with a microscope but I will not tolerate even in jest expressions like "after all, she is a woman" or "a woman should behave like a woman" ( so often heard in Tamil films and on Television - "pomblai pomblaiya irukanum" "after all ponnu nee, unakke ithanai thimir irundaal aambilai avanukku evlo irukkum?")

I shared her outrage when I read Shruthi"s post about sending bangles to Sachin.

I laugh when educated women - women hailed as women of substance marry peepul or banana trees because they have a flaw in their horoscope, or observe certain type of fasts which are meant to keep their husbands in good health or give them longevity of life. Yes I know a medical doctor who observes Savitri vrat.Needless to say I do not consult her anymore on medical issues.

I am repulsed when doormat like behaviour of women is romanticised - for example portrayals of Paru and Lolita on the big screen; Worse when young women copy this behaviour and voluntarily subject themselves to abuse from their lovers, all in the name of love. Sunita's post here reminded me of this.

It sickens me when women models promote beauty products in advertisements so that a woman can be more alluring to her man

Today we have come a long way from the traditions of child marriage and Sati and the misery of Widows in Benares and in law we are all equal and yet we wait for someone else to "allow" us to be free, to "give" us our rights.
As long as the sense of equality does not come from within us, no one else is going to get it for us. As`The Rational Fool says in this post women have to rebel wherever they find discrimination. To fly you need to use your wings and your lung and muscle power not piggyback on someone else.

I do not feel the need to refuse to cook or to wear trousers or burn the bra to assert my belief that I am equal to a man. His attire or behaviour is not the reference point for me to be considered his equal. I am convinced that I am as human and deserve everything that he does and will not be "told" what I can or should do by Man or Woman.
I do not consider myself a feminist but do share the same plight as Rebecca West
"I myself have never been able to figure out precisely what feminism is: I only know that people call me a feminist whenever I express sentiments that differentiate me from a doormat."

The status of women in India and my views and those of the readers of my posts has been discussed in this space in many of my earlier posts here, here, here, here, here and here.

I have known many of my generation and those of the younger generation tell me that things have changed "a lot" since independence and today's women are equal in every way. I know some of these people personally and see an illusion of freedom and happiness in their lives. They have always been "allowed" to do what they wanted - so they assume they are free. Perhaps there has been no conflict of interest. The actual power balance comes into play only in situation of conflict of interest:
"in marriage, he respects woman as wife and mother, and in the concrete events of conjugal life she stands there before him as a free being. He can therefore feel that social subordination as between the sexes no longer exists and that on the whole, in spite of differences, woman is an equal. As, however, he observes some points of inferiority – the most important being unfitness for the professions – he attributes these to natural causes. When he is in a co-operative and benevolent relation with woman, his theme is the principle of abstract equality, and he does not base his attitude upon such inequality as may exist. But when he is in conflict with her, the situation is reversed: his theme will be the existing inequality, and he will even take it as justification for denying abstract equality."
(Simone de beauvoir, Second Sex)

So it might be a good idea for every woman to assess her situation and see if she is really free and equal - if she is really free to do anything she wants to even when it challenges a man's ego and pride. Secondly whether a woman is able to identify with another woman primarily as a woman irrespective of every other point of difference between then - caste, language, religion, economic status, colour etc. and whether they are able to express outrage at the insult and support for the victim wherever they find a woman discriminated against.
Therein lies the hope for the future of woman power in India.

Hooters

Hooters

410 Market St, San Diego, CA 92101, (619) 235-4668

The ex and I visited Hooters during our last jaunt to San Diego's Gaslamp Quarter. It was that time of the day between lunch and dinner where not much was open. He was fussing to watch some ESPN and I needed to eat something to tide me over until dinner (the pretzels on the Southwest flight, just didn't cut it). I'll admit I wasn't forced to go in (no arm twisting), but I was a bit curious to see what all the hype was about. I pictured something trashy with slithering pole dancers and Whitesnake blaring, but in reality it was just a tackily decorated beer-n-wings joint with extremely unflattering, polyester uniforms that looked like they would chafe (what's with the suntan colored pantyhose under the hideous, Bozo orange boy briefs?).

We had two waitresses during our visit. Our first waitress, Jackie, was super cool and chatty. Turns out that she was from Vacaville and we launched into a full scale conversation about the Vacaville outlets, much to the ex's chagrin. When I decided to purchase a tee for my teenage nephew, she rallied the other wait staff to each sign the shirt. I'm sure my sister-in-law in New Mexico appreciated the fact that we presented our 15 year old, hormone-infused nephew with a tee that was emblazoned with phrases such as "Randy, you make me randy!" and signed by a dozen busty Hooter girls; but screw her, our nephew loved it and dubbed me the coolest aunt ev-ah! Teenage boys are an odd breed.

Since we caught Jackie on the tail end of her shift, we were traded off to a second Hooterette for the latter part of the service. This 5'2, buck o'five weighing (all boob) nymph came bouncing over to introduce herself and chirps that she heard we were from Sac...well, guess what? She is too. We chat about Sac a bit and it turns out she and I went to the same high school. She throws me a sugary smile and cheerfully announces that she graduated in something like 2002 and maybe we know some of the same people? I choke on my beer, glare over the chicken strips and think darkly, "Yeah, maybe I went to school with your MOM!" The ex is smirking as he quietly turns his chair to watch the ball game.

Final tally: +1 star for the clean interior, average beer and the place not being as vulgar as I thought it'd be, +1 star for our cool waitress Jackie and no stars for the greasy chicken strips. I, however, deserve 5 stars for not reaching over and throttling that 21 yr old Hoot-chie for making me feel older than dirt.