Monday, August 12, 2019

In the backyard - July 2019

I'm sitting here in the backyard...it's July.  The upstairsers have been at camp all week.  Joe took me to dinner on Tuesday and I fed him dinner on Thursday.  He had maintained he was going to be vegetarian but he couldn't resist the chicken at Flock on Tuesday.  Then on Thursday I said I was making lamb burgers and I mentioned cumin..."I hate cumin" he said.  "Too bad I said"  Then I said I was making a tahini sauce to accompany it and he said he hated tahini.  He ate 3 helpings of burgers with tahini and I had no leftovers!

It is a very warm night and I am sitting on my deck avoiding the holes in the deck....everything is falling apart.  But as I look around I love that I can see a wagon, a stroller, a swing, monkey bars, all sorts of kids stuff.  Nevertheless, I have a vase if wild flowers,  a crossword and a vanilla candle...and of course, some white wine.....

I can hear music - sounds of merriment, various air conditioners (not mine - I turned it off), a barking Poppy (what can she want?  She only went in 15 mins ago!)  When you stop to contemplate all the sounds you hear, it's very noisy.  What must it sound like in the country?  During the day there is much wildlife sounds but not now...but wait...what is that?  Shriek....shriek....shriek.  It's 10pm.  Would that be a bird?  There are still airplanes about and the odd honk of a car.....
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Monday, July 22, 2019

Frances' birthday trip to the Magic Castle with Becky

Pick a Card, Any Card (and an Entree) at the Magic Castle

Our critic visits a secretive, sometimes silly Hollywood restaurant where the real wizardry happens after dinner.
Ed Ellis performs a card trick at the Magic Castle, a private club for magicians in Hollywood where dinner comes with a show.CreditAdam Amengual for The New York Times
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CreditCreditAdam Amengual for The New York Times
LOS ANGELES — At a table by the stained-glass window, an off-duty magician sat alone, working his way through a rare steak until, finally, it disappeared. When his dessert arrived with a small, dripping candle, I wished him a happy birthday, but he didn’t want to chat.
Instead, he pulled a silver dollar from his pocket and leaned toward my table. “Want to see a trick?” he asked.
Everyone who comes to the Magic Castle wants to see a trick. A Hollywood mansion built in 1909 as a family home, for decades it’s been a private club attached to the Academy of Magical Arts, an order of magicians and a school devoted to the mastery of props like coins, cards and silks.
The castle was originally built as a family home, but opened as a club in the 1960s.CreditAdam Amengual for The New York Times
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CreditAdam Amengual for The New York Times
The place is not exactly known for its food, but it got a new chef in April. And because diners are not allowed to take pictures inside the castle, the restaurant maintains a level of mystery that is increasingly rare.
There are no streams of dishes shot from overhead or blurry cocktails on Yelp. No influencers leading walking-tour videos of the rooms on YouTube. Social media doesn’t ruin a place, but something about the Magic Castle seemed unspoiled to me, protected as it is from camera phones.
The restaurant is for members, but commoners can wangle their way in; politely emailing current performers often works, as does accompanying a member. I got a reservation through a friend, and my plan was simple: to keep my phone away and to pay attention, to take in as much magic as possible.
This started at the door, where my friends and I were instructed to say, “Open sesame” to a mechanical owl perched on the bookshelf.
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CreditAdam Amengual for The New York Times
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CreditAdam Amengual for The New York Times
After we paid our respects to the owl with the flashing eyes, the bookshelf opened, revealing a passage into the house. It was a touch of theme park staging, but it set the tone exactly right for what was ahead.
The décor throughout the castle is charming and gothic, with every wall covered in arcana, newspaper clippings, posters and portraits of long-gone performers, one-time players in the history of magic. The odd googly-eyed portrait will follow your gaze menacingly.
Guests speak magic words to a mechanical owl, and a door opens to reveal a passage into the castle.CreditAdam Amengual for The New York Times
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CreditAdam Amengual for The New York Times
The door fee is $25 to $35, depending on which night you visit, and with simultaneous performances going on in every room, paying attention to one means you miss out on another. There’s no way around it: You experience the castle in fragments.
The dining room is upstairs, paneled and tasseled and flickering in the way of a Victorian parlor midseance. Because of the strict dress code — everyone is in suit jackets and ties, or flowing dresses — the room has the feel of a first-class cabin on a ghost cruise line.
The light in the dining room is dim and flickering, in the way of a Victorian parlor midseance.CreditAdam Amengual for The New York Times
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CreditAdam Amengual for The New York Times
The laughter is loud and drunken, and any spills are absorbed into a dark, patterned carpet. The menu is à la carte, and servers are quick to remind you that every diner is required to order an entree.
The new chef, Jason Fullilove, has updated presentations and added a few flourishes here and there: local peas and kumquats, wild prawns from the Pacific. But the menu is still rooted in vintage steakhouse and club fare.
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CreditAdam Amengual for The New York Times
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CreditAdam Amengual for The New York Times
The short rib ($40) holds a large, decorative, Flintstone-esque bone. The shrimp cocktail comes with more sauce than you could possibly use. Mr. Fullilove, who used to run the soul-food pop-up Barbara Jean, felt compelled to preserve the restaurant’s history. He held onto the menu’s most beloved old-fashioned dishes, like the fat slices of medium-rare beef Wellington ($48) wrapped in thin, buttery pastry, served with mashed potatoes and demi-glace shining like a dark mirror.
The menu has been updated, but a few classics like the beef Wellington remain.CreditAdam Amengual for The New York Times
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CreditAdam Amengual for The New York Times
The magic happens, officially, after dinner — up the narrow stairwells, in the hidden rooms, on couches in lounges and on a stage known as the Palace of Mystery, where Luna Shimadaopened parasol after parasol and made sweaty, deferential doves appear out of thin air.
In a small room dedicated to close-up magic and sleight of hand, Juan Luis Rubiales performed a card routine, taking bets on the four cards he placed face down on the table, showing off how he could roll a card back and forth around his hand like a ball.
Mr. Rubiales revealed that he had hidden coins under each of the four cards without our noticing. And when he asked us to guess each card, the guesses proved correct. The audience gasped and cheered.
It wasn’t over. The idea was to keep wandering around the castle, drink in hand, and to sip while we took in the shows, moving from room to room, starting a new tab in each.
But I wondered later if it was a bit of misdirection: When a man is trapped, juggling handkerchiefs inside a giant balloon and attempting to light a cigarette, you’re less likely to notice a few ice chips in your martini.
The Magic Castle 7001 Franklin Avenue, Hollywood; magiccastle.com
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