SB Mystery

03/30/2016

Many of you have been wondering what I'm up to and why I have been so quiet on the western front. I'm sorry. With my grandson passing away, I needed to sort out my priorities. I'm happy to announce I have a volunteer radio show on Party934.com called Mindful Living. It reminds me of the conversations I'd have during my cooking classes at the restaurant. I felt so strongly about health, I wanted to infuse everyone with that passion. I want all of my dear friends, family and customers to live long and be happy. I hope listening to my show helps you do that. I was insecure about my new venture but I received my first evaluation by a veteran of 20 years that gave my show 10/10 for every aspect. If it's good enough for him, I'm sure it's good enough for those I love. Past shows are archived if you want to catch up with me. I am working on a book, it's fiction. It's helping me process. Hope you'll be reading it soon :) http://party934.com/MindfulLiving/

09/30/2014

When the going gets tough, the tough get going. That saying epitomizes the human reaction to stress: fight or flight. But which one of these two responses is it referring to? I always took it to mean the fight reaction. The last four years since we opened Revive in November 2010, I've been fighting to realize my dream of nutrition access. Trying to find that winning combination of healthy food married with delicious flavors to please your palate and your cells. I started with juicing, then making raw food, then combining raw sauces with cooked healthy food.

My brother writes a blog "Journey of a Wave". My journey towards health has been a wave. Sometimes I've crashed into problems that took the roar out of me and I sank into the sand, spent and exhausted. The ocean called my name and I'd muster my energy and get inexorably pulled back until I gained momentum. I'd rise with excitement and shout the message from T.V., in front of rooms full of people, at our dinner show, my blogs and finally through my book before the crescendo peaked and crashed again into a lonely calm.

Last year the dinner show saved our restaurant but when the economy got worse and business fell again this spring I scrambled to get going again. This time I wrote a book to save the restaurant. We spent all our savings and even the money that wasn't ours.

This month we couldn't pay the rent or the utilities. I thought September would renew support from the local residents because the kids were back in school but to my horror, tourism declined and locals didn't come in. In a conversation with my husband, I realized the emotional impact the continual stress of paying the bills was having on him. Getting hit by a truck has left him aware of the uncertainty and danger in life. Unlike being in a car accident, having a vehicle hit you and throw you 20 feet in the air makes you realize the fragility of life. With every wince that comes from moving his arm, that day and the ensuing effects remind him that life will never be the same.

I had to make a decision between my passion for nutrition access and my passion for the love of my life and the father of my children. I chose him. I told him I'd get a job that earned money instead of just spending everything he'd earned. I had no plan for how to make the business profitable with no consistent customer base. I opened the computer and started looking at craigslist for work I could do. Would I go back to business management, marketing, customer service, writing, interpreting or would I still do something cooking related? I earned 20 dollars an hour when I was 25. I'd always had a good job and we had a successful printing business before my food nutrition obsession kicked in. I couldn't falsely support my dream with our reserves because there was none left. I was stunned by the relief that came with giving up. I accepted that I couldn't change the world in our spot of Fresno and instead of feeling like a failure, I felt I had chosen love-- just in a different way.

We went for a walk on the beach and I cried as he tried to talk about it. I told him we were just going to do what was right for us rather than what was right for everyone. Self concern has a time and place and it was now. He shocked me by saying, "let's give it until the end of October." We had paid the equivalent of two months rent for a security deposit and last months. I shared the situation with our staunch crew at Organic Fresno. I prepared an exit plan for November and I left it in Jehovah's hands. I thought I always had but because we had some money left, ultimately I had chosen to continue spending it on the restaurant instead of property taxes etc. Now that choice was removed.

The landlord called and I explained the plan. He didn't seem amenable so I said we'd move by the end of September. My exit plan was to relocate to the Farm and work one acre as permaculture. Use the ingredients to prepare juices and sell them to people in offices with a weekly delivery route. The landlord said he'd secure the rent through an asset of ours that would be returned when the rent was repaid by the end of December. I honestly was hoping he'd make the decision for me so I wouldn't be the bad guy. That week was so slow I couldn't pay the $2100 pge bill from last month to stop our power being shut off. I paid them $1000 and told them $1100 would be paid today. Last thursday we did $300 in sales and we need to do $600 just to pay bills.

I was hopeful though. Our neighbor, Amy Kitchener, ran a non profit and sent her associate Naya to book a dinner for 25 people on Friday evening and breakfast catering for Saturday. Two sisters who heard me speak at the had come in. One for a birthday cake and the other about celebrating at our restaurant on Sunday. Locals were starting to support us! I spent Ari's money from her dessert sales on groceries for the restaurant. I had faith I'd earn it back by the end of the weekend despite the slow Thursday. The group on friday evening was lovely and kind. They were all advocates of Social Justice through Arts and a lovelier group of people couldn't be found. Only three other tables came in friday evening. It was a late night cleaning up after they left at 8:30. Dishes don't wash themselves and I insist that they be hand washed because the ancient dishwasher made the dishes looked rinsed but didn't scrub lipstick marks off.

I started at 5 am after a rough night with the kids who were coughing from the unhealthy Fresno air. Mark made fresh pressed o.j. with his throbbing arm. Ari came in at 7 am to make the frittata bites while I marveled at how far I'd advanced in making specialty waffles with the aroma of the zucchini lemon chia waffle drifting through the air. Sarai cracked eggs for the frittatas and Daniel made them breakfast. We delivered at 8:20 am. The folks had come hungry anticipating more delicious food after their experience last night. Instead of taking two frittata bites, they ate four and five. I called Ari to make more frittata bites and we delivered the rest at 9 am.

Excited and prepped early I willed a crowd full of people into the restaurant but the transmission must have been blocked because only Kristi came in for breakfast to go. She reminded me that Mark and I still had to make juices for the restaurant. At 11:30 a.m.faithful customers from the mountains came in with their parents from NY. It was the slowest saturday we ever had. I started thinking seriously of how I'd set the recreation room up as a teaching kitchen and the house as a farm store. Daniel said he had an idea. If people knew I started farming organically because of his love of grapes and my desire to protect him from the poison we sprayed, they would buy the book and he could become a farmer and chef. He didn't just want to be a farmer, he wanted to follow in Jamie Oliver's footsteps and mine by becoming a chef too. We spent the afternoon working on what he would say for the video. That evening 10 people didn't show up for their reservations but the remaining 24 people were all locals. That was a first for us. Not a single tourist.

I started to do the math in my head and the only money I had made was repaying Ari and restaurant groceries for the following week. I had Sunday left to earn $1100 for the PGE bill. The birthday party was booked for 2 pm and that gave me some hope. Morning brought no customers so we juiced and I took Daniel to the farm to shoot his video. We got back and I started prepping for class. There was a few tables but nothing to speak of. I didn't worry because the situation was out of my hands. The large group started drifting in and so did others. We had four tables come in and 28 for the party. Tourists were heading home and were so excited about stopping to eat on their way. A group of Indian tourists came in with 9 kids at 3 pm when we were supposed to close to prep for the class at 4 pm. The staff looked at me. I told the tourists they had to be gone by 4 because the only table large enough to accommodate them was set up for class. They agreed. Mark and I hastily set the table and he started serving the soup and salad while I made them the creamiest half baked ever to please the children well.

Everyone left happy and the dishes were piled high in the kitchen. I taught my part of the class and a first time attendee brought me a jar of home made green olives and gave away five aprons to the attendees. I headed back to wash dishes with my babies. I still wanted to go to SB that night since I hadn't gone for three weeks. As we were finishing up at 6:30 pm, Kevin brought me the total $1117. Jehovah does answer prayers but he does it through people.

I watched a TedX presentation about the tipping point. He scientifically explained how change is adopted and that we have to wait for enough people to tell others in their sphere of influence to make the tipping point. Early adopters are 3-5% of the population affecting another 8-10% when that 15% affects another 18% there is 33% but when that 33% tell their friends you're past the tipping point and then you are left with just the resisters of change. I had believed that the logic and science was present for people to embrace my healthy food, I just had to hang on long enough. This weekend I saw that sphere of influence in action. Locals choosing to dine with us, celebrate birthdays with us, come to our diner show, cooking classes and order catering from us. I got an email from someone who wanted to order lunch for six employees to be delivered friday at 11:45 a.m.

Conscious dining choices made the difference. A handful of individuals choosing to support a mom and pop shop rather than the mindless choices of IHOP, Cheesecake Factory, Red Robin, Starbucks, Jamba Juice and the other chains. Kids drank Grape, watermelon and cucumber juice instead of soda. Kristi bought a total of 10 juices over two days. The carrot, cucumber, celery, arugula, sorrel and dandelion juice blend was designed with her diabetes in mind and she sensed the love in the creamy carrot taste with the green after notes.

I'm going to pay our PGE bill now and remind you that we are closed Tuesday and Wednesday so we can clean the restaurant from top to bottom and I can take care of my babies. Today is kids day. We get Maxim and the babies. They choose what they want to do, which usually consists of swimming in the ocean with their wetsuits. Spraying each other with their aquazooka's and showering together in the marina restrooms. Library trips for more Sammy Keyes mysteries and playing with the blocks. Followed by an evening walk at the beach, organic ice cream from Lazy Acres and snuggle time. Tomorrow is laundry day and recovery day before gearing up for work on Thursday.

My life has a rhythm like the ocean waves. I relax on our sailboat here and spend my energy caring for others at our Fresno restaurant. The rhythm has no beat until you join in, like a lonely hand trying to clap by itself. As I shake your hand or give you a hug when you come in, nature sings with joy of it's bounty being celebrated. My countless hours of practice are featured on the plate where you will be nourished with food and love. In my news feed yesterday I saw two memes. One showed a picture of an all american breakfast of bacon, eggs, toast and coffee with a gun, the other was an "energy bowl" from Denise the first customer to buy my book. She didn't just make that recipe, she made the rajmaa too. Does my life's work matter? It only matters when others participate. I hope that we are at the tipping point. That point where the small 15% of the population who is our customer base influences their friends and family to adopt a new way of eating so we can grow to 33% and be sustainable. Don't let the wave suck you back into the processed food spiral, we hope grapes not candy will go viral. Thanks for daring to care. Thanks for caring enough to share. Thanks for helping us continue to make food fair.

May you live in love and light. May you shine that on us with your presence and kind words. May you live our dreams in print form through our book Cook Grow Love. A customer at the dinner show last week, with tears in her eyes, told me that although she didn't know me, by reading my book she felt she did know me. I assured her she did. I opened my heart and mind to nourish your body and soul. I hope you pause long enough to buy it, read it, cook it and share it. Help my son become the farmer and chef he dreams of becoming. Allow our sphere of influence to continue for generations from our children to yours. We can direct our wave and invite you to ride it with us so don't crash and disappear -- but ride high in triumph.

Support our family farm by purchasing our book: Cook Grow Love: Recipes for the body and soul. Our son had a dream that everyone should have access to organi...

05/07/2014

Growing up, we didn’t celebrate birthdays. Once we moved to Canada, I insisted that it was important, but with 7 kids and no idea of when we were born, other than the made up dates on our passports, my mom didn’t agree. For my 18th birthday, my mom surprised me with a cake when I got home from work. My mom didn’t bake and for her to do this was an amazing thing. But, with the influence of my friends, I thought I deserved more. My 18th birthday was a milestone after all. A friend of mine, many years later, told me how he celebrated his birthday every year. He took a day off and spent it with his mom doing things around the house for her and taking her to dinner. He said, “I didn’t do anything when I was born, she was the one in pain that day.” Every year, he honored her pain and sacrifice and all of a sudden my selfish expectations dissolved and I saw my mother in a whole new light.

I used to be supremely embarrassed of my mom. People think Indian women are mild and meek and wait for direction from their husbands but my mom shook the world around her. She’d put anyone in their place. It amazed me how she could do this with people in Canada when she couldn’t even speak English. She’d take me along as a translator and look at the person as she told them what she wanted or thought. She then expected me to translate. They got the tone of her comment from her body language and my words conveyed the intent. She always knew when I was watering down her directness and turned to glare at me when I sugar coated her words until I translated word for word. My mom had a clear vision of what she wanted and worked towards it, allowing nothing to get in her way.

I swore I would never be like her. I wanted to be quiet and unnoticed, escape the attention that seemed to be spotlighted on her all the time. But now I know why she was that way. You can’t ignore the sun, you can’t hide it, and you can’t escape it’s effect. She was the sun in our lives. Her waking moments were spent planning my dad’s breakfast and her’s for work and leaving us ours while giving us sage words of wisdom before she went to work, knowing we had to go to school. Her day was spent toiling in a restaurant to earn the money she needed to support us. Her evening was spent rushing home to make our dinner. We got home before her and grumbled as we did our chores to get the house cleaned up before her return so she could cook our supper.

Like a commander in chief, she miraculously got the ingredients together and in the pan, so the smell of sautéing onions would soothe our growling stomachs. She stood and made fresh Roti’s as we all devoured them. She sat finally and ate while my sisters made her roti’s. She did the laundry, washed and braided our hair, cleaned up and then sat down with us. After Dad had done our evening prayers, they would get out the fruit and watch my brothers wrestle, my dad giving them advice. My grandfather always sat me on his lap. Then we went off to sleep, knowing we were loved. Loved more than pain, redundancy, stress and the worries that would weigh them down. Never did my mom indicate she regretted having an army of kids. Instead she made it seem that each of us was valuable beyond compare.

We didn’t celebrate Mother’s Day either and today I don’t celebrate any holidays but if you were to ask me what Mother’s Day should mean I would tell you that it should be gratefulness for understanding. My mom returned from India to Toronto after 6 months and I called her. I hadn’t spoken to her during her absence so I started off with an apology. I told her I was sorry I hadn’t called but I couldn’t because I would have to lie or cry. I’ve been going through menopause and I can’t keep my emotions in check. My life had been a whirlwind and a roller coaster all in one and with my mom I’ve always been authentic. She can tell from the inflection in my voice 3,000 miles away when something is wrong and her concern leaps out of her heart and across the phone line to drown me in love and leaves me crying with a mixture of joy that someone cares and regret that I haven’t been able to duplicate that mother daughter relationship in my life. I told her that I either could have lied to her that everything was okay when it wasn’t or cried about everything that was wrong and worry her. She simply said “tell me now” and talked me through it as though we had spoken just the day before.

It should be about honoring the warrior in her that defended you, your entire life. I remember kids tattling on me and she defended me. Adults talking down to me and she demanded respect for me. My dad being too harsh with me and getting dressed down. I was in India when I was 16 with her and in the bus, standing up when a man pressed his body against mine from the back. My mom was sitting down and saw the panic in my eyes. She looked behind me and saw what he was doing. She looked him straight in the eyes and using hand gestures said “I’m going to slice your p***s off and put it into your hand if you touch my daughter again” It’s about protecting your own.

It should be about having the most loving person in the world, choose to call you their own with their actions and their love. Kyal was 6 weeks old when I found out they left a piece of placenta in my stomach. My mom and I had been estranged for over a year because I moved out and married someone of my choice without talking to her or including her. A month after Kyal was born, I called her and she came, present laden, to see the son I birthed. My husband’s idea of taking care of me was getting me fish and chips for supper. I went home and she rubbed my head and every part of my body. She took care of Kyal while I slept in a fever filled delusional state for two weeks. My dad made me a homeopathic medicine to dissolve the placenta and she cooked for me, massaged me and cared for Kyal. She never allowed my unkind actions to change her love for me.

Whether I realized it or not, I was being molded by her. From the time I was little, she taught me to care for others. I carried the grocery bags for older people. I gave up my seat in the bus for the elderly. I spoke respectfully to older ones and served them their food. I made tea with love so they could taste the green cardamom in it, even though I hated tea. It wasn’t about me, it was about them. I’ve had several surrogate moms wherever I’ve lived. Reva and Barbara in Toronto. Barbara died at 78 while Reva is alive at 91 and I hope to see her this summer. Nancy and Jeannie, both over 70, who helped me with my babies when they were born.

Although I don’t celebrate Mother’s day, it gives me a chance to express the love I feel in my heart towards all mom’s. With excitement, I put aside the writing of my book while I spend my creative energy composing a menu that will please them well. Learning from all my moms, biological and surrogate, I don’t compromise nutrition for taste because the heaviness it results in is uncomfortable, so, it isn’t a proper expression of love. With love I drive all around the state from L.A. for mango’s at the wholesale produce market that I know will be ripe, to grass valley for the coconut palm sugar that is good for diabetics. To Koda family farms in Dos Palos for Mochiko rice that will make my cooked desserts delicious but gluten free, to Carey’s Honey in Lindsay for raw honey, etc.

I spend my evenings reading recipes so I can learn the healthiest and tastiest way of making the new dishes I am going to introduce this year. I know I’m still going to make it my way but I have to know the background of the dish and other people’s experiences so I don’t make an avoidable mistake. Price isn’t really a factor. It has to be the best because Mom’s didn’t count the cost when they had children, spent their life caring for them and their energy loving them. They are directly responsible for their influence on children, grand children and great grand children who go on to become the workers that make our goods, leaders that run our corporations, and the stewards of our land. It’s therefore not about money, but about creating an experience. It’s seeing the twinkle in their eye when they eat the salted caramel that is made with dates and Himalayan pink salt and chocolate made dairy free with cacao butter and raw cacao that is caffeine free, sweetened with the delicate sweetness of palm sugar.

I love Mom’s. Mine best. But, others with the gratitude that comes from meeting the most selfless people that walk God’s green earth. Because there is more happiness in giving than receiving, I give love this weekend as though it was free ☺. I give joy in edible form as though these folks were malnourished their entire lives and may never eat again. May you bring your mom in or come in yourself to have your cells nourished with love and energy that I hope will be a gastronomical adventure that your heart will not soon forget.

In conclusion, we’re still closed today because meditation about creating this kind of deliciousness takes time that is uncluttered with interruptions so the things in my heart can entice my mind to move my hands to create things I’ve not yet done to nourish your souls in ways you’ve not yet experienced. May you come in this Sunday, whether you celebrate or not to taste the fruits of my labor. RSVP 559.284.3976

I know you friends from Santa Barbara can't come, but I thought you'd enjoy reading this.

05/03/2014

It's May 2nd and people keep asking about the restaurant contest in Santa Barbara. We found out they cancelled the contest. So there is no way we are winning. Our dinner show in Santa Barbara was successful and people loved the idea, but being split between two cities to create food is hard. I believe it's time to choose. I want to move away from Fresno for the sake of my kids health. T Cells decrease in Fresno children which is a very serious thing for me but I love the people whose lives we touch and who support us so passionately. We also get to be advocates of Fresno and the organic farmers that grow our food to the tourists who support us as they pass through. I think we'll do the show in Santa Barbara when we can find a sponsor for the show or for special occasions.

Entering the contest gave me time to myself and I started to write a book that is many years in the mulling. Eat, Tales of Food, Love, Life and Laughter. The first chapter is entitled "Live not on Bread alone" it tells the story of the first time I ever baked bread and the emotional ties to it. It's followed by my favorite bread recipes: Cottage Cheese Bread, Cinnamon Chia Bread and the recipe for our gluten free wraps. Each chapter tells a tale of food and life, love or laughter. It then follows with recipes for the food that had an emotional attachment for me or someone else in my life.

I have written 10 chapters so far and discovered I love writing. Without equal, my fingers help me process information as I type. Writing helps me to express feelings and ideas that a verbal recitation can't. I would like to write about that which I love so much: food, in a way that is accessible to everyone. I therefore need your input.

As previous printers, I can affordably get a 52 page booklet printed in a finished size of 8.5x11 with color pictures for my recipes. I've already written over 60 pages without the recipes or pictures. I envision the book being a 200 page book. Should I get my book published through conventional means so I don't have to pay for the publishing? Or, should I split my book up into booklets like: Eat, Tales of Food and Life for the Learners soul. Eat, Tales of Food and Love for the lovers soul. Eat, Tales of Food to comfort your soul. Eat, Tales of food for the empowered soul.

I think a kickstarter could help me raise the funds for one or more of my booklets. The books would retail for $5 each. If I publish it all as one book, I can't do it for less than $20-30 per book and just don't know if, in this economy, people would spend that. I would also like to sell the booklet's as ebooks for 99 cents each through Amazon.

My concern about publishing through a publisher is that they own the book and I get royalties so I don't think I can do the cheaper ebook. I want to write as a way of sharing my food and love with the world. I obviously need money to pay my bills (as frugal as they are), but I don't want writing to be for financial reasons. I love food, life and people. I believe that if I work Friday through Sunday at Organic Fresno, I would have sufficient time to write on the other days. This way, I write about what I love, create the food I love, while interacting with the people I love.

Your comments would be very helpful and much appreciated. Below is a post I shared on my personal page about the slower pace of life in Santa Barbara because I think the word pace should have a positive connotation for me about Santa Barbara and not a negative one about one family that lives there.

It's been said that the pace of life in Santa Barbara is slower. Well, it usually is for me but I didn't realize how much sound affects our viewpoint. Today it was 90 degrees in SB, hotter than I've ever seen it here. We'd been helping our son Kyal and his wife Ari move into their new home.

Mark and I were both complaining this week that we were tired. We chalked it up to the longer work week last week. Today, the heat brought about a whole new level of slow. As we finished washing their carpet at the old place and headed back to the marina, I mentioned there wasn't the usual runners out. When I got to the marina, I said "the city is quiet, listen". It was almost as though noise stood still.

You've seen those movies before where they have a country scene. An old man, sitting in a rocking chair, no cars driving by and nobody out walking. There is absolute silence and then you hear the fly buzzing by. I always thought that was an exaggeration but today was one of those kinds of days.

I was doing laundry for us and Kyal and Ari so I noticed that the whole marina was quiet. Not many tourists walking about. The birds didn't seem to be flying. The seals weren't swimming and boats weren't out. Just about 7 pm, I was almost finished the laundry and the wind picked up. It cooled down almost immediately to about 80. Then the marina came to life. I

I didn't realize the noises I identified with SB, the lines on the boats gently moving. The gentle clanging from hardware on the boats. The water splashing as the wind moves it about. The limbs of the trees waving to and fro.

I love SB and my slower pace of life. I hope you take a moment today and slow down to hear the music of life around you. May we sing it's song together wherever we are.

04/22/2014

We had a great time doing our last script. We've got a private event this week but on May 9 we'll start our new script "unhappy hour". Perfect place to take mom, your family, friends or associates.

04/16/2014

With kids off school this week, it's a perfect time to catch dinner and our show this Friday. RSVP to 805-366-3099. Last week for this script "Murder at Mardi Gras" before we start "Unhappy Hour" in May.

04/10/2014

We have a new performer for the role of cayenne tomorrow! It's amazing how talented the locals are :) we're pumped about good food, good entertainment and fresh ocean breezes. RSVP to 805-366-3099 if you haven't made reservations for tomorrow.

04/09/2014

Have you made your reservations for Friday yet? Four course farm to fork goodness with unlimited soup, salad, entree and scratch made coconut milk ice cream, oh my! Probiotic drinks, lemonade, wine and beer are included with your dinner. We take the mystery out of your food and put it into your entertainment. Deduce which of our suspects murdered billionaire Pierre Dupre for a prize! RSVP to 805-306-3999. All while have ocean views. Now that can't be beat.

04/05/2014

Thanks to everyone who attended our opening night. Our performers rocked the house. Can't tell you how beautiful it is to cook delicious food while looking out at the beach and ocean. We look forward to meeting more of you next Friday at our show. Remember the 11th is Good Friday so reserve early!