Backdrop

Originally uploaded by neocles

I may be the only person to go to Hawaii and return with dark brooding pictures of the Garden Island. I guess it is just my nature.

This is about all that's left of a once substantial Armenian neighborhood in downtown fresno.

Each time I visit my hometown, I feel a little more sad nostalgia for the once-vibrant downtown. My parents lived in one of the old residential neighborhoods in downtown when I was born. I’m not sure our house on S St. was officially within the area now referred to as Old Armenian Town, but we had many Armenian neighbors, which was fine for our Greek immigrant family.

Of course, as a teenager and even young adult, I didn’t think much about the neighborhood in which I spent my toddlerhood. But a few years later when it dawned on me that it would be really nice to see the street (or even the house!) in which we lived, I was sadly disappointed to find that not only was the house gone, several blocks of S St. no long existed, having been turned into medical office complexes around nearby Fresno Community Hospital (where I was born). Even some of this is now gone and replaced with a disappointing-looking condo complex. Still, about every third or fourth visit to Fresno, I would drive down there and wander the streets hoping I would discover some hidden fragment of S St. that would be a little time capsule, an example of what it was all once like, an indication of where I came from. Eventually, I sort of, well, got over it.

Two years ago, however, I got worked up again when I learned that the City had approved (re)development plans for what sounded like a cheese-ball commercial project to commemorate Old Armenian Town, called, oddly enough, “Old Armenian Town.” They demolished the last of the former Armenian neighborhood, saved three or four small houses, and moved them over to an empty field directly next to the elevated freeway, where, I guess, they would be “on display.”  There they have been on display ever since, up on blocks and surrounded by chain link and barbed wire, disintegrating in the Fresno summer. Links to an alleged page about the “Old Armenian Town” on the Fresno Redevelopment Agency web site return “page not found” and no mention of this “major commercial development” is made anywhere I could find on the site. This is no surprise. Counting the number of empty lots around Fresno where historic buildings once stood but now mark the sites of developments that stalled after the demolition phase is a lengthy, tedious exercise. If anyone knows anything more about the project, leave a note. I’d love to hear something good about it. At this stage, something would be better than nothing, I suppose.

Well, when I started this post, I meant to talk about my little photo walk in the neighborhood just to the south of the Fulton Mall and post some photos. Instead I became distracted by Old Armenian Town. Forgive me for that. I’ll get back to the photo walk shots in a day or so. In the meantime, here’s a couple more shots of the spot, including a nice one of the Sycamore trees I remember all over the neighborhood when I was small.

Sycamores in Armenian Town

Old Armenian Homes in a museum of decay.

It was our turn to host a little foodie group that has been getting together for potlucks for the past year to share wine and recipes. The core group is made up parents of a gang of boys who were in kindergarten together and now mostly in cub scouts together.

I decided I’d make leg of lamb, which, since we don’t eat mammal much at our house, I had not tried in a long time. And also, since we don’t eat mammal (much) at our house, I thought I make a couple chickens also.

I checked prices on lamb at a couple places. I ended up getting a six pound boned leg at Costco. I think this was a mistake. In the first place, it was not THAT much cheaper. I might have got the same kind of price, about $5 per pound, at Trader Joes or even Safeway. More significantly, this Australian lamb was not as tender as I would have liked. And I was careful not to overcook it, so I know that was not the problem. I should have gone back to the wholesaler near my work and purchased the $9/lb local stuff. Next time.

Then I went to Magnani’s, the local North Berkeley poultry shop to get a chicken or two. I ended up getting the usual Fulton Farms birds and had them butterflied. While I was there, this tub of chicken livers started whispering, “take me home, take me home, make paté,…” What could I do? I had to buy a pound of chicken livers.

Well, now I had a few things to make. So the night before, I started marinating everything. I used basically the same kind of marinade for the lamb and for the chickens: lots of lemon juice, greek oregano, rosemary, garlic, salt, pepper, olive oil, and a cup of red wine, Folie a Duex’s Menage a Trois. Getting those trimmed, marinating, and back into fridge didn’t take too long.

So, why not make paté, too? That’s the kind of thing, I think, that benefits from being made the day before and letting the flavors blend. Well, I went through various cook books to find a recipe I’d made before. I consulted a stack of books, The Joy of Cooking, Julia Child, all the Silver Palate cookbooks, a New York Times Cookbook, etc. I easily ruled out anything that involved lining a terrine with pork fat or bacon and covering with aspic. I didn’t have the ingredients or inclination for that. Yet, I couldn’t quite decide on which recipe to make. None seemed to perfectly match the vague concept of paté floating around in my head. So, I sort of combined a couple and made something up. Someone asked about the recipe. So, here, as best I can remember, is what happened while bouncing back and forth between books while cooking this up. Ironically, it probably came out best of all the things I made.

• 1 stick butter
• 3 Tbls butter
• 2 small celery ribs with leaves
• 6 whole peppercorns
• 1 bay leaf
• 6 cups water
• 1 tsp salt
• 2 large shallots finely chopped
• 1 clove garlic, finely minced
• 1 small golden delicious apple, peeled, cored, grated.
• 1 lb chicken livers, rinsed and patted dry
• 1 boneless, skinless chicken thigh, rinsed and patted dry
• salt and freshly ground pepper
• tiny pinch of cayenne pepper
• 2 tsp dry mustard
• 1/2 tsp ground nutmeg
• 1/4 tsp ground cloves
• 1/4 cup calvados
• 2 Tbls heavy cream
• 1/3 cup dried currants

Cut the stick of butter into small pieces about 1/2 inch big, and spread them out on a plate, and place them in the freezer.

Add celery, peppercorns, and bay leaf to 6 cups water in a saucepan. Add 1 tsp salt and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer for 10 minutes. While that’s simmering…

Melt 2 Tbls butter in a large skillet over medium-low heat. Add the shallots and cook until quite soft, about 4 minutes. Add the garlic and cook, stirring, 1 minute. Add the apple and stir constantly until softened, about 3 minutes. Remove all to the bowl of a food processor fitted with a steel blade. Back to the water…

Add the chicken livers to the water and simmer gently for about 10 minutes; livers should still be slightly pink inside. While they’re simmering…

Melt the last Tbl  butter in the same skillet that had the shallots and apple. Add the chicken thigh, season with salt and pepper, and sauté on medium heat about 3 minutes each side, until lightly browned and just cooked through. Add the thigh to the apple mixture in the food processor. Add the calvados to the skillet and deglaze, stirring and scrapping any bits stuck to the pan with wooden spoon. Tip the pan to catch the flame and burn off the alcohol (use a match if cooking on an electric stove). When the flame goes out, pour it all into the food processor with the other ingredients.

Remove the chicken livers from water and add to the food processor, discarding the water, celery and other things. Add the cayenne,  mustard, nutmeg, cloves, and cream to the mixture. Start processing and, with the machine running, add the cold butter pieces one at a time down the feed tube. Pause to taste and add salt or pepper if necessary. When all the butter is incorporated and the mixture is silky smooth, scrape it into a crock or bowl  and gently mix in the dried currants.

Smooth the top with a spatula. Cover by pressing plastic wrap directly on to the surface of the paté. Refrigerate until firm, at least 2 hours, or overnight if possible. Let stand at room temperature for 30 minutes before serving.

Serve with thinly sliced baguette, toasts, or crackers. Of course, cornichons, onion marmalade, and other such condiments are fine accompaniments.

One of the last images my little Nikon D40x took before the shutter refused to budge anymore.

This last weekend was jam-packed with activities and photo ops. It started on Saturday with a whole day and evening sailing in San Francisco Bay. Well, not quite sailing. We were a crew with only one current sailor, and a bay with strong winds and lots of white caps. So, the sails remained furled and the engine hummed. Nonetheless, it was beautiful day with none of the forecast rain, and all the anticipated excitement of seeing a beautiful urban landscape from a unique perspective.  And that night, we watched the KFOG kaboom fireworks show from out on the water.

The next day we checked out Maker Faire for the second time. It sneaked up on us again, so we didn’t have the time or freedom from a certain Lego maniac to see as much as we wanted. Worse yet, there were no pictures taken.  The reason goes back to the previous day.

While otherwise glorious, there was sadness, too, during our sailing excursion. Above is one of the last pictures my little D40x took before the shutter mechanism quit working. There was suspicion that the environment led to the failure. But I was careful to keep it pretty dry and I don’t think it was out there long enough for salty air to penetrate the body and gum up the gears. I’ve searched for information online and it looks like quite a few people have experienced the same error. One person posted a fix. I just need to get some tiny screwdrivers to take the camera a little bit apart and apply WD-40 to a gear or two. I’m hoping for the best, though clearly, the camera was not built to last as long as this bridge.

880 South

I was going to say that lately, photography has felt like a struggle. Then I remembered that it isn’t just lately that it has felt that way. Last year I was talking to photographer and lab owner Seth Dickerman about a little creative crisis I was going through. At the time, I was shooting a lot, pretty indiscriminately, in fact. He said to me, “Sometimes, the hardest part is figuring out what you’ve got. Take your time and look at what you have.” He was talking about editing. My struggle at the moment is with inspiration to shoot at all. In a way, the same advice applies. Even with a trickle coming in, there are still so many images to come back to, review, retouch, organize, and so on. Looking again at what you have can lead you to some ideas to develop further, and then off you go, shooting with a new focus.

As it turns out, I have several series I have started working on over the last couple years that remain unfinished. I could do with some more time spent organizing and editing, and post-processing. This led me to another little series: experimenting with a cold tone look on urban landscapes. It has a kind of nostalgic look, and almost a little corporate or government brochure feel in some cases, as in the image above, 880 South. This is just the start, so we’ll see how far I get and where it goes.

Three Along the 880

The W. T. Rawleigh Co.

Albany CA. 2010

I just noticed tonight that the street light right outside our house is different. It is is very white, almost blue light, and almost looks like LED. Then I noticed that several, but not all, of the street lights in the neighborhood have been replaced. It is easy to tell, because the contrast with the old yellowish sodium lights is striking.

I thought a web search was in order to see if this was part of something significant. Sure enough, I found the following information in this PDF:

The City will be replacing all “cobra head” street lights in Albany from High‐pressure sodium vapor (HPSV) to LED. Approximately $400,000 in Federal Stimulus Funds (ARRA funds) for energy efficiency will be utilized for this project. This project has many “green” benefits including:

• CO2 reduction: 170,042 Kg/year
• Energy savings: 324,506 kWh/year
• First Year Cost savings: $28,374

They will be replacing over 600 of the old sodium lights. There’s also a lot said about improved visibility. It definitely seems much brighter out there. I hope it is not too much, since our bedroom window faces the street. On the other hand, I do like the quality of light much better than those terrible orangey sodium-vapor lights. It’ll make mundane neighborhood night photography much more fun.

Brighton Ave, Albany CA, 2010.

I knew Wendy wasn’t a big Frisell fan, so I was a little surprised. But this was part of her project to do something different from her usual routine each day for a year. Luckily for her, Thursday night wasn’t experimental music night, but rather Frisell’s more country music-oriented project. The announced line-up included bassist Tony Scherr, drummer Kenny Wollesen, avant-guitarist Marc Ribot and pedal-steel player Greg Leisz, as well as a special surprise mystery guest from Nashville: Buddy Miller.

The result was a country set of songs layered with beautiful steel guitar work, extended harmonic space, and a sprinkling of Frisell’s melodic lines.With three guitarists and a steel player, there was not a whole lot of room for Frisell to stretch out, and I’ll admit to a little disappointment not to get more from him. Marc Ribot also contributed and sang several songs, giving the set a darker and noisier edge on several songs. Ribot plays guitar like a man having a seizure, and that angular energy gives you the feeling that something unexpected is going to happen any second.

With all that, Buddy Miller was really the star of this show. I had seen Miller when he toured with Robert Plant and Alison Krauss, and enjoyed his work on that project, but I didn’t really get a sense of his depth. Last night was different. From his wonderful singing and solid playing, to his hilarious stage banter, he’s a great musician and tremendously entertaining.

Miller and Frisell have recently finished recording together in Nashville with a number of guest artists and singers. Much of this set consisted of songs recorded in that session. Needless to say, I’m already really looking forward to the CD coming out.

NY Petition for Paul Serafimidis, 1931

Two or three years ago I had a little jag of doing family research on the Web. It can be frustrating because very often, in between you and the information you want there is a lot of noise. And the noise isn’t random; it is designed to get you to pay for what  you can usually get for free, or even just to search. My longing for lost youth and family identity has not yet reached the point where I will fork over money. For the time being, I satisfy myself with what can be found with free online searching. One day, I managed to get this little scrap of a scan with my father’s name on it. I have been meaning to do some more digging but never quite get around to it. Yesterday I came across it on my cluttered desktop, and I wondered if this address is still legit. So, naturally I mapped it on Googgle to check out the street view.

View Larger Map

When I saw this, I immediately wondered what it might have looked like when my father lived there in 1931. I did some more searching to learn a little about the history of East Harlem. I noticed that right around the corner on 103rd St is St George-St Demetrios Greek Church. From what I can tell from Google streetview, the outside it looks like a brick building with something of a byzantine motif. The inside does seem to be more like what one would expect in a Greek church. I wonder how long it has been there. I am quite sure that it wasn’t accidental that my father to settled somewhere near a Greek church or community. But in reading about East Harlem, I found mention primarily of Italians and later, Puerto Ricans, and after that African Americans. Nothing about Greeks.

There is, however, something coincidental in this. This is the first time I have seen a church named for two saints rather than just on, and both are familiar names. Our church in Fresno was St George Greek Orthodox Church. Whenever I hear the name, I will always think of my parents and their many years of membership there. Sarah and I lived in Seattle for several years, and near us was St Demetrios. And we had dear friends who lived across the street from it. Weird. That’s all, just weird.

Anyway, I eventually had a melancholy train of thought about what it would have been like to sit in front of the computer with my father and show him his old neighborhood on Google maps. Would he be at all impressed? What would he think of being able to see it like that, to be able to travel virtually. I can just seem him smiling and letting out a “Holy Toledo”, his eyes mere slits behind his thick glasses. We’d stay up late cruising the streets and searching for places he worked or lived or ate. And he’d tell me some of the same stories I’d heard many times before over the years. Only now I wouldn’t roll my eyes at them. I’d hang on every word.

My mother's two sisters, Thea Thespina (left) and Thea Maria (right) on either side of Theophanis when we visited Greece a couple years ago.

My mother’s sister, Thea Maria, died the other day. She was 101 years old and was the oldest of six children, Maria, Thespina, Eleni, Sophia, Efrosini, and George. Yes, five girls and finally a boy.

As their mother died very young, when my mother was only three years old or so, Maria took on helping to raise the other children. My mom told me stories about how hard she worked and how she was often strict with them. She also told me about how, while still a girl, Maria broke her ankle badly. In the hills of the Peloponese back in the 1920′s, there was not great medical care. The villagers set it as best they could and let it heal. But she was considered crippled after that. How crippled? I’m not really sure. What I do know is that she didn’t work in the fields after that, and she didn’t attract a mate. When she died this week, she had been living with her sister Thespina for the better part of 70 years.

They lived together in Thea Thespina’s house in Athens. Uncle George, the baby of the family, had lived around the corner and looked after the sisters. He bought groceries. He fixed things. He drove them to the doctor. He did a lot. He drove them from Athens to the village every summer, and back in the fall. The sisters spent summers in the village of Arbouna, in the family home, the home in which they were all born, until fairly recently. But Uncle George had been too ill to drive everyone around the last few years, and he finally passed away last spring. Neither George nor Thespina had children. As they aged, it fell to their nephew Taki, Thea Eleni’s son, to look after them all. Thea Eleni herself died more than 40 years ago.

Thea Sophia died in 2002. So now it is just Thespina, and my mother, Efrosini. Both have dementia, and my mom is a little worse, I think, though at 91 she is a good five years younger. My mom had a tough year last year, real tough. But she is bouncing back and doing surprising well right now. Who knows, she might have another 10 years in her.

All I know is that I wish I had gone to Greece more, paid closer attention, and knew more about my blood than I do. I suppose there is still time to learn a little more before the last two of the people that connect me to a different world and a different time are gone.