How terribly strange to be seventy.

Yesterday I was walking Jake along Beach Street, which goes right by the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk. We passed a gentleman who remarked "now there's an old friend" as he looked at Jake.

Sure, Jake's getting a lot of grey these days. He's just turned ten, which is purportedly 70 in human years, and he's looking a bit, well, distinguished. And while I don't want to focus on him getting old, I certainly appreciate the idea that he's an old friend. He's been through much with me: a couple of roommates, a couple of cross-country trips, nine band reviews, one bike race, numerous vet visits, and more than a thousand walks.

I'd like to think Jake's anonymous commenter was remarking on the long and rewarding life Jake's had, and not just his grey fur. While he can still be a challenge, there's not a day with Jake I don't treasure.

Post	Reference	More Info
"How terribly strange to be seventy."	Lyric from the song Old Friends by Simon and Garfunkel

Here I stand and I'm waiting.

Today was Jake's tenth birthday! We celebrated by going to dinner at Café Limelight here in Downtown Santa Cruz, as we've done for many of his prior birthdays. For a dog, Jake's eaten at restaurants a lot. I'd reckon he goes out to eat at least five times a year, so he's had at least 50 dining-out experiences.

Yet for all that, he's still not comfortable just waiting to be served. Rather, he knows there's food about so he spends the entire time intently focused on when and how a meal will appear.

Dining out with a dog means eating on patios. I've yet to find an establishment that allows dogs inside; you're always out on the patio or deck, away from other patrons. The best places, like Café Limelight, bring you water in a dog bowl, and have options on the menu just for the pets. Limelight, for instance, has a plate of sliced roast turkey just for dogs. (It helps that the couple who own Limelight are pet guardians themselves.)

Anyone who's dined out knows there's a routine to table service. First there's the seating, greeting, and menu presentation. This is followed by the water service, then the drink order. When the drinks arrive you order the starters or the main courses. Between ordering and food service, there are usually a couple of table visits to refill the water or refresh any complimentary items like bread or chips.

Well, from the moment we sit down at a table, Jake locks onto whomever approaches, convinced they have a bowl or plate full of food for him. At Café Limelight, the tables on the patio face the door, so Jake spends all him time there staring at the main door, waiting for someone, anyone, to bring him food. Every person who comes through that door is, quite literally, a potential meal ticket, and Jake eyes them like they're the last of the good leads in Glengarry Glen Ross. When the long-awaited plate of turkey arrives, it's devoured in under a minute, with more time spent looking for wayward scraps around the plate than was taken eating the actual payload.

Even the check is a source of confusion, with Jake eyeing it as if it were another course. The clearing of the table, though, just like at home signals the end of the meal. As the dishes are removed, Jake finally relaxes a bit, patrolling under the table to find any dropped bits then, at last, coming to rest by his backpack in preparation for the walk home.

Post	Reference	More Info
"Here I stand and I'm waiting."	Lyric from the song Waiting by Chris Issac

Toast on the Coast

Two decades ago I worked in Century City, a rather highbrow section of Los Angeles. Specifically, I worked in the Century Plaza Towers, two triangular skyscrapers that were, at the time, the focal point of Century City, and all the entertainment and investment firms based there.

One could imagine there were a number of upscale restaurants around the Plaza Towers, and often my colleagues would organize a luncheon outing. Twenty years ago being a vegetarian wasn't anywhere near as common as it is now, even in Los Angeles. So I was quite the challenge to include in the daily forage. (Imagine if I'd been vegan back then!)

We'd go to restaurants that featured "healthy fare" like the club sandwich (a double-decker construction with both pig and turkey) or avocado halves stuffed with tuna salad, and I'd still be reduced to begging for a grilled cheese sandwich with fries.

I hadn't thought about those days in a very long time, but as I look at the meals I made today, I'm reminded of that time.

For lunch today, I was considering what to do with the heirloom tomatoes ripening in my garden, along with the various sandwich fixings I had. So I decided to make a truly healthy club. I used Smart Bacon and Hickory Smoked Tofurky Deli Slices for the protein component, and layered those along with my homegrown tomatoes and organic red-leaf lettuce onto three slices of toasted 12-grain bread dressed with Vegenaise. Along with the sandwich, I enjoyed several of my heirloom cherry tomatoes with a dressing of salt, pepper, and some olive oil.

A successful club sandwich is determined by the assembly: toast, spread, lettuce, tomato, bacon, turkey, toast, spread, lettuce, tomato, bacon, turkey, then finish with lettuce, spread, and toast.

For dinner, I made faux tuna salad (recipe below) and served that in avocado halves. The "tuna" salad is made with mashed garbanzo beans, and gets its "ocean" taste from large helpings of nori flake. Onion, celery, and Vegenaise reinforce the resemblance to the original dish.

I got the recipe from the fine folks at VegNews magazine, who included it in one of their monthly newsletters.

30 ounces (two cans) garbanzo beans, drained
¼ cup red onion, finely chopped
½ cup celery, finely chopped
¼ teaspoon garlic, minced
¼ cup dill pickle, finely chopped
2 tablespoons nori flakes
1 cup vegan mayonnaise
1 teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon ground black pepper

Drain and rinse the garbanzo beans, then mash them in a bowl. Then fold in all the other ingredients.

Yes it's a simple recipe, and to make it even simpler I have the following recommendations:

• Use a potato masher to smash the beans.
• Use minced garlic from a jar. (For this dish you'll never be able to tell.)
• Use dill pickle relish instead of chopping pickles.

Unlike other recipes where I automatically reduce the amount of salt, for this one use the full measure, if not a pinch more. And I add a teaspoon or so of canola oil to the beans; it makes them easier to mash and better mimics the moistness of tuna.

The best part of these strolls down culinary memory lane? The vegan versions are healthier, more humane, and eminently satisfying.

Post	Reference	More Info
Toast on the Coast	Song by The Toasters