California, here we come, episode 4. In which a Chicago dog bites back.

Among my list-making travel rituals is hunting down fun places to break bread (or cheesecake) with my travel companion.  Although she is not quite as adventurous as I am when it comes to new food experiences, Mari sometimes surprises me with the occasional piece of sushi (Nobu), grilled calamari (the former Ruby Foo's in Times Square), or fried oyster (K-Paul's in New Orleans).  Most of the time, though, we both enjoy revisiting familiar foodie favorites and comfortingly tasty reminders of past journeys.  Little did we know that we would find such a familiar reminder in the familiarly friendly form of an authentic Chicago dog at an authentic Chicago institution.  In California!  I have previously waxed Portillo's poetic (Chicago-Indiana-Michigan, episode 8), so it was a special birthday (still my 5-day-weekend birthday, remember?) treat to come across that comforting combination of Vienna Beef, radioactively emerald green relish, tomatoes, sporty-spice peppers, mustard, and celery salt on a poppy seed bun.  It was also a most satisfyingly welcome relief to two market-weary fleamarketers in bad need of nourishment.  

The Buena Park diner is Portillo's first location outside of Illinois and was just a 10-mile easterly jaunt (a detour in the seemingly wrong direction as we headed back to Santa Barbara if you really must know) on fleamarket Sunday.

Sometimes going 10 miles in the wrong direction can be oh-so-right.

Unfortunately, my favorite chocolate eclair cake did not make it onto the local menu, so I was still birthday cakeless.  I really didn't mind substituting an Italian beef sandwich for dessert, however.

I really didn't.

Back to the calorie-free business of fleamarket finds.  I couldn't pass up one final opportunity to tempt you with a colorful photo safari from our three-hour-tour of the Long Beach Antique Market.

From clothes to phones to photos to furniture refurbished and refinished, found objects galore (that's right, I used "galore") line the longitudinally long and laden rows.  You may not be following Mari with her magically bottomless fleamarket bag like I was when you visit the LBAM, but you will marvel in wonder at the magnitude of this market and the incredible variety of collectibles carefully laid out before you.  This being California, of course, there were some local "specialties" on display as well.  I'm venturing a guess, but the booth below contained some unusual, if not slightly familiar forms of film and television props (God, I hope they were props) and prosthetics.  Before you ask, no, I didn't.  If previous tussles with TSA have taught me anything, it's that attempting to board a plane with a spare arm would definitely cost me some extra time (not to mention an arm and a leg in checked bag fees).

Here are a couple of items we did successfully rescue from the friendly vendors that Sunday morning.  As you all know (and I love) Mari is a vintage jewelry finding fiend.  Fleamarkets are (in)famous for costume jewelry, both new and used, but on this particular Sunday the dearth of typical fleamarket jewelry baubles was overwhelmingly apparent.  The few vendors and former jewelry collectors (hoarders) who did proffer their wares, then, were a welcome sight for Mari's collector's eye.

Here, Mari presents a vintage silver Southwestern-style necklace with naja acquired from a very knowledgeable vendor who happily transferred possession to a long-time admirer of historical American Southwest jewelry.  While no blossoms were squashed here, the traditional and familiar crescent-shaped symbol of protection caught Mari's attention immediately.

Say, wasn't this MY birthday adventure?!

Now that I'm 50, my memory is not what it used to be.  Have I told you that I collect snuff bottles? If not, I collect snuff bottles.  Add it to the limitless list.  I'm not sure why I collect snuff bottles.  It has to do with my love for Asiana, I'm sure, but I don't know how that started, either.  I have just always been a great admirer of Chinese culture and artisan craftsmanship.  We'll explore that another blog time.  Like my hovering parliament of well-traveled owls, there is a shelf of snuff bottles collected from all over that help me re-collect my travels when I have a moment to admire them.

The bottle pictured here is the newest and I fully intend that double meaning.  It certainly doesn't appear to be antique, but I just fell in love with it at first sighting.  It caught my collector's gaze immediately amongst an assemblage of scattered miscellany advertising itself as a five-dollar table.  I couldn't believe my cross-collectible luck!  The five-dollar fortuitous find did present a common collector's dilemma, however. Would it wind up nestled among the snuff bottle collection or merged with its rooster relations (there's a rooster collection) in the kitchen?  Tune in to a future series to have that melodramatic mystery solved.

In the meantime, there is more birthday adventure to explore next time when I finally come on down!

California, here we come, episode 3. In which we do not visit Sheldon's cousin.

At the time that all the trip planning was taking place this past summer, the only thing I knew about Long Beach was that Sheldon's concocted cousin Leo lived there and, of course, that I watch too much television.  After doing my due diligence, I came to realize that the Long Beach Antique Market was no ordinary flea market (there's actually no such thing as an "ordinary" flea market), but a memorabilia mecca for collectors of unique and vintage (if not technically "antique") what-have-you and ephemera.

Here I am with my newest blog fan, Ephemera.

Phemy's a little shy, but a great listener.

The LBAM is located in the parking lot of Veteran's Memorial Stadium on the campus of Long Beach City College.  Once you get off the 105, 405, 605, 710, or whatever local non-numbered shortcut you've managed to create for yourself, you'll spot a sign or two pointing you in the right direction.  There is even a (free) parking garage should street parking be full by the time you arrive (opening time is 6:30 AM).  This place was MADE for a fleamarket!

Actually, it was made for football,

but not on the third Sunday of the month!

Needless to say, Mari and I were impressed (overwhelmed) when we stepped through the entrance after paying our ($5 with coupon) admission fee.  I know.  I hate paying to enter a fleamarket, too, but the size and organization and ease of parking here made it worth every online-coupon-discounted penny.

I caught Mari at left in an early morning predatory pose, her favorite (momentarily empty) market bag draping easily over her shoulder, awaiting a first catch.

This was our first visit to a new and overwhelmingly expansive fleamarket, so aside from following our usual game plan of starting in a corner and walking and looking in just one direction (no boy band members were sighted or harmed in the process) at a time, I don't have any earth-shatteringly brilliant advice for you.  

The Long Beach market is laid out meticulously in colorfully curated rows with vendors also purposefully positioned around the seemingly endless periphery.  Booths vary in size and states of organization, but most are comfortably browsable and affordably inviting.  The variety of collectibles and household goods (don't forget the ephemera!) is a fleamarketer's dream.  Every once in a while true vintage goods and antiques leapt out longingly and tantalizingly at us and a few easily-packable (and bubble-wrappable) goodies snuggled their way into Mari's eventually not-so-roomy market bag.

Visit the well-organized site for visitor info aplenty along with that $1 discount coupon.

longbeachantiquemarket.com

True confession time.  Mari and I barely managed to browse a third of the vendors on the tropically balmy Sunday of September 18th.  It had nothing to do with the colorful Nobu blends from the prior evening, but more to do with the exhaustive breadth of the surprisingly shipshape but unfortunately shade-deprived parking lot. We prudently embraced the vendors closest to the shade-laden stadium and that was plenty for this pair of fleamarket first-timers.

Since the Long Beach Antique Market is definitely a flea worth a revisit, we will each share with you a formerly-fleamarketed find. Next time.

And no, I didn't forget about that California Chicago dog, either.

California, here we come, episode 2. In which I have birthday cake by the ocean.

As a kid I never really liked fish.  This despite the fact that my parents were raised on fish, having grown up less than five miles from a beautiful beach teeming with colorful fishing boats harvesting succulent sardines daily.  (Now so good lightly grilled over an open flame, but just yucky as a kid.)  Mom and Dad's favorite was also salt cod prepared expertly by my mom as the local specialty of their region called Bacalhau à Gomes de Sá.  All I know is there was always a bowl with salt cod soaking in the basement laundry room for their Friday night fish fest during which I looked forward to my Friday fish sticks (no boiled potatoes, eggs, onions, olives, or olive oil for me).  I know.  Sad.  I'm not sure exactly why or where or when or how I finally came to appreciate seafood as an adult, but I could eat it every day now...

...except for fish sticks.

Nobody should eat frozen "fish" sticks.

Ever.

As I started planning our California adventure, my third priority (try to keep up:  TPIR was first, fleamarketing was second) was finding just the right location to enjoy a 50th birthday meal. That's even more pressure than I usually give myself, but the answer was right in front of me   (I was staring at the open Maps app on my iPad at the time of my epiphany).  Nobu.

No, Nobu Matsuhisa didn't suddenly add meatloaf to his restaurant menu, smarty pants, but dining at a Nobu restaurant has always been on my travel lists and our future proximity to the famed Malibu location made this the perfect foodie 50-is-fabulous opportunity.

Here are some excerpts from my diary this past summer...

Called Nobu Malibu immediately after realizing I would be near a Nobu and near Malibu.

Was told they take reservations 30 days in advance.

Called back 31 days in advance.

Told them I wanted a reservation for my 50th birthday in 31 days.

Was wished a happy birthday in advance and told to call back tomorrow.

Got the message.
Yada yada.

Got the reservation!

Admittedly, not as fascinating a read as Pepys or Jones (Bridget), but you get the idea.  I'm sometimes a frustrated obsessive planner, but I get the job done.  Birthday dinner was inked onto the schedule and exactly 30 days later, Mari and I snapped that happy little photo of ourselves about to walk into Nobu for our 6:00 PM reservation so we could enjoy dinner while watching the sunset.

I love my wife.

That 30 days gave me (barely) plenty of time to study the exhaustively appetizing menu so I could suggest some pleasantly palatable alternatives to my non-sushi loving wife.  Fortunately, the incredibly broad menu offered almost too many dining options for just one meal (almost).  I am not in the habit of photographing my food, but I did on this occasion so I could later savor the memories of one of my most mouthwateringly memorable and adventurous meals.

At left is my favorite, the Eggplant Spicy Miso; Lilliputian but potent.  Don't ask about the emerald green celebratory concoction (mostly because I don't remember what it was called or from what it was concocted).  Center stage is the Maine Lobster with Spicy Garlic.  Not sure this is what Maine lobstermen had in mind for their fresh catch, but amazing (if not well-traveled) nonetheless.  Finally, we had to try the signature Black (not my parents' bacalhau) Cod with Miso.  I want everything in miso now.

If you do make it out to Malibu for your own celebration, be sure to give yourself plenty of time to investigate the meticulously comprehensive menu online as well as plenty of time to inch along the last few miles of an always overflowing PCH.

noburestaurants.com

Unfortunately, there is no birthday cake on the Nobu menu, but we managed to share some sweet substitutes.  Besides, I'm definitely not a kid any more and a birthday creme brulee never fails to hit the spot nor fill a gap in a sweet tooth.

Lingering over an expertly paced meal and an equally satisfying sunset didn't leave much natural light for this final souvenir photograph, but you get the idea.

Now that I was 50, it was past my (California dreaming) bedtime and we had a fleamarket to get to the next morning in Long Beach.

Unearthing West Coast fleamarket treasures for the first time and the first of those few flavorful hot dogs next time.

California, here we come, episode 1. In which I am no longer very young.

Unlike Lucy & Ricky (and later, Laverne & Shirley), I did not visit California for a ratings boost.  Nor did I need a spiritual or mental boost despite the fact that I turned 50 back in September.  I was actually excited about being 50 because I am most fortunate to be happy with my life (and my wife!) and am looking forward to the future, however uncertain that future is painted by pessimistic prognosticators, pundits, and politicians. Despite the sadly unstable world now faced by intrepid travelers, my yen to explore and share the world and its widely wonderful treasures with Mari has yet to destabilize.  It was with a renewed sense of adventure and the promise of future fellowship amongst kindred spirits that I set out to plan a California adventure to celebrate the life with which I have been blessed by trailblazing new territory with my favorite companion.

Of course, the list making began in earnest back in March for our long September weekend.  So what item made the top of the list?  Walk of Fame?  Hollywood sign?  Disneyland?  Universal Studios?  At 49 I would have been a little embarrassed to admit to you that I have really just wanted to "come on down" since I was a little (television-and-gameshow-obsessed) boy. Now that I am 50, however, I'm feeling a bit more empowered.  At least enough to admit that attending a taping of The Price is Right was at the top of my birthday adventure wish list.  My five-day birthday "weekend" (just go with it) was the perfect opportunity to get down.

After studying the official website, I formulated a game plan of my own which included watching TPIR daily on the DVR.  Upcoming recording dates and tickets are available on the official site only a month in advance, so my typically advanced (obsessive) trip planning took a back seat to the show schedule.  In the meantime, I researched and listed every thing and every place I wanted to see and visit during my birthday "weekend."

Visit the colorfully friendly site for lots of
fabulous information about the show

(and the models).  priceisright.com

Next on the list (if you don't know me by now, you'll never never never know me) was a flea market, of course.  Had my mother planned my Caesarean birth a week earlier in 1966, my 50th-birthday-California-here-we-come-weekend would have karmically corresponded with the top-of-the-list Rose Bowl fleamarket. Fortunately, the monthly (third Sunday) Long Beach Antique Market came to the rescue.  Obrigado, mãe!

Visit the excellent site
for loads of juicy details.

longbeachantiquemarket.com

Since you asked nicely, here are a couple of juicily-detailed previews of our (digital) picture-perfect morning-to-afternoon in Long Beach.

Warning:  bubble wrap was involved.

So far, that's fleamarketing on Sunday and TPIR on Monday.  A pretty good start to the final travel itinerary, but there were still lots of sensational sites and lofty landmarks (and tasty treats) to squeeze in for my first trip to California and LA.   (I can call it LA now that I've been there.)

Eventually, a lovely oceanside sunset birthday dinner, a museum, a planetarium, a dip in the ocean (on a school/work day!), and a few more hot dogs than even I had planned, helped round out a more amazing than expected (and deserved) weekend.

Oh, and a couple of Broke Girls, too.

The journey to 50 begins next time.