Despite how it may seem, I haven't entirely neglected this blog. I stop by every once in a while, hoping that something will charge to the front of my mind and spur me to write a post. Other times, I visit some of the links on the right hand side. It'll never be the way it once was when I was blogging several times a week to a fairly active bunch of readers, but maybe - just maybe - I'll get the inspiration to do a few updates.

Above is an Olivetti Studio 45 typewriter. I really liked the styling and color when I saw it online, and had to pick it up. With a little rubbing alcohol and plastic polish, it now looks like new. Research indicates it was built in Barcelona around 1970, and it probably hasn't been used in 20 years judging by the completely dry ink ribbon.

So maybe, just maybe, I'll use the typewriter to do a few blog posts. I've often read that the typewriter's singular use is excellent for writers as there's nothing to distract from putting words to paper. I'm off to find a ribbon.

Review: Fraiche Restaurant in Culver City, CA

Rating: ** 1/2 (2.5 stars out of 5)

For anyone who has read the most recent issue of Los Angeles Magazine, this restaurant is no secret. Splashed across multiple pages, the glowing tidbits of acclaim could only lead to one conclusion - that this restaurant must be moved to the top of your 'must visit' list. I'd like to suggest that you instead place it at the bottom and hope that the flaws are fixed by the time you're ready to visit.

For appetizers, the pumpkin soup with marshmallow was definitely an interesting creation. Kudos. However, the green salad was terribly dressed with a sub-standard olive oil and olives that completely overpowered any delicacy in the greens. Skip the salad, get the soup.

The steak frites entree was the savior of this restaurant's rating. The meat was prepared to near-perfection, and was accompanied by lightly seasoned potatoes fresh from the fryer with a garlic mayo on the side. The sauce ladled onto the meat was perhaps a bit much, considering that an herbed butter was also placed atop the meat, but the meat's flavor still shone through.

The dessert choices were limited and odd; note that the menu presented was entirely different from the one listed on their website at the moment. I ended up with the chocolate bread pudding which was, in effect, chocolate cake with ice cream. It was edible, but a mediocre follow-up to a very good entree.

While the menu has some redeeming qualities, the operation of the restaurant itself is a bit of a disappointment. The wait staff was hurried, rude, and disappeared for minutes on end. Our particular waiter had absolutely no knowledge of the menu, and when asked to recommend a wine, presented the list and said, "any red should be good." Perhaps their no-nonsense style does lend some French authenticity to the wait staff, but no French waiter would have shown that much disrespect to the wines!

Another oddity is that you can't mix the bar menu with the dinner menu, and that the menus are quite different. Typically, a bar menu is just a reduced version of the dinner menu. Not the case here.

A cheese fondue (found on the bar menu) may not be ordered by anyone seated at a dinner table. That would have been my preferred option for an appetizer, but we couldn't order it, and my guess is that the restaurant is being cheap about their tablecloths. (Bar tables don't have tablecloths, dinner tables do.) The same holds true for the chocolate fondue, which would have been a fine dessert, but only appeared on the bar menu as well. This dichotomy would be less of an issue if the bar menu was limited to the bar, but the restaurant has mixed bar tables with dinner tables, so you might be seated next to someone who's ordering from a different menu.

These operational issues are an easier fix than food-related issues. Generally, the food ranged from decent to excellent, and only needs a modest amount of improvement. But the restaurant could probably use a visit from a restaurant consultant regarding its menu, and the wait staff could definitely use a course on wines and an hour with the chef.

Don't write Fraiche off - there are some good things going on there - but give it some time before going.

Settled and satisfied

Over the past few weeks, I've completed my move to Ithaca, New York. The folks at Lowe's, Wal-Mart, and Bed, Bath & Beyond all know me very well at this point, and I'm in the process of becoming acquainted with the staff at Wegman's. Despite the small size of the city, it's not lacking in what I would call "essential business." There's no need to do something like drive to Syracuse to shop.

Looking at my full cupboards, empty laundry basket, and sparkling bathroom, there's nothing left to do but wait. Classes start a week from tomorrow, at which point everything will change dramatically. No more lazy summer days or evenings spent with a pile of red Netflix envelopes. Next week, I'll be sucked into the destructive triangle of coursework, social events, and recruiting. Much like "faster, better, cheaper," it's said that a business school student can only be successful in two of the aforementioned three.

Serving a different master

I left my job two weeks ago, although I'd mentally checked out after returning from Copenhagen in the second week of May. I was hoping that I'd feel some sort of release after leaving my firm of three years, but no. Nothing. I woke up on the morning after I left, and rather than feeling like a temporary retiree even for a moment, I immediately felt as though I were a student again. With papers, readings, and homework to do.

This is not far from the truth. Actually, it is the truth. An MBA is a two year degree, but it could easily be three, so I've been receiving work to do ever since I enrolled. Granted, none of this summer work is actually required to be turned in, but if you don't do it, you're at a huge disadvantage compared to those who did.

So, in between economics readings and finding the marginal cost from the first derivative of a total cost function, I've been packing. It's truly amazing to see the size of everything I've accumulated when it's all been packed neatly into boxes. Conclusion: I have a lot of stuff, and will have no problem making my 1-bedroom look "lived-in" from the moment I arrive.

I get to Ithaca the first week of July, and I'm going to try to get unpacked and completely settled within a week. This gives me time to finish up outstanding work and to relax for a bit before the onslaught of three-week orientation begins in August. Perhaps I'll also have a moment to sit back and savor that unconstrained feeling that comes with starting a new degree.

Pressing on with life

I'll be done with my job in a few weeks, and then I have a few weeks before I move to Ithaca for an MBA. After nearly three years as a lawyer, it really doesn't seem as though I've done all that much with my life despite what my resume might say. This is a common complaint among attorneys, although it's by no means universal. But I'm glad I've figured out where I stand early on, rather than 10 or 20 years down the line.

I think it will be a little bit difficult to put aside the past six years of my life (three years of law school plus three years of work), but that was the whole idea behind going back to school. It's the only way I can make a clean break with what I'm doing right now. And what a break it will be, professionally, personally, and geographically.

That said, how am I furthering my future this weekend? Editing pictures from my trip this month. Getting ready for school can wait a few days.

p.s. I loathe CDG Terminal 2. Yes, I know they're still coping with the 2004 collapse of 2E, but come on. I gave myself 4 hours to check in for my flight home, and needed 3.5 of them. It would be really nice if Orly were open to US flights again.

Colorful Copenhagen

I've enjoyed my time here, and I've got another couple of days before the flight home. As a city for tourism, I'd give it an above average rating; if I had a bottomless wallet and a much larger umbrella, it would be quite the nice place to live.

Perhaps I'm just a bit floored by the apparent safety of the place. Sure, like any other European city it has its fair share of alley dwellers and seemingly uncontrollable graffiti. But the mothers of Copenhagen actually enter stores whilst leaving their infants in carriages outside. This is, perhaps, acceptable practice because there are simply enough children to go around. What would one want with someone else's?

I'm not sure if the number of small children I've seen is some how correlated to a recent government program to encourage reproduction. Certainly, the available data indicate that Denmark's fertility rate is still below replacement. But there are children and pregnant women everywhere. Good on ya', Danes. Someone has to be the fisher of the future's herring.

Thoughts on Brussels

I'm enjoying my time, but am glad that I've only scheduled two days here. In fact, I scheduled two, but am only going to be here for one. I'll be going to Leuven tomorrow since I've always wanted to see the town hall. (After all, I did a paper on it in college for a Gothic architecture class, but have never actually seen it in person.)

Anyhow, Brussels is certainly smaller than Paris. Much smaller. As in, 'walked around the entire city center, stopped several times, and got back to where I started in less than 90 minutes' smaller. I kind of like that, since my legs needed a bit of a rest after hiking between metro lines at Chatelet, a station that is actually larger than 2/3 of European national capitals.

Brussels certainly has charm, and I'm just a bit angry at myself for not stopping before. I've done the Paris-Amsterdam route a couple of times on Thalys, but Brussels was always just a stop along the way - not a destination. I really did try to make up for that lapse in judgment, however. I've completely eaten my way through the Belgian national dishes in a mere 12 hours...moules frites, un gaufre de Liège, and various beers and chocolates.

And although not particularly Belgian, I had an excellent blanquette de veau for lunch. Sad to say, Paris - you really dropped the ball on that one. The Brussels version was much better.

I should probably not do another evening of moules frites, though. I'm guessing I'll be living on seafood once I hit Denmark.