L.A. Times Op-Ed-"Haha" &"Lol",Texting's Equivalent of "Amazing"

April 21, 2014 - Last week I sent a text message to a friend. A Hollywood business meeting I had high hopes for had been suddenly "postponedEverybody canceled except me," I texted.

She texted back, "Haha."

What's so funny about it, I wondered? Where's the haha in my disappointment? My text was more sad than funny; her text steamed me. Dismissed twice.

"Haha" and its partner, "LOL," are texting's go-to replies, a vaguely complimentary, vaguely condescending way to acknowledge a text has been received.

I once wrote about the overuse of the superlative "amazing," and, predictably, almost everyone I knew who read the piece told me it was an "amazing" article. Haha. Good one. LOL.

But the use of amazing is paltry compared with haha and LOL. OMG, I bet there are serious stats somewhere. Maybe the NSA could confirm it: I'd guess haha and LOL are approaching 1 billion "sends" a day, about three hahas and three LOLs for every American.

My 20-year-old friend Ida is the Barry Bonds of haha. I could break my femur and that's what I'd get back from her. And fast. In the Texting Hall of Fame, Ida will be first ballot.

I can pretty much predict when I'll get the response.

The single ha is employed for something that approaches humor, but more likely is a statement bordering on the ludicrous. For example, I text you, "Lets go 2 Aleppo, Syria"; you reply, "Ha."

Less ludicrous, more humor and haha comes back. LOLs require being a bit funnier, but not much.

One time a text I sent got a hahahahaha. Two hahas, one ha. Not too shabby for a gang reporter. Someone told me a cousin of a friend of theirs once got a hahahahahahahahaha (nine), but this guy exaggerates, so maybe he only got a hahahahahahaha (seven) — which is nothing to laugh at.

It might have taken Richard Pryor in his prime to get hahahahahahahahaha (nine) or even a hahahahahahahaha (eight).

Still, even if Pryor got a string of hahas, it wouldn't be as good as LOLLOLLOLLOLLOL (five). Now, that's very funny. That's someone approaching hysteria. That's someone bent over, hands on their thighs, panting heavily just to recuperate from the laughter that may have even brought them to tears.

And though technically five LOLs have about the same number of characters as "that's very funny," they can be typed 2.4 seconds quicker. I'm pretty sure.

And therein lounges the lure of these two text messages: Speed. Ease of thumb typing.

And then, simple laziness or maybe social desperation: The way you politely laugh at a story someone tells at a party, even though it isn't funny, you can now haha by mobile device.

Even if a text is funny, no one is really laughing. Walk down any street and people have their heads down, staring at their phones, texting or looking at texts. None of them is laughing out loud. They aren't even smiling. They might be typing haha or LOL, but they are not living the text, not texting the truth.

If they were, you would be able to stick your head out of any office building in America and hear uncontrolled laughter. (I don't know about other countries. I mean, do Russians haha? I bet Russian teenagers do. "Crimea back in da house!" "Haha.")

I'm not saying you shouldn't haha or LOL, but maybe change it up every now and then. Maybe frame a real response.

And yeah, I'll get a lot of texts about this. You know what they'll say.

Michael Krikorian, a former Times staff writer, is the author of a crime novel, "Southside." Twitter: @makmak47

http://www.latimes.com/opinion/commentary/la-oe-krikorian-texting-haha-lol-20140421,0,4518529.story#axzz2zivhO2tQ

Springtime in San Francisco, 2014; The Dining Highlights

Every time I go to San Francisco, it enforces my feeling that the folks who say downtown Los Angeles is happening are a misguided lot. Riding across the Bay Bridge heading to the city -day or night - I'm in high spirits knowing a good time awaits. 

When I was there for a week a short while ago, the sun dropped in and stayed. hovering in around 80 degrees. Yes, that's right. I'm talking about April in San Francisco This is a feeling.

I was fortunate to dine  with a group of elite Special Courses eaters; Lindsay and Michael Tusk, Nancy Oakes, Lissa Doumani,  Hiro Sone, Jonathan Waxman and Nancy L. Silverton.

Here were the eating highlights 

HIGH COTTON KITCHEN - Cochon de Lait Po'Boy 

Haight Ashbury reminds me of Times Square in that it is one of those once great; America neighborhoods scrubbed with so much disinfectant that the pit bulls don't even want to growl there anymore. .And like Times Square, where in the '70s and '80s Mickey Mouse would have been violently mugged, the Haight is place I regret was cleaned up.

Still, there is a good bookstore here called the Booksmith and there was this pulled pork sandwich at the High Cotton Kitchen that alone makes the old hippie capital worth a visit.

I owe this dining excursion to one Marica Gagliardi (www.tablehopper.com) whose brief description of HIgh Cottons $9 pork sandwich ("juicy, dripping, mustardy") enticed us. There's no alcohol served, but you can take the food to the bar next door.  

The owner is Lousiana native Terrell Brunet is on to something good in the Second Act Marketplace, 7 days, 8 a.m. to 6 p.m.. 1727 Haight St San Francisco, CA 94117 (415) 668-3994 highcottonkitchen.com

COTOGNA -  Everything

I probably wouldn't go to San Francisco and not go to Cotogna, the charming street urchin to the aristocratic Quince next door. Cotogna always satisfies. The food, the welcome , the vibe, it's what I want in a restaurant.  Last week when we showed up without a reservation, waited at the elegant bar at Quince until a seat at the Cotogna counter opened. Chef/owner Michael Tusk is one of the best in the country and seems to put as much effort into the food at Cotngna as he does Quince, which has two Michelin stars.

His wife, ex-Berkeley radical Lindsay Tusk, has mellowed though the years, transforming herself into one of America's ultimate restauranteurs. She's a living testament to turning one's life around.

The highlight was a lamb shank.  How's that for a description of the food.  Just get the shank if its available.

TROU NORMAND -  Pork Chop

From the Bar Agricole folks, this new place is at 140 New Montgomery Street in 26-story 1925 ARt Deco masterpiece originally called the Pacific Telephone Building. That alone almost makes Trou Normand  worth a visit. But, the pork chop here, $26, sears the deal. 

We went here, had some charcuterie -the highlight being the "butcher's pate" - and then our waitress starts going on about the pork chop like it's the best thing to hit town since Orlando Cepeda. I'm thinking how could it be like the "Baby Bull' and it's only $26?  

Lissa and Hiro, they rushing off to dinner with some other folks, but you know they ordered this chop. Man, I 'm glad they did. Chopper comes and, damn, if server lady wasn't right. Lissa starts in raving about how flavorful the 1 1/2" border of white fat is. I agree. Hiro is raving about the flavor pork chop meat, I agree. Nancy is quiet, steadily eating the meat and the fat. I agree..http://trounormandsf.com/

WOLVES AND CRAFTSMAN - Muffin   

I've never been to this MIssion bakery, but on Saturdays they have a stand outside the front of the Ferry Building during the farmer's market,  To give you an idea about this Bakery. their website has a quote by Pablo Picasso, "The chief enemy of creativity is 'good' sense."

They also have a muffin called "The Rebel Within" that will be nominated for muffin of the year. This muffin-stuffed with a,  get this, hard-boiled egg, flecked with green onion, asiago cheese and chorizo. It's good. So good that lawyers for Egg McMuffin, Inc. have filed a federal lawsuit demanding that "The Rebel Within" classify itself as anything other than a muffin.

A homie of The Rebel Within told Krikorian Writes "Those fake McMuffin individuals need to back off before they get crumbled.".

Craftsman and Wolves shop is 746 Valencia Street (at 18th Street)  Their stand is at Ferry Plaza Farmers Market  Sat  8 a.m. - 2 p.m. http://www.craftsman-wolves.com/menu

* Regarding 18th Street and Valencia, Lissa and Hiro, who own Terra in St. Helena and Ame in SF, are opening a new sort of French bistro this summer right war that corner.  For Bay Area diners, that is some good news.  

Current leader in Muffin of the Year Competition 

BOULETTE'S LARDER -Bread Pudding 

Like the controversial Rebel Within muffin at Crftsman and Wolves, the Bread Pudding, with strawberries and rhubarb, is going through some rigamaroll trying to being classified as French Toast. If this classification comes through this custardy dish will surely rate among the best French Toast I've had (excluding my mom's). 

While I was eating this, Nancy Silverton was eating some scrambled eggs and she's so moved by them she takes a photo.  While this is normal behavior for many people, like, for example, Verona Masongsong (noted sword fighter slash Pizzeria Mozza server) who would that a picture of a lone Frito, for Nancy to take a food photo, well, damn, she really must like it.  She even suggested a Twitter line for the dish,  something along the lines of "Boulette's Larder could teach the  world how to scramble eggs."

To top it all off - and speaking of changing the world, or, at least, trying to   - there's a stop-and-gaze-and-ponder-the-state-of-the-planet statue of your boy Mohandas K. Ghandi about 15 feet away with a quote about him by Albert Einstein, by "Generations to come, it may be,  will scace believe that such a one as this  ever in flesh and blood walked upon this Earth."

Scrambled eggs, illegal French toast. Gandhi and Al, that's a way to start the day. http://www.bouletteslarder.com/

TARTINE BAKERY - Sesame Loaf

I already wrote about this loaf of bread that received the coveted "Five Nods" from Nancy. Here it is again :  http://krikorianwrites.com/blog/2014/4/8/nancy-silverton-awards-coveted-5-nods-to-tartine-sesame-loaf

COQUETA - Eggs with Shrimp and Crispy Potato  - Like Tartine, I wrote about this place we relish, but here it is again http://krikorianwrites.com/blog/2014/4/7/bzxz20kpvvz6lmex3xt0uz67jsfx15

That story is more about my extraordinary view. "Yeah, I had a view."

On the Waterfront 

TOSCA CAFE - Vegetables

Among the more forgotten people in America are the vegetarian alcoholics.But, listen up you drunkard. blurry-eyed, stumbling lot who disdain roasted pigs and lambs, yet foolishly insert the word "celery" during raucous sing-a-longs to "If I Only Had a Heart."  April Bloomfield has not forsaken you.

Dear April, best known as the chef of the Spotted Pig, Breslin and John Dory Oyster Bar in New York, and set to open in Los Angeles, has taken over at the venerated Tosca Cafe in San Francisco's North Beach. There's plenty of meaty fare here, but when Nancy and I went recently, we ordered almost all vegetable dishes.

Here's what we had; roasted carrots with tops, hazelnut pesto, something called "mead' vinegar, thyme, ($8); roasted treviso, ($7); broccoli de cicco with red wine vinegar and crispy garlic ($8). Something else, too. Forgot. All were very good.  Even the forgotten one.

(The one non-veg dish was a egg tonnato ($7), which will likely be nominated for the highly competitive category of "deviled egg dish of the month". This was on a puddle of tuna sauce and topped with a anchovy and capers.)

For the drunk who has some cash, there's five bourbon's from the Old Rip Van Winkle Distillery; 10-year ($18), 12-year ($35), 15-year (50), 20-year ($75), and 23-year ( $125). My favorite is "The Granddaddy" a special "80-year-old" version, my own concoction where I order the five bar offerings. pour them in a water glass with one ice cube and sip, as CW Sughure would say, "the heart right out of a fine spring afternoon."

* That stolen quote is from the opening line is James Crumley's "The Last Good Kiss", one of the most revered in crime fiction.

“When I finally caught up with Abraham Trahearne, he was drinking beer with an alcoholic bulldog named Fireball Roberts in a ramshackle joint just outside of Sonoma, California, drinking the heart right out of a fine spring afternoon.” 

BINCE DOLANIER AWARDED STUNNING FOUR MICHELIN STARS, CULINARY WORLD SHOCKED

The culinary world was shocked Saturday when news broke that 20-year-old chef sensation Bince Dolanier's restaurant in California had became the first establishment ever to be awarded four Michelin stars thereby shattering the thought-to-be-unbreakable three star ceiling..

It was an extraordinary move by the French tyre manufacture guidebook which began doling out single stars in 1926 and up to three by 1931. The honoring of Dolanier, the French-born, American-raised l'enfant volatile chef,  was lauded by many, but scorned by traditionalists.

"This is blasphemy," said the Parisian restaurant critic Maurice SuSway. "To say this Bince is better than Point? Than Dumaine? Than Girardet? Than Crenn? Than Robuchon? Than Chapel? Than Sone? Absurd. It must some kind of desperate publicity stunt like they did in the late 90s. Either that, or Michelin has sold out to an American cooperation." 

Speaking to Stanford undergraduates, Bince said Michelin had "come correct" by bestowing four stars on his Livermore California restaurant which has been called the "Mount Everest of cuisine" and "Alamogordo* of the kitchen."

"For 75 years years, the Michelin guide has put limits, has put a ceiling, on greatness,": said Dolanier whose first name rhymes with "Vince". "The ultimate goal, the golden ceiling, if you will, has been three stars. Who says we cannot burst through that ceiling and leap to the stars? Did Miles Davis have a ceiling? Did Rembrandt? I guess Michelangelo had one, but he sure made it look good. The narrow-minded people outraged by my fourth star are the same people who didn't understand Copernicus. We cannot put a ceiling on creativity or genius."

Some of the world's greatest chefs agreed.

"Bince is right about the Michelin guide and it's limitations," said Marc Haeberlin, chef  of the idyllic L' Auberge De L'ill in Illhaeusern, Alsace, France. which has had three Michelin stars since 1967  "Our goal - my father Paul's and now  mine and Dirck Gieselmann's - for the last 47 years has been to maintain that third star. We should not be content by merely staying at three stars, but striving for more.  And now, thanks to Bince, there is more. I say congratulation to Bince and his entire staff.".

That sentiment was echoed across the Atlantic. 

"There are more than 100 restaurants in the world with three Michelin stars," said chef Michael Voltaggio, whose Los Angeles restaurant Ink has three Goodyear stars. "Don't you think it would  be more interesting to have 90-three-stars and 10 four-stars? I see that as the future of the Michelin guide. Everything else is exploding, why not guide books?" 

Bince Dolanier's career began in 1997 at age three when he staged at Fredy Girardet in Crissier Switzerland, widely considered the best restaurant in the world at the time. Though Girardet himself retired later that very year, he instilled a work ethic in the young Bince. "Chef Girardet taught me if I wanted to be at the top of my profession I would need to give up certain things such as childhood, education and fun."

By the time Dolanier was seven he was the saucier at Louis XV in Monte Carlo, the domaine of Alain Ducasse and Franck Cerutti. Ducasse remembered Dolanier well.

"Bince was six or seven when he came to the kitchen at XV, but he acted more like a nine or ten-year-old. Very mature. I vividly recall him telling me that sauce for fish needs to be like a thick, flavored water so the fish would feel comfortable right up 'til the very end and not tense up before people ate it.  Such poetry,  even touching, I thought, though, at the same time, I'm thinking 'this kid is whack'. The fish is dead. Still, even then, Bince showed he had that 'certain something'."

Three years later, working as a line cook at Les Freres Troisgros ( now known as Maison Troisgros), Bince showed his creative violent side sensationally when he beat a male customer to death with a cooper pan of Troisgros' famous sorrel cream sauce ( usually used flawlessly on their salmon) The man had accused Dolanier of substituting prized Limousin beef used for the cote de boeuf with six packages of Von's Rancher's Reserve. Due largely to French cattle grower's support, Dolanier was never brought to trial. 

Seeking a country where their son's violent tendencies would fit in better, Dolanier's family - his father Bernarse, an engineer from St. Emillion who had designed corks for Cheval Blanc,. and his mother Chantel, a probation officer originally from East St. Louis, Illinois - moved to Watts, California in 2008, when Bince was 14.

The young Bince worked tirelessly through the kitchens at Terra in St. Helena, and at Boulevard and Quince in San Francisco until he opened his own restaurant across the street from Lawrence Livermore Labs, where his father works in a top secret laser labs that turns hydrogen into helium.

And across the street from the lab, at Bince Dolanier, the effects are almost as profound. As the Michelin Guide stated in its reasoning for awarding Dolanier the elusive fourth star, "It seems like when you take a bite of anything on the menu at Bince Dolanier, it explodes in your mouth."

###

End of Bince Dolanier, Part 1.

* Alamogordo is the site in New Mexico where, on July 16, 1945,  the first atomic bomb was exploded .

Just an hour after hearing that his restaurant had been awarded a fourth Michelin star, Bince changed his logo

Nancy Silverton Gives "5 Nods" to Tartine Bakery's Sesame Loaf

For only the third time in 2014, Nancy Silverton has awarded the coveted Five Nods to a food item.

The silent declaration came Monday afternoon in San Francisco when she grabbed a steam-emitting sesame loaf at Tartine Bakery, took an intense sniff comparable to Tony Montana's right before the his "Say hello to my little friend" line, then took a bite. Her eyes closed. Seconds later, the silent nods began.

As a small group of privileged onlookers watched - actually only one, me - the nods mounted . At three well-paced, deliberate nods, as more steam rose from the remaining loaf of bread, there was absolute stillness in the bakery. Then the fourth nod came, and with it, the anticipation that magic was in the air.  Sandy Koufax was walking to the mound for the 9th inning, September 9, 1965. It was two strikes on Harvey Kuenn. "It is 9:46 p.m.," said Vin Scully. 

Nancy Silverton took another delicate chew. And she nods. Five nods!

To confirm it, I ask her "Five nods?" . She nodded.

The bread baker that memorable day at Tartine was Nick Beitcher. When he saw that particular, now-famous loaf of Sesame, he reportedly said "Awesome. Gonna be a good bake today." 

###

The other Five Nods were awarded to the .French butter, Beurre de Baratte of Rodolph de Meunier, and the storied Salty Peanut Butter gelato at Pizzeria Mozza Newport Beach.

Warning - The photo below is NOT of the sesame loaf, but rather Tartine's  superb country loaf. Sesame was long gone by the time a camera came out. As for the country loaf, no rating was given as it was for Lissa Doumani who, with her husband, chef Hiro Sone, is opening a restaurant nearby on Valencia Street and 17th Street this summer. Doumani refused my repeated requests to tear off a chunk. To emphasize her stalwart position. Doumani, recklessly driving a large army green SUV, nearly ran over a homeless woman on Mission Street and Capp Street . At that juncture, I  quit asking   

A older photo of Sesame is seen below the Country bread

2nd Warning - Do not attempt to eat the sesame loaf with the butter of Rodolphe de Meunier. 

#

http://www.tartinebakery.com/  

The bread is available after 4:30 p.m..

600 Guerrero Street San Francisco, CA 94110 (MAP) . 415 487 2600 Hours: Monday 8-7 | Tuesday, Wednesday 730-7 | Thursday, Friday 730-8 | Saturday 8-8 | Sunday 9-8

##

Vin Scully's call of Koufax perfect game - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VJdli-ONL-8

Nancy and Vinny Eng with the Country loaf. Sesame was gone. 

Baby, It's Cold Outside; Michael Chiarello Rescues a Couple

"Call him."

"No."

"Just call him and tell him where we are."

Where we were was on the San Francisco waterfront outside of Coqueta, Michael Chiarello's Spanish restaurant near the Ferry Building.  

Moments before, a hostess had told us the dining room was completely booked, however we could eat in the separate bar area. But, that bar was packed like a midnight Muni train heading to Castro Street. Then, I spotted an empty table outside on the Embarcadero sidewalk. Could we eat out there? A server gave me a "Dude, you really must be hungry " look, but said "Yes, but it's cold outside." 

So we sat outside and ordered wine and three appetizers. The wind chilled us and reminded me of all the home runs its grandfather had cost Willie Mays at Candlestick Park.

That's when I started in urging Nancy to call MIchael Chiarello. But, she wouldn't. And I admire her for that. I doubt there's a revered chef in the country who would not call a friend to get them a table in this situation. But, Nancy's concern was for the customers. Thing was, these people weren't even her customers.

"It's busy. And I'm not going to bump anyone who has been waiting to get a table. I'm not going to take cuts."

The wine arrived. The wind blew harder. I reached for my phone to text Lindsey Tusk that we'd be heading to her restaurant Cotogna soon.

Then, a man hurriedly exited the sidewalk. heading for the Embarcadero sidewalk. It was Michael Chiarello. He saw us, came to an abrupt stop, stared for two seconds and, in borderline disbelief, and said "Really?"

I have never heard a better "Really?" in my life. And then he said it he said it twice more. "Really? Really", each time the incredulous level rising..

"I was just urging Nancy to call you," I said..

"Nancy, you wouldn't stand for me sitting outside your restaurant. Come on inside." He commandeered a server and told her to set us up in the restaurant. We followed Michael inside. There's a difference between taking cuts and getting them.

In 60 seconds, we were ensconced in, Coqueta. I had a view of Nancy with a small window behind her framing the lighted San Francisco Bay. Yeah, I had a view.

The food started coming: Sunny side-up egg with shrimp, crispy potato and chorizo dressing; crusty bread with tomato and jamon serrano; bite size skewers called pintxos; pork and duck meatballs. sliced rib eye. It was all very good.

Yet, as good as it was, it was secondary to my view. I'll never forget that view. Really. 

Baby, it's warm inside

Nancy with the knight of the night

A Gang Reporter Reveals A Sweetness For Roses

"War of the Roses" -Sunday L.A. Times Magazine, June 14, 1998

I committed a burglary recently.

On a spring midnight, I parked my Ford pickup truck on a quiet street in Garden Grove and surveyed the neighborhood. Heart pounding, I grabbed my burglary tool and walked toward the front door of the house on Richmond Avenue.

I'll admit I wasn't the coolest thief in town--certainly not a Cary Grant. After all, I hadn't burgled in the nearly 30 years since my cousins Dave, Jeff and Richard and I broke into Uncle Popkin's house in Eagle Rock to steal shish kebab. Neighbors called the police and soon a cop chopper whirled above the hilly neighborhood searching for us--successfully. The cops let us go. Our parents weren't so kind.

But failure be damned; at age 43 I was compelled to strike again.

Just as I neared the treasures, the security lights of the beige-and-blue four-bedroom house blew my cover. No greater spotlight ever shone on any performer on Broadway or any convict scaling the wall at Folsom. I felt the eyes of the world--or at least Orange County--upon me. How could I have been so careless to forget the security lights? I had installed them myself five years ago for my former girlfriend, Carol.

But I had crossed the Rubicon. I took the tool of choice, a Swiss-made Felco hand pruner, and went to work.

Snip. Snip. Snip.

Better go. Don't push it. The cops could be on their way--and how would I explain this midnight foray on a home that Carol has rented to strangers for the past two years? I quicklyran/walked back to the truck and escaped into the night.

Two blocks away, I turned on the interior light and admired my loot. Tiffany. Paradise. Double Delight. Three breathtakingly beautiful roses.

I don't know what the courts would have ruled had I been caught. But perhaps they might have been sympathetic; I had planted these roses.

From 1989 to 1994, roses, along with dining at the world's best French restaurants, were Carol's and my No. 1 hobby. And while dinner at the Girardet restaurant in Crissier, Switzerland, and Joel Robuchon in Paris set me back a sumptuous grand, one good rosebush cost a sawbuck and, with proper care, will outlive me.

I planted 33 roses at Carol's house. At my Dad's home in Gardena, where I usually was when I wasn't at Carol's, I planted 28.

We joined the American Rose Society. We entered the Pasadena Rose Show in 1993, winning three second-place red ribbons (for Paradise, Brandy and Color Magic).

Then, after nearly six years together, Carol and I broke up. There was no court settlement. She would get custody of the roses. I would get nothing. Not even visitation rights.

Until recently, I lived in Los Feliz Village, where I had rented a small bungalow with a yard--actually a flower bed. Well, it was more like a flower cot. I had one rose in the ground, First Prize, a two-toned pink rose with little fragrance but blooms as big as dinner plates.

In a round wooden container, I raised a vermilion hybrid tea called Granada. I positioned the pot near the entrance to my place. When someone asked me about my dwelling, I sometimes said, "I can look out my front door and see Granada."

Most people are surprised when I tell them I'm into roses in such a big way. They think I'm kidding when I say I'm a member of the American Rose Society. I have to pull out my tattered card to prove it. (It's the only society I've ever belonged to.)

But I guess I can see their point. I don't come off as the typical rosarian.

I've been a street reporter covering South-Central and Watts. I've gone to housing projects late at night and sipped Olde English 800 with the homeboys. I know guys named Big Evil, Mad Dog and Snipe. I wear a lot of dark clothing. I have a couple of scars on my forehead from disastrous street battles in the '80s.

I may act like a tough guy sometimes, but if someone showed me a Double Delight in the middle of a street fight, I might stop and stare for a few seconds. God forbid any of the fellas should read this.

My mother was named Rose, and two years after she died, I started buying them. Her name helped, but I just happen to like the look of a good garden rose. I like the variety, the different names. I like working in the garden and feeding them. I like that they grow as well on Grape Street in Watts as they do on Mapleton Drive in Holmby HIlls. And I like putting the cut flowers in an old Chateau Cheval Blanc bottle, knowing I drank the wine and grew the roses.

I keep my pruners in the car, but not for purposes of theft. I have been known, while waiting for someone--anyone--to wander into a stranger's yard and prune a rosebush that hasn't been cared for since D-day. I've knocked on doors and explained the situation: "Excuse me, I'm just waiting for a friend, and I saw your rosebush could use a little pruning. Would you mind if I clipped it a bit? No charge."

Some people look at me as if I'm a serial killer. Others emerge to discuss their garden; some are ashamed and promise to take better care of their Mister Lincoln (a classic red with fragrance) or Pristine (a delicate off-white tinged with pink, sporting a high center).

The single most stunning rose I've ever grown was a Chicago Peace. I cut the flower, a more deeply colored relative of the world-famous Peace, and gave it to my sister, Jeanine. I must have looked at that rose 70 times and every time I did it made me feel almost spiritual.

I felt the same way as I drove away from Carol's house, gazing at Double Delight, a creamy white flower whose petals are thickly bordered in a brilliant red and whose fragrance is as dreamy as a bouquet of sweet peas. I don't understand guys who try to impress dolls with a dozen red roses from a florist. One Double Delight will do the trick--if the trick can be done.

Technically, I suppose, my raid at Carol's house was a burglary. But, now that I think about it, I'd have to say it was a different kind of crime. In a burglary, you take objects, not living things. No, this was more like a kidnapping.

Michael Krikorian covered South-Central Los Angeles and Watts for The Times.

Double Delight, my second favorite Rose, after my mom. 

Li'l Scooby from Rollin 60s Shot and Killed; 2 More Killed Nearby

UPDATE : Friday night around 8 p.m. two black males were shot to death while sitting in a car near Florence Avenue and Cimarron Street. Appears NOT to be related to the story below. 

March, 28, 2014 - A long-time member of the Rollin 60s Crips was shot and killed Thursday afternoon in Hyde Park.  Damon Leroy Jones, 37, whose street name was Li'l Scooby, was shot multiple times and was pronounced dead after being transported to California Hospital. 

Li'l Scooby, one of 28 Rollin 60s singled out by the City Attorney's office in a 2003 injunction against the Hyde Park-based gang. was wheelchair-bound, the result of being wounded nearly 10 years ago.  That wheelchair didn't stop his thug life. His chair was often equipped with an AK47, a Rollin 60 source said. 

Another street source indicated Scooby's death may have been part of a long-standing internal conflict among the Rollin 60s, one of the largest streets gangs in California

"One of the homies put him in that wheelchair and one of the homies put him in the grave.", said the man from Hyde Park.

Jones’ first arrest was for vandalism on March, 15, 1990 at the age of 14. In 1994, as an adult, he was convicted of robbery with a gun.  In 2002, he was  convicted for being gang member in possession of a gun.

In a 2003 report on the "Rolling 60s", then-LAPD gang officer Jeffrey Martin stated that he rarely saw Jones “in the ‘hood because he was in and out of county jail and prison" so often. 

Also in the report, Officer Martin described an interview where Jones “stated  that there were only a few like him out in the streets that are ‘pushing the line’ and demanding that the gang be run the right way.”

Thursday on 11th Avenue, someone apparently thought Li'l Scooby had gone the wrong way. 

Son, 27, Arrested in Stabbing Death of Mother, 55, in Sylmar

March 26, 2014  - A 27-year-old man has been arrested for the murder of his 55-year-old mother who was stabbed to death Tuesday afternoon at her home in Sylmar. 

The son, Freddy Sanchez, was covered with blood when he was taken into custody by police officers from the LAPD' s Mission Division. His mother, Matilda  Sanchez, was found lying dead on her living room floor with multiple stab wounds. Nearby, police said they found a "large bloody butcher knife."

""It's especially tragic to deal with a scene where someone kills one's parent," said Lt. Paul Vernon. commanding officer of the Mission Detective Division who added that police officers have responded to the home recently after reports of the son kicking doors and starting fires.

Freddy Sanchez, who had shared joint custody of his 8-year-old daughter, was booked for California Penal Code 187 (murder) and is being held on $1 million bail

BREAKING NEWS Chef Dominique Crenn Wanted By Police, Flees to France

Renowned San Francisco chef Dominique Crenn has fled the country after learning federal, state and local law enforcement agencies issued a warrant for her arrest Sunday following a shocking incident at the inaugural "All-Star Chef Classic" in downtown Los Angeles.

Crenn, the first female chef in the United States to be awarded two Michelin stars and the subject of a current episode of Netfilx's "Chef's Table", stunned the audience at "Restaurant Stadium" during a cooking challenge between chefs Josiah Citrin and Jennifer Jasinski when she "assaulted a fish," according to law enforcement sources and several eyewitnesses.

The fish,  a suzuki, aka wild Japanese bass, was Citrin's and he was outraged.

"That dumb ass bitch from San Francisco fucked up my dish," said a visible upset Citrin, the chef owner of Melisse in Santa Monica.  

Saturday night, Citrin was immersed in final stages of an intense cook off against Denver's Jasinski when the drama unfolded near L.A. Live. Standing stage right, Crenn grabbed a container of a green vegetable sauce, crept up behind Citrin and just before his dish was to be judged, dumped the entire container onto the suzuki. The fish was ruined instantaneously..

Stunned, Citirn reached for a chef's knife, but was restrained by John Mason, a retired U.S. Army Delta Force commando hired as the event's chief security officer. After several seconds of silence, the dumbfounded audience headed for the exits. Several people were heard saying "Did I really just see that?"  Event organizer, Lucy Lean, began weeping and muttered, "The French."

The alleged assault on the fish was not the only thuggish behavior Crenn exhibited Saturday. At the JW Marriott Hotel bar earlier, she incessantly bullied Nancy Silverton's assistant, Little Michelle Francis, into giving up her prescription eye glasses because, she said, "They look good on me.".

Later at Chi Spacca di Mozza, Crenn unleashed even more outlaw characteristics After a woman asked gang reporter Michael Krikorian "Are you Nancy Silverton's father?" Crenn, a striking and poetic chef from Versailles, threatened to "take that stupid woman out in the alley and beat the shit out of her." Silverton's assistant Little Michelle, clearly under Crenn's influence by now, offered to help.

Sunday morning, as he prepared for the finale of the All-Star Chef Classic, Citrin was still fuming. "They should change her name from Dominique to Domi-Nut," said Citrin, who, like Crenn, has two Michelin stars. "To top it off, I made that fuckin' sauce," 

Using satellite data, Interpol reported Crenn had landed Sunday evening in Paris and may be heading to Brittany where her mother lives.

"She'll probably try to hide out at her mother's and hope the French do not extradite her back to America to face charges," said LAPD detective Sal LaBarbera. "They bring her back here and she's toast. French toast."

UPDATE : France's Central Directorate of Interior Intelligence has reported a woman fitting Crenn's description was spotted in Mont St. Michel wearing a chef jacket with the inscription "Lucy Lean".  

BREAKING NEWS - Fugitive Crenn Named "Best Female Chef in the World"   Check it -  http://www.krikorianwrites.com/blog/2016/4/28/fugitive-dominique-crenn-awarded-best-woman-chef-in-the-world-fbi-names-elizabeth-falkner-as-person-of-interest

Dominique Crenn with her new glasses.

Josiah Citrin and Dominique Crenn in happier times.