Breakfast With The SJG

At her home in Sherman Oaks, CA, kvetching guru/kugel maker the SJG treats all of the staff who tend to her palatial estate to breakfast every morning. Why? "Because I'm a giver," she said in an exclusive interview with Goldie Goldberger, host of "What's Nu By You?", a new podcast that's getting great reviews. The noshes tend to vary depending on the SJG's mood. On a recent morning, she made prune kreplach with a splash of Mogen David, to get the system going. Did it work? "A little too well," she told Goldie. "They spent the entire day evacuating. Nobody ran a vacuum, nobody polished the silver. We learn from our mistakes. I had to do some serious re-thinking. The next morning, I went with a nice bagel with a nice schmear and a nice slice of Nova Scotia and got very high ratings and great reviews, the best ever in the history of breakfast. Better to make the people who schlep and toil for you happy, as opposed to miserable and riot-prone." In addition to the bagel buffet, the SJG recently added something special. "Now and then, I like to surprise the staff with an ice cold borscht to go with.  It's very tasty, everybody loves the borsht, the borsht gets great reviews and very high ratings," she said, adding, "although it does tend to stain the teeth, so afterwards, I offer a chaser of Chlorox. As I said, I'm a giver." 

Superman Vs. The Hulk In Gelson's

You never know when something you read in AARP magazine might just come in handy. You might wind up dispensing important life-saving medical advice: "Step away from that toxic sugar cookie, it could kill you!" Or in my case you might find yourself embroiled in a heated debate over who's a better superhero: Superman or The Hulk? Normally, I'd have bupkis to say about this topic. Bupkis, I tell ya. But thanks to an AARP article a few years back ("Superman: The High-Flying History of America's Most Enduring Hero"), I landed in a spirited discussion in the coffee aisle of, where else, Gelson's.

The manager, the stock clerk and a nice nebbishy customer were going back and forth over the superpowers of the afore-mentioned comic book/TV/film superheroes, who've been reinvented 82 times at last count, and I just had to intervene. I had to. It's what I do. "Wow," I said, "you guys are really into this thing, aren't you?" "Afraid so," said the manager. "Well, not to generalize too much, but I don't think I've ever heard three women debating Superman vs. the Hulk." "Oh, I think you're wrong," said the customer. "Lots of women have opinions on this. Have you ever been to Comic-Con?" "No, thank God." "If you had to pick, would it be Superman or The Hulk?" he asked. I didn't even hesitate. "Superman, of course. He's Jewish." The customer gave me a fist bump, something I've never received in Gelson's or anywhere else for that matter. "Exactly." The manager grinned. "How do you know?" "I read it in AARP magazine."

So There's That

So now that my stupendous future DIL is here and all is right with my tiny personal world, kina hora, poo poo poo, have I momentarily run out of things to worry about? Let me think about that. Of course not. Just yesterday, I found something new to worry about, courtesy of my adorable MIL. Our conversation went something like this:

"I checked the weather for the party."
"Me, too. I've been checking, obsessively."
"Did you check in the last few days?"
"I checked last week."
"Uh huh."
"Do I detect an uh oh in that uh huh?"
"You detect a T."
"A T?"
"T as in -- "
"Don't say it."
"Thunderstorm."
"Dear God, no!"
"Maybe it's wrong."
"Maybe it's right."
"Let's not panic."
"I need to hang up and call the caterer."

A backyard post-wedding party. A potential T-storm. So there's that.

You Will Like This

When Connie Ray, my favorite tall-gorgeous-redheaded-Carolina-farmgal who not-so-secretly longs to be Jewish, sent me this video with the assurance, "You will like this," I knew I was in for an educational treat. Like is putting it mildly. Try love. I'm pretty sure I've seen it already, but I can't remember for kaka, so I watched it like it was the first time, and smiled so much my cheeks are now permanently damaged. Don't feel badly, Connie Ray, I know you didn't mean to ruin my punim. I've already found a cheek damage specialist and will send you the bill.

He's A What?

"Is that a Kelpie?" a gal calls out from her parked car.
"A what?"
"Your dog? Is he a Kelpie?"
"He's a royal rescue pup of questionable lineage."
"No question, he's a Kelpie. An Australian Kelpie."
"Technically, he's a Lab Mix. A little this, a little that."
"Is he friendly?"
"Very."
"I'd like to pet him," she says, getting out of her car. "Is that okay?"
"Sure."
"Oh, hello there! Hello, Mr. Kelpie."
"I'd never heard of that breed."
"They're very intelligent. Is he intelligent?"
"He can kill a rat like nobody's business."
"Kelpie."
"Really?"
"Look it up."
"I will."
"I"m telling you, he's 100 percent Kelpie."
"Good to know."
"Bye bye, Mr. Kelpie."

Kelpie? Schmelpie! I don't see it. Do you?

For The Love Of Ivy

What to share on a morning such as this? Happy photos. So here are a few distractions: Chloe and moi at the Ivy, celebrating her arrival with my closest friends on the planet. 

With Cami and Carla 

With Elena, Kyle and Val (on camera). 

I'm one lucky lil blessed Jew.

In The Backyard With Monty Hall

(Photo courtesy of Eric Schotz)

At a celebration of my dad's life nearly four years ago, the wonderful Monty Hall told us how my dad used to get the attention of the waitresses at Factor's. He'd call out, "Innkeeper!" My whole life, I never heard my dad call out, "Innkeeper!" in a restaurant. Complain that it was too cold, or that the service was slow, yes. Ask for more hot water for his tea? Always. But if Monty Hall said my dad called out, "Innkeeper!" it had to have been true. As soon as I heard Monty Hall passed away yesterday at the age of 96, I thought of my dad and how sad he would've been to know his good friend had died. Through tears he would've said what a mensch of all mensches Monty was, a philanthropist, a sweet guy, and how proud he was to know him.

Featured in "Lunch," Donna Kanter's documentary: Matty Simmons, back row from left, Budd Friedman, Gary Owens, John Rappaport and (my daddy) Ben Starr, and, front from left, Arthur Hiller, Sid Caesar, Rocky Kalish and Monty Hall gather for lunch at Factor's Famous Deli. 

Other than Matty, Budd and John, all of these nice men are gone. Here's hoping they've reunited at the Big Deli in the sky at a good table where it's not too drafty, and are swapping jokes and interrupting each other, as they were known to do.