A Dog the Size of a Volkswagen

"Giant George - Life with the World's Biggest Dog" by Dave Nasser with Lynne Barrett-Lee   Grand Central Publishing   255 pages   $24.99

George is a six year old Great Dane.  He's seven feet long, 43 inches tall and weighs 245 pounds.  The Guinness World Records lists him as both the world's tallest dog ever and world's tallest living dog. 

In photos with owners Christi and Dave Nasser, the dog dwarfs them.  His front legs are so long that his favorite sitting position is:  butt on the sofa or chair or golf cart, back legs folded under and front paws on the floor supporting his not inconsiderable weight. 

By all accounts, Great Danes as a breed are uniformly gentle - given thenormal size of these dogs, what do they have to prove anyhow?  George hates water and fears dogs that are a lot smaller than he is!

When the Nassers got him in November, 2006, he was a puppy of 17 lbs.  From that to 245 is an incredible weight gain (he eats 110 lbs. of food per month.)  His "deposits" (four or five pounds) are handled with a snow shovel!

Despite appearances on the Oprah Winfrey Show, Good Morning America, the Today Show, a YouTube video with more than 2.5 million hits, 75,000 fans on Facebook and another 2,500 on Twitter (how the hell does a dog twitter,) George is primarily a beloved family pet.

It's so nice to see that stardom hasn't changed his great disposition or personality.  A lot of people could learn from this dog! 

Das Kaiser (Grill) Undt Der Madchen

It's a story as old as dirt -- girl meets boy, they fall madly in love; the boy suddenly cools and drops her like a bad habit; the girl scornfully takes his number off of speed dial ... years later, they run into one another and the spark is re-lit.  And then the boy runs off with a new girl. 

Years ago when we first started going down to Palm Springs, we had a plethora of new restaurants to explore.  I smile when I remember Two Ugly Sisters Bistro (now something else) which was owned by a gay couple.  Fritzi worked the stoves; Ernst the front of the house.  And all of the customers toted a giant, red, high-heeled shoe with a key across an alley to the toilets.  Palm Springs has always been funny about the plumbing facilities.

Kaiser Grill was (and still is) a sophisticated-looking place.  Clean lines, marble floors, impeccable napery and servers in white shirts, black pants and long aprons.  Their shrimp cocktail was served as usual, but the serving plate had a generous dollop of guacamole and chips.  Works together beautifully!

Richie liked their version of meatloaf and I would (almost) slap my Mother for trying to steal one of my grilled prawns in pancetta with a citrus reduction.  Couldn't get enough of them; a must stop when we were in town.  This state of bliss continued until the evening I got a bitch slap across the tastebuds.  They'd discontinued My Favorite Dish because they'd gotten a new chef who wanted changes. 

I cast their phone number into limbo.  I wouldn't be going back.  I even sent them a e-mail suggesting one night a week - month, even - be Oldtimers Night when they would serve the shrimp or the meatloaf and whatever else was missing.   To no avail.

During our alst visit, Richie expressed a desire to eat there, probably because it's closest to our hotel.  At the reception desk, I said "Smoking side of the patio, please," only to be told, "Oh, no, dear!  We don't allow smoking on the patio any longer -- the State of California would get after us!"

Funny ... most of the restaurants along Palm Canyon have patios, including Palm Springs Roadhouse which had a patio full of people eating and smoking.  But we were here and we were hungry. 

The shrimp cocktail arrived on a bed of juliened celeriac? with a sour-tasting sauce.  Richie disliked it so much, he called the server over to complain, something he almost never, ever does.  He brusquely suggested the chef get a new way of serving a shrimp cocktail. and promptly 

And do I need to say, "No grilled prawns and no meatloaf"?  We both sulked a bit as we ate our grilled filet mignons.  The ceremony is off again -- here's your ring, Kaiser.

Kaiser Grill, 205 S. Palm Canyon, Palm Springs   760-323-1003 

Meet The New Rockettes!

Wednesday, April 25th, the Budweiser Clydesdales were in town, making an appearance on Palm Canyon Drive, Palm Springs.  The gimmick was that the wagon was "distributing beer" to the bars along the way.  Thus it took a long time for them to get all the way down Palm Canyon to the Palm Springs Roadhouse where Richie shot these pictures.

The Yankee Doodle Pin-Stripe Mustang Convertible

(Sorry - tilt your head)

This is #6 in a series of only 60.  The California plate is:  6 of 60

This commemorative car and its siblings (?) were only sold in New York state via Ford dealerships of which there were 62, but only 60 cars available.  I guess they worked that out in a New York minute!  (Sorry, couldn't resist but should have.) 

We were at the jazz club.  I'd gone out for a cigarette and was admiring the ocean and another lovely day.  A man came out the jazz club door, walked up to the passenger-side door, clicked it open, put something on the seat then shut and locked the door again.  "Ha-hah!"  I thought, "That must be the owner." 

I made eye contact and told him that I'd shot a couple of pictures for the blog that I write.

He waved that off.  "People take pictures of it alla the time -- I'm going down the freeway, 'nother car pulls up aongside of me, slows... down comes the passenger window and out comes the cell phone.  I'm used to it." 

He went on, "I hadda fly to New York 'cuz they were only sold there and then drive it back to California -- you gotta problem with dat?" in a mock growl.  I grinned and said, "I gotta a husbin' born in Brooklyn -- you gotta problem with dat?"

He grinned at my audacity and said, succinctly, "Longue Eye-land."  I nodded and said, "He grew up on Long Island - Huntington."  He nodded.

He started to put a quarter in the parking meter and I said helpfully, "You can park for free in the bank lot" gesturing toward my right. "But I can't see it from the club and there's a lot of Angel fans." he said darkly. 

Hearing about the car auction, flying to New York, probably having to drive to a specific dealership, buying the car and then driving it to California -- and then to be terrified to leave it on the street where you can't see it?  That's a New York kind of thing.  They understand it.  The rest of us never will.

My chief concern now is that Richie the Ardent Dodger Fan will take it into his head to take his 4Runner into One Day Paint for a Dodger touch up. 

Photo sidewise because while I changed it inside the computer, am working from the disc which didn't change it.

An Interesting Ad

Normally I avoid political discussions not held around my own dining room table.  There I know the combatants!  It's somewhat risky to start up in public, but this is too timely to resist.

Go to  whitehousedossier.com   today and read the article about "New Political Ad" and see the ad itself. 

Just opened my flak umbrella - have at it!

"It's Not You, It's Me"

Spencer's, 701 W. Baristo Road (in fact, Baristo dead ends in front of the restaurant) Palm Springs  760-323-1003

Every time that we go to a restaurant new to us, I approach the place with enthusiasim, eager to try their food.  Being somewhat of a controlling personality, I've probably also Googled the menu and know what I'm going to order before we leave the house. 

Such was the case with Spencer's.

The outdoor, roofless room

The sommelier lady passed by frequently; she and Richie had an extended discussion about which red wine for his 10-oz steak with porcini dust, garli mashed potatoes and roast broccoli ($39.)  The garlic kind of threw everything off a bit - a merlot would be too soft, but a hearty red would over power the porcini.  She brought a sample of the wine she recommended; he sipped it, made a face and said, "I don't like it" and ordered a Rodney Strong Cabrnet.

Lobster Potstickers below; Wellington sandwiches above

Continuing my quest for The Perfect Caesar Salad, I orderd it ($11) to come before the lobster pot stickers ($14) and "Wellington" sandwiches ($13.)

The Steak


I definitely didn't like the salad presentation and I wish now that Richie had gotten a shot of it for you.  A group of long, romaine lettuce leaves contained in a U-shaped - what?  It tasted like cardboard but looked like Parmesan cheese.  It wasn't. 


The lobster pot stickers were plentiful (six instead of Roy's three) and the Wellington sandwiches of slow-cooked beef with a creamy mushroom sauce, horseradish  and pate were beautifully presented.  I could only manage one of thoem; Richie had the other for lunch the next day.  God bless hotel rooms with mini-refrigerators. 

The pot stickers all by themselves, no sauce, were flavorful enough.  I discovered this next day when I ate them for lunch.  The soy-ginger-jalapeno sauce had to be naked soy sauce, because that's what it tasted like.  The red sauce on the plate was a "chili aioli" (mayo) and if they'd "painted" with the soy sauce and served the chili aioli on the side it would have worked out better.

Dinner and drinks, $120 plus $24 tip.

I was curious about Spencer's; we went to Spencer's and now I know about Spencer's.  Case closed.   

The Learning Curve

Blogspot.com changed its format for adding blogs.  I thought I was doing well with it (witness all of the photos recently) but clearly I did something wrong this morning because the computer ate my work.  I will devote myself to a deeper study tomorrow morning.