O’Brothers- San Diego, CA

Reviewed 13 January 2010

O’Brothers Burgers
188 Horton Plaza
(Above Levi’s Store)
San Diego, CA
619-615-0909

http://obrothersburgers.com

Steve and I went for a burger for lunch today. Steve was telling me about a guy he went to school with that started an organic burger place and we decided to give it a try.

O’Brothers is in the Horton Center Shopping Center. This is a mall that replaced skid row in downtown San Diego about 25 years ago.

The restaurant is a small, railroad style restaurant with large windows looking out over Broadway in front of the mall. It’s one of those places that’s a cross between wait service and counter service. In other words, you place your order and pay at a cash register, but a waitress brings you your meal on real plates with real flatware when your meal is ready.

Obviously, this is a burger joint. Basic burger menu, with options for a chicken sandwich and a vegan burger. Here’s the catch- Everything is fresh and organic- even the beer.

Fresh rolls, organic local beef, organic local veggies. Personally, I go for taste and organic isn’t a draw for me. Well, maybe in the sense of local, but not always organic. If given the choice, for the same quality, of course, I’d opt for the non-hormoned, non-steroidal, non-pesticide laced alternatives. But, I wouldn’t generally go out of my way for this.

In the case of O’Brothers, you actually got the feeling that you were eating something wholesome while scarfing down a bacon/avocado/cheeseburger. It was light, fresh, and tasty, served with a light salad by default instead of fries.

I washed the whole thing down with an organic cranberry lemonade.

The burger came with a pile of sliced avocado and a couple of slices of bacon. the meat was good, but not huge. Actually, this is a good thing. For lunch, I don’t need to stuff my face to the point of bursting. The sales pitches of most burger joints for MORE and BIGGER I think is misplaced. The 4 x 4 animal style from In-n-Out is probably not the best choice for a middle-aged desk jockey.

So, I left feeling sated, both physically and spiritually (well, ok, that last part was a joke.) But, I didn’t feel stuffed or greasy… Which is a good thing.

Bottom line- If I was in the area of the Mall, and wanted to grab a quick bite, I’d opt for this rather than the normal food court, or fast food options. But, I probably wouldn’t go too far out of my way.

Bust the Unions!

My distaste for organized labor is sprinkled here and there throughout my blog. It wasn’t something that has been on my mind recently until I read this headline today: La Scala Opera Union Threatens Strike.

Pretty benign headline. There was some color added on the radio news as I was driving in that bugged me even more.

First of all, let me restate my position: Unions Are Evil! There was a time and a place for them, but, we now have labor laws, minimum wage, rules, and regulations that protect the worker. So, with all of these protections, I think the markets should decide wages, benefits, and tenure. If it’s not worth the pay, get another job. If you can’t retain workers, pay them more. It all works out in the end.

UAW, AGMA, AFTRA, SAG, USCW, Teamsters, etc. etc. etc. All Evil.

So, Italy, being the crazy socialist state that it is, is very big on worker entitlements. We have all seen what that did to their economy as the Lira in its waning stages was printed on convenient rolls that fit neatly into the dispensers next to the commode. (Guess you could say the same thing about the future of the dollar, but, that Opera is still being written).

The last time I was in Italy, you could buy a Panini for 2 Euros, or 75 Gazillion Lire. They seemed to still have national pride with their currency and printed the receipts with both numbers. But, I digress.

The La Scala unionistas threatened to strike, and actually put on a performance where the prima donnas (meant figuratively and not literally) refused to wear costumes and went on stage wearing their street clothes. (luckily the Balletomanes and Aficionados booed them and gave them no sympathy for their plight. Trogladytes!)

What were they protesting? Apparently, a road rehearsal went 6 minutes overtime. The HORROR!!! Imagine having to work an extra 6 minutes before putting on an out-of-town performance! I’m calling my union rep!

This, of course, reminded me of my personal experiences with Unions… First off, the “arts” unions, SAG (screen actor’s guild), AGMA (American Guild of Musical Artists), AFTRA (American Federation of Television and Radio Artists), FAG (Film Actors Guild)… Ok, ok… I stole that last one from Team America… But, moving right along… As some of you may know… I used to pay the rent by working in the performing arts… Yes, I will admit it here… I was a Musical Theatre major my first year in college… Well, when I hit the streets and was a working performer, I never worked a union house. Which, in the performing arts industry, is a catch-22. In other words, you must have a union card to audition for a union production, and you must perform in a union production in order to get a union card.

(BTW, I counted 9 ellipses “…” in that last paragraph…)

Of course, they held “open” auditions as well, but, these cattle calls weren’t really designed to cast productions, they were more like “round-one” of American Idol. In any case, the unions had a strangle-hold on who could actually “apply” for the job.

If you were one of the chosen ones, and actually got into a production, then you had to deal with the IATSE Nazis (that’s just fun to say). These are the maniacal unionized stage workers that had every cigarette break scheduled with nuclear precision. Since I’m probably leading most of you astray, let me bring this back closer to center.

Eventually, I left the performing arts and went back to school at the NYU Department of Computer Science. During this time, I also worked at NYU. I started out as a systems guy, then a research scientist, and eventually as adjunct faculty. As an NYU Employee, I had to deal with the United Staff and Clerical Workers Union. EVIL! I mentioned them in my Healthcare Recovery Entry last year, but, will rehash that now.

As an NYU employee, I had to regularly deal with clerical staff. These were the secretaries, office managers, low-level administrators, payroll, general staff types. These people understood the system, what it meant, and how to work it. They knew exactly how many sick days a month they could take, exactly how late they could be for work every day, how many vacation days they could take and how little work they could produce without getting fired.

The non-union administrators were held hostage by the ridiculous power of the unions. Short of murder, it was virtually impossible to fire a union employee, and most “managers” simply over-staffed in order to keep the offices running. A dismissal would, of course, cause a union representative to get involved and fight for the rights of the employee. This was obviously counter productive and time-consuming, so, it was easier to just let things slip by.

The collective bargaining agreements also allowed for exorbitant salary and benefit packages. So, not only were we double-staffed, but the cost of the staff was out of control.

You may be thinking “so what?”. Why does this matter? Well, it matters because it drives up the cost of education. Yes, the students who can afford to go to NYU are somewhat of an élite cross-section of society, so, how does that affect the rest of us? (by élite, I mean those who can afford a private education.) Well… The student loans and expenses that these students run up have to get paid… So, those doctors and dentists and lawyers all recap the costs of their education through the prices they charge for their services. It all comes back to the consumer eventually. Nothing’s free.

Let’s look at some other ridiculosity. The United Auto Workers union or “UAW”. You’d be pretty hard-pressed to find a person that doesn’t believe that the compensation packages “negotiated” by the UAW are excessive. The job pool, the excessive salaries, the diminutive work hours, the excessive overtime payments, “Cadillac” health insurance… This was a deal from outer space. There was simply no way for the automotive industry to stay afloat with the burdens of the UAW unless they started selling new suburbans for $100k each. Even then, it would be a tenuous business plan at best.

But, here’s the real tell… Even in the face of impending doom and certain disaster, the UAW wouldn’t give an inch. Like a parasite that eventually kills its host, the UAW would rather suck on the lifeless corpses of Chrysler and GM than to give even the smallest of token concessions. Evil! Short sighted! Entitlist!

I want to live in a post-union era. Where a worker negotiates based on their value, and an employer compensates what they need to in order to retain workers. We have arrived at the point where entitlist prima donnas are threatening strikes because they were held after rehearsal for 6 minutes. Does this seem reasonable to anyone?

Bust ‘em!

Credit Suisse and The Yellowstone Club

Blixseth’s Son leads new lawsuit against Credit Suisse

I just read this headline this morning regarding Beau Blixseth and Credit Suisse. I guess he’s trying to make a name for himself.

Of the entire cast of characters involved with the early YC fiefdom, Beau was the most disappointing for me.

When I first met him, he was a normal, goofy, teenager. He was raised with all the opportunity in the world. But somehow, lost in the shuffle, he became an entitlist. He slowly morphed into Ted Knight from Caddy Shack. Stiff neck, looking down his nose, and trying to assert that he was something more than everyone else knew he was.

I really believe that somewhere, deep down, the goofy teenager is still inside there and that he some day realizes that he is nothing more than the son of someone who amassed a fortune. I hope that he finds his bearings and his own place in the world. So sad to see another life misdirected in an orgy of dumb luck and fenagaling. Maybe this is his attempt, however misguided, to make his own name.

No matter how successful you are (or your daddy) you need to remain grounded. We really don’t need another Judge Smails in the world. Where’s Dangerfield when you need him?

Now, back to the story- Ok, yes, maybe Credit Suisse was a bit pushy regarding the loans they offered… They didn’t have their own money at stake and simply wanted to earn their $7MM in fees… But, the Blixseths were grown-ups. They could have said “no”. Really, there is no one to blame but themselves. They took a chance during a time of irrational exuberance, and lost… At least some of them…

Naked Boys

Yesterday, I picked up my eldest son from school. He’s been going through a lot lately, and we had a little talk on our way home. A talk about self-determination, about maturity, and about respect. It was hard at times, but, I think I got through. Just a little bit… Well, as much as you can expect with a 12-year old.

So, the combination of the serious discussion and the fast twisty roads on the way home, put him into a bit of a down mood. He said his stomach hurt, and that may have been at least part of it.

But, as soon as we got home and his attention was turned to his laughing and playing siblings, he was suddenly happy again and running around the house giggling. The rest of the evening there was no negative indication of the talk we had earlier.

But… then I was showing the kids the plethora of eggs that we had harvested from the chicken coop. Big ones, small ones, brown ones, white ones… Kyle asked if I would throw them at him if they were running around naked. Huh? I, dismissed this as silliness and went about my evening.

An hour or so later, I saw that the garage door was opened and a light was on. I went out to close it and see what was going on. Right there, on the floor, in front of the drum set, were two pairs of jeans. And off in the darkness I heard running footsteps and muted giggles.

So I, of course, picked up the pants and moved them into the house for safe keeping.

Then, I went out to play the drums. Loud… Through the open door, I could see an occasional 9 or 12-year-old boy, wearing nothing bot sneakers, come streaking by… Silliness. So, I of course closed the garage door.

For the next half hour, they were sneaking by windows, peaking in and giggling. What’s with these boys? Dylan won’t even dress with someone else in the room, but he’ll run around outside naked?!?

I remembered the egg comment and ran out into the darkness launching ova. Near misses… Backyard full of eggshell… The chickens watched in horror.

Bedtime approached, and we called out for them. They sneaked up to the front door and saw the pants laying on the floor. “Can you throw us our pants?”. “No!”

I stood by the door with a camera as they came running in, grabbed their pants, and ran upstairs to get ready for bed. They managed to evade the shudder.

Craziness.

Cinnamon Lodge- Big Sky, MT

reviewed December 27, 2009

Cinnamon Lodge

HWY 191 (11 miles south of Big Sky Spur road)

Big Sky, MT 59716

Cinnamon Lodge is a bit out of town being situated on Highway 191 between Big Sky and Yellowstone National Park. It sits right on the Gallatin River and is mostly a Mexican food restaurant with a few steaks and burgers on the menu as well.

I know what you’re thinking… “Mexican Food in Montana?!?!?”. Well, it’s not exactly what you’d find in southern California or Texas, or even Mexico, but, the food is surprisingly good.

First the bad part… The service is Slooooowwww…. so, don’t stop if you’re in a hurry.

The restaurant is a large log lodge with a small bar near the entrance and a large dining room. The tables are sparse and they could probably double the seating if they chose to. It’s also very kid-friendly with a corner filled with toys, small furniture, a rocking horse…

We stopped on our way back to Big Sky from a snow coach tour of Yellowstone National Park. There were 8 of us, including 2 kids and a toddler. At 6pm, the restaurant was mostly empty and we stood in the entry way waiting for the hostess to see if she could seat us. She asked if we had a reservation… “no”… Then she disappeared, for a long time…

We waited with another group of about 5 people. They were seated and we waited some more…. Finally, they put a couple of tables together and seated us.

Water came pretty quickly, with a couple of menus. There were 8 of us sharing about 3 or 4 menus. I went up to the front door and grabbed a couple of kid’s menus. The waiter then returned to take our drink order… Another looooong pause.

We were a little anxious to get our order in, mainly because we had a 2-year-old with us that didn’t have a long tolerance for restaurants. The restaurant was starting to fill up. And just as our tolerance for waiting was about to expire, the drinks came…. And the waiter disappeared again before we could get our food order in.

He came back a few moments later and FINALLY took our order. Heather and her mother both ordered tea that came out luke warm. After the waiter took all of our orders, she mentioned it to him, to which he replied “I nuked it for 3 minutes!”. He then disappeared and returned a few minutes later with steaming hot tea.

The food was actually pretty good. The margaritas terrible. Way too much sweet-and-sour mix.

We started with jalapeno poppers. These were jalapeno peppers sliced in half, lengthwise, stuffed with cream cheese, and wrapped in bacon. They are served with a strawberry-jalapeno jam that was pretty tasty. Actually, the waiter forgot the jam, and we had to ask a passing waitress for it.

For my main, I had the buffalo steak special. It was a fat piece of grilled buffalo, medium rare, that was delicious. This was served with a chile relleno that was pretty tasty and a cheese enchilada that was ok. Heather got a chimichanga that was enormous. It was filled with shredded beef and somewhat lacked finesse, but, was fine.

Sarah went for the chicken fingers from the kids menu. Can’t go wrong with chicken fingers. And Mary ordered a guacamole cheese burger that looked just fine.

I hate to put the restaurant in a negative light with the poor service because I actually like this restaurant. It’s comfortable, unassuming, and great when dining with kids. We just had a particularly tough time with the service on this particular evening.

If you’re travelling through with kids, or, just have a craving for a burrito, stop in. They’re friendly even if not always quick.

Fearless Leader

I was wasting a little time this morning, looking at pictures online. The rest of the family was up ’till the wee hours of the morning watching movies, so, I’m itching to head out to the mountain and get some turns in, but, don’t want to be rude leaving the house before anyone else wakes up.

So, I’m looking through pictures of friends of mine. I won’t mention names, but, I saw a picture of one of my friends with his father, who is also a friend. (confusing enough?)

The picture was pretty benign, they were standing in a room, posing for a picture, clearly at home. But, one part of the picture I found disturbing. The father was wearing a t-shirt with a picture of Obama on it. Not one of those weird, abstract, Andy Warhol type ones that you saw on campaign posters, just a picture of the Fearless Leader’s face.

Before you get your panties all bunched up about what a great guy Obama is, don’t get me wrong… I wasn’t disturbed that the image was of our Nascent, Naive, and mis-guided president, but rather that someone was wearing a picture of any current president.

It gave me a creepy feeling, like seeing pictures of Saadam painted on walls in Iraq, or, pictures of Mao, or [insert your favorite South American Dictator here].

To me, portraits of leaders on T-shirts, billboards, sides of buildings, are signs of propoganda in third world or oppressed nations that have a need to constantly remind the minions who their god is. This just doesn’t seem “American” to me.

This is completely independent of political ideology. I could never see myself wearing a picture of Reagan on my chest. No matter how much I liked his presidency. It’s just creepy.

So, have we turned a corner here? Where we idolize our leaders like rock stars? Or, have I just never noticed it before? Were there Bush/Clinton/Bush portraits running around on T-shirts that I missed? I’ve definitely seen the Che Guevera shirts… Again, weird, and third-worldly.

I see no problem wearing your politics on your sleeve (which I often do), but, to idolize a sitting president like this is just plain creepy.

Santa Came!

The Tree is lit

Crackling Fire in the Fireplace

Everything’s white with snow

Tiny flakes drifting by the window

Oats scattered loosely about from the Reindeer Dinner that Sarah left

A letter from Santa

Presents under the tree

Excited Kids climbing out of bed

He Came!

Happy Festivus

Festivus for the Rest of us

It is a time to display the unadorned, aluminum pole and air Grievances during the Festivus meal where each person tells everyone else all the ways they have disappointed him or her over the past year.

After the meal the “Feats of Strength” are performed, involving wrestling the head of the household to the floor, with the holiday ending only if the head of the household is actually pinned.

Let’s lable this entire day as a Festivus Miracle.

Happy Festivus!

The Festivus Pole

Pagan Rites

Yesterday we performed one of our annual pagan rituals of hiking out onto the land, trudging through knee-deep snow, dogs and kids in tow, and hacking down a pine tree. They always look so much smaller in the wild than they do in the house. This one seemed to be a pretty reasonable size, not too big, nicely shaped, no rat nests… Perfect.

We hacked it down (trying to take advantage before fanatics pass cap and trade bills that make this ritual illegal) and dragged it back to the house. So, not only did we take down a CO2 absorbing pine tree, but, I also generated a little extra CO2 from panting while dragging this thing back. Maybe it will be just a little bit warmer next year… Just as an insurance policy, we’ll burn the tree next year and put all of that trapped carbon back into the wild.

The tree, of course, was too tall to decorate… No possibility of getting a star on top… But, it will work just fine.

We set up our pagan symbol to the winter solstice and realized that half the day was gone. Hurry! Gotta hit the mountain before the lifts close.

We grabbed our gear, and headed down to the lodge for a couple of fun, high-speed groomer runs. We didn’t make it onto the mountain until almost 2pm. But, there was still powder from the morning snow and it was still soft.

Being the second day of the season for me, my legs were screaming from lactic acid build-up. (literally, screaming, you could hear them from miles away). But, it was fun!

I love physics… The fatter I get, the faster my snowboard goes… Newton was right!

We spent some time, apres-ski socializing in the lodge, catching up with old friends, and then came home to a warm, cozy cabin. The fire was burning, the place smelled of baking ham and lodgepole pine.

We decorated our celebratory pagan symbol, ate some delicious kosher ham, and hung out by the fire. Relaxing evening.

This morning, we’re all still in our pajamas, guts full of leftover ham and eggs, fire crackling, and cookies getting rolled…  I was reading a copy of Super Freakonomics and learning about how prostitutes were basically the same as department store Santas… Fascinating!

Looks like we might miss the first chair again.

Holiday

Screaming delight

The rocketeer in his plastic disk sliding down the driveway

Mittens, gloves, hats, scarves

Excited kids, frantic puppies, cold noses

My turn, my turn, my turn!

Smells like heaven, something’s baking

Family, friends, snow

Hot fire crackling, smell of burning lodgepole pine

Cheesy, old-school carols

Tired legs from sliding down mountains

Cheap wine and good scotch

I really love the holidays

I wish I believed in Santa