Archive for the ‘Recipes’ Category
Saturday, February 2nd, 2013
You’ve heard it, opposites attract. My parents were just about the most opposite you could find. And, I never even thought about that until just now, while sitting down to write about their relationship. Your parents are the only parents you have, so you don’t stop to think, “What did they see in each other?”
My mother was quiet, elegant and intelligent. My father was loud, lovable and crass. Taste was not exactly his strong suit except, of course, his great taste in women.
They met at a party. He saw this stunning, very young, exotic looking woman modern-dancing. Alone. Seductively. Twenty years older, he was intrigued.
Cliff Notes to get you up to speed: They dated. He knocked her up. He said he didn’t want kids. She was set to have an abortion. Her family strong-armed him or he had a change of heart. Or both. She had their first child, my brother Alan but first they had a quickie wedding. In Vegas, where else? First meal in their home together, my mother cooked. My father complained about the way she made the eggs. She threw the whole pan of eggs at him. Two years after the first child, she was pregnant with me. I was a teeny tiny thing. Still am. She had taken the drug DES which would later be known to cause cervical cancer in the daughters of women who took it to prevent miscarriage. (more…)
Tags: B-movie producer Maurice Duke, Divorced parents that got along well, Eveylyn Duke, fredde duke, Freddie Duke, Freddy Duke, marriage and divorce, Matzo brie recipe, Maurice Duke, My father married my mother twice, Raised in Beverly Hills, unconventional marriages
Posted in Recipes | 26 Comments »
Friday, January 11th, 2013
Mary Lou Rutenberg painting of my stunning mother, Evelyn Duke, 1960’s
I posed nude, you know. Several times. Me and my two good buddies. All three chicks, totally naked. In a bathtub. It was for an artist who thought this would make a great painting. Or, perhaps, it was a commissioned painting. Either way, I was asked, and I was in. It got cold because we sat in that water for hours. Or did it only seem like hours? The two friends of mine were sisters, Lori and Lesly. I slept at their house a lot. We were kind of inseparable. Only, secretly, it was Lesly, the younger one, who I was closest to; she looked up to me because I was older. Lesly rocked herself to sleep in this crazy, enviably violent manner that totally intrigued me. I guess I should reveal that I was nine years old, though I was trying to figure out a way to tell the whole story without saying how old I was, to make it funnier. However, it’s probably not all that funny to imagine an adult woman after you hear the tale.
Here is what happened, one fateful day, in that water-filled tub. I farted. Yep. As a kid, I was pretty much constantly constipated. Truly, I spent my whole childhood blocked up, because I ate no fiber and consumed mostly mayonnaise sandwiches on white bread (which you would know, if you’re following my blog), so it’s not a surprise, really. There we three girls were that day, and when their mother, the artist, told us to get out of the bath, I looked back at the water and saw a turd floating about. A little rabbit sized pellet of a thing, just like the one that I was used to expelling — to use a polite word. I’m trying very hard to keep this polite and not say shit.
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Tags: fredde duke, great green bean with pistachio's recipe, Green Juice, growing up in Beverly Hills, Juice Crafters, Kreation, Mary Lou Rutenberg, paintings, posing nude for paintings, Pressed Green juices, Pressed Juicery, Roxbury park buddies
Posted in Recipes, Reviews | 10 Comments »
Tuesday, January 1st, 2013
When I would visit my friend Lisa in London in the early 80’s, I would sometimes see my bi-country friend Allan. He lived here in L.A. and also London where he was a television producer. His flat was in the Holland Park/Notting Hill area, but I love the name Ladbroke Grove so much that I want to say he lived there. I love all the names of the streets and villages in Great Britain.
On occasion, he took me along for a Sunday lunch he had been invited to. Allan would say, “This bloke wants me to come round, would you fancy joining us?” Once there, I was in awe of the carefree, unkempt, unfazed style of the host, hostess and everyone really. When I entertain, I’m stressed out, dressed up, have too much food and am just generally overwhelmed by it all. Whereas, these folks looked like they stayed up too late (not a touch of makeup on the women) and hardly gave a thought to the guests they were now entertaining in their home. This was the antithesis of the Martha Stewart entertaining regime. The houses weren’t straightened up, nor the tables set. Drinks went around first. Drinks seemed much more important than food. Then slowly (sometimes hours had passed), and oh-so casually, the women would find their way to the kitchen and start hunting for leftovers. WHAT? They invited people over without even the forethought of what food they might serve. It was baffling. Then suddenly, from the refrigerator they would pull out a partially eaten baked potato, and other seemingly random items that might be thrown into the mix; an old cucumber here, a bit of a tomahto there. The women were like highly evolved ants or bees, each with her specific job to do. Finally, a very satisfying, thrown together, science experiment of a meal would be presented. It was outstanding. Unforgettable really, which is why I’m writing about it all these years later. (more…)
Tags: Best Cucumber and Egg sandwich, fredde duke, Freddie Duke Freddy Duke, friends in London, grateful for old friends, London in the early 80's, Lunches in London
Posted in Recipes | 2 Comments »
Thursday, December 20th, 2012
One of the most memorable calls of my life was one that I picked up from my answering machine twenty-one years ago, Christmas Day.
It was my first Christmas alone after my husband had left me for another woman (READ THAT STORY HERE). I was still reeling from that hit — and not because we had some loving marriage, but because of the betrayal.
I had gone on two very casual dates with a new man. Didn’t know if there would be a third. First date was for lunch at the Broadway Deli in Santa Monica, the second was dinner at Remi, a great Italian restaurant. Both were on the Third Street Promenade, and are now gone. It was followed by a game of pool in a sports bar across the way. Throughout both dates, I kept the conversation going, filling in the empty spaces with my unique backstory – growing up in the slums of Beverly Hills, my one-of-a-kind, loudmouth producer dad, my quirky, Texas-born, goyishe mom. Yakety yakety yak. Was he even listening? Who knows? The first date was October 24th and the next was a few weeks later, in November. And that could have been that; it wasn’t exactly a relationship moving quickly or even a relationship at all. But, for some reason, I really liked those two dates, as they may have been the first dates in my whole life. When I was younger, you met someone — there were no dates – and just sort of moving in right away was the norm. (more…)
Tags: Broadway Deli on Third Street Promenade, first dates, fredde duke, Freddie Duke, goat cheese appetizer recipe from Remi Restaurant, half Jewish half gentile, Remi restaurant on third street promenade
Posted in Recipes, Reviews | 14 Comments »
Wednesday, December 12th, 2012
When I find myself in times of trouble Mother Mary comes to me
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be.
Oh, I was in trouble all right. “Grounded for life,” were the words my mother said.
And in my hour of darkness she is standing right in front of me
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be
I had switched parks. And friends. The new ones were stoners and longhairs. A wild bunch. I planned on having the time of my life. Experimenting. Transforming.
Let it be, let it be, let it be, let it be
Whisper words of wisdom, let it be (more…)
Posted in Recipes | 17 Comments »
Wednesday, December 5th, 2012
I am a creature of habit. So much so, that my kids and friends know where I am every minute of the day. Each night, between 6:00 and 7:00 PM, dinner. Same three meals over and over again — if I’m cooking. Same restaurants where I order the same meal. Between 7:30 and 8:30 PM, I show up at the Y, where I’m greeted with big, friendly hellos from the young, hungry staff. You see, I usually have some of my freshly baked cake in hand. “FREDDE!!!!!!” Wendy and David yell from behind their tall desks where they’re doing their YMCA duties. On the way home from the Y, I might make a quick stop at the market to drop off another piece of cake for my friend Kent, who bags groceries. Then home for a swim. (more…)
Tags: BB the Jerk and Mariah Parks anitbullying video, best yellow cake with chocolate frosting, Birthday cakes for wonderful people, no bullies, working out at the Y
Posted in Recipes | 7 Comments »
Friday, November 23rd, 2012
My dad, the over-protective Jew, had a couple of mantras. One was never ride on the back of a motorcycle. Another, never go for a ride in a small plane.
Uh-oh. I did both. Behind his back.
By the way, I can say Jew, because I am one. You can’t. I mean, if you’re not. Just saying.
The girlfriends I made growing up were the ones who went to school on Jewish holidays, along with the other six kids in Beverly Hills who weren’t Jewish. I don’t know why, but I was drawn to gentiles. I’ll be making a point in a second. I often went with these friends and their families to church, and never once, including with my own family, did I enter a temple. I wasn’t a religious churchgoer; I just sort of tagged along on a Sunday morning if it followed a sleepover the night before. Trust me; even then, I never wanted to wake up before noon.
On many weekends, I was the guest of my best friend Susie at the Gun Club. Yeah, that’s right, Gun Club. A Jew at a gun club is an oxymoron. Susie and I made an odd couple – she, the athletic tomboy, and me, the undersized neurotic Jew. Here’s how different we were. For her 13th birthday, Susie’s parents gave her a rifle, a Browning 22, along with deodorant, an ironing board and an iron. She remembers walking to Kerr’s Sporting Goods, at the corner of Peck & Wilshire, across from Saks Fifth Avenue, with her rifle wrapped in brown paper, so that she could get it fitted to her size. On my thirteenth birthday, the doorbell rang and a bouquet of red roses was delivered with a note from my dad telling me how beautiful I was. If you want to see just how beautiful, check out the photo below! (more…)
Tags: Dorothy Lohn, dune buggys, Els Lohn, fredde duke, fredde duke and susie lohn best of friends, Freddie Duke, Freddy Duke, gun clubs, jews in small planes, late 60's fun times, Maurice Duke, no helmuts riding motorcyles, race cars, Susie Lohn, twin engine Cessna
Posted in Recipes | 28 Comments »
Monday, November 12th, 2012
Remember reaching the tennis ball hanging on a string and you knew you were finally tall enough to go on that ride? I never reached it. Not ever. Really.
But, I don’t want to talk about my short stature. I do, however, want to talk about my extra-small feet. They are not very attractive; the toes are all the same length, appearing as if I might have had a run in with a paper cutter in art class. Turned on yet? If you have a foot fetish and love that Chinese bound foot look, then I’m your gal. Oh, and to make matters worse, for most of my life, into my 40’s, I bit my own toenails. Like a circus contortionist, I could (and did) pull my whole foot up to my mouth to tear away at a nail. Mmmm, delicious story so far? You bet. I’m just setting the stage. (more…)
Tags: biting toe nails, chicks who can play drums with their feet, Cinderella shoes, designing dresses in the 70's, fredde duke, girl drummers, Jack La Lanne's sport club in santa monica, Pasquale Di Fabrizio boots, Porche cars in the early 70's, proms, recipe for Spaghetti alle Vongole, shoemaker to the stars Di Fabrizio, wipe out with my feet not drum sticks
Posted in Recipes | 14 Comments »
Friday, November 2nd, 2012
“I’ll buy you a new outfit if you stop biting your nails,” my dad told me on quite a regular basis. Like most chicks, I love new clothes. We were not the richest family, so a new outfit was something to look forward to. Who was he kidding? I was not about to stop my nail biting. But sometimes I got the new outfit anyway. And, mind you, I never had to do anything for it but be adored by — and adore back — my father. Secret? I didn’t only bite my nails, I bit my toenails, but hey, I might post another piece with that story.
I was never the biggest fashion princess of Beverly Hills because we weren’t the wealthy ones who could afford Saks, Bonwit Teller, or other fancy stores. My mother made me some amazing clothes, sewed by hand, and I wore them to death, long past their fashion shelf life date. I’m talking mostly about my life before high school, because by the time I was fifteen, I was designing my own clothes and using my babysitting money to shop at vintage stores. This was up until the 8th grade. And in my school, there were already some real fashion plates. But I just wasn’t noticing and didn’t care. Then suddenly there was a shift. Mod was in, and I wanted everything pale pink and white – everything Yardley, Courreges, and Twiggy. I started with the haircut. And boy, did I think I was the real “Twiggy” deal when I had that cut. My mother gave it to me, as she had gone to beauty school, and was now a makeup artist and hairstylist. (more…)
Tags: best party tea sandwich, best white bread mayonnaise sandwich, biting nails, Courrege boots in the 60's, fancy french clothes for children, fredde duke, Freddy Duke, James Beard onion sandwich recipe, Maurice Duke, Yardley makeup in late 60's
Posted in Recipes | 14 Comments »
Saturday, October 13th, 2012
I know exactly how many times I have stolen and what I have stolen and I’m not proud. The two times, as a kid, I took from places like Newberry’s and Orbach’s, and both times caught, were a great lesson. So, I would never do that again. Stealing towels from hotels with my father was a given, and I stopped that a very long time ago. I could and would also steal ashtrays, usually for my dad, from a restaurant in Europe maybe.
I’ve known some kleptos in my life. Some real ones.
It scared me when I was stolen from. Personally stolen from. When I was 15-years old and lying in my bed in a mono-induced near-coma, a friend darted around my bedroom. I followed her with my eyes because I couldn’t even lift my head, that’s how ill I was. She touched everything in my room, holding her notebook and schoolbooks in her hand. There was no reason to be holding all of that, as she had just arrived to visit me. Something seemed so shady about this visit. This friend would walk all around me, from one side of the room to the other, and would touch some items like my Indian print, one-of-a-kind dress. Suddenly it was folded and put in between her books. I had witnessed the abduction of my favorite dress! Too shocked to say anything, I let her leave. With the only strength I had, I reached over to turn my radio back on. Peggy Lee’s “Is that all there is?” played over and over and over as I remained a hostage in my Rip Van Winkle state. I never confronted her.
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Tags: fredde duke, Freddie Duke, Freddy Duke, Kleptomania amongst friends, mono, Purple Apple Slaw recipe, shameless stories of theft, stealing
Posted in Recipes | 7 Comments »