Posts Tagged ‘Freddy Duke’
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 »
Saturday, January 19th, 2013
First Life
Lucy was abandoned by her mother at the age of two weeks. She was found next to a big trash bin in an alley in Beverly Hills.
Second life.
Emma, my stepdaughter begged her father to let her keep the kitten at his house in Coldwater Canyon. Lucy moves in to the Coldwater house and is helped by Emma to pee by rubbing low on her belly. Tiny circular strokes, the way a mother cat would lick a kitten to help teach their baby to pee. She is bottle-fed. After a few months she is fully realized kitten that can pee and eat on her own. She does not however fit in all that well. Lucy remains a feral. Docile at times, she is starting to lose her audience. Lucy is not a warm and cozy kitten that wants to be held. Let me put it this way…she wants to, but she will have to bite you.
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Tags: augie duke, cat obit, cats with more than 9 lives, feline obit, feral kittens, fredde duke, Freddie Duke, Freddy Duke, Friskies cat food, Iams cat food, Lucy our cat
Posted in Uncategorized | 8 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 »
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 »
Monday, October 22nd, 2012
My husband and I waited all day for the arrival of our imaginary grandchild. It’s a boy. His name is Jackson. He’s quite real. What’s imaginary is the idea that we are his grandparents. Jackson was already nine months old and we had yet to meet him. That’s because our surrogate child lives in Northern California and we haven’t been up there since the birth, and she hasn’t been here. A brief explanation of Jackson’s mom, Tory. When my daughter Augie started second grade, I spotted this tiny, adorable student in her class. She looked dazed and confused, kind of lost. I asked Augie about her and she told me that Tory was new at school. I said, “Let’s bring her home.” So, we did. And she stayed, occasionally for months at a time. The chaos in her own home made it appear that our family was functional. Everything’s relative. Secretly, I liked that she thought we were “normal.” We got so much more out of the deal. Tory was a real find.
Now, many years later, I texted Tory, though I was concerned she was on the road and might glance at her phone while driving. But it’s Tory, more adult than any of us, even at thirteen. She had to be. I get texted right back. Oh, did you think it was today I was coming down? It’s tomorrow, and then I have to leave the following day. I walked into my husband’s home office. “I got the day wrong. There’s a movie in Santa Monica, want to see it?” (more…)
Tags: augie duke, best brown bread in Los Angeles, Blue Plate Taco, fredde duke, Freddie Duke, Freddy Duke, Imaginary and real grandkids, Ivy at the Shore, Maurice Duke, michael barrie, The Ivy Restaurant, Tory Taylor Wester
Posted in Reviews | 13 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 »
Saturday, September 22nd, 2012
One night in July, my friend Gabri started waxing poetic about summer fruit. It’s sweetness, color, all of it. I chimed in, even though he hadn’t directed the conversation towards me: “I know, isn’t it great? My favorite thing is walking into Gelson’s and–” He finished my sentence. The gist of which is that we both go into our own Gelson’s (we live in different parts of town) produce section, ask what the freshest fruit is, and the guy there will grab an amazing fuzzy peach, slice it just so, and offer you more than a fair sample to taste. Oh, my God, some of us will gather around, sampling our quarter-to-half peach, then grab a paper bag to stock up. Is that why we love this neighborhood market so much? Or is it because it harkens back to a simpler, smaller, safer, slower, time? Probably.
I love old-fashioned, small markets. I was about to leave for my two-week holiday in August to a small town in Quebec when my friend Lynne asked me if there’s a small market there. I thought I was the only one obsessed with them. I love to photograph small markets or drive by slowly just to take them in.
I miss the one I grew up a block from in Beverly Hills – Haig’s Market — at the corner of Bedford & Olympic. Owned by Eddie and Bea. Each day after school I would stop there, right after dropping my books off at home. Ha, drop off my books! I barely went to school. I went to Haig’s market much more. (Later on, when I moved out of my mother’s house — the second I turned 18 — Bea and Eddie kept a signed headshot of me on their wall of fame, with other locals like Michael Lembeck.) During that period of time I had an addiction to their fresh Kaiser rolls. I would bring one home every single day and glob butter onto it. I’m not even sure why it was so compelling since Kaiser rolls are rather dry, but it was my of-the-moment-heroin. (more…)
Tags: Bay Cities Deli santa monica, Bea and Eddie from Haigs Market in Beverly Hills, Bobs Market in Santa Monica, Ca., Freddie Duke, Freddy Duke, Italian Market Santa Monica, Jurgensens Market old school Beverly Hills, Monsieur Marcel French Market, Owens Market in Beverly Hills, The Farms Market on Montana in Santa Monica
Posted in Reviews | 13 Comments »
Sunday, September 9th, 2012
Have you ever met a celebrity and felt let down? I have.
Years ago, I was obsessed with an actor in a series of television commercials. Obsessed. I stopped what I was doing to watch his overly aired ad. I was in love. He not only had charisma, but attitude. Not hot like Johnny Depp or anything, but he possessed that je ne sais quoi.
I just HAD to meet him. There had been a lot of publicity about him and I knew one thing — he lived in Chicago. Well, I just happened to be in that very city. So, I made a few phone calls. I was an actor in commercials, he was an actor in commercials. I knew people. Those people knew his people. Someone pulled some strings. (more…)
Tags: Barack Obama, Charlie Trotter closing, commerical actors from 1970's, crushes on cats, fredde duke, Freddie Duke, Freddy Duke, Johnny Depp, Morris the Cat, soul food restaurant chicago MacArthur's, stalking cats
Posted in Reviews | 12 Comments »
Thursday, August 30th, 2012
Some people get hand me down clothes, I liked getting hand me down apartments. Specifically, from my friend Jane.
Jane would move into a groovy little pad, trick it out with her certain style and I would beg her to give it to me if ever she moved. She did. And, I got it. Twice.
First place was in West Hollywood, walking distance to some fun activities, like restaurants. Probably better proximity for a gay man. Oh, speaking of gay men….I’m not a fag hag (remind me to look for my memo to find out if it’s PC to say that) and never have been. There is a distinct possibility that gay men hate me. How do I know this? Because of our (first Jane, then my) landlord right there on Keith Ave. The duplex, stunning, almost New Orleans-style building, was owned by a couple. The older man was lovely and soft-spoken and then there was his younger, good looking German boyfriend. I’m telling you he’s German on purpose because I want you to envision our fighting. Me, little Jewish broad, landlord, hot-headed Aryan, sporting six pack abs and a heavy German accent. Screaming matches. Over what? I don’t remember. Then, because one other gay man wasn’t keen on me, I came up with this lame conclusion that is just not true. What is true is that I’m either loved or hated. By everyone. Not usually an in between for me. There’s not a neutral reaction when someone is asked if they like me. It’s strong. Get it? Not sure what it is they hate, pretty sure it could be my really big balls. I now know a few gay men that really like me, so I’m throwing the theory out. (more…)
Tags: augie duke, best lobster ever, fredde duke, Freddy Duke, half and half cottage fries and fried onions at the Palm, inheriting apartments from friends, Jane Booke, Rod Stewart, The Palm Restaurant, West Hollywood in 80's
Posted in Reviews | 8 Comments »
Monday, August 20th, 2012
I saw a beautiful fruit tart today, but I didn’t buy it. Though one brief glimpse of its light crust, glistening white cream & assorted seasonal berries and our whole intense love affair came rushing back.
It’s the mid 1970’s. The place: Patrick Terrail’s West Hollywood restaurant Ma Maison. An old house on Melrose converted into the most innovative, modern French restaurant of its day. It was so very French and so very Hollywood, and when those two worlds collided on that patio of Astroturf and umbrellas, it was magic.
Big Hollywood deals were made, infamous fights broke out, and occasionally I was lucky enough – if someone with more money was paying—to be there, enjoying the food. That’s where it began – an infatuation that would turn into a stalker’s obsession. They had me at crème anglaise.
I was there a lot with Jackie Mason, which sounds so random, sort of like my celebrity dreams, but he was a friend of my dad’s and we went as his guest, or vice versa. Often, when we were at a meal with Jackie, he would do his bit:
Gentiles never finish drinking, Jews never finish eating. What do you think Jews talk about for breakfast? Where to eat lunch. At lunch: “Where should we have dinner?” (more…)
Tags: Bistro Gardens Restaurant, Charmers Market Restaurant in early 80's, fredde duke, Freddie Duke, Freddy Duke, Kiwi Tart recipe, Ma Maison in the 70's, Spago, The Ivy Restaurant, Wolfgang Puck, Wolfgang Puck's kiwi tart recipe
Posted in Recipes | 2 Comments »
