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. Read the rest of this entry »
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
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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! Read the rest of this entry »
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 »
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. Read the rest of this entry »
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
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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. Read the rest of this entry »
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
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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?” Read the rest of this entry »
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
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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
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October 2nd, 2012
My agents called to check my availability for a few days in November. Shouldn’t they know? Yes, I was available. Apparently, a director I had once worked for, Walter Topel, was shooting a Hallmark commercial in Chicago. That’s where he lived and worked. No auditions necessary. He knew he wanted me.
First call I made was to my friend Paul who was in college at Northwestern. This will be fun, I thought — Paul and I can hang out in Chicago. He said he wasn’t going to be in town but that I should call his roommates. He said he knew we would all like each other.
As soon as I got to the hotel, I called Paul’s friends. They invited me over. But once I was there, I got the sense that they were judging me and decided they wanted nothing to do with me. They had already written the story. To them, I was a spoiled rich Beverly Hills brat who now had a commercial acting career. They thought they were better. But they were truly wicked. Fucking with me. I left there bewildered. I had never been treated like that because I’m so friendly, I can disarm anyone. I’m a really regular person. I was never some spoiled kid from Beverly Hills. Didn’t they know I lived south of Wilshire, the wrong side of the tracks? Read the rest of this entry »
Tags: "Kup", 70's commercials, fredde duke, Freddie Duke, Hallmark commerical from the 70's, Irv Kupcinet, Mercedes dealership, Ringling Bros. Circus, The chicago zoo, The Pump Room, The Windy City, Walt Topel directed commercials
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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. Read the rest of this entry »
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
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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. Read the rest of this entry »
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 »
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. Read the rest of this entry »
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 »
