Mediterraneo UPDATE - Hermosa Beach

I think the concept of New Year's resolutions was designed by Asian moms. I can't see all those supportive American parents with reasonable standards encouraging their children to start every year with an enumeration of all their unobtainable goals.

This year I was determined to win this impossible game. I made perfectly reasonable resolutions, and I planned obtain them all. I was on a mission, and my certain success would taste as intensely satifying as the briny-bittersweet Boquerones Pintxo when all this was done. The white anchovies are a bludgeon of salty, briny self-criticism, softened by sour piquillos against a tart and sweet dried cherry salsa.

I started with a realistic goal: to squander less and save more. I vowed to cook at home, even indulging in high-end ingredients because at the end of the day, even those are cheaper than a chef. Oh wait, I can't make these Moroccan Prawns. I don't have a grill for the shrimp, and there's no way I can right the ratio of tumeric, ginger, paprika, and cumin. And how could I possibly add a dry curry on top without turning the shrimp to silica?

I've made Pork Belly before, but who has time to braise? I barely have one hour at home, never mind the four hours it takes to wait for the fat to go soft. I can sprinkly some gorgonzola on top, but I have no idea what the heck is date mostarda? No idea, but it needs to be there to buffer the honey and cheese. Oh well, guess I won't be cooking...

I also resolved to floss more, especially when shreds of Sauteed Lollipop Kale are lodged between my molars. It's not easy having a green smile and garlic breath, but it's worth the crisp bitterness with a brash dash of lemon and vinegar. Maybe if I keep eating out, I can at least keep my flossing resolution...

Along the lines of flossing, I vowed to take better care of myself. I dedicated my career to helping others, and it's about time I worked on number one. I'll have no problem sticking to monthly threading, and if I eat out less I can pay people to coat my nails with gel. But wait, I'm still eating out...

Part of taking care of myself includes eating healthy, and the Gelato Sandwich already set me back three months. Salted caramel gelato so thick it's practically custard between a sticky sandwich of oatmeal cookies loaded with ooey-gooey dates.

Okay, so 1.5 resolutions I can stick too isn't bad. I propose a toast to my efforts at self-improvement. I raise a bowl of Drunken Summer Fruit, a very-berry concoction of delusionally-healthy fruit in cream, drowned by Grand Marnier. So perfect, so simple - maybe I can make this one at home and keep my first resolution...

All that food down the hatch, all those resolutions down the toilet. Eating healthy does NOT equal eating well, and I'm clearly giving into my inner glutton. But hey, have faith - at least I'll start flossing after dessert...