Hudson and Daddy playing with a couple of Hudson's Garbage Trucks

Why is it that it seems all little boys go through a phase of garbage truck fascination? Is it the size of the trucks? Is it the fact that they are very noisy and pick up big containers and dump the trash into their bodies and crush everything inside? I really don’t remember any little girls that I know showing that much interest in garbage trucks. I know of at least 4 toddler boys right now, my Grandson Hudson included, that are just fascinated when ever they see a garbage truck of any kind. It isn’t that their parents said, “Look at the neat truck!” It is usually the toddler pointing out the garbage truck in a very excited voice and then the parent agreeing that, yes that is a very neat and big garbage truck. I also know that whenever the garbage trucks are making their rounds in the various neighborhoods picking up trash or recycling that the drivers are usually very sweet and patient and wave to the little guys as they are doing their jobs. I know that the boys can hear the sound of the garbage truck coming way before I do. It’s like they have super, human hearing for the sounds of the rumbling engine, the loud brakes and the part of the truck that rises in the air to dump all the debris into the trucks body. They get as excited over the garbage trucks as I used to over the neighborhood ice cream man or the Helm’s Bakery Donut truck that drove around our neighborhood when I was little.

Well, being the doting grandparents that Kevin and I are, for Hudson’s second birthday we decided that we would (with the help of our friend Dee) search for and get every possible garbage truck for Hudson that we could. Kevin even contacted a work associate at Waste Management to see if they had any of the actual trucks for sale. She came through with flying colors! She brought him a scale replica die cast of a real Waste Management garbage truck. This is one of Hudson’s favorites. It is very special as it is recommended for children 14 and over so Hudson only gets to play with it when Daddy and he can play together, but how excited he is when he does get to play. He loves putting the little dumpster on the arms that raise up to dump into the body. He also loves throwing away “trash” in the back end of the truck. Hudson calls them his “Dabage Trucks” as anything that starts with a “G” right now comes out sounding like a “D”.  Hudson and Daddy can spend hours just driving their “Dabage Trucks” around the town on the Home Depot rug that Auntie Mel got Hudson for his birthday. Sometimes the “Dabage Truck” stops for ice cream at the ice cream shop and sometimes they stop for hot dogs at the hot dog stand.  Garbage, ice cream and hot dogs. What more could a boy ask for?

This one is for my San Francisco/Bay Area friends, or for those of you traveling up north in the near future.

Let's Be Frank in San Francisco. From inuyaki.com (Flickr).

Let’s Be Frank, purveyor of nitrate- and preservative-free grass-fed beef hot dogs and family-farmed pork sausages (and any other hyphenated modifier you can think of, apparently), is opening a storefront this week in the Marina district. ‘Til now, you could only get the ‘dogs fully prepared from the company’s cart, which parks at the Warming Hut at Crissy Field on weekends. Angelenos will still be able to find a cart at the Helms Bakery complex in Culver City and at Silver Lake Wine. And we’ll all be able to purchase Let’s Be Frank Devil Sauce at all locations, mobile and brick-and-mortar. From Tasting Table.

It was girls night out at the new Father’s Office at the Helms Bakery Building in Culver City earlier this week. The second incarnation of this insanely trendy Santa Monica-born gastropub opened a month ago to massive hype and lines worthy of holidays at Disneyland. We figured some of the initial frenzy had probably died down by now, and, fortunately, we were right. My friends Janine and Kerith showed up at 6 p.m., and even though the place was buzzing, we had no trouble getting a table. What a refreshing change from the inaugural experience Victor and I had at the phone-booth-sized Father’s Office in Santa Monica. There we had to shovel in our burgers and beer standing up on one foot while using the other to kick away competitors. The Culver City space is much larger, with indoor and sidewalk seating, although the same rules apply. You order everything at the bar and take a plastic number back to your table to wait for delivery. No substitutions. No whining.

No reason to whine, really. The food is hearty and hand-licking delicious. All three of us ordered the burger. Of course. You have to get the burger. It’s legendary in size, spilling out of the bun, juicier than any Juicy Couture sweats and decadently dressed with sweet carmelized onions, bacon, Gruyere and Maytag blue cheese and arugula. My favorite part? No ketchup anywhere. I abhor ketchup. Always have. I had no trouble devouring the entire burger. And when Kerith filled up and sent the second half of hers away, I flagged down the server and snatched it back. I knew Victor would be pleased. He and I split the leftovers later.

FO’s side dishes get less attention, but man, oh man, were those Spanish mushrooms garlicky and good. Even the white anchovies were reminiscent of the ones we ate regularly on our honeymoon in Italy last September. After examining the impressive wall of beer, I washed all the pub grub down with a spicy, hoppy and fruity beer called the Russian River Brewing Damnation. Damn, was I happy. Sometimes you should believe the hype.

Father’s Office, 3229 Helms Ave., Los Angeles, 310-815-9820