Lamb

I don't really like lamb. And neither does my husband.

First, the name is so evocative. And I mean that in the most negative sense.

You are eating a sweet baby sheep that was snatched from it's mother and slaughtered. It just doesn't make you feel good.

Second, I never really liked the gamey taste of lamb.

And third, Jonathan and I realized that we both grew up eating leg of lamb smothered with jiggly green mint jelly. I remember my father shouting out in joy, "Roberta, this is out of this world!" as he snarfed down lamb and jelly--and the rest of us picked at the meat on our plate.

Thirty years later my father is still eating leg of lamb with mint jelly (my mother confirmed on Sunday, as she was about to put the lamb in the oven) and he probably still shouts out in joy as he eats it.

I wanted to celebrate. I want to have an easter tradition. But I do not want leg of lamb with mint jelly. Last year I cooked leg of lamb coated in mustard, and slipped a heady herb concoction into slits in the lamb. It was quite good, and not very lamby at all. But this year we switched again. This year we had a Turkish recipe for lamb chops--garlic and lemon and olive oil marinade, stove-top sauteed chops topped with a mint, garlic, yogurt sauce.

It was so delicious we almost fell out of our nook. We shouted out in joy as we ate it. Just as my father had shouted in joy as he ate his.

Perhaps this Turkish concoction will be our easter tradition.

And perhaps our children will look back in horror and disgust at the Easter lamb they ate in their childhood.

And they will create their own tradition.

What is your Easter tradition?

Sunrise

Here we are at dawn, before choirs of hundreds, singing to the Lord!



I love Easter. And I love sunrise. But in my life, I have been to a total of two sunrise easter services. I just can't haul myself out of my warm, cozy bed when the moment of religious devotion arrives.

But now that we live with the Hollywood Bowl steps from our house, I have no excuse.

So yesterday Jonathan, Theo and I woke when the stars were still out, bundled ourselves in warm clothes and walkable shoes, and began the trek over to the Bowl by moonlight.

As soon as we hit Highland you could start to see the crowds emerging from the dark. The parking lots were full, and families dressed in their easter best were hiking up the hill to the performance. (Others, like us, looked like they were still dressed in their pajamas and wrapped in blankets snatched from their beds) From a quarter mile away in the darkness you could hear the singing.

What a show! It was a combination of televangelism, showmanship, religious devotion and multi-culturalism--with an overlay of religious masochism that allows you to arise so early and feel virtuous about it. (Some of those families must have gotten up at 4:30 a.m.)

Here is Theo partway through. Is he singing, "Halleluyah!"? Or is he snoozing?



It turns out the Hollywood Bowl sunrise service is one of the oldest institutions in Los Angeles. This is the service's 88th year. It began in the Teens in a neighborhod on Franklin Ave. with a group of residents gathering at sunrise and singing. Then it moved to Olive Hill by Barnsdall, and the two year old L.A. Phil played. But thousands turned up and they had to find a new location. Developers found the Hollywood Bowl--the largest natural ampitheater anyone had ever seen--and the service moved again.

The setting is spectacular. It begins in darkness, and as the sun rises over the hills the rays of sunshine peek over into the bowl and bathe you in light. Gospel choirs, African soloists in fabulous orange fabrics, Japanese choirs, children's choirs and Korean choirs sing. Old Hollywood stars like Tippi Hedren (Alfred's Hitchcock's favorite blonde) read religious texts and saunter across the stage with style and flair -- that was what the studios demanded of the movie stars of old!

The service ends with the release of 100 doves from the stage. They swirl out from behind the lilies and soar into the sunlight.
Can you see them?



I felt uplifted, and happy. And ready for a strong cup of coffee!!!

Jonathan said he felt like he had been annointed into the ranks of true Angelenos--taking part in a secret ceremony that marks you as a native.

In this city that hides her best secrets, what makes you feel like you know the secret Los Angeles?