Wind in SoCal

Everyone knows Chicago is nicknamed the "Windy City," though most presume it's called that because of the winds sweeping across the plains or over Lake Michigan. Actually it gained the name because of the tendency of Chicago's local boosters to blab on about the city's virtues back in the mid-1800's. But I think the name stuck because it IS windy.

Now that I'm out here in Orange County, I can appreciate the differences between the Windy City's wind, and the winds that swirl around the OC. Out in the midwest, trapped on a flat plain with no appreciable vertical geography until the Rockies out west, the winds sweep down and blow in the weather. I associate the wind with sound: the sharp sound of sleet tapping its icy fingers against the windows; the rustle and flow of yellow maple leaves across the brown lawn in early November, the soft exhalation of barely warm breezes in April when the leaves on the birch are just starting to green. Those are Illinois winds ... along with the white push of snow driven wind and the gray March rain blowing sideways and a piercing glassy blast in sub-zero January. And along with the sound comes movement - the clouds scudding along overhead, the sky going from blue to gray and back to blue.

Out here, though, if you're not on the coast, wind is something entirely different. First, it's rare. I'm used to those Illinois winds in all seasons and on most days. It's a push at your back or a caress (or slap) in your face. It's why you wear earmuffs. Out here, day after endlessly alike day can go by with almost no wind. Up in the high desert, out by Victorville and Hesperia, where I once lived, the afternoon winds were regular occurrences. They started up around noon and pushed the heat in waves across the desert, generating dust devils and sending tumbleweeds st stick in the chain link fences like brittle cotton balls.

But here, in the middle of the OC, 20 miles from the coast, day after day can go by with at most a 5 mph wind. The palm in front of our bedroom will rustle occasionally, sounding like the taffeta skirts of some 19th century debutante shyly edging her way around the edge of the dance floor. The sun hangs in the cloudless sky and waits for a breeze.

In the fall, we do get winds ... not the crisp winds that warn of winter in the Midwest, but hot, dry, fire loving winds - the Santa Anas. They make their way down from the high and low deserts, pushing aside the cooler coastal air. The humidity drops to below 20%, and a stray spark means disaster.

A few weeks ago I drove out of the house on a Santa Ana morning. Leaves from the neighborhood eucalyptus trees were racing down the sidewalk. The wind was hot, threatening. To the east some distant smoke from the Esperanza fire glowed red above the sunrise. The patio plants were already drooping. I imagined the smell of smoke in the air. I missed the cold winds that drew me to my closet and the array of sweaters and turtlenecks and warm courdroys. Here, a hot wind is just a warning, a reminder of the summer's heat, a spell to get through and hope that no lunatic with a match and a grudge will head to the chapparal. It's an inside out feeling of confusion - November, the month that should herald the winter, and cold weather feasts and frost and pumpkins, instead becomes an overheated tangle of leaves and brush, a gray brown layer of smog returns, and Christmas seems far away.

Tropika Restaurant - Tustin

We'd read that Tropika was the new, and perhaps the only, Malaysian restaurant in Orange County, and decided it was worth a visit. Located beside Zov's Bistro, it occupies a site previously inhabited by Chin's Chinese Restaurant. On a Saturday night in early November, only about a quarter of the tables were full. It's a restful place, with a color palette of browns and gold and an occasional blue accent. Simple art on the walls - an abstract print, a sculptural leaf - add to the calm atmosphere.

With only two people visiting a restaurant, don't expect an extensive review of the food. We started with roti. Roti is a thin, flaky crepe or pancake-like bread; served hot, it's a creamy white with browned spots from the hot griddle. Served alongside a red curry sauce, it's a nice way to start the meal. We ordered one, but I could have eaten one on my own!

We then went on to RendangBeef, Honey Walnut Shrimp, and Mango Delight vegetables, with sides of coconut rice. The beef is in a thick brown sauce, supposedly spicy but certainly not overwhelmingly so. The meat is in fairly thick cubes and is fairly chewy, and stands up well to the sauce. It's served with a small garnish of choppped cucumbers. I think a spicy/sweet cold salad would be a good accompaniment. The mango delight vegetables offered a sweet contrast, but weren't very interesting - a mix of peapods, canned baby corn and straw mushroom, some julienned carrots, and mango slices, all sauteed in a cornstarch-thickened sweet sauce. Nice, but not particularly memorable.

The honey walnut shrimp were probably my favorite dish of the evening. A fair size portion of shrimp had been coated in another sweet cornstarch thickened sauce and quickly sauteed along with some walnuts. Both shrimp and walnuts were nicely crunchy, but not overdone.

Coconut rice was mildly flavored and well-cooked. Service was attentive, and drinks were very reasonably priced ($3.50 for a Sapporo, Tsing Tsao, or Asahi beer; $3.00 for domestic beers, with a limited selection).