The Los Angeles Examiner, vanguard of "Fictional Journalism", is Going Public

I want to introduce you to “The Los Angeles Examiner", the vanguard of what I’ve trademarked as "Fictional Journalism".

The Examiner, aka the Mozza Tribune, will feature a "front page article" about someone you care about, complete with a banner headline and photographs.  This article will be written by me, Michael Krikorian, an award winning journalist, formerly of the Los Angeles Times, Fresno Bee and freelancer for L.A. Weekly, the Armenian news CivilNet and some others. 

As you have figured out by my "fictional journalism", the story will be made up, but with your essential help.  I will interview you and whoever else you might suggest and incorporate this into the story.  Among my questions would be “What are a few of our subject's favorite things in life?   By "things" I may mean hobbies, activities, songs, singers movies, actors, historical eras and people. Anything they love.  Then I will write the FJ, fictional journalism about them.  

As an example, recently. my girlfriend's 5-year-old grandson Ike won a trophy at a soccer camp.  I wrote about that with FJ added to include he beat out soccer great Lionel Messi, who was "quoted" in the article.  I like to think that 20, 30 years from now when Ike stumbles on the Tribune article in a desk drawer, he will have a fond memory.

That is part of what I am offering you; A fond memory years from now and a good smile and warmth in your heart the day the Tribune on your loved one comes out.

But more than that, the Examiner is for someone who might be down and out, might even be quite sick.  I am here with my Fictional Journalism to lift them up. Maybe the story I am proudest of was one about Paul Schrade, a friend of Nancy and mine and the former head of the United Auto Workers. Paul was shot in the head in 1968 along with Robert F. Kennedy at the Ambassador Hotel. Paul lived 54 years before he showed up for his “Reservation” for dinner with Bobby at heaven’s greatest restaurant. Read it below and hopefully you’ll understand what FJ is about.

A full front-page article with photos is $75. However, a story can go on for pages, if so desired.

HISTORY - The beginning of Fictional Journalism, at least when I first got paid for it, goes back to 1974 when Cycle News published a piece I wrote about motocross. What made me most proud, well, after seeing my byline, was that Cycle News never published fiction. Yet here was my story about the Motocross Mafia conspiring against Belgian champion Joel Robert. That was 50 years ago. Crazy.

Since then I have dabbled at FJ, including a series of stories about Nancy and our friends entitled “Our Dysfunctional Family” which provided an often needed laugh to our, well, our dysfunctional families.

PRESENT - What really kicked my fictional journalism into high gear was writing The Mozza Tribune, an in-house newspaper for Nancy Silverton’s restaurants Pizzeria Mozza, Osteria Mozza, Chi Spacca and Mozza2Go. I would and still do, write about the staff and what’s going on. It’s a lotta fun for me and the staff loves it.

I think you’ll get a kick out of it as well.

MICHELIN NAMES MARTINA BARTOLOZZI #1 CULINARY TRAVEL ADVISOR IN ITALY

BY JIMMY DOLAN  8/12/2023

For those of you planning a trip to Italy - if it’s your first time or 20th  - you might want to give Martina Bartolozzi a heads up.

She can make your trip not only fascinating but make it taste better. Simple as that. Today, the Florence native was named the best “Culinary Travel Advisor” in all of Italy by the Michelin Guide. 

Bartolozzi, whose Instagram account, “Momento Martina” has over 11 million followers, has, according to Michelin, the “unique talent to make one’s culinary adventure memorable, exciting and utterly delicious.”

Martina, whose mother Kim is the long-time wife of the renowned butcher of Chianti, the legend Dario Cecchini, said she was honored to win the prestigious award.

“It’s a thrill and I will be inspired even more to make people’s culinary dreams come true,” Martina said.

A rival, speaking on the condition of anonymity, said “It’s not fair. Martina knows too many people.”

NANCY, DAN RICHER, CHRIS BIANCO & FRANCO PEPE UNITE TO MAKE ONE PIZZA

BY JIMMY DOLAN

With late night talk show hosts from countless galaxies making Earth the butt of their evening jokes, four renowned human chefs held a news conference Monday to announce they will team up to make a special pizza with the proceeds going toward helping this planet get its act together.

The four chefs - Nancy Silverton, Chris Bianco, Dan Richer and Franco Pepe - will each have their own slice of this 4-slice pizza, named the United Slices of Earth.  

“Imagine Rembrandt, Leonardo da Vinci, Pablo Picasso and Vinny Van Gogh painting on a single canvas,” said Anthony Bourdain from an undisclosed location. “Each of them will have a slice, a corner of this pizza. ”

 The goal of the pizza is to end war, hunger, disease and have the rest of the Universe look up to us, something that hasn’t happened since the recording/video of “We Are The World” was released.

 The family of Edward Hooper filed a formal complaint with the United Nations for not being included in this mythical painting.

 As the Tribune went to press, no pizzaiola had objected to not being included in this real pizza.

NANCY WITH JDAN RICHER OF RAZZA IN JERSEY CITY

Nancy with franco pepe of pepe in grani in Caiazzo

Nancy with Bronz boy Chris bianco of pizzeria bianco in phoenix and los angeles

HOW MUCH YOU WEIGH, SLUGGER? WHEN YOU WEIGHED ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTY EIGHT POUNDS, YOU WERE BEAUTIFUL

“How much you weigh, slugger? When you weighed 168 pounds, you were beautiful. You coulda been another Billy Conn. That skunk we got you for a manager, he brought you along too fast.” –

Those are the lead-in lines of Charlie Malloy (played by Rod Steiger) that prompts his younger brother Terry (Marlon Brando) to unleash one of the film world’s most revered soliloquies: the back of the taxi “I coulda been a contender” speech in “On the Waterfront”.

When I went to Kaiser last week to get a blood pressure checkup - after testing kinda high the month before, holding off on a prescription to lower it by vowing to cut down on certain foods - the nurse had me weigh-in by sitting on the examination chair.

“168 pounds”, she said.

I felt elated. My dream weight, my own fighting weight! Finally, after many years I was back in shape. Cutting down on butterscotch Budino, Nancy’s Fancy gelato, lamb shoulder chops and double orders of cacio y pepe had paid off.

Then, my absolute worst nemesis, me, went into sixth gear down the Mulsanne straight at Le Mans. That month before, when I had that highish blood pressure check, I had weighed 179 pounds. Sure, that was pretty good for me, who peaked over 200 a few years back. But to lose 11 pounds in a month?  Jeez, I thought with dread oozing, something’s very wrong with me.  I hated to think it, but to lose that much weight that fast, I might, I could, I, I, I thought of one thing. Cancer. The scourge that killed both of my parents.

How cruel a disease to come at me with “168”. It was almost admirable in its wickedness to use the number that leads to the most famous scene of my all-time favorite movie.

I needed to weigh again.  I told the nurse. She did and it was 167 pounds. Oh no, I’m going fast.

“Let’s put on you the regular scale,” she suggested, sensing my anxiety. I got up – wobbly - and walked at least 13, 14 feet to a stand-on scale. It came out in kilos. 81 of them. I quickly did that math, the 2.2 pounds per kilo.  Hmm? That’s, ugh, 162 plus 16.2. Wait, that’s 178 pounds.

Yes, 178, not 168! Immediate relief. I’m fine. That feeling was quickly followed by me thinking, “Damn. A month of cutting down at Mozza and I only lost one measly pound?”

I keep going over and over in my mind, telling myself how fortunate I am on so many fronts. My health, my family especially my sister, no bombs are falling on me, that I’m still kicking, all the funerals I’ve been to, my incredible girlfriend of 19 years, but that ‘ol nemesis of mine, me, keeps trying to throw big ugly monkey crescent wrenches onto my wonderful life.

I told my friend Caroline Blundell I was my own worst enemy and she just said “Join the club.”

You have next to no idea how many times I’ve almost had a stroke, often when I’m having an outwardly pleasant conversation with a friend or acquaintance.  Or one of those sudden heart attacks that kill you nearly as fast as a bullet to the brain. Oh, I just had a, just right now, a sudden twitch in my right neck, It went away quick, but isn’t that one of those early warning signs that the big one is coming. Or is that a shoulder pain? A neck pain seems a lot worse than a shoulder pain. 

If you don’t feel well, never go and Google a symptom. You probably know that, but it needs to be repeated. (Especially to myself.) Any possible twitch is a symptom of deadly disease.

My own twitch just now has passed, and I feel pretty good.  But, for the heck of it, I’m gonna Google “twitch in the neck”  Hold on. I just did. I shouldn’t have. That’s all I put in “Twitch in the neck” and it looks like I have an underlying spinal problem.

Of all my worries - my heart, my brain, my liver - I always figured my spinal situation was good. Something I didn’t have to be concerned with. Now look. I might have an underlying spinal problem.

But I don’t know. I feel pretty good. Even with this possible spinal issue. In fact, I feel so good that I wonder if something is wrong with me.

Yeah, I worry. I mostly keep it to myself, though.  I mean there are many people out there who know me and actually think I’m cool. They see me as a journalist who covers the street gangs in the projects in Watts.  Who covered the war in 2020 in Artsakh, ,Armenia.  Who has a wonderful famous chef as a girlfriend. Who drives around in (her) 450 horsepower Porsche like he’s Steve McQueen. Who women on the Mozza Corner turn to when they have a flat tire. Zeus forbid they should read this. In a way, I’m hoping my editors Susan or Karen rejects this piece.

I told my sister the opening to this story, the italics of “How much you weigh, slugger?” and her only question was “Who’s Billy Conn?”.  I told her he was a light heavyweight (up to 175 pounds) boxing champion in 1939-1941 who moved up and was beating heavyweight champ Joe Louis until the 13th round when he was knocked out after he got cocky and went toe to toe with the Brown Bomber

Actually, ya know, back in the day, way back, my cousin Alec told me I coulda been a good boxer. Yeah, I thought, I coulda been another Billy Conn.

Charlie - How much do you weigh, slugger When you weighed 168 pounds.....you were beautiful. You could have been another Billy Conn. That skunk we got you for a manager. he brought you along too fast.

Terry - It wasn't him, Charley. It was you. Remember that night in the Garden? You came down to my dressing room and said, "Kid, this ain't your night. We're going for the price on Wilson. You remember that? "This ain't your night." My night! I could have taken Wilson apart! So what happens, he gets the title shot outdoors in the ball park and what do I get? A one-way ticket to Palookaville! You was my brother, Charley. You should have looked out for me a little bit. You should've taken care of me a little so I wouldn't have to take dives for short-end money.

Charlie - I had some bets down for you. You saw some money.

Terry - You don't understand, I could have had class! I could have been a contender. I could have been somebody. Instead of a bum...which is what I am. Let's face it. It was you, Charley!

NANCY SILVERTON'S "PANICALE PEASANT ZUPPA" NAMED BEST SOUP OF THE YEAR FOR 2022

Yes, mister and misses know-it-all,. I realize there are over 360 days left in the year 2022 and, as they say, “anything can happen.”

But, the truth is “anything” can’t happen.

Sunday, on the second day of the year, Nancy Silverton made a soup so delicious that many of the world’s greatest restaurant chef and the world’s revered home cooks formally announced they could not make a soup takes that good even if they tried for the next 363 days. As a result, the the ISF, the International Soup Federation based in Geneva. formally proclaimed Silverton’s Panicale Peasant Zuppa as “Soup of The Year, 2022”.

The soup was of humble origins. The base or starting broth aka bouillon de demarrage was he liquid of long cooked beans from a New Year’s Eve meal. (It should be noted that several prominent chefs including Mauro Colagreco, Andreas Caminada, Alain Ducasse and Ruth Reichl lodged formal complaints with the ISF claiming the Panicale Peasant soup could not be named Soup of the Year 2022 because it was started in 2021. The compliant was tossed out with the following admonition “Thinking like that would lead to other complaints such as you could not win the Nobel Peace Prize for one year because you had done some good stuff the previous year,” said Dr. Hans Christian “Pea Soup” Anderson, ISF’s Director of Operations.

So the soup. It was made with cabbage, Rovejo dried pea native to Umbria. unnamed seasonings. a cardboard box of vegetable broth. potatoes and other things. The write Michael Krikorian was the only human to have it for dinner. Later, however, Nancy gave a small container of Panicale Peasant Soup it her sister Gail and brother-in-law Joel. She wanted to give them more, but Krikorian would not allow this to happen, even though he likes Joel and Gail.

. .

NANCY SILVERTON'S "PANICALE FRITTATA" TAKES EARLY LEAD IN BEST DISH OF 2022 COMPETITION

As soon at the gate fell for the start of the Best Dish World Championship 2022, American chef Nancy Silverton stomped on the gas and took a commanding lead with an egg dish that had the few fortunate diners thanking their lucky constellations and the competition wondering how the hell where they going to catch up.

Silverton, cooking in her pajamas, and using two eggs, made her revered Panicale Frittata which, today, had artichokes, ham and swiss cheese.

It was, in its original meaning, delicious.

With Silverton safely in the lead for best dish of the year 2022, others contenders scrambled ( not eggs) to think how they could close the gap. Massimo Bottura said he needed to be alone. Rene Redzepi took a walk in the woods. Thomas Kellar considered retirement. Fredy Girardet considered offers to come out of retirement.

After Michael Krikorian told her how good the dish was and she had just made the best dish of 2022, Silverton shrugged and said “It’s just eggs.” Yeah, and that stuff on the “Mona Lisa” is just paint.

.

F.D.R.- NANCY SILVERTON'S STUNNING LABOR DAY CREATION, FRITOS DIPPED RUDY (BUTTER)

For the last two hours, Nancy Silverton and I have pondered where in carnation we could eat out tonight, Labor day, 2021.

Everywhere we tried was closed. Even Mozza is closed today. You name it, we tried. Connie and Ted’s. Alimento. Carousel. Jitlada. A bunch of other places.

And if you know the refrigerator at the Van Ness home, you know other than some condiments and Captn Eli root beer, it’s barren. I mean there is some Rudy, aka Rodolphe Le Meunier Buerre de Barrate French butter,

And on the counter there are a three-day old bag of Fritos, Original, or course.

So I’m figuring I’ll lose several ounces tonight when I hear Nancy say “Umm. That’s delicious. Try this.”

I go into the kitchen and she’s holding out a single Frito with a gob of Rudy on it. I take and eat.

Do you know the opening lines of “Cheek to Cheek"?

Nancy says “Crunchy, salty and creamy in one bite. What more could you ask for?”

Nancy has created another masterpiece. Today in the Times of London there is an article about Nancy’s Chopped. And today in Krikorian Writes there is this article about Nancy’s brilliant Fritos dipped with Rudy butter, aka F. D. R.

As I go type this, as always, Nancy is trying to improve the dish. “Next time, get Scoops.”

“Heaven, I’m in Heaven. And the cares that come around me though the week, seem to vanish, like a gambler’s lucky streak, when we’re out together dancing cheek to cheek. “

.

27 DAYS ALONE ON VACATION, NANCY AND MICHAEL DOING GREAT 99.7% OF THE TIME, EXPERTS SAY “THAT’S NOT HEALTHY”

“Let’s Get Lost quote.

Getting away from it all is one of life’s grand pleasure. Even if you are alone. And when a couple gets away, especially a couple often surrounded by others, it is the ultimate.

Still, that can turn volatile as fast as Hamilton and Verstappen on Copse Corner at Silverstone. A mumbled reply, a misplaced key, an accusation, a glance, a spill. Little things that go big.

That has not happened for Nancy Silverton and Michael Krikorian who have been living together - and alone - for the last 27 days. It has been wonderful and in Krikorian’s words “Our best vacation ever.” Nancy agrees.

The couple’s vacation has been tracked via the international “How’s My Vacation?’ website and - other than some very minor disagreements - their vacation has been nearly flawless. Silverton Krikorian has scored an unheard of 99. 75"% GAG (Getting Along Great) rating. the highest of any couple from the Western Hemisphere since the website debuted in 1989.

A conflict resolution analyst from the United Nations said there have been several key factors in the couple’s astounding GAG rating Even Krikorian’s driving has played a role in the two getting along so well.

“He is speeding as usual. but, and this is key. he’s not accelerating in the corners and yelling out “Fangio!” or “Senna!” or “Hamilton!” like in previous years,” said Edward Felson, assistant director of of the UN’s “Can’t We All Get Along” Division. “That makes a difference because that would drive Silverton bonkers.”

As an example. Belson referred to 2017 Panicale when Krikorian bought up Aryton Senna. Juan Fangio and Lewis Hamilton more than 140 times in a 37 day period. So far after 25 days. he has only mentioned Fangio four time. Senna three and Hamilton three. This has pleased Nancy no little.

As for Silverton, another observer from the United Nations said Krikorian is reaping the benefits of being the only person with her.

“Nancy is a giver and she has no one else to look after. and feed so all of her focus is on Krikorian. the lucky motherfucker. “ said Walter Payton. of the Sweetness Institute “If you listen to the tape, everyday she is asking Michael ‘What can I make you to eat? What do you want?”

And the music they have been listening to. the Piazza Mozza playlist made by both of them has been the ideal sound track. Nancy is even liking Bruce Springsteen tunes such -“Moonlight Motel. “The Wrestler” and “The Land of Hope and Dreams”.

Still, with that astoudning 99. 75 rating. some are concerned ithey are getting along too well.

“It’s not normal to get along that good,” said Dr. Robert Schneidemeider, of the University of Vienna “To take use of an old standards, ‘Something’s Gotta Give.”

That might be the key. Or maybe Someone’s gotta give.

BAN THE LEFT TURN

Last week my uncle Johnny and auntie Sheila from Chicago came to visit. They had not been in Los Angeles for 45 years and, though they both thought it was a bit corny, they really wanted to see some of our city’s famous tourist spots.    

“I know it’s for kids, but we’d really just like to go sightseeing,” said aunt Sheila, 72, almost apologetically. 

No problem, I told them. Heck, I wouldn’t mind seeing some of the spots that have brought tourists to the town of my birth myself. 

So, I took them to the Chinese Theater – that I still call Grauman’s Chinese - and uncle and I we put our feet in Humphrey Bogart’s, Paul Newman’s and Steve McQueen’s shoe imprint while auntie tried out Ava Gardner and Natalie Wood. 

Then we went to the La Brea Tar Pits and marveled at the mastodons and mammoths and that saber-toothed tiger, (now, politically correct, called a saber-toothed cat) still the coolest name of any animal. Ever.  

Then I took them to see the storied “NO LEFT TURN 7 AM - 9 AM  4PM - 7 PM” sign at Beverly and Normandie. That’s a classic I never get tired of seeing and love to take out-of-towners to gaze at it.  It’s such a sweet thought back to memory lane. Those wonderous days when the morning rush ended at 9 a.m. and the afternoon rush didn’t start until 4 p.m..  Imagine that. Back then, from 9 am to 4 pm - seven hours! – drivers hummed along in Los Angeles streets like they were Formula One champion Lewis Hamilton zooming around the Nürburgring racetrack in Germany. 

My uncle and aunt stared at the sign it wistfully. “Wow, what a, well, I guess, in a way, a melancholy sign,” said aunt Sheila, who was born in Manchester, England and grew up fairytales about Los Angeles allowing left turns from non-“left turn only” designated lanes. “So back in the day, the evening rush hour didn’t start until four? And only lasted three hours? That’s crazy. What a delight that must have been to drive in those days.”

Since we weren’t that far away, and I had an hour before dinner, I continued the tour. I drove west on Beverly, past the Wilshire Country Club, hung a right on June Street and another right onto Melrose and headed back east. 

“Get your cameras out,” I said as we drove past the intersection where Rossmore Avenue transforms into Vine Street ( that’s a whole ‘nuther story). “Now watch as this two-lane road becomes only one lane because three or four people get to park on Melrose.”

I lucked out. Only one car was parked on Melrose a block west of Larchmont, but it was enough for 100s, more likely 1,000s of cars to have to squish over, honk, nearly side swipe each other all for one car to park. 

My uncle was impressed. “So, let me get this straight.  A thousand cars pay the price for one car to park. A two-lane street becomes one-lane all because of that silver Camry. Now that’s democracy.”

Democracy? No, this is more like stupidity. Two lane roads turning into one lane so a few people can park? People legally turning left up until 4 p.m.? Hey Garcetti, hey Transportation Department bosses, wake the blank up. The rush hour in Los Angeles does not end at 9 a.m. or start up again at 4 p.m.,  Time have changed. Change the damn signs.

Make it, I don’t know, left turns allowed from 11 a.m. until 2 p.m. on certain streets?  How about no left turns at all? Make three right turns.  Suffer a little. The left turn is the most dangerous thing most L.A. residents do all day anyway.  Ban it. Let us going-straight folks go without having to veer into the next lane. 

The point is do something about the traffic on the streets. .  

Every time I drive on these roads – two, three times a  day – I think “Do the people that run this city ever actually drive?”  They couldn’t possibly drive here and think this is okay. These rules 30, 40 years old.  

Where is the Coltrane, the Miles Davis of the transportation department?  We need some outside the box. Or, rather,  outside the lane thinking. This current way is not working. Try something different. Anything. 

The rush hour is no no longer 7 am to 9 am and 4 p.m. to 7 p.m.. It’s a lovely thought but it’s just not true. It’s fiction. It’s make believe.   

Whoever is in charge of traffic, please, like Frank Sinatra sings in “I’ve Got You Under My Skin”,  use your mentality, wake up to reality.