List 62

Love: My Dad, Terence T. Evans, known to many as T. He is, in many ways, the inspiration for this blog as he has always been a big maker of lists of all sorts. T is a great man - a guy who grew up dirt poor with a single mother, made it to college on a track scholarship, went to law school, and ultimately became a federal appeals court judge. What everyone who knows him will tell you, though, is that what makes him a great man is not just his many accomplishments but who he is as a human being. He's the kind of guy who, for example, when at Ikea winds up helping strangers load their cars up. Spend four minutes with him and he'll know where you're from and some interesting things about you. He's special, and I'm lucky to be his daughter. (He also comes highly recommended as a husband and grandfather.)

Like: Patatas Bravas y Chorizo - T's favorite dish at his favorite restaurant, La Merenda.

Discovery: One day in 1979, when T was in Chicago for work, he walked by a record store playing a new sort of music he'd never heard before. He went in, asked what it was, picked up the record, and that night we became the first white kids in Milwaukee to listen to Rapper's Delight.

Obsession: The Godfather 1 and 2, T's favorite movies (and in my personal Top Ten as well). Over the years, he has hosted many a "Festa Corleone" - Godfather-watching marathons accompanied by pasta. He also created The Godfather Test which included a wide range of trivia questions, including "what's the name of Solozzo's driver?" and fill-in-the-blanks like "take the __ leave the __."

Complaint: Idiopathic Pulmonary Fibrosis, which T has just been diagnosed with. (Ironically, Marlon Brando had IPF too.) It's a progressive lung disease that often has no known causes - my Dad never smoked - and for which there is no treatment. All the "how can this happen to our family" "life's not fair" sentiments that we have been so lucky to avoid for decades have become painfully real. I'll be by T's side every step of the way.

List 61

Love: Soniat House in New Orleans, an idyllic bed and breakfast and the perfect home base for exploring one of the world's most original cities. It's on the edge of the French Quarter, a comfortable distance from the not-for-me Bourbon Street scene. The breakfast in the courtyard is lovely.

Like: Steellllllaaaaaa! P.S., Marlon Brando, what happened to you?

Discovery: The National World War II Museum. It started as a tribute to D-Day, since the Higgins boats that made the beach invasions possible were manufactured in Louisiana. Overtime, the museum's scope has expanded to include the Pacific Theater and exhibits on the homefront as well.

Obsession: Bouligney Tavern. I love when bars or restaurants take over little houses. (Bonus if they're painted grey!) The Bouligney's lounge decor and vibe are right up my alley.

Complaint: That I didn't stick with Treme. The first couple of episodes that I did watch were a bit slow, but I have faith that David Simon will weave his spell, and need to make time to catch up.

List 60

Love: Scopa, which after last Sunday's dinner moved from being our friends' obsession to my love. I would be happy as a clam if I could have their burrata with grilled bread, followed by the grilled calamari, for dinner at least one night a week in perpetuity.

Like: Trajarinho Vinho Verde from Portugal, which some friends brought over. It's mineral-y, crisp and super refreshing on a warm summer day. Plus they nailed the label.

Discovery: Tales of the City. I watched the PBS mini-series when it came out in the 1990s, not too long after we moved to the Bay Area. For some reason, I was inspired to pick up the book last week and found it to be a perfect light and breezy pool-side read, with an enjoyable glimpse into San Francisco life in the swinging 1970s.

Obsession: Ruschmeyer's, a new hotel on Montauk. It looks amazing, and has created a yearning for a late summer trip East.

Complaint: Larry David has a million complaints. And I'm so glad he'll be back Sunday for Season 8 of Curb Your Enthusiasm, which Alessandra Stanley of the New York Times describes perfectly as "a series centered on the petty irritations that blister an idle, privileged life."