Continuing our holiday tradition, Tony and I decided to try out Restaurant Michael Mina. It opened this past summer in the Westin St. Francis hotel to much acclaim; Michael Mina is a celebrity chef, he carried many of his signature dishes from Aqua to his newest restaurant and reviewers gave it highest ratings. We had big expectations walking in...not all of which were really met.
We decided on the seven course tasting menu, accompanied by Schramsberg champagne, or sparkling wine for you oeniphiles.
Caviar. The first course was a layered affair: a fried potato thing (looking suspiciously like a tater tot...mmmmm), smoked salmon, creme freche, a healthy dollop of caviar. It was quite scrumptious.
Tuna Tartare. As this course was being prepared, Tony reminded me that at our last holiday dinner, I had beef tartare with a quail egg, which may or may not have lead to my near death experience the next day. I digress. A mound of tuna with a raw quail egg was placed in front of us. Waiters combined the ingredients, also incorporating toasted garlic (cut into perfect squares), some herbs, olive oil with spices and oddly enough, pine nuts. This last ingredient actually distracted from the dish. I ate the pine nuts separately, then ate the tartare. Tony thought that the spices in the olive oil tasted a bit like seasoning salt.
Mussel Souffle. Miniature ramekins containing a souffle were set in front of us; in synchronization, the waiters opened the souffles with a spoon and poured a bit of chardonnay creme sauce with saffron into the souffle. It was absolutely delicious. The density of the souffle perfectly absorbed the sauce, which had strands of saffron floating in it. This was one of my favorite dishes.
Lobster Pot Pie. I grew up eating stouffer's pot pies; I can still taste the cream sauce and the rich pie crust. Michael's lobster pot pie topped my memories. The waiters placed a steaming crust covered pot in front of us, and my first thought was "How am I going to eat this?" I then wondered, "why is my crust all puffy and why is Tony's deflated and what does that say about us?" Still unsure about the second, and the first was solved for us as the waiters proceeded to cut off the crust, plate it, and then scoop out the rich cream sauce, winter vegetables and piece of lobster onto the plate. The dish was simply delicious, another favorite.
Quail. The quail was served with truffled macaroni and winter vegetables. I thought that the quail was a bit dry and that the macaroni tasted watery. On the other hand, I'm a huge fan of winter vegetables, so considered that part of the dish to be quite tasty.
Beef. A very rare beef rosette was accompanied by a rich reduction and potato something with cheese. Quite tasty. By this stage, we were both getting very full, so it wasn't that the food was tasting bad, it was just hard to truly appreciate it.
Dessert. The tasting menu featured some type of banana thing, so I lied and told the waiter I was allergic to bananas (sounds much better than telling him I think that bananas are vile and can't even stand the smell). They kindly substituted a brioche with sauteed apples and a hot buttered rum drink. We also had some delicious tea, flavors of oranges and flowers and cinnamon and spices.
Post-Dessert. Chocolate candies on a stick, one milk chocolate with nuts, the other dark chocolate with a spurt of very cold cherry.
Michael Mina was outstanding, without a doubt. The service was simply amazing. Around the fourth course, I mentioned that it would be nice if the courses were a spaced a little bit further apart; a waiter must have overheard us, because the next day, I realized that from that point, everything slowed down. Definitely among the best service I have ever ad. The attention to detail was also amazing: everything was double plated, with white napkins sandwiched between the two plates; the garlic was cut into perfect little squares; and so on.
But at the same time, Tony and I were heavily critical of the food. We had eaten at the French Laundry several years ago (which Michael Mina is compared to), and thought that it was the most perfect meal ever. We had high expectations, and while the meal was impressive, it just wasn't good enough.
Would I recommend Restaurant Michael Mina? Definitely. Would I go back? Perhaps. It was still excellent. I suppose it's hard to please to foodies expecting perfection - at least for us, it was fun trying.
Monday, December 20, 2004
Monday, December 06, 2004
2 things...
I'm a little busy trying to finish up some work by Friday, but have a couple of quick comments:
It's eggnog season. Best enjoyed with either brandy or rum. Possibly both, if you're adventurous.
The iPod rocks. Such a cool device. And very cute when nestled in its little iPod sock.
It's eggnog season. Best enjoyed with either brandy or rum. Possibly both, if you're adventurous.
The iPod rocks. Such a cool device. And very cute when nestled in its little iPod sock.
Friday, November 26, 2004
Thanksgiving 2004
When I was a kid, I never liked Thanksgiving turkey. I believe that I used to say things like "I wish that we could order pizza" or "Do we have to eat turkey again? We just had it a year ago" or something similarly obnoxious. I'm not sure if my dislike for turkey had to do with the fact that my taste buds were limited or maybe that my mom produced dry and uninteresting turkeys; in retrospect, it was probably more a former than the latter.
The turkeys have definitely improved with age, probably helped by better developed taste buds, and perhaps, by some new recipes that Mom has used. They have become memorable - I kid you not, but until I was about 18, the only turkey that I remember enjoying was the one marinated in a hefty bag in the fridge for several days before bbqing. I definitely remember a few turkeys over the past decade plus (my post-teenage life): the deboned turkey that exploded after being overstuffed; the sage turkey; the deep fried turkey that the dog licked before cooking and my scientist cousin and I decided that the oil would kill the doggie germs and not to tell anyone (ok, that one was after Christmas a few years ago, but a turkey is still a big deal. and no one got sick).
We now have Thanksgiving at my cousins Mike and Stephanie's house every year. And the turkeys continue to improve. Last year, Mike brined the bird...and it was an amazingly moist and juicy and tasty and smoky concoction all bundled into one. This year, he was a little short on time; no brined bird, but still memorable and delicious. I went back for seconds...it was that good.
Holidays can be a mixed blessing. Families and friends that should be family are not always on their best behavior. Tension that has flowed throughout the year can rear its ugly head at the wrong times. Holidays can also be a joyful time, everyone happy and enjoying life and each other's company.
While the turkey is not necessarily a perfect barometer for catching the party mood, perhaps in a way it does function to set the tone for the day. I always think about the novel Like Water for Chocolate, in which the main characters food transferred her feelings to its eaters. Thanksgiving has definitely become calmer and less chaotic, and maybe the bird feels the same way?
Musings on food and life...
The turkeys have definitely improved with age, probably helped by better developed taste buds, and perhaps, by some new recipes that Mom has used. They have become memorable - I kid you not, but until I was about 18, the only turkey that I remember enjoying was the one marinated in a hefty bag in the fridge for several days before bbqing. I definitely remember a few turkeys over the past decade plus (my post-teenage life): the deboned turkey that exploded after being overstuffed; the sage turkey; the deep fried turkey that the dog licked before cooking and my scientist cousin and I decided that the oil would kill the doggie germs and not to tell anyone (ok, that one was after Christmas a few years ago, but a turkey is still a big deal. and no one got sick).
We now have Thanksgiving at my cousins Mike and Stephanie's house every year. And the turkeys continue to improve. Last year, Mike brined the bird...and it was an amazingly moist and juicy and tasty and smoky concoction all bundled into one. This year, he was a little short on time; no brined bird, but still memorable and delicious. I went back for seconds...it was that good.
Holidays can be a mixed blessing. Families and friends that should be family are not always on their best behavior. Tension that has flowed throughout the year can rear its ugly head at the wrong times. Holidays can also be a joyful time, everyone happy and enjoying life and each other's company.
While the turkey is not necessarily a perfect barometer for catching the party mood, perhaps in a way it does function to set the tone for the day. I always think about the novel Like Water for Chocolate, in which the main characters food transferred her feelings to its eaters. Thanksgiving has definitely become calmer and less chaotic, and maybe the bird feels the same way?
Musings on food and life...
Friday, November 12, 2004
The Birthday Girl
On November 2nd, otherwise known as Black Tuesday to every Kerry supporter, I began my 32nd year.
Birthdays are a somewhat odd celebration. Some celebrate as much as possible, taking the opportunity to relish the specialness of that one day which celebrates the passing of a year and one's entry into the world. Others see the birthday as simply a non-event, a blip in the passage of time. I definitely fall in the first category. Birthdays are good, and since I don't have a significant other or children to celebrate anniversary's, birthdays, etc., I take the advantage of the yearly celebration. And yes, a Sex and the City episode skirted quite nicely around this topic.
Food and wine are a passion - thus, the birthday has been celebrated by several meals with friends and family.
Lunch with colleagues at Clay Oven in San Mateo. I thought that the food was great - we all ate heartily, and then a few were touched with nausea. I suppose we won't be returning to Clay Oven anytime soon.
Dinner with Carrie at Frankie's Bohemian in Pac Heights, a Czech-themed brew pub. I had an entirely excellent brambory topped with vegetables and cheese. The brambory is a traditional Czech dish of shredded potato and zucchini, similar to a hash brown. Yummy! We decided that we have to return - especially because the bartender was so nice!
Friends joined me for drinks at Jade and dinner at Citizen Cake a few days later. I brought along two bottles of wine to accompany dinner, a 1999 Overture red table wine (the stuff from Opus One that does not make it into the Opus bottle) and a 1998 Mondavi Rutherford Hill Cabernet. Both bottles were excellent, although I think that everyone enjoyed the Overture the most.
Dinner at Cake did not disappoint. I began with a goat cheese flan, topped with beets and mache (a new organic lettuce, read a long article about the politics of the organic lettuce industry in the New Yorker and had just bought a carton of it that morning at the ferry building farmers market). Mache is sweet and mild (yes, at the same time), the beets were slightly tart and both worked nicely with the creamy goat cheese flan.
Hangar steak cooked a perfect medium-rare and topped with an herbed butter was perfect. It was served with a bunch of mache and a side of potato gnocchi in a light cream and sharp cheese sauce.
Of course I took advantage of Cake's desserts: two scoops of chocolate chip mint ice cream. So wonderful - real mint and chunky pieces of rich chips. Thanks to my enterprising friends, ice cream was served with a sculpted chocolate happy birthday banner, chocolate straws and a chorus of Happy Birthday.
My parents and Tony came for a feast of fillet mignon accompanied by a sherry-anchovy-dijon mustard sauce. While the sauce seems to be an odd combination, it worked quite nicely with the steaks. I made salads of mache, herbs and persimmons, dressed with a piece of creamy goat cheese and sherry vinaigrette, oven fried potatoes and Tony sauteed portabello mushrooms and red chard. For dessert, my parents brought a champagne cake - white sponge cake with a champagne based custard filling and whipped cream frosting.
Another dinner at an Italian restaurant in Burlingame (of course, the name escapes me). We shared an appetizer of deep fried calamari, which were excellent. The calamari was on the larger end (I love the legs!), and were only lightly breaded. It seems like much of calamari out there is just breading - this was lots of calamari with a bit of batter. My main course was linguine with clams in a wine sauce. So delicious.
And I still have Delfina to go - life is good - and my friends and family are very good to me.
Birthdays are a somewhat odd celebration. Some celebrate as much as possible, taking the opportunity to relish the specialness of that one day which celebrates the passing of a year and one's entry into the world. Others see the birthday as simply a non-event, a blip in the passage of time. I definitely fall in the first category. Birthdays are good, and since I don't have a significant other or children to celebrate anniversary's, birthdays, etc., I take the advantage of the yearly celebration. And yes, a Sex and the City episode skirted quite nicely around this topic.
Food and wine are a passion - thus, the birthday has been celebrated by several meals with friends and family.
Lunch with colleagues at Clay Oven in San Mateo. I thought that the food was great - we all ate heartily, and then a few were touched with nausea. I suppose we won't be returning to Clay Oven anytime soon.
Dinner with Carrie at Frankie's Bohemian in Pac Heights, a Czech-themed brew pub. I had an entirely excellent brambory topped with vegetables and cheese. The brambory is a traditional Czech dish of shredded potato and zucchini, similar to a hash brown. Yummy! We decided that we have to return - especially because the bartender was so nice!
Friends joined me for drinks at Jade and dinner at Citizen Cake a few days later. I brought along two bottles of wine to accompany dinner, a 1999 Overture red table wine (the stuff from Opus One that does not make it into the Opus bottle) and a 1998 Mondavi Rutherford Hill Cabernet. Both bottles were excellent, although I think that everyone enjoyed the Overture the most.
Dinner at Cake did not disappoint. I began with a goat cheese flan, topped with beets and mache (a new organic lettuce, read a long article about the politics of the organic lettuce industry in the New Yorker and had just bought a carton of it that morning at the ferry building farmers market). Mache is sweet and mild (yes, at the same time), the beets were slightly tart and both worked nicely with the creamy goat cheese flan.
Hangar steak cooked a perfect medium-rare and topped with an herbed butter was perfect. It was served with a bunch of mache and a side of potato gnocchi in a light cream and sharp cheese sauce.
Of course I took advantage of Cake's desserts: two scoops of chocolate chip mint ice cream. So wonderful - real mint and chunky pieces of rich chips. Thanks to my enterprising friends, ice cream was served with a sculpted chocolate happy birthday banner, chocolate straws and a chorus of Happy Birthday.
My parents and Tony came for a feast of fillet mignon accompanied by a sherry-anchovy-dijon mustard sauce. While the sauce seems to be an odd combination, it worked quite nicely with the steaks. I made salads of mache, herbs and persimmons, dressed with a piece of creamy goat cheese and sherry vinaigrette, oven fried potatoes and Tony sauteed portabello mushrooms and red chard. For dessert, my parents brought a champagne cake - white sponge cake with a champagne based custard filling and whipped cream frosting.
Another dinner at an Italian restaurant in Burlingame (of course, the name escapes me). We shared an appetizer of deep fried calamari, which were excellent. The calamari was on the larger end (I love the legs!), and were only lightly breaded. It seems like much of calamari out there is just breading - this was lots of calamari with a bit of batter. My main course was linguine with clams in a wine sauce. So delicious.
And I still have Delfina to go - life is good - and my friends and family are very good to me.
Saturday, October 23, 2004
Nilay's Birthday
Last Saturday (the 17th, for those detail-minded of you), a group of us gathered together to celebrate Nilay's 10th anniversary of his 21st birthday. Nilay's 9th year of his 21st has not necessarily been his best year ever, so it made sense that he should start off the next one on the right foot: with a scavenger hunt.
The very clever Erica (formerly a party planner and college scavenger hunt player) set two teams of us off with clever clues that took us to these places in this order: the taxi stand at the San Jose airport, Santana Row (the valet at the Valencia, the V Bar, Joseph Schmidt chocolates [handsome young chocolate counter boys honored my request to play innocent when the other team came in for their clue parts], Peet's Coffee, Borders and the chess set), the Winchester Mystery House, Fry's in Campbell, downtown Los Gatos, the Cats in Los Gatos and the Boardwalk in Santa Cruz. Despite huge stumbles from both teams, we tied at the end.
After that excitement, we had a long and leisurely dinner at Gabriella's. The "long and leisurely" part was sort of our choice, although fairly bad service also contributed. The food was good; we got some appetizers, and almost everyone ordered some sort of steak; I had the skirt, which was pretty tasty. The one problem with the main course is that almost everyone received lukewarm food, not really a good thing for steak and mashed potatoes. It was the opposite with dessert - I had a pumpkin bread pudding, a dish that would have been excellent served lukewarm, but instead, arrived piping hot. Obviously, something besides cooking was taking place in the kitchen.
Here's to a good year for Nilay - I hope that the 31st brings you love and happiness. Your friends and family are right behind you!
The very clever Erica (formerly a party planner and college scavenger hunt player) set two teams of us off with clever clues that took us to these places in this order: the taxi stand at the San Jose airport, Santana Row (the valet at the Valencia, the V Bar, Joseph Schmidt chocolates [handsome young chocolate counter boys honored my request to play innocent when the other team came in for their clue parts], Peet's Coffee, Borders and the chess set), the Winchester Mystery House, Fry's in Campbell, downtown Los Gatos, the Cats in Los Gatos and the Boardwalk in Santa Cruz. Despite huge stumbles from both teams, we tied at the end.
After that excitement, we had a long and leisurely dinner at Gabriella's. The "long and leisurely" part was sort of our choice, although fairly bad service also contributed. The food was good; we got some appetizers, and almost everyone ordered some sort of steak; I had the skirt, which was pretty tasty. The one problem with the main course is that almost everyone received lukewarm food, not really a good thing for steak and mashed potatoes. It was the opposite with dessert - I had a pumpkin bread pudding, a dish that would have been excellent served lukewarm, but instead, arrived piping hot. Obviously, something besides cooking was taking place in the kitchen.
Here's to a good year for Nilay - I hope that the 31st brings you love and happiness. Your friends and family are right behind you!
Monday, October 11, 2004
the Sound of Food Part II
Gerard blew smoke in our face while Carrie and I munched on edamame and waited for our table. The fact that he made us an incredible roll indicates that he was not interesting in fighting us: Gerard is the current chef/owner of the impossibly tiny and fabulous Midori Mushi. Actually, Gerard was feeling a bit nostalgic that night, he had just sold Midori and was preparing to travel for a while.
Midori is an amazing sushi restaurant. Their rolls and nigiri are extravagant and intricate creations; most don't even need or require soy sauce, which would distract from the well blended marriage of unusual flavors. Thanks to Carrie's abundant friendliness (note to self: much to learn from Carrie), Gerard told us his personal thoughts and theories of food: the sound of food drives the meal.
Food can be compared to a band. Bright flavors are high, clear notes (such as the flute, the timpani, etc.) - lemon, lime, some spices, fresh. The low, deepness of the marching drum cements everything together, in the case of sushi, perhaps the rice (although note how sushi rice is combined with rice vinegar and sugar, giving it that distinctive flavor). And the list goes on and on...
Sound is an interesting approach to food. The creative food types have always talked about blending flavors, sweet, sour, salt, bitter and the newest category, umami (or something like that). Instinctively, we've learned what works. Salt on a ripe tomato. A bit of chili flakes in a pasta sauce. Lime on a mango. Cream in coffee. And that is the simple stuff - the more complex the dish, the more amazing and fascinating the flavors get. Last night, I made balsamic chicken; the recipe called for a minced anchovy - why was this needed? Somehow, it contributed to the overall taste and flavor the dish; if I hadn't added the anchovy, I might not have noticed its absence or I might have felt that the dish lacked a subtle underflavoring.
Our meals create music and sound. Some are simple bands, a few clear notes or perhaps muddled, like an elementary school band performance or the Stanfurd band on one of its better days. Other meals are tightly synchronized, everything marching in precision and perfectly sculpted, like the Cal band's opening and halftime shows. And still other meals are amazing creations of skill, knowledge and perhaps a little luck. The end result is beautiful and polished, but not perfect in a cloying way: that is the orchestra performance.
Midori is an amazing sushi restaurant. Their rolls and nigiri are extravagant and intricate creations; most don't even need or require soy sauce, which would distract from the well blended marriage of unusual flavors. Thanks to Carrie's abundant friendliness (note to self: much to learn from Carrie), Gerard told us his personal thoughts and theories of food: the sound of food drives the meal.
Food can be compared to a band. Bright flavors are high, clear notes (such as the flute, the timpani, etc.) - lemon, lime, some spices, fresh. The low, deepness of the marching drum cements everything together, in the case of sushi, perhaps the rice (although note how sushi rice is combined with rice vinegar and sugar, giving it that distinctive flavor). And the list goes on and on...
Sound is an interesting approach to food. The creative food types have always talked about blending flavors, sweet, sour, salt, bitter and the newest category, umami (or something like that). Instinctively, we've learned what works. Salt on a ripe tomato. A bit of chili flakes in a pasta sauce. Lime on a mango. Cream in coffee. And that is the simple stuff - the more complex the dish, the more amazing and fascinating the flavors get. Last night, I made balsamic chicken; the recipe called for a minced anchovy - why was this needed? Somehow, it contributed to the overall taste and flavor the dish; if I hadn't added the anchovy, I might not have noticed its absence or I might have felt that the dish lacked a subtle underflavoring.
Our meals create music and sound. Some are simple bands, a few clear notes or perhaps muddled, like an elementary school band performance or the Stanfurd band on one of its better days. Other meals are tightly synchronized, everything marching in precision and perfectly sculpted, like the Cal band's opening and halftime shows. And still other meals are amazing creations of skill, knowledge and perhaps a little luck. The end result is beautiful and polished, but not perfect in a cloying way: that is the orchestra performance.
Tuesday, October 05, 2004
A handstand, at last!
After months of work, I was finally able ot do a handstand tonight in my yoga class. It's a wonderful feeling of satisfaction, matched only by getting both heels on the floor in the downward dog pose several years ago.
All should be impressed...
All should be impressed...
Thursday, September 23, 2004
Softball Explained
I have never been the most athletic individual, lacking coordination for all but the most basic activities, mainly solo exertions that don't require a lot of coordination, such as riding a bike or doing the elliptical at the gym or walking (sometimes, I have trouble with that last one). Although curiously, I was always good at soccer.
When Jim and Carla asked me to be on their softball team, I gave them fair warning about my lack of skills, explaining how my 7th grade PE coach had worked with me solo for a week, teaching me how to hit, catch and throw the softball, at the end of which he said, "stick with soccer". Jim and Carla promptly dismissed my story. And then I spent the season (6 weeks? 8 weeks?) striking out...
This week, Jim and Glen taught me how to hit the ball with the bat, a set of skills so basic as to be laughable. Only it involves several steps and a great deal of concentration. And isn't easy when the pitcher is looking at you in the eye trying to measure up your weaknesses and only cares about striking you out.
I struck out at my first at bat.
The second time at bat, I hit the ball. Not far, mind you. In fact, I think that the bat barely touched the ball. I ran to first, heading in the general direction of the first-base girl who couldn't catch. Somehow, as I ran towards her, the ball was thrown and she seemed to catch it but then seemed to drop it...and I took her out.
Yes, I resorted to violence in what is supposed to be a non-violent, club league game. It felt good. I would do it again.
After striking out time after time, I believe that the display of hitting the ball mixed with a bit of violence impressed my teammates. Or at the very least, gave them great entertainment. Which is what the team was all about - entertainment. Oh yes, and drinking beer, a skill we proved to be exceptional at...
When Jim and Carla asked me to be on their softball team, I gave them fair warning about my lack of skills, explaining how my 7th grade PE coach had worked with me solo for a week, teaching me how to hit, catch and throw the softball, at the end of which he said, "stick with soccer". Jim and Carla promptly dismissed my story. And then I spent the season (6 weeks? 8 weeks?) striking out...
This week, Jim and Glen taught me how to hit the ball with the bat, a set of skills so basic as to be laughable. Only it involves several steps and a great deal of concentration. And isn't easy when the pitcher is looking at you in the eye trying to measure up your weaknesses and only cares about striking you out.
I struck out at my first at bat.
The second time at bat, I hit the ball. Not far, mind you. In fact, I think that the bat barely touched the ball. I ran to first, heading in the general direction of the first-base girl who couldn't catch. Somehow, as I ran towards her, the ball was thrown and she seemed to catch it but then seemed to drop it...and I took her out.
Yes, I resorted to violence in what is supposed to be a non-violent, club league game. It felt good. I would do it again.
After striking out time after time, I believe that the display of hitting the ball mixed with a bit of violence impressed my teammates. Or at the very least, gave them great entertainment. Which is what the team was all about - entertainment. Oh yes, and drinking beer, a skill we proved to be exceptional at...
Sunday, September 12, 2004
Jan's Garden & the results
The women on my mom's side of the family have an amazing green thumb. I would say that they inherited it from my paternal grandfather's brother, but my grandma, who married into the Luttrell clan, was just as gifted. I kid you not, one time she threw a few seeds in the gutter in front of her house...and a few months later, flowers grew.
I spent last weekend at my Aunt Jan's house in Reno, Nevada (yes, the same state that hosts CES every year, but no ciggie smoke or tacky casinos at her house). Jan has an amazing garden - herbs, a dozen types of heirloom tomatoes, carrots, squash, green beans, beets, tomatillas and raspberries, at the very least.
Nothing tastes better than a freshly picked tomato. Warmed by the sun, the cherry red tomatos were a burst of freshness and tartness and fruitiness. Cheesey lines such as "I could taste the sun/earth in that one savory bite" aptly described the experience. The just pulled carrot was amazingly fresh (the bits of dirt clinging to the carrot added a nice taste).
I left her house with a box of tomatoes...and have been cooking with the few that I didn't give away all week. I made gazpacho Sunday night, using red, green and yellow heirlooms. The gazpacho was beautiful to look at.
Gardens are a good thing.
I spent last weekend at my Aunt Jan's house in Reno, Nevada (yes, the same state that hosts CES every year, but no ciggie smoke or tacky casinos at her house). Jan has an amazing garden - herbs, a dozen types of heirloom tomatoes, carrots, squash, green beans, beets, tomatillas and raspberries, at the very least.
Nothing tastes better than a freshly picked tomato. Warmed by the sun, the cherry red tomatos were a burst of freshness and tartness and fruitiness. Cheesey lines such as "I could taste the sun/earth in that one savory bite" aptly described the experience. The just pulled carrot was amazingly fresh (the bits of dirt clinging to the carrot added a nice taste).
I left her house with a box of tomatoes...and have been cooking with the few that I didn't give away all week. I made gazpacho Sunday night, using red, green and yellow heirlooms. The gazpacho was beautiful to look at.
Gardens are a good thing.
Thursday, September 09, 2004
Tales From Europe: Part IV, The Way Home
Somehow, I was able to establish World Traveler status (or something like that, help Gabe!) with British Airways, so have been bumped up into the weird group that's better than economy, but not quite first class. I guess I'm more important than I think, and I'm not going to complain as the seats and service are better (almost like business class on United).
I finished off the London segment of my trip, with too many beers and a shot of vodka, thanks to Chris in the IDC UK office and a few others (because we know that Chris is always innocent). I was actually doing ok, until I made the mistake of telling Khalid that tap water was fine, when I really meant the water that came shooting out of the multi-tap that also delivers coke. London tap water is NASTY. And, the need to spend more time in the gym was confirmed when in the midst of making a point (serious or comical, I've forgotten), my chair COLLAPSED. Granted, it was a cheap wooden folding chair, but nevertheless, it bruised my pride much more than my ass, especially when a stranger walked up to me with a regular chair and said, "here, try this one, it's much more sturdy than the one you were using." Sigh.
Not much else to report. An interesting dinner at @dventure in London. Tasted British pinot (not recommended), had an excellent cod with subpar polenta. This morning, enjoyed a traditional English breakfast with toast, egg, hash browns, sauteed mushrooms, bacon/ham something and baked beans. This lead me to think: why don't Americans eat baked beans for breakfast? They're so delicious and perfect and nurturing.
Waiting to watch the entire version of Troy. Brad Pitt is hot, and I want to see if those scandalous pictures from popbitch.com are really him or some creative photography, although size does not matter and timing is everything. Just finished watching Bad Education, the latest Pedro Almodavor film, heavily influenced by Hitchcock and I highly recommend.
PS: Jai, I completely behaved myself and did not drink too much while in London. I promise, I tell the truth.
PPS: As an interesting addendum, when I got home, I remembered that I was halfway through a book appropriately enough called, "Fat Girls and Lawn Chairs". Life is incredibly ironic.
And this is being posted a week later, mainly due to the fact that I kind of forgot...
I finished off the London segment of my trip, with too many beers and a shot of vodka, thanks to Chris in the IDC UK office and a few others (because we know that Chris is always innocent). I was actually doing ok, until I made the mistake of telling Khalid that tap water was fine, when I really meant the water that came shooting out of the multi-tap that also delivers coke. London tap water is NASTY. And, the need to spend more time in the gym was confirmed when in the midst of making a point (serious or comical, I've forgotten), my chair COLLAPSED. Granted, it was a cheap wooden folding chair, but nevertheless, it bruised my pride much more than my ass, especially when a stranger walked up to me with a regular chair and said, "here, try this one, it's much more sturdy than the one you were using." Sigh.
Not much else to report. An interesting dinner at @dventure in London. Tasted British pinot (not recommended), had an excellent cod with subpar polenta. This morning, enjoyed a traditional English breakfast with toast, egg, hash browns, sauteed mushrooms, bacon/ham something and baked beans. This lead me to think: why don't Americans eat baked beans for breakfast? They're so delicious and perfect and nurturing.
Waiting to watch the entire version of Troy. Brad Pitt is hot, and I want to see if those scandalous pictures from popbitch.com are really him or some creative photography, although size does not matter and timing is everything. Just finished watching Bad Education, the latest Pedro Almodavor film, heavily influenced by Hitchcock and I highly recommend.
PS: Jai, I completely behaved myself and did not drink too much while in London. I promise, I tell the truth.
PPS: As an interesting addendum, when I got home, I remembered that I was halfway through a book appropriately enough called, "Fat Girls and Lawn Chairs". Life is incredibly ironic.
And this is being posted a week later, mainly due to the fact that I kind of forgot...
Wednesday, September 01, 2004
Tales From Europe: Part III, the Groundling in London
I attended a performance of Measure for Measure, William Shakespeare's play of human evil and kindness and trickery and deception, with a bit of humor thrown in. The Royal Globe is a great theatre for viewing Shakespeare, a best guess replica of the Globe where his plays were first staged.
I bought a standing ticket, becoming what is known as a "groundling". The actors actually did interact directly with the groundlings in a few instances, although I had always heard stories of raucousness and catcalls from the audience, which didn't happen. I suppose that the right play (one not so serious), the right mix of people and a generous amount of alcohol would probably lead to this experience. Nevertheless, a highly recommended activity.
I bought a standing ticket, becoming what is known as a "groundling". The actors actually did interact directly with the groundlings in a few instances, although I had always heard stories of raucousness and catcalls from the audience, which didn't happen. I suppose that the right play (one not so serious), the right mix of people and a generous amount of alcohol would probably lead to this experience. Nevertheless, a highly recommended activity.
Tuesday, August 31, 2004
Tales from Europe Part II: Belfast
I've always heard about the violence in Belfast, and of course, popular media has made a number of films about battles between the Protestants and Catholics. Because we're adventurous and I hadn't heard any stories about bombs going off in the city lately, we took the train from Dublin to Belfast on Tuesday.
Belfast really is like almost any other city (including a Westfield mall, who would have thought), but one that has a very clear dividing line between the Irish Catholic and the British-enthusiastic Protestants, in the form of a very long "peace wall". I am still trying to determine the logic behind the moniker "peace wall" considering that it's meant to keep two populations from destroying one another.
Gabe and I took a politically themed black cab tour of political sections of both sides, defined by Shandy Street and Falls Street (and apologies to anyone I might have offended by getting one or both street names wrong). Only after the tour did I realize that we were literally at ground zero for both movements. Politically inspired murals decorate the sides of houses and reminders that huge battles have been, and most likely will be fought, are distinctly present on both sides. Houses exist on both sides of the wall, and on the Catholic side, the wall functions as backyard wall for a number of houses. To protect against flying rocks, the wall is twice as tall as it originally began, and fencing wire stretches from the roof of the houses to the fence. Heavy stuff, indeed.
Of course, before the tour, we sat in a pub (lightly fried herring with mash and lime mayo was quite tasty, along with a Guinness), necessitating a bathroom stop at the local Catholic pub directly across from what the taxi driver guide mentioned was most likely IRA headquarters. As I walked through the pub to the women's bathroom (which meant walking through the entire pub), I was distinctly aware of lots of looks - clearly, I did not belong. Although, I did point out to Gabe that being raised as a Catholic as a young child probably put me in better shape than his Jewish roots in the pub.
Actually, I'm still kind of depressed about the whole thing. Religion and politics create a lethal combination, no matter what, it seems.
Belfast really is like almost any other city (including a Westfield mall, who would have thought), but one that has a very clear dividing line between the Irish Catholic and the British-enthusiastic Protestants, in the form of a very long "peace wall". I am still trying to determine the logic behind the moniker "peace wall" considering that it's meant to keep two populations from destroying one another.
Gabe and I took a politically themed black cab tour of political sections of both sides, defined by Shandy Street and Falls Street (and apologies to anyone I might have offended by getting one or both street names wrong). Only after the tour did I realize that we were literally at ground zero for both movements. Politically inspired murals decorate the sides of houses and reminders that huge battles have been, and most likely will be fought, are distinctly present on both sides. Houses exist on both sides of the wall, and on the Catholic side, the wall functions as backyard wall for a number of houses. To protect against flying rocks, the wall is twice as tall as it originally began, and fencing wire stretches from the roof of the houses to the fence. Heavy stuff, indeed.
Of course, before the tour, we sat in a pub (lightly fried herring with mash and lime mayo was quite tasty, along with a Guinness), necessitating a bathroom stop at the local Catholic pub directly across from what the taxi driver guide mentioned was most likely IRA headquarters. As I walked through the pub to the women's bathroom (which meant walking through the entire pub), I was distinctly aware of lots of looks - clearly, I did not belong. Although, I did point out to Gabe that being raised as a Catholic as a young child probably put me in better shape than his Jewish roots in the pub.
Actually, I'm still kind of depressed about the whole thing. Religion and politics create a lethal combination, no matter what, it seems.
Sunday, August 29, 2004
Tales From Europe: Bone Tired
Author's Note: Kind of in a hurry while writing, so please excuse any typos, etc.
It's Sunday evening and I'm sitting in a Heathrow Airport cafe bar, drinking a Guinness (regular, not extra cold), awaiting departure for Dublin. I am so tired, my bones hurt. I've been fed heartily (my stomach is concerned because I haven't eaten in more than two hours) and my blood stream is now half platelets, half alcohol.
I've just spent the past several days for a business trip in Finland, featuring two and a half days of very long and grueling meetings and several long and grueling nights. All were very good in their own way, and from a business perspective, the trip was extremely worthwhile. But, frankly, writing about business is boring, and since this blog is ostensibly about food and wine, here's the rundown:
Note, it's important to point out that this trip was hosted by a well known Finnish company (think mobile phones). About 20 IDCers attended for the meetings, the numbers decreased for late night activities, and about 10 of us went on the weekend activities, along with "the Captain" and four very brave souls from our host company.
Here are the highlights:
Restaurant Nokka: Dinner Thursday night was an elegant affair with great promise. As a food critic, the quality was just ok. Champagne. An appetizer of cauliflower soup with a mushroom puree and a coil of white fish with one tiny potato as the main course. Dessert was great - a gelatin of berries with fresh fruit. Actually, the best part of the meal was the conversation (the individual sitting next to me worked in the business unit in which I have a vested interest). Even by European standards, the portions were small, and I had to make up for it with a few bars at Teatern after. (Thanks Jai)
Sleeping on the sail boat: We spent Friday night on a rather large sail boat. We had to help raise, and then lower the sales. I participated by providing encouragement ("do you really know what you are doing?") and taking pictures. Kevin took a picture of me doing one of these activities. We had two choices of where to sleep: below in the main room on narrow bunks, where it was hot and contained a few loud sleepers; or, on the deck, in hammocks, under the stars and with gentle raindrops. I immediately wanted to sleep outside, but the trouble was, we had to wait until the ship docked around 3:30 in the morning before we could set up the hammocks. The heartier of us (apparent as many faded and went to sleep) occupied our time with a plentiful supply of beer, wine and rum. Anne, Kevin, Keith and I ended up in the hammocks. Amazing, especially when it started raining, we simply snuggled deeper into our sleeping bags.
Wilderness Lunch: We were delivered late Saturday morning to a farm area, and after a short ride on a tractor bed, met up with two hosts (Kari, Yiri???) who proceeded to help us make lunch in the Finnish outdoors. We had the following: reindeer stew with mashed potatoes, braised root vegetables, salmon , bark break (made with the inner bark of a the birch tree), wine, beer, etc. I did not repeat my previous night's efforts with the sails, but instead helped. I kind of like to cook ;) It was all amazing and delicious; the salmon was my favorite, and not just because I helped to cook it, and here's the recipe: Forage at the supermarket and purchase a whole filleted salmon. Forage in the forest and find a perfectly fork shaped birch branch, about 5-6 feet long and with lots of little branches (thanks Alex and Keith, it was great foraging in the forest and avoiding moose droppings to find the perfect branch). Strip the forked branch. In the meantime, lovingly rub the salmon outside with salt, caressing it like you would a beautiful women (again Keith, great job). Prepare a stuffing of cream cheese, onion, dill, salt and pepper and stuff the salmon. Nestle the salmon in the forked branch and secure with wire and the smaller branches that have been stripped off. Cook by the fire (offheat), keeping the salmon on its back so that the cheese does not run out. Enjoy, especially the inner pieces which are perfectly tender. !!!!
Fiskers Dinner: A four-course meal: crayfish mixed with mayonnaise on toast with a heavy dollop of caviar (sauvignon blanc); cepe julienne, a Russian heavy mushroom soup made with sour cream; roasted duck with braised cabbage, potatoes, green beans and cream sauce and potatoes on the side (cabernet); ligonberry cheesecake which was thankfully made with ricotta, not cream cheese (dessert wine); coffee and chocolates. Plus, a live singer serenading us with American, Finnish and Russian songs. Excellent meal.
Sauna: I did sauna three times on Saturday. The first, in the lodge where the boat was docked and for only a few minutes, after the wilderness lunch and again after dinner. My skin feels incredibly smooth. The best was the afternoon sauna; three girls sitting and soaking up the heat of the sauna, running down the hill and lounging in the cold lake water. Did I mention that the sauna is best experienced without any clothing? And last, before going to bed at the hotel. Sauna is incredible - a day later, I already miss it.
It's Sunday evening and I'm sitting in a Heathrow Airport cafe bar, drinking a Guinness (regular, not extra cold), awaiting departure for Dublin. I am so tired, my bones hurt. I've been fed heartily (my stomach is concerned because I haven't eaten in more than two hours) and my blood stream is now half platelets, half alcohol.
I've just spent the past several days for a business trip in Finland, featuring two and a half days of very long and grueling meetings and several long and grueling nights. All were very good in their own way, and from a business perspective, the trip was extremely worthwhile. But, frankly, writing about business is boring, and since this blog is ostensibly about food and wine, here's the rundown:
Note, it's important to point out that this trip was hosted by a well known Finnish company (think mobile phones). About 20 IDCers attended for the meetings, the numbers decreased for late night activities, and about 10 of us went on the weekend activities, along with "the Captain" and four very brave souls from our host company.
Here are the highlights:
Restaurant Nokka: Dinner Thursday night was an elegant affair with great promise. As a food critic, the quality was just ok. Champagne. An appetizer of cauliflower soup with a mushroom puree and a coil of white fish with one tiny potato as the main course. Dessert was great - a gelatin of berries with fresh fruit. Actually, the best part of the meal was the conversation (the individual sitting next to me worked in the business unit in which I have a vested interest). Even by European standards, the portions were small, and I had to make up for it with a few bars at Teatern after. (Thanks Jai)
Sleeping on the sail boat: We spent Friday night on a rather large sail boat. We had to help raise, and then lower the sales. I participated by providing encouragement ("do you really know what you are doing?") and taking pictures. Kevin took a picture of me doing one of these activities. We had two choices of where to sleep: below in the main room on narrow bunks, where it was hot and contained a few loud sleepers; or, on the deck, in hammocks, under the stars and with gentle raindrops. I immediately wanted to sleep outside, but the trouble was, we had to wait until the ship docked around 3:30 in the morning before we could set up the hammocks. The heartier of us (apparent as many faded and went to sleep) occupied our time with a plentiful supply of beer, wine and rum. Anne, Kevin, Keith and I ended up in the hammocks. Amazing, especially when it started raining, we simply snuggled deeper into our sleeping bags.
Wilderness Lunch: We were delivered late Saturday morning to a farm area, and after a short ride on a tractor bed, met up with two hosts (Kari, Yiri???) who proceeded to help us make lunch in the Finnish outdoors. We had the following: reindeer stew with mashed potatoes, braised root vegetables, salmon , bark break (made with the inner bark of a the birch tree), wine, beer, etc. I did not repeat my previous night's efforts with the sails, but instead helped. I kind of like to cook ;) It was all amazing and delicious; the salmon was my favorite, and not just because I helped to cook it, and here's the recipe: Forage at the supermarket and purchase a whole filleted salmon. Forage in the forest and find a perfectly fork shaped birch branch, about 5-6 feet long and with lots of little branches (thanks Alex and Keith, it was great foraging in the forest and avoiding moose droppings to find the perfect branch). Strip the forked branch. In the meantime, lovingly rub the salmon outside with salt, caressing it like you would a beautiful women (again Keith, great job). Prepare a stuffing of cream cheese, onion, dill, salt and pepper and stuff the salmon. Nestle the salmon in the forked branch and secure with wire and the smaller branches that have been stripped off. Cook by the fire (offheat), keeping the salmon on its back so that the cheese does not run out. Enjoy, especially the inner pieces which are perfectly tender. !!!!
Fiskers Dinner: A four-course meal: crayfish mixed with mayonnaise on toast with a heavy dollop of caviar (sauvignon blanc); cepe julienne, a Russian heavy mushroom soup made with sour cream; roasted duck with braised cabbage, potatoes, green beans and cream sauce and potatoes on the side (cabernet); ligonberry cheesecake which was thankfully made with ricotta, not cream cheese (dessert wine); coffee and chocolates. Plus, a live singer serenading us with American, Finnish and Russian songs. Excellent meal.
Sauna: I did sauna three times on Saturday. The first, in the lodge where the boat was docked and for only a few minutes, after the wilderness lunch and again after dinner. My skin feels incredibly smooth. The best was the afternoon sauna; three girls sitting and soaking up the heat of the sauna, running down the hill and lounging in the cold lake water. Did I mention that the sauna is best experienced without any clothing? And last, before going to bed at the hotel. Sauna is incredible - a day later, I already miss it.
Thursday, August 12, 2004
weddings and the single girl
In the past 15 years, I've been to more weddings than I can possibly name. While I remember bits and pieces from different ones (and a few where I don't remember much at all), the one clear thing about all of those weddings is that I've had a "wedding date" for exactly two. Once, a roommate accompanied me. Another time, a friend came along to be my dance partner (I don't know if I'd even consider the second to be a "date"). Funny, I rarely talk to either anymore.
The wedding invite addressed to "Schelley & Guest" always sparks fear and apprehension. From the time that I receive the invite until the RSVP date has arrived, I nurture a small hope that someone will enter my life and I'll automatically have a date. That fortunate set of events has never happened. Although, a few times, I have received invites with just my name, in one case due to numbers issues (although if I had been dating someone or married, I wouldn't have been invited solo) and in the second, pure insensitivity.
Weddings are meant to be a time of happiness and celebration: a couple in love and surrounded by family, friends and their parents' friends, vows to spend the rest of their lives together. Don't get me wrong, I am happy for those that I've come to celebrate with; it's an incredibly special bond that I hope to share with someone some day. After beyond the wedding day, one's anniversary is an event worthy of celebration for the rest of their lives together (or until the divorce is final and the anniversary day becomes one of mourning, anger and/or indifference).
Invariably, at weddings, I find myself surrounded by 1) happy couples or 2) single women, just like myself. Someone once told me that weddings were a great place to meet other single people, and that is true, all of the single people that I've met at weddings have been women my own age. Either single men are able to scrounge up dates, don't go to weddings or simply don't exist. I can only think of one instance where single men (who weren't complete geeks) were at a wedding - that was good ;)
Things are usually ok during cocktail hour and the meal, when alcohol flows freely and everyone enjoys the free meal. But once the dancing starts, well, usually I'm left stranded at the table. A few years ago, I went to a family friend's wedding. I was placed at a table with four very happy couples, none of whom I knew. As soon as the call went out for couples on the first dance went out, I was alone at the now very empty table, watching them all walk to the dance floor hand in hand, contemplating my cake and glass of wine. Sadly, this wasn't the first time it had happened, and probably won't be the last.
As I've never planned a wedding, I wonder how difficult it is to deal with the single people? One is an odd number, and from what I can tell, most tables are designed to hold an even number of people. Do the bride and groom secretly wish that all of us single ones would get our acts together and find someone? Do we cause angst and struggle over the seating chart? Or as Elaine Benes once said, am I just seated at the "singles table with all of the other single losers"? Or in my case, wherever one person could easily be placed?
While probably seeming ridiculously stupid (especially for those of who have been in a relationship for more than say, a month and have forgotten the going to a wedding single angst), one of the really great things about dating someone was knowing that I automatically had a wedding date. Sadly, the only wedding I was invited to while we were dating was on the East Coast (and for obvious reasons, he couldn't come). But he received a few invites, and asked me to save the date for the local wedding. I pictured myself finally being half of a couple at the wedding, holding his hand while walking to the dance floor for the first "couples dance" and not sitting alone with cake wishing that there was someone to dance with. Unfortunately, the relationship ended before the wedding, thereby dashing that dream (among many dreams).
This year, I decided to be brave and asked Nilay to be my wedding date. And I'm going to be his wedding date. Having started dating his now estranged wife in his early 20s, he has never attended a wedding by himself. And my two weddings with a date are just fuzzy and not so great memories at this point. While we're not dating one another, this process will be good for us: it won't be all that we both desire, but at least we will be halfway there.
The wedding invite addressed to "Schelley & Guest" always sparks fear and apprehension. From the time that I receive the invite until the RSVP date has arrived, I nurture a small hope that someone will enter my life and I'll automatically have a date. That fortunate set of events has never happened. Although, a few times, I have received invites with just my name, in one case due to numbers issues (although if I had been dating someone or married, I wouldn't have been invited solo) and in the second, pure insensitivity.
Weddings are meant to be a time of happiness and celebration: a couple in love and surrounded by family, friends and their parents' friends, vows to spend the rest of their lives together. Don't get me wrong, I am happy for those that I've come to celebrate with; it's an incredibly special bond that I hope to share with someone some day. After beyond the wedding day, one's anniversary is an event worthy of celebration for the rest of their lives together (or until the divorce is final and the anniversary day becomes one of mourning, anger and/or indifference).
Invariably, at weddings, I find myself surrounded by 1) happy couples or 2) single women, just like myself. Someone once told me that weddings were a great place to meet other single people, and that is true, all of the single people that I've met at weddings have been women my own age. Either single men are able to scrounge up dates, don't go to weddings or simply don't exist. I can only think of one instance where single men (who weren't complete geeks) were at a wedding - that was good ;)
Things are usually ok during cocktail hour and the meal, when alcohol flows freely and everyone enjoys the free meal. But once the dancing starts, well, usually I'm left stranded at the table. A few years ago, I went to a family friend's wedding. I was placed at a table with four very happy couples, none of whom I knew. As soon as the call went out for couples on the first dance went out, I was alone at the now very empty table, watching them all walk to the dance floor hand in hand, contemplating my cake and glass of wine. Sadly, this wasn't the first time it had happened, and probably won't be the last.
As I've never planned a wedding, I wonder how difficult it is to deal with the single people? One is an odd number, and from what I can tell, most tables are designed to hold an even number of people. Do the bride and groom secretly wish that all of us single ones would get our acts together and find someone? Do we cause angst and struggle over the seating chart? Or as Elaine Benes once said, am I just seated at the "singles table with all of the other single losers"? Or in my case, wherever one person could easily be placed?
While probably seeming ridiculously stupid (especially for those of who have been in a relationship for more than say, a month and have forgotten the going to a wedding single angst), one of the really great things about dating someone was knowing that I automatically had a wedding date. Sadly, the only wedding I was invited to while we were dating was on the East Coast (and for obvious reasons, he couldn't come). But he received a few invites, and asked me to save the date for the local wedding. I pictured myself finally being half of a couple at the wedding, holding his hand while walking to the dance floor for the first "couples dance" and not sitting alone with cake wishing that there was someone to dance with. Unfortunately, the relationship ended before the wedding, thereby dashing that dream (among many dreams).
This year, I decided to be brave and asked Nilay to be my wedding date. And I'm going to be his wedding date. Having started dating his now estranged wife in his early 20s, he has never attended a wedding by himself. And my two weddings with a date are just fuzzy and not so great memories at this point. While we're not dating one another, this process will be good for us: it won't be all that we both desire, but at least we will be halfway there.
Wednesday, August 11, 2004
It's Football Time
A new billboard went up on the 101 Mission St offramp advertising Cal football 2004. A dozen or so Cal football players, looking tough and fearless in their sparkling blue and gold uniforms. A truly beautiful sight.
Monday, August 09, 2004
Home to Berkeley?
As an innocent and very naive 18 year old, I chose to go to college at UC Berkeley, much to the surprise and probably shock of friends and not friends alike. I loved Berkeley, and for a few years after graduation, called it my home. Even after moving away from Berkeley, I've always been nostalgic, hoping to someday get the chance to move back.
Now that I live in San Francisco, Berkeley is literally a BART ride away. After receiving pictures from my brother of my nephew wearing an article of clothing advertising a school that I consider to be inferior to my Cal, I was on a quest. Less than an ATM withdrawal later, I had accomplished my purpose and had some time to wander around the city I still considered home.
Berkeley has changed in many ways. The grungy layer of dirt still coats everything, although many of the grimiest stores that once inhabited Shattuck have now been replaced by much cleaner establishments. The homeless are still in force, as are the weird and odd that are too clean to be homeless. The campus still maintains its regality, an oasis within a city that is somehow indescribable, purposeless and full of purpose all at the same time.
After accomplishing my errand, I wandered around, wondering what I should do. I could have sat in any number of favorite campus spots. I could have had a cup of coffee at Strada or Wall Berlin. I could have wandered up to Memorial Stadium. I could have had a beer at Jupiter or Bison.
Instead, for the first time ever, I could only think about going back to my home - San Francisco, and sitting in the park that I've adopted as my own (Alamo Square, although the hundreds of dogs that visit twice a day might object) or one of the three coffee shops that I now regularly visit. I still love Berkeley, but the move to the city across the bay has really changed how I view home. All of those years that I spent living in the South Bay never elicited the same feelings. I never saw Sunnyvale or Palo Alto or Mountain View as a home to which I wanted to return. Rather, they seemed to be resting stops along the way to wherever the destination was supposed to be. Which, now I've discovered, is right where I'm living now - my home in Hayes Valley.
I walked to the BART stop, made a slight detour for a gelato at the newish gelataria, a place so clean inside I could have sworn it was in the South Bay, and then went home across the bay.
Now that I live in San Francisco, Berkeley is literally a BART ride away. After receiving pictures from my brother of my nephew wearing an article of clothing advertising a school that I consider to be inferior to my Cal, I was on a quest. Less than an ATM withdrawal later, I had accomplished my purpose and had some time to wander around the city I still considered home.
Berkeley has changed in many ways. The grungy layer of dirt still coats everything, although many of the grimiest stores that once inhabited Shattuck have now been replaced by much cleaner establishments. The homeless are still in force, as are the weird and odd that are too clean to be homeless. The campus still maintains its regality, an oasis within a city that is somehow indescribable, purposeless and full of purpose all at the same time.
After accomplishing my errand, I wandered around, wondering what I should do. I could have sat in any number of favorite campus spots. I could have had a cup of coffee at Strada or Wall Berlin. I could have wandered up to Memorial Stadium. I could have had a beer at Jupiter or Bison.
Instead, for the first time ever, I could only think about going back to my home - San Francisco, and sitting in the park that I've adopted as my own (Alamo Square, although the hundreds of dogs that visit twice a day might object) or one of the three coffee shops that I now regularly visit. I still love Berkeley, but the move to the city across the bay has really changed how I view home. All of those years that I spent living in the South Bay never elicited the same feelings. I never saw Sunnyvale or Palo Alto or Mountain View as a home to which I wanted to return. Rather, they seemed to be resting stops along the way to wherever the destination was supposed to be. Which, now I've discovered, is right where I'm living now - my home in Hayes Valley.
I walked to the BART stop, made a slight detour for a gelato at the newish gelataria, a place so clean inside I could have sworn it was in the South Bay, and then went home across the bay.
Sunday, August 01, 2004
Ribs, Ribs and More Ribs
Normally, I would avoid any trips South of San Francisco on a weekend, but Nilay tempted me to San Jose on a SATURDAY with the promise of "the best bbq ribs you've ever tasted!" How could I resist?
Purchasing the ribs involved trips to three stores (fyi, costco has the best quality baby backs). While he washed dishes, I made the mop sauce from the free Weber grill book. The mop had an apple cider base, with the usuals for bbq sauce - shallots, a habanero, brown sugar, ketchup, something else. But it was also thin; I was convinced I had made it wrong, but Nilay assured me it was correct.
Nilay prepared the ribs, and then for the next 3 1/2 hours, at exactly 300 degrees, religiously basted with the mop sauce. During that time, we shared cosmos and a very excellent bottle of 1995 Ridge Zinfandel (the cosmos came about because we had to let the Ridge breathe for at least 30 minutes before drinking).
During that time, I also made cornbread (Southern style, which means not like cake) and artichokes which I steamed with lemon juice and then grilled right about the time the ribs were done. Actually, come to think of it, the side dishes were really distractions from the task at hand - the ribs.
The ribs were amazing...the meat pulled away perfectly from the bones, the sauce cooked into the meat, giving it a nice smokey flavor and a stickiness that coated the fingers. We were complete gluttons, finishing 1 1/2 slabs between the two of us. Definitely some of the best ribs that I've ever had.
Dinner was accompanied by a Kalyra gewurtz, which went with the meat quite well. Nilay made some type of dessert concoction...but sadly, I wasn't able to drink more than a sip.
I did make strawberry-rhubarb pie for dessert (Bon Appetit, April 1997, an amazing pie that I've made so many times). We had to skip...too much food and alcohol. It did, however, go well with the pancakes that Nilay cooked on the grill the next morning for breakfast :)
***Don't worry, the pancakes were not cooked directly on the grill; Nilay has a cast iron flat grill pan perfect for pancakes.
Purchasing the ribs involved trips to three stores (fyi, costco has the best quality baby backs). While he washed dishes, I made the mop sauce from the free Weber grill book. The mop had an apple cider base, with the usuals for bbq sauce - shallots, a habanero, brown sugar, ketchup, something else. But it was also thin; I was convinced I had made it wrong, but Nilay assured me it was correct.
Nilay prepared the ribs, and then for the next 3 1/2 hours, at exactly 300 degrees, religiously basted with the mop sauce. During that time, we shared cosmos and a very excellent bottle of 1995 Ridge Zinfandel (the cosmos came about because we had to let the Ridge breathe for at least 30 minutes before drinking).
During that time, I also made cornbread (Southern style, which means not like cake) and artichokes which I steamed with lemon juice and then grilled right about the time the ribs were done. Actually, come to think of it, the side dishes were really distractions from the task at hand - the ribs.
The ribs were amazing...the meat pulled away perfectly from the bones, the sauce cooked into the meat, giving it a nice smokey flavor and a stickiness that coated the fingers. We were complete gluttons, finishing 1 1/2 slabs between the two of us. Definitely some of the best ribs that I've ever had.
Dinner was accompanied by a Kalyra gewurtz, which went with the meat quite well. Nilay made some type of dessert concoction...but sadly, I wasn't able to drink more than a sip.
I did make strawberry-rhubarb pie for dessert (Bon Appetit, April 1997, an amazing pie that I've made so many times). We had to skip...too much food and alcohol. It did, however, go well with the pancakes that Nilay cooked on the grill the next morning for breakfast :)
***Don't worry, the pancakes were not cooked directly on the grill; Nilay has a cast iron flat grill pan perfect for pancakes.
Tuesday, July 13, 2004
Dim Sum = Chinese Brunch
As a white girl growing up in a primarily white town, I always thought that brunch involved some sort of combination of scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, pancakes, fruit, quiche, pigs in a blanket, roast beef with au jus and ham, carved by a chef wearing a white apron and poofy white hat, desserts and anything else deemed "brunch worthy".
While visiting a college friend in 1992 in Boston, I was introduced to dim sum, or what I now call, Chinese brunch. While this didn't forever alter my life, dim sum did pave the way for a complete and utter exploration of Asian cuisines that had thus far been comprised of bad Chinese food served at the suburbanized restaurants of my childhood.
For those of you who don't know, dim sum is oodles of small Chinese dishes, delivered by a number of waiters/waitresses carrying or wheeling hot trays of food, shouting out the almost indecipherable name of the dish. If one isn't Asian or intimately familiar with the dishes, it's an adventure in culinary dining.
In my opinion, dim sum is really wonderful. It's brunch...but not like anything I've ever had. Sweet pork buns. Shrimp sandwiched in between rice noodles. Mushrooms stuffed with some type of seafood. Fried tofu. Fried taro cake. Shu mai (shrimp). Tripe. So much other stuff...some weird, some not. I like the trays carrying ducks, with heads still attached (Ming's, in Palo Alto). I did once eat chickens feet, a popular treat. Not too bad, but an awful lot of work for so little meat.
Obviously, I had dim sum fairly recently. Sunday morning, to be exact, at Mayflower in the Richmond. It was all delicious. I want to go back...
While visiting a college friend in 1992 in Boston, I was introduced to dim sum, or what I now call, Chinese brunch. While this didn't forever alter my life, dim sum did pave the way for a complete and utter exploration of Asian cuisines that had thus far been comprised of bad Chinese food served at the suburbanized restaurants of my childhood.
For those of you who don't know, dim sum is oodles of small Chinese dishes, delivered by a number of waiters/waitresses carrying or wheeling hot trays of food, shouting out the almost indecipherable name of the dish. If one isn't Asian or intimately familiar with the dishes, it's an adventure in culinary dining.
In my opinion, dim sum is really wonderful. It's brunch...but not like anything I've ever had. Sweet pork buns. Shrimp sandwiched in between rice noodles. Mushrooms stuffed with some type of seafood. Fried tofu. Fried taro cake. Shu mai (shrimp). Tripe. So much other stuff...some weird, some not. I like the trays carrying ducks, with heads still attached (Ming's, in Palo Alto). I did once eat chickens feet, a popular treat. Not too bad, but an awful lot of work for so little meat.
Obviously, I had dim sum fairly recently. Sunday morning, to be exact, at Mayflower in the Richmond. It was all delicious. I want to go back...
Saturday, July 03, 2004
Sushi Rocks & Farewell
My colleagues Bill and Michelle are leaving the Bay Area. Michelle sat in the cube next to me; day in and day out, she'd politely listen to my constant stream of chatter. I'll miss her...and Bill is just damn funny. They're both on to better things.
Farewell dinner at Sushi Rocks in Pac Heights. I've had better, but it's still very good and features a huge menu of highly creative rolls. The spider is one of my favorites and the Dynamite roll was quite good, too.
I had one of the worst cosmos ever at Cozmo's, some swanky restaurant club in the Marina. And when I suggested that the bartender use a spoon to make a black and tan, he snapped at me "I know what I'm doing, I've been doing this for several years". The club around the corner was much better, but by then, it was all beer for me.
Farewell dinner at Sushi Rocks in Pac Heights. I've had better, but it's still very good and features a huge menu of highly creative rolls. The spider is one of my favorites and the Dynamite roll was quite good, too.
I had one of the worst cosmos ever at Cozmo's, some swanky restaurant club in the Marina. And when I suggested that the bartender use a spoon to make a black and tan, he snapped at me "I know what I'm doing, I've been doing this for several years". The club around the corner was much better, but by then, it was all beer for me.
Wednesday, June 30, 2004
mmmm, Rioja
Cracked open a bottle of a 2003 Marques de Caceres Rioja (that last word is Rose for all of us who don't speak Spanish or aren't fluent in the ways and means of wine). Quite tasty, with a finish that I can only describe as slightly bubbly. Not quite champagne, but more of a smooth on the back of your tongue layer of bubbles. Perfect for a slightly muggy but at the same time cooler San Francisco day (and yes, that is exactly what the weather is like, what can I say, it's San Francisco)
Sunday, June 27, 2004
Housewarming
Nothing says that you've moved and settled into a new home like a housewarming party. Since the boxes are now unpacked, pictures hung and kitchen fully tested, no time seemed better than last night. (Only after the date had been set and the evite sent did I discover that my housewarming party also happened to coincide with one of the biggest parties in San Francisco, Pride Weekend).
I tried to keep food simpler than at previous parties. My traditional layered dip (my spin on refried beans, sour cream, guacamole, salsa, grated cheddar), hummus and baba ghanoush, cheese and fruit (brie, herbed chevre, sage cheddar) and smoked salmon with cream cheese, red onions and capers. Plus margaritas, beer and wine. And a few bottles of champagne and a bit of wine (time to try rose!). Oh, and dessert - chocolate chip cookies with coconut and toasted almonds and frosted lemon shortbread.
All in all, a good party. At least one person got completely wasted, with a lot of other alcohol consumed. That's a sign of a good party, IMO.
The party guest list is always an opportunity to evaluate the state of various friendships. New friends were added, old friends that had drifted away were removed. I've observed that while some friends remain constant in my life (in various forms), others cycle in and out. A few that I considered to be my best friends 5 years ago are no longer really a part of my life. Instead, they've been replaced by new ones.
Perhaps your friends are indicative of where you are in life - your needs, wants, desires. Those things change with time as you - an individual - ages, lives through new experiences, continues to evolve as a person. And, that is life.
I tried to keep food simpler than at previous parties. My traditional layered dip (my spin on refried beans, sour cream, guacamole, salsa, grated cheddar), hummus and baba ghanoush, cheese and fruit (brie, herbed chevre, sage cheddar) and smoked salmon with cream cheese, red onions and capers. Plus margaritas, beer and wine. And a few bottles of champagne and a bit of wine (time to try rose!). Oh, and dessert - chocolate chip cookies with coconut and toasted almonds and frosted lemon shortbread.
All in all, a good party. At least one person got completely wasted, with a lot of other alcohol consumed. That's a sign of a good party, IMO.
The party guest list is always an opportunity to evaluate the state of various friendships. New friends were added, old friends that had drifted away were removed. I've observed that while some friends remain constant in my life (in various forms), others cycle in and out. A few that I considered to be my best friends 5 years ago are no longer really a part of my life. Instead, they've been replaced by new ones.
Perhaps your friends are indicative of where you are in life - your needs, wants, desires. Those things change with time as you - an individual - ages, lives through new experiences, continues to evolve as a person. And, that is life.
Wednesday, June 23, 2004
Flu Attacks!
Either from being trapped on a plane many more hours than necessary when coming back from Seattle last week or from the 15 kids under the age of 5 at a birthday party Saturday night, I somehow contracted the flu. It started not so innocently with a sore throat Sunday night and within 24 hours, had escalated into a full-blown flu, complete with all of those things that make having the flu so memorable...and so horrible.
For the first time since beginning life sans roommates, I missed having someone around. When illness strikes, a roommate functions as a built-in nurse, whether by simply providing soup to raid (I only eat soup in a can in case of illness) or doing more complex things, like making store runs to purchase supplies of ginger ale or more soup. Actually, the last time I got sick, I called an ex-boyfriend to help. That was a mistake.
I guess I could have called someone for help...but instead, I muddled on my own. I fluishly stumbled my way a few blocks and almost drunkenly (why does the flu make us feel like we're drunk?), managed to buy some soup and echinacea tea.
Never fear, dear readers. I am on the mend...and tomorrow should be back to almost normal, terrorizing unsuspecting co-workers, ready for the ever delicious glass of wine and cooking up a storm.
For the first time since beginning life sans roommates, I missed having someone around. When illness strikes, a roommate functions as a built-in nurse, whether by simply providing soup to raid (I only eat soup in a can in case of illness) or doing more complex things, like making store runs to purchase supplies of ginger ale or more soup. Actually, the last time I got sick, I called an ex-boyfriend to help. That was a mistake.
I guess I could have called someone for help...but instead, I muddled on my own. I fluishly stumbled my way a few blocks and almost drunkenly (why does the flu make us feel like we're drunk?), managed to buy some soup and echinacea tea.
Never fear, dear readers. I am on the mend...and tomorrow should be back to almost normal, terrorizing unsuspecting co-workers, ready for the ever delicious glass of wine and cooking up a storm.
Friday, June 18, 2004
midori mushi
A few people mentioned that a very tiny, great little sushi place was just down the street from my new home. The thought of living within walking distance of sushi has always captivated me; unfortunately, the sushi restaurant in the Costco shopping center at Mt View (within walking distance of my old home) provided the basis for such a horrible luncheon experience that I vowed never to return. But now was a good start with Midori Mushi, attached to a Days Inn hotel, three blocks from home.
It seems that the restaurant is a bit plagued with financial troubles, although it appears that their troubles may now be resolved. I hope so, because Midori Mushi was so fabulous and wonderful. Without much convincing, Gabe joined me for my maiden meal at Midori.
Wonderful fish, interesting combinations, and the best part - the sushi chef took a lot of liberties with our sushi. At one point, we asked her to surprise us. It's also a great atmosphere. The waiter scared us with his infatuation with Chelsea Clinton (who by the way is the true Swan story). We also got into a very loud conversation with the two lesbians and their straight male friend at the table next to us. Ahhhh, life in San Francisco.
It seems that the restaurant is a bit plagued with financial troubles, although it appears that their troubles may now be resolved. I hope so, because Midori Mushi was so fabulous and wonderful. Without much convincing, Gabe joined me for my maiden meal at Midori.
Wonderful fish, interesting combinations, and the best part - the sushi chef took a lot of liberties with our sushi. At one point, we asked her to surprise us. It's also a great atmosphere. The waiter scared us with his infatuation with Chelsea Clinton (who by the way is the true Swan story). We also got into a very loud conversation with the two lesbians and their straight male friend at the table next to us. Ahhhh, life in San Francisco.
excuses, excuses
A recent article in the NY Times reminded me that the enthusiasm I had when I set up this blog has now waned. Around the same time, Nilay (who hosts the blog) sent me a somewhat geeky e-mail, telling me how I could post pictures directly from my camera to this blog. Technology is simply amazing. Until it begins running my life and I have to go on missions to destroy replicants. Then it will be evil.
So I do have some very valid excuses for "blog neglect". A move, work travel, trying to get settled into a new life and new patterns. Actually, you'd think by now, with move number 4 in a little over 5 years, I'd have figured out how to find a home, pack, move, unpack and get settled with minimal disruption to my life. I thought that the move from Palo Alto to Mt View proved that theory - moving doesn't have to be more than a bothersome little nit in your life.
But this move was different. Not only did I move from Mt View to San Francisco (a distance of 37 miles, a fact dully reported to my auto insurance company), but for the first time in my life, I am now living sans roommates. Thus, the move involved pre-move shopping trips for previously never needed items such as a TV (yes, ponder the irony that I own 4 videogame consoles and do not own a TV). As well, the new apartment required a dish drain, a garbage can, cleaning supplies, rugs, curtains and lots of other miscellaneous and required stuff that is required with a move, or I had always lacked. And, practically in the middle of the move, a few business trips. Logistically, life became difficult.
And the process of unpacking was a bit unusual. I've become used to simply making room in a preexisting home for all of my stuff. This time, the choice of where to put the glasses, the bathroom towels, the TV, etc. were mine. Under the best of circumstances, I'm not the best decision maker, and in this case, it was simply hard.
But it's done. With the exception of trimming the curtains, buying a few new rugs and hanging some pictures, I would say that I am as settled as I'm ever going to be. Having said that, I can make a few observations about trends in my life in regards to moving:
--Toilet issues. This is the second time that I've lived in a home in which the toilet doesn't function properly. I think that the problem is now resolved, but I do wonder, do toilets see me as an evil being? I've never been anything but respectful, but obviously, somehow the toilet gods see me as less than.
--Ants. With the exception of my apartment in Berkeley, ants always seem to follow me (and in that case, instead of ants, cockroaches were a mainstay. Gross). This time, I smartened up and ran to Target as soon as possible, purchasing $10 worth of super strong and poisonous ant raps and placing strategically in my apartment, a process which allowed me to ponder, "if I were an ant, where would I want to hang out in Schelley's place?"
--Electronics failure. This time, my PC video card blew out. Considering it was sent free with a ridiculously low priced monitor, I'm not that sad. But still, I now need to figure out if the card is AGP or PCI or something like that, and then purchase a new one.
So I do have some very valid excuses for "blog neglect". A move, work travel, trying to get settled into a new life and new patterns. Actually, you'd think by now, with move number 4 in a little over 5 years, I'd have figured out how to find a home, pack, move, unpack and get settled with minimal disruption to my life. I thought that the move from Palo Alto to Mt View proved that theory - moving doesn't have to be more than a bothersome little nit in your life.
But this move was different. Not only did I move from Mt View to San Francisco (a distance of 37 miles, a fact dully reported to my auto insurance company), but for the first time in my life, I am now living sans roommates. Thus, the move involved pre-move shopping trips for previously never needed items such as a TV (yes, ponder the irony that I own 4 videogame consoles and do not own a TV). As well, the new apartment required a dish drain, a garbage can, cleaning supplies, rugs, curtains and lots of other miscellaneous and required stuff that is required with a move, or I had always lacked. And, practically in the middle of the move, a few business trips. Logistically, life became difficult.
And the process of unpacking was a bit unusual. I've become used to simply making room in a preexisting home for all of my stuff. This time, the choice of where to put the glasses, the bathroom towels, the TV, etc. were mine. Under the best of circumstances, I'm not the best decision maker, and in this case, it was simply hard.
But it's done. With the exception of trimming the curtains, buying a few new rugs and hanging some pictures, I would say that I am as settled as I'm ever going to be. Having said that, I can make a few observations about trends in my life in regards to moving:
--Toilet issues. This is the second time that I've lived in a home in which the toilet doesn't function properly. I think that the problem is now resolved, but I do wonder, do toilets see me as an evil being? I've never been anything but respectful, but obviously, somehow the toilet gods see me as less than.
--Ants. With the exception of my apartment in Berkeley, ants always seem to follow me (and in that case, instead of ants, cockroaches were a mainstay. Gross). This time, I smartened up and ran to Target as soon as possible, purchasing $10 worth of super strong and poisonous ant raps and placing strategically in my apartment, a process which allowed me to ponder, "if I were an ant, where would I want to hang out in Schelley's place?"
--Electronics failure. This time, my PC video card blew out. Considering it was sent free with a ridiculously low priced monitor, I'm not that sad. But still, I now need to figure out if the card is AGP or PCI or something like that, and then purchase a new one.
Wednesday, May 12, 2004
E3 Vol 2
E3 is the holy grail of trade shows for anyone involved in the gaming industry. It's one of those weird, unreal and almost unbelievable experiences. A true gamer is a slightly odd and wacky character. Craziness and meetings occupy all hours of the day. And parties all night.
Highlights of the show thus far include:
--The orgasmic sounds emerging from the Nintendo fan boys during the Nintendo press conference every time that the company announced a new game (based on franchises we all know) and especially at the point when the exec showcased a new handheld gaming product.
--Seeing the Playboy bunnies emerge from nowhere, and then watching the (male) crowd figure out that they were there.
--Realizing that I couldn't quite identify the components of the sandwiches in the press room, and deciding that a power bar would be a better lunch. Better than previous years, when all press room food would disappear in about 30 seconds, and people would literally be scraping crumbs off of the table.
--Having a martini and beer prior to the Microosft press conference before realizing that there was NO food.
--Firing questions at the poor Sly Cooper 2 developer about why the game had to become more complex and difficult. Poor guy, he probably never had a chance. We parted by telling each other that we'd be the slightly drunk people at the Sony party...
--Dancing to the sounds of Sheryl Crowe at the Nintendo party. Getting ripped off by the cabbie on the way home when he took the very long way to get to the freeway.
--Two days left, definitely more to follow...
Highlights of the show thus far include:
--The orgasmic sounds emerging from the Nintendo fan boys during the Nintendo press conference every time that the company announced a new game (based on franchises we all know) and especially at the point when the exec showcased a new handheld gaming product.
--Seeing the Playboy bunnies emerge from nowhere, and then watching the (male) crowd figure out that they were there.
--Realizing that I couldn't quite identify the components of the sandwiches in the press room, and deciding that a power bar would be a better lunch. Better than previous years, when all press room food would disappear in about 30 seconds, and people would literally be scraping crumbs off of the table.
--Having a martini and beer prior to the Microosft press conference before realizing that there was NO food.
--Firing questions at the poor Sly Cooper 2 developer about why the game had to become more complex and difficult. Poor guy, he probably never had a chance. We parted by telling each other that we'd be the slightly drunk people at the Sony party...
--Dancing to the sounds of Sheryl Crowe at the Nintendo party. Getting ripped off by the cabbie on the way home when he took the very long way to get to the freeway.
--Two days left, definitely more to follow...
Monday, May 10, 2004
E3 Vol 1
Business travel has its good and bad moments. Currently, I'm in LA for the holy grail of game industry trade shows: E3. And, already, the good and bad moments have become glaringly apparent.
I flew down this afternoon. Took a cab to my hotel. Worked. Ate a power bar. I then went to the Microsoft press conference, where having seen trays of food being passed around and being assured by my colleague Aaron that food existed, drank an apple martini, followed by a beer. There was no food...so by the time the press conference started, was feeling drunk.
The highlight of the press conference was Microsoft's announcement that EA would be supporting Xbox Live games, and in one of the nicest gestures that I've seen EA EVER makes towards Microsoft, brought out all of the cover athletes for their major sports games. Muhammed Ali was front and center, surrounded by six athletes (including Donovan, the soccer player and Marshall Faulk), all in their prime. Hopefully, they're taking notes from Muhammed; he has much to teach about life and humility.
The problem with business travel is the aloneness. I am the lone IDCer at the show, which in some ways is good, but also bad. I waited in the cab line alone (finally met up with someone and shared a weird cab ride back to downtown LA). I ate dinner in my room alone. I know that I'll see people that I know at events and meetings and parties...but still, it's me all alone.
thanks Nilay, for being there :)
I flew down this afternoon. Took a cab to my hotel. Worked. Ate a power bar. I then went to the Microsoft press conference, where having seen trays of food being passed around and being assured by my colleague Aaron that food existed, drank an apple martini, followed by a beer. There was no food...so by the time the press conference started, was feeling drunk.
The highlight of the press conference was Microsoft's announcement that EA would be supporting Xbox Live games, and in one of the nicest gestures that I've seen EA EVER makes towards Microsoft, brought out all of the cover athletes for their major sports games. Muhammed Ali was front and center, surrounded by six athletes (including Donovan, the soccer player and Marshall Faulk), all in their prime. Hopefully, they're taking notes from Muhammed; he has much to teach about life and humility.
The problem with business travel is the aloneness. I am the lone IDCer at the show, which in some ways is good, but also bad. I waited in the cab line alone (finally met up with someone and shared a weird cab ride back to downtown LA). I ate dinner in my room alone. I know that I'll see people that I know at events and meetings and parties...but still, it's me all alone.
thanks Nilay, for being there :)
Tuesday, May 04, 2004
Single Girl Salmon
For several years, I've read Amanda Hesser's Sunday columns in the NY Times magazine (she's a food critic for the Times). Her writing is solid, usually conveying an interesting story in relation to a few recipes. I picked up her book, "Dating Mr. Latte", which contained her columns written starting with her first date with "Mr Latte" (aka, Tad Friend, who is a frequent contributor to the New Yorker) and ending with their wedding, and everything in between, including relationship tidbits, work, friends and other things about life. Oh yes, and lots of recipes.
Actually, I thought that my relationship at the time was similar to hers: I was dating a guy who wasn't really into cooking, and probably would have ordered a latte with dessert, just like Mr Latte did on their first date (thus earning the name). Sadly, my relationship didn't last, ending the comparison relatively quickly. A girl can hope...
One of my favorite dishes is called "Single Girl Salmon", which was dinner tonight. Lentils cooked with garlic, a bay leaf, some salt and a shallot, then mixed with olive oil and lemon juice and heavily salted. The lentils are topped with seared salmon, fried shallots and parseley (although I subsituted cilantro, better flavor, imo). All in all, a satisfying dish, and unique in that it is designed for one person (although it could easily be doubled).
Actually, I thought that my relationship at the time was similar to hers: I was dating a guy who wasn't really into cooking, and probably would have ordered a latte with dessert, just like Mr Latte did on their first date (thus earning the name). Sadly, my relationship didn't last, ending the comparison relatively quickly. A girl can hope...
One of my favorite dishes is called "Single Girl Salmon", which was dinner tonight. Lentils cooked with garlic, a bay leaf, some salt and a shallot, then mixed with olive oil and lemon juice and heavily salted. The lentils are topped with seared salmon, fried shallots and parseley (although I subsituted cilantro, better flavor, imo). All in all, a satisfying dish, and unique in that it is designed for one person (although it could easily be doubled).
Tuesday, April 27, 2004
Roscoe's Chicken & Waffles
In Long Beach for a conference, and last night, went to Roscoe's Chicken & Waffles for dinner. Absolutely delicious. We both had 1/4 fried chicken and 2 waffles with a big bowl of gravy on the side.
The chicken was perfectly fried. The skin was tasty - not too greasy and crunch enough to dip into the gravy and still maintain its integrity. The meat wasn't greasy, but moist and tasy. The waffles were served with a two giant dollops of butter (might have been margarine) and two shot-sized vats of syrup. They had a taste of cinnamon. So, so good.
After dinner, Gabe and I drove down the main strip of Long Beach, which has actually been developed into a cute little downtown feel with a nice vibe, albeit with chain restaurants. If I didn't know that Long Beach were in LA, I might actually kind of like it. We ended up going to hooters, kind of ironic since neither of us are that interested in girls with few brains, big chests and tight little shorts ;) I did wonder how guys could even feign interest in sports on TV when there was plenty of other stuff to watch in the bar...
In a most amazing coincidence ever, we were served fried chicken at lunch. Well, I would have been had I not decided to go out to lunch with some colleagues. But still...I haven't had fried chicken in at least 5 years, and now, the possiblity of fried chicken two days in a row!
The chicken was perfectly fried. The skin was tasty - not too greasy and crunch enough to dip into the gravy and still maintain its integrity. The meat wasn't greasy, but moist and tasy. The waffles were served with a two giant dollops of butter (might have been margarine) and two shot-sized vats of syrup. They had a taste of cinnamon. So, so good.
After dinner, Gabe and I drove down the main strip of Long Beach, which has actually been developed into a cute little downtown feel with a nice vibe, albeit with chain restaurants. If I didn't know that Long Beach were in LA, I might actually kind of like it. We ended up going to hooters, kind of ironic since neither of us are that interested in girls with few brains, big chests and tight little shorts ;) I did wonder how guys could even feign interest in sports on TV when there was plenty of other stuff to watch in the bar...
In a most amazing coincidence ever, we were served fried chicken at lunch. Well, I would have been had I not decided to go out to lunch with some colleagues. But still...I haven't had fried chicken in at least 5 years, and now, the possiblity of fried chicken two days in a row!
Thursday, April 22, 2004
a bit ignored...
Sadly, the blog has been ignored of late. I've found a new home in San Francisco (Hayes Valley, conveniently located about 4 blocks from Citizen Cake) and am now packing up all of my worldly belongings.
I need to take pictures. I have too much stuff. Before packing, I didn't think I had a lot...but now, have realized that my amount of physical possessions is absolutely unreal. I did clean out before packing, and have been getting rid of stuff, but need to do a major cleaning out as I unpack. It should happen...at this point, I'm so numb, I'm just throwing stuff into boxes.
As of tomorrow, I should be habiting my new home in San Francisco, surrounded by too many boxes (this time, I'll count how many I have).
I need to take pictures. I have too much stuff. Before packing, I didn't think I had a lot...but now, have realized that my amount of physical possessions is absolutely unreal. I did clean out before packing, and have been getting rid of stuff, but need to do a major cleaning out as I unpack. It should happen...at this point, I'm so numb, I'm just throwing stuff into boxes.
As of tomorrow, I should be habiting my new home in San Francisco, surrounded by too many boxes (this time, I'll count how many I have).
Saturday, April 03, 2004
tidbit, pizza
Found an apartment in San Francisco, Hayes Valley to be exact. I'm very excited...now, just need to pack my stuff, hire movers and get ready to go. A little stressful, but now that I have a place, it has settled into a manageable level of stress.
Pizza has been on my mind a lot lately. It all started with a new cookbook, the Cooks Illustrated Baker's book (or something like that). A big section was devoted to pizza, which made me start to think, and since I tend to like to talk about what's on my mind, entered conversations.
Caroline invited me to dinner last weekend, and happily for me, she made pizza. Caroline is British, so definitely has had different pizza experiences than the common American. She crafted a Neapolitan style pie, with tomato sauce, fresh mozarella cheese, capers, red onions and anchovies. It was delicious - I'm sure that I ate too much.
Pizza has been on my mind a lot lately. It all started with a new cookbook, the Cooks Illustrated Baker's book (or something like that). A big section was devoted to pizza, which made me start to think, and since I tend to like to talk about what's on my mind, entered conversations.
Caroline invited me to dinner last weekend, and happily for me, she made pizza. Caroline is British, so definitely has had different pizza experiences than the common American. She crafted a Neapolitan style pie, with tomato sauce, fresh mozarella cheese, capers, red onions and anchovies. It was delicious - I'm sure that I ate too much.
Monday, March 29, 2004
decisions, decisions
A few months ago, I mentioned that I might have to move. This statement has now morphed into "I have to move".
My roommate bought a house. Although he asked me to move with him, I declined; he bought deep in the heart of San Jose, too far south for me to handle and maintain my sanity.
It really isn't a mystery that I have never really liked living in the South Bay/Peninsula. I spent several years living in Berkeley, and really only left because of the job opportunity. After dating someone who lived in the city, I began to realize that I would probably like to live in San Francisco, and it was actually doable. For some reason, I held back, and now that Dan is moving, decided that it is now or never.
Thus, I've been a little preoccupied. Plus, last week was the Game Developer's Conference, which kept me busy. I did eat at the Original Joe's (or OJ, as a few in our party of twenty referred to it); very classic American style Italian food. I had "slaughtered baby cow", alternatively known as veal picatta. I also ate at Il Fornaio some very good seafood pasta for lunch, some not so good seafood risotto for dinner (although the mixed plate appetizer was quite delicious). Funny, either the food is amazing at Il Fornaio or just outright disappointing.
My roommate bought a house. Although he asked me to move with him, I declined; he bought deep in the heart of San Jose, too far south for me to handle and maintain my sanity.
It really isn't a mystery that I have never really liked living in the South Bay/Peninsula. I spent several years living in Berkeley, and really only left because of the job opportunity. After dating someone who lived in the city, I began to realize that I would probably like to live in San Francisco, and it was actually doable. For some reason, I held back, and now that Dan is moving, decided that it is now or never.
Thus, I've been a little preoccupied. Plus, last week was the Game Developer's Conference, which kept me busy. I did eat at the Original Joe's (or OJ, as a few in our party of twenty referred to it); very classic American style Italian food. I had "slaughtered baby cow", alternatively known as veal picatta. I also ate at Il Fornaio some very good seafood pasta for lunch, some not so good seafood risotto for dinner (although the mixed plate appetizer was quite delicious). Funny, either the food is amazing at Il Fornaio or just outright disappointing.
Wednesday, March 17, 2004
The Willows in Seattle
I'm in Seattle on business and staying at a hotel called the Willows Lodge. Actually, hotel does not accurately describe this place: it's more like a resort. In a giant cabin. Done by most people, the concept would result in a cheesey, artificial place...but the geniuses behind the willows have managed to create a world class incredible home away from home.
Some notables about my room: fire place; all of the fixings to make several different types of tea or starbucks coffee in a bodum; a little nighty-night package (and yes, i took advantage of the night-time exfoliating moisturizer); a sunken bath tub; lights all on a dimmer switch.
Late last night, I walked to the spa to check out the gym. To get there, I first had to walk outside (a bit chilly), then walk through a little courtyard with a jacuzzi. It was completely enclosed, and I wondered - if i took off my clothes and jumped in, what were the chances of anyone wandering in?
Some notables about my room: fire place; all of the fixings to make several different types of tea or starbucks coffee in a bodum; a little nighty-night package (and yes, i took advantage of the night-time exfoliating moisturizer); a sunken bath tub; lights all on a dimmer switch.
Late last night, I walked to the spa to check out the gym. To get there, I first had to walk outside (a bit chilly), then walk through a little courtyard with a jacuzzi. It was completely enclosed, and I wondered - if i took off my clothes and jumped in, what were the chances of anyone wandering in?
Wednesday, March 10, 2004
Soprano's Premier
The fifth season of the Soprano's began on Sunday night, celebrated with an American-Italian themed dinner: three-cheese lasagna, salad with green goddess dressing, garlic bread and chianti. Oh, and a very non-Italian warm chocolate pudding cake.
Sunday, March 07, 2004
Memorable Lines from Hawaii
And here it is...memorable lines from Hawaii. They probably sound stupid and very unfunny, but had you been there and in the circumstances in which they were said, they were funny.
T: "The road says 4-wheel drive only. Do you think we should keep on going?"
S: "Sure. If it gets too bad, we'll turn around."
T: "Those things on the road are to stop cows from crossing."
S: "oh yeah, as they walk around on their cow claws!"
T: "I feel like I'm in a rain forest."
S: "That's because you are in a rain forest."
S: (to hot snuba instructor, SI): "So, do you get a lot of dumb tourists on these boats?"
SI: startled blank expression
SI: (later) "Someone once asked me if the island was completely surrounded by water."
S: "I think I want to go to Thailand on my next vacation, where deviant behavior is encouraged." (after sitting at a table with four very wholesome couples from the mid-west at the laua)
T: "The road says 4-wheel drive only. Do you think we should keep on going?"
S: "Sure. If it gets too bad, we'll turn around."
T: "Those things on the road are to stop cows from crossing."
S: "oh yeah, as they walk around on their cow claws!"
T: "I feel like I'm in a rain forest."
S: "That's because you are in a rain forest."
S: (to hot snuba instructor, SI): "So, do you get a lot of dumb tourists on these boats?"
SI: startled blank expression
SI: (later) "Someone once asked me if the island was completely surrounded by water."
S: "I think I want to go to Thailand on my next vacation, where deviant behavior is encouraged." (after sitting at a table with four very wholesome couples from the mid-west at the laua)
Inclement Hawaii, Part II
It's now the evening of our last night in Hawaii, and I can honestly say - the weather has been truly and amazingly uncharacteristically wet, rainy, stormy and windy for Hawaii. Only today, our last full day, have we had what would be considered a "typical" Hawaii climate.
Because Tony and I are very similar in that our interests run in about the same general topics (fine food, fine wine, good looking boys, gossip and work, to support all of the above habits), we have found ways to entertain ourselves on Maui that don't necessarily involve laying by the pool or on the beach, soaking up the rays. Thus, we've been on a mission to see as much of the island and to enjoy as many diverse dining experiences as possible, preferably in tandem.
To that end, here's a list of some of the food/travel highlights:
Hawaiian Plate Lunch: I have absolutely fallen in love with the Hawaiian plate lunch. It successfully melds Japanese, Chinese, Korean, Hawaiian and American culture into one meal, but not in the cloying and annoying way like so many restaurants on the mainland when combining diverse ethnic dishes. Tony loves the saimen, a soup similar to pho, but a bit sweeter and with more easily identifiable foods than traditional pho. I'm particularly fond of the noodle dishes: I love the chow fun and soon fun, thick rice noodles with a fermented black bean sauce and twice cooked beef. As well, traditional plate dishes, with steamed pork and other meats, the scoops of sticky rice, lomi-lomi (a salmon ceviche with tomatoes) and poy, abound. We've been to Da Kitchen in Kihei twice and Aloha Mixed Plate twice. The latter also makes kick-ass mai-tais.
Mai Tai: I would almost never be caught dead drinking a mai tai in the states - everyone knows that my first choice is usually a cosmo or wine. But the mai tais here are quite good; the best was at Moose McGuillicudy's in LaHaina. I also slurped down four during the luau. When tony asked me how many it had been when I got the fourth one, I looked at him and whispered "four" while the male in one of the four out of six wholesome couples at our table smirked at Tony, as if to say, "you lucky bastard"; little did he know that thanks to Polish genes and practice, I can drink like a fish and that Tony isn't into girls. Mai tais are definitely a very good Hawaiian tradition.
Mama's Fish House. Undoubtedly, one of our favorite restaurants in Hawaii: we stopped for lunch on our way to Hana (a two hour affair that cut our trip a little short) and during dessert, decided that we had to eat there once again for dinner on our last night. This is how great Mama's is: some whackjob drove his SUV into the airport and set it on fire, delaying flights by at least a day. A stranded traveler was quoted in the paper saying, "well, we'll just stay another day and it's a good excuse to go to mama's once again".
The Beaches. Due to uncooperative weather, time in the sun was severely limited. We did spend a bit of time at Hamoa Beach near Hana (black sand), and on our last day, spent several hours at Little Makena, located next to Big Makena. Little Makena was slightly rocky (I have scrapes on my shins and bruises on my legs to prove it); it was also what the guide book calls "clothing optional", with about 90% of visitors choosing the option of no clothing. You can guess which category I chose. Also, Little Makena attracts a large gay population, and at one point, I realized that I was surrounded by a sea of men, none of whom appreciated my best attributes.
Road to Hana. We braved the Road to Hana, which after having heard countless horror stories realized that it's not as bad as most people make it out to be. Incredibly twisty and turny, but well maintained and completely paved. The day before, we had driven throughout the north end of the island, which was far worse. Basically, if you've driven highway 17 to Santa Cruz or up in the Siskiyous, the Road to Hana is just fine. The journey to Hana is absolutely stunning. Verdant (Tony's words), lush, green, flora/fauna--it's incredibly spectacular. We stopped to enjoy two of many waterfalls and to take one short hike.
Because Tony and I are very similar in that our interests run in about the same general topics (fine food, fine wine, good looking boys, gossip and work, to support all of the above habits), we have found ways to entertain ourselves on Maui that don't necessarily involve laying by the pool or on the beach, soaking up the rays. Thus, we've been on a mission to see as much of the island and to enjoy as many diverse dining experiences as possible, preferably in tandem.
To that end, here's a list of some of the food/travel highlights:
Hawaiian Plate Lunch: I have absolutely fallen in love with the Hawaiian plate lunch. It successfully melds Japanese, Chinese, Korean, Hawaiian and American culture into one meal, but not in the cloying and annoying way like so many restaurants on the mainland when combining diverse ethnic dishes. Tony loves the saimen, a soup similar to pho, but a bit sweeter and with more easily identifiable foods than traditional pho. I'm particularly fond of the noodle dishes: I love the chow fun and soon fun, thick rice noodles with a fermented black bean sauce and twice cooked beef. As well, traditional plate dishes, with steamed pork and other meats, the scoops of sticky rice, lomi-lomi (a salmon ceviche with tomatoes) and poy, abound. We've been to Da Kitchen in Kihei twice and Aloha Mixed Plate twice. The latter also makes kick-ass mai-tais.
Mai Tai: I would almost never be caught dead drinking a mai tai in the states - everyone knows that my first choice is usually a cosmo or wine. But the mai tais here are quite good; the best was at Moose McGuillicudy's in LaHaina. I also slurped down four during the luau. When tony asked me how many it had been when I got the fourth one, I looked at him and whispered "four" while the male in one of the four out of six wholesome couples at our table smirked at Tony, as if to say, "you lucky bastard"; little did he know that thanks to Polish genes and practice, I can drink like a fish and that Tony isn't into girls. Mai tais are definitely a very good Hawaiian tradition.
Mama's Fish House. Undoubtedly, one of our favorite restaurants in Hawaii: we stopped for lunch on our way to Hana (a two hour affair that cut our trip a little short) and during dessert, decided that we had to eat there once again for dinner on our last night. This is how great Mama's is: some whackjob drove his SUV into the airport and set it on fire, delaying flights by at least a day. A stranded traveler was quoted in the paper saying, "well, we'll just stay another day and it's a good excuse to go to mama's once again".
The Beaches. Due to uncooperative weather, time in the sun was severely limited. We did spend a bit of time at Hamoa Beach near Hana (black sand), and on our last day, spent several hours at Little Makena, located next to Big Makena. Little Makena was slightly rocky (I have scrapes on my shins and bruises on my legs to prove it); it was also what the guide book calls "clothing optional", with about 90% of visitors choosing the option of no clothing. You can guess which category I chose. Also, Little Makena attracts a large gay population, and at one point, I realized that I was surrounded by a sea of men, none of whom appreciated my best attributes.
Road to Hana. We braved the Road to Hana, which after having heard countless horror stories realized that it's not as bad as most people make it out to be. Incredibly twisty and turny, but well maintained and completely paved. The day before, we had driven throughout the north end of the island, which was far worse. Basically, if you've driven highway 17 to Santa Cruz or up in the Siskiyous, the Road to Hana is just fine. The journey to Hana is absolutely stunning. Verdant (Tony's words), lush, green, flora/fauna--it's incredibly spectacular. We stopped to enjoy two of many waterfalls and to take one short hike.
Sunday, February 29, 2004
From the Rainy Bay Area to Rainy Maui
Tony and I got off the plane to overcast skies, which grew darker and darker as we drove to the Aston Kanaapali Villas in Kaanapali. At one point, it started to rain, and naively, I said, "It's a quick tropical storm and will go away soon." I've come to realize that quick tropical storm will probably last until Monday.
We drove in the rain to dinner at the Haliimaile General Store (more about the food later), which was located in the up country or something like that. We realized later that the location of the restaurant was actually in the eye of the storm.
Mere words could not describe the weather. It was worthy of classification as a hurricane, and should be named "Tropical Claudine" or "Tropical Bruce" or whatever name is next in the alphabetic order of naming tropical squalls so that humans and insurance companies can easily classify and remember. The rain fell down in sheets, giant bucket fulls. The gods were not only crying, they were heaving angry sobs and tears, probably because Bacchus/Dionysus cruelly took away the wine. Rain alone was not enough...huge gusts of winds ensured that visibility was about 5 feet at the moment the windshield wiper cleared the water. Mudslides and flooding were of course standard fare.
The drive to dinner took about an hour and a half (and, yes, 15 minutes were spent lost). The drive back took longer, and I was thankful that I'd drunk enough wine that it all passed as if in an amusing, happy dream. I will be forever grateful to Tony for getting us back safely and in one piece.
Today, the shopgirl told us that in five years of living in Maui, she's never seen such extreme weather. Sigh....
Hard Lessons Involving Alcohol
***I acquired another flask from a Christmas party gift exchange. A few nights before leaving, I filled it up with V. Sattui Madeira (a delicious cross between brandy and port) and stuck it in my backpack...only to have to dump it down the drain in the women's restroom at SFO, when I discovered that the airlines forbid flasks in carry-on items. I almost cried. $10 of Madeira, never to be enjoyed. Thank goodness I didn't fill it up with the scarce liqueur from Spain.
***Maui liquor license laws forbid restaurants from uncorking bottles that customers bring. I learned that one the hard way too.
The Maillikailli General Store
Nilay told me repeatedly that I had to go to this restaurant. Being every much a foodie as I am, I eagerly took his advice. Definitely a great meal, and we'[ll probably go back.
The bar was great; well stocked, I started off with a belvedere cosmo and tony with a kettel one and tonic. We sat on the extended porch (the restaurant was once a general store, after all), watching the rain, people walking in and out, and disturbingly, a little boy that looked much like he was feeling up a little girl. Anyways...
The menu was amazing. Interesting food combinations, and frankly, we both had a hard time deciding what to eat. Sadly, we had eaten too much calamari and artichoke dip mid-afternoon so didn't eat as much as we could have, but still did well.
We started with ahi-taro cakes, much like crab cakes and served with pickled ginger and a wasabi-based sauce. As a main course, I had the coconut curry seafood stew (excellent) and Tony had lamb with black bean sauce (also excellent). For dessert, we shared coconut cake, incredibly light and delicious, although it probably would have been better without the bittersweet chocolate sauce. We chose a bottle of 1998 Miner Zinfandel (a great wine, one of my all-time favorites wineries).
We drove in the rain to dinner at the Haliimaile General Store (more about the food later), which was located in the up country or something like that. We realized later that the location of the restaurant was actually in the eye of the storm.
Mere words could not describe the weather. It was worthy of classification as a hurricane, and should be named "Tropical Claudine" or "Tropical Bruce" or whatever name is next in the alphabetic order of naming tropical squalls so that humans and insurance companies can easily classify and remember. The rain fell down in sheets, giant bucket fulls. The gods were not only crying, they were heaving angry sobs and tears, probably because Bacchus/Dionysus cruelly took away the wine. Rain alone was not enough...huge gusts of winds ensured that visibility was about 5 feet at the moment the windshield wiper cleared the water. Mudslides and flooding were of course standard fare.
The drive to dinner took about an hour and a half (and, yes, 15 minutes were spent lost). The drive back took longer, and I was thankful that I'd drunk enough wine that it all passed as if in an amusing, happy dream. I will be forever grateful to Tony for getting us back safely and in one piece.
Today, the shopgirl told us that in five years of living in Maui, she's never seen such extreme weather. Sigh....
Hard Lessons Involving Alcohol
***I acquired another flask from a Christmas party gift exchange. A few nights before leaving, I filled it up with V. Sattui Madeira (a delicious cross between brandy and port) and stuck it in my backpack...only to have to dump it down the drain in the women's restroom at SFO, when I discovered that the airlines forbid flasks in carry-on items. I almost cried. $10 of Madeira, never to be enjoyed. Thank goodness I didn't fill it up with the scarce liqueur from Spain.
***Maui liquor license laws forbid restaurants from uncorking bottles that customers bring. I learned that one the hard way too.
The Maillikailli General Store
Nilay told me repeatedly that I had to go to this restaurant. Being every much a foodie as I am, I eagerly took his advice. Definitely a great meal, and we'[ll probably go back.
The bar was great; well stocked, I started off with a belvedere cosmo and tony with a kettel one and tonic. We sat on the extended porch (the restaurant was once a general store, after all), watching the rain, people walking in and out, and disturbingly, a little boy that looked much like he was feeling up a little girl. Anyways...
The menu was amazing. Interesting food combinations, and frankly, we both had a hard time deciding what to eat. Sadly, we had eaten too much calamari and artichoke dip mid-afternoon so didn't eat as much as we could have, but still did well.
We started with ahi-taro cakes, much like crab cakes and served with pickled ginger and a wasabi-based sauce. As a main course, I had the coconut curry seafood stew (excellent) and Tony had lamb with black bean sauce (also excellent). For dessert, we shared coconut cake, incredibly light and delicious, although it probably would have been better without the bittersweet chocolate sauce. We chose a bottle of 1998 Miner Zinfandel (a great wine, one of my all-time favorites wineries).
Wednesday, February 25, 2004
Sex Finale
In honor of the last episode EVER of Sex and the City, Caroline came over and I made a "celebratory" dinner: pad thai and spring rolls.
Actually, I was inspired by the opening of a new supermarket about three blocks from my house, the Golden Phoenix. I suspected that it might be an Asian market, but secretly hoped that it would be something like Adronico's or Vallergas. My first tip off when I walked in that it was an Asian themed market were the giant industrial sized sacks of rice by the door.
But as I wandered up and down the aisles, just wondering how someone would use "dried pork skin" or other odd things, began to get inspired. This was the place that I could find authentic, cheap ingredients without needing to go to three different stores. And thus, a new debit entry will begin appearing in my checkbook.
As always, the pad thai and spring rolls recipes came from Cooks Illustrated. Their pad thai recipe is the best that I've ever had - I was so inspired after cooking it for the first time that I made photocopies of the recipe and gave to my colleagues. The spring rolls were equally great (although, I admit, I didn't let the sugar dissolve enough in the dressing used for veggies and noodles). Nevertheless, Caroline and I scarfed...while we laughed and discussed the ladies of Sex and the City.
Of course, my meal was accompanied by comos, Caroline drank margaritas.
Actually, I was inspired by the opening of a new supermarket about three blocks from my house, the Golden Phoenix. I suspected that it might be an Asian market, but secretly hoped that it would be something like Adronico's or Vallergas. My first tip off when I walked in that it was an Asian themed market were the giant industrial sized sacks of rice by the door.
But as I wandered up and down the aisles, just wondering how someone would use "dried pork skin" or other odd things, began to get inspired. This was the place that I could find authentic, cheap ingredients without needing to go to three different stores. And thus, a new debit entry will begin appearing in my checkbook.
As always, the pad thai and spring rolls recipes came from Cooks Illustrated. Their pad thai recipe is the best that I've ever had - I was so inspired after cooking it for the first time that I made photocopies of the recipe and gave to my colleagues. The spring rolls were equally great (although, I admit, I didn't let the sugar dissolve enough in the dressing used for veggies and noodles). Nevertheless, Caroline and I scarfed...while we laughed and discussed the ladies of Sex and the City.
Of course, my meal was accompanied by comos, Caroline drank margaritas.
Tuesday, February 24, 2004
Saturday night...
Lots o' cooking over the weekend.
On Saturday night, made Greek Fish in a Packet from the Moosewood Cookbook (one of those trusty, great standby cookbooks). I sandwiched salmon between thinly sliced fennel, red onion and tomato, then poured a dressing with olive oil, vinegar and a few other things over the top.
I was inspired at TJ's last week - they now carry quinoa, a Peruvian grain that's difficult to explain, but like couscous, can accompany almost anything. Several years ago, I had seen Cooking With Caprial make a dish with quinoa. So, I dug through my recipes and found that original one. It was actually quite cryptic:
1 cup quinoa
2 cups chicken stock
-->cook
sherry vinegar
olive oil
garlic
dried mustard
That's it! I had no idea of proportions, so being me, just guessed. I threw in some balsamic and rice vinegar, but unfortunately, the dressing was overwhelmed by too much raw garlic and powdered mustard. Undaunted, I will try again...maybe this time completely by instinct.
On Saturday night, made Greek Fish in a Packet from the Moosewood Cookbook (one of those trusty, great standby cookbooks). I sandwiched salmon between thinly sliced fennel, red onion and tomato, then poured a dressing with olive oil, vinegar and a few other things over the top.
I was inspired at TJ's last week - they now carry quinoa, a Peruvian grain that's difficult to explain, but like couscous, can accompany almost anything. Several years ago, I had seen Cooking With Caprial make a dish with quinoa. So, I dug through my recipes and found that original one. It was actually quite cryptic:
1 cup quinoa
2 cups chicken stock
-->cook
sherry vinegar
olive oil
garlic
dried mustard
That's it! I had no idea of proportions, so being me, just guessed. I threw in some balsamic and rice vinegar, but unfortunately, the dressing was overwhelmed by too much raw garlic and powdered mustard. Undaunted, I will try again...maybe this time completely by instinct.
abstinence & the suburbs
new link to a friend's site, the single life from a male perspective:
http://www.thelowstandard.com
http://www.thelowstandard.com
Sunday, February 22, 2004
Sex = Over
Sex and the City, one of my favorite shows on TV over the past five years, is now officially over. Finished. Complete. No More.
Each character realized happiness and love.
Each character realized happiness and love.
Monday, February 16, 2004
Is Samantha really a slut?
Of the four characters on Sex and the City, Samantha definitely gets around the most. As a result, I've heard many refer to Samantha as "loose" and a "slut". But is this really true? Does this behavior warrant the types of terms that we used so diligently in high school to classify girls of a certain behavior?
Samantha certainly wears her sexuality as a badge. Throughout six seasons, she was never afraid to go after that which she desired...even going so far to proposition complete strangers for sex. In many ways, Samantha defined a different type of sexuality: she left her emotions at the door, using men and sex for her own purposes. Flip that last thought around by substituting male pronouns and then think about whether or not it has the same impact.
Samantha's behavior, most likely shown for the first time in an accessible public venue, eerily mimicked the behavior of some men. Beyond simply labeling her a "slut", I believe that Samantha's actions should be considered within a different light: that of a very secure female understanding and knowing what she wants and desires in life. For that, I do admire Samantha's character.
A friend told me a story about a guy she once knew. In one week, he dated a different woman each night, slept with each one and then never returned calls/e-mails. While the sensible part of me wondered just how tired he was at the end of that week, another part of me wondered just how many of those women he slept with had decisively used him too. Sometimes, you just know that no matter what, the night will have been a one-night stand, and despite swapping numbers and promising to keep in touch the next morning, neither party will ever make the effort.
Obviously, I don't think that Samantha is a slut. Instead of focusing on the number of men she had slept with (come on, wasn't the scene in which she had to tally a count while getting tested one of the best ever?), we should focus on her inate ability to control life and circumstances in ways that suit her. Her sexuality is a strong part of who she is, which actually, is admirable: she uses her sexuality to control her life, rather than let it use her.
Samantha certainly wears her sexuality as a badge. Throughout six seasons, she was never afraid to go after that which she desired...even going so far to proposition complete strangers for sex. In many ways, Samantha defined a different type of sexuality: she left her emotions at the door, using men and sex for her own purposes. Flip that last thought around by substituting male pronouns and then think about whether or not it has the same impact.
Samantha's behavior, most likely shown for the first time in an accessible public venue, eerily mimicked the behavior of some men. Beyond simply labeling her a "slut", I believe that Samantha's actions should be considered within a different light: that of a very secure female understanding and knowing what she wants and desires in life. For that, I do admire Samantha's character.
A friend told me a story about a guy she once knew. In one week, he dated a different woman each night, slept with each one and then never returned calls/e-mails. While the sensible part of me wondered just how tired he was at the end of that week, another part of me wondered just how many of those women he slept with had decisively used him too. Sometimes, you just know that no matter what, the night will have been a one-night stand, and despite swapping numbers and promising to keep in touch the next morning, neither party will ever make the effort.
Obviously, I don't think that Samantha is a slut. Instead of focusing on the number of men she had slept with (come on, wasn't the scene in which she had to tally a count while getting tested one of the best ever?), we should focus on her inate ability to control life and circumstances in ways that suit her. Her sexuality is a strong part of who she is, which actually, is admirable: she uses her sexuality to control her life, rather than let it use her.
car shopping
Nilay decided to buy a new car, but since the car of choice was primarily in manual mode, needed someone who could test drive a few models. I just have this to say: if I had $45K to drop on a new car (or even $30K on a used car) and wanted something fun, I'd strongly consider the little 2-seater Mercedes convertible. Sweet, sweet car.
We ended up in the city a few blocks from the Haight, so had lunch at one of my favorite little dives. It's called "Healthy" something or other...I can never remember the name, but always appreciate the food. Definitely Mexican, but with a California/gourmet twist. We split nachos (mixed corn and flour tortilla chips, yum!) and then I had a salmon taco and shrimp taco with tamarind sauce.
BTW, Haight might have gotten even scummier since last summer when I was there last. But, I could be mistaken too, after all, I've been living in the suburbs.
We ended up in the city a few blocks from the Haight, so had lunch at one of my favorite little dives. It's called "Healthy" something or other...I can never remember the name, but always appreciate the food. Definitely Mexican, but with a California/gourmet twist. We split nachos (mixed corn and flour tortilla chips, yum!) and then I had a salmon taco and shrimp taco with tamarind sauce.
BTW, Haight might have gotten even scummier since last summer when I was there last. But, I could be mistaken too, after all, I've been living in the suburbs.
Friday, February 13, 2004
stuff...
A friend's Valentine's Day write-up:
http://www.geocities.com/repub00
Been eating leftovers over the past week. I think I'm going to have to make some space in the freezer for the remaining minestrone. As delicious as it is, I just can't eat anymore.
Stretched out an excellent bottle of 2000 Drytown Zin to three nights. A few years ago, a bottle came with my monthly wine club shipment. It sat on the wine rack for a few months; I ended up taking it to a friend's house for dinner. My friend and his bf liked it so much that they visited the winery, talked to the winemaker and bought several bottles. Very spicy, quite nice.
http://www.geocities.com/repub00
Been eating leftovers over the past week. I think I'm going to have to make some space in the freezer for the remaining minestrone. As delicious as it is, I just can't eat anymore.
Stretched out an excellent bottle of 2000 Drytown Zin to three nights. A few years ago, a bottle came with my monthly wine club shipment. It sat on the wine rack for a few months; I ended up taking it to a friend's house for dinner. My friend and his bf liked it so much that they visited the winery, talked to the winemaker and bought several bottles. Very spicy, quite nice.
Wednesday, February 11, 2004
cooking! Missing recipes!
The newest Cooks Illustrated arrived last week, so over the weekend, I made chicken biryani from the book. The recipe took several steps, but was quite good. Caroline, who is a huge Indian food fan, agreed that it was very authentic.
Mom had talked about the minestrone soup she made last weekend, so I decided to make minestrone on Sunday. I found a recipe in a new cookbook, scanned it, bought the ingredients...and only later did I realize that the recipe had forgotten to mention what to do with half the ingredients! Bad editor! Bad editor!
A quick phone call home to Mom, some other research and I succeeded in making decent minestrone. I sauteed garlic, onions, carrots and celery, added water in which I'd soaked the beans and the beans. After cooking for about 20 minutes, I threw in a tomato, green beans, peas, carrots, spinach, cabbage and a parmesan rind. When the soup was almost done, I added a zucchini, more spinach and pesto (which I happily discovered is incredibly easy to make with cuisinart).
Recent wines:
1999 Yorkville Merlot (a seductive wine, excellent)
Charles Shaw Gamay Beaujolais (very tasty for $2)
1999 Viaje Syrah (on the cheaper end, quite nice once it opened up)
Mom had talked about the minestrone soup she made last weekend, so I decided to make minestrone on Sunday. I found a recipe in a new cookbook, scanned it, bought the ingredients...and only later did I realize that the recipe had forgotten to mention what to do with half the ingredients! Bad editor! Bad editor!
A quick phone call home to Mom, some other research and I succeeded in making decent minestrone. I sauteed garlic, onions, carrots and celery, added water in which I'd soaked the beans and the beans. After cooking for about 20 minutes, I threw in a tomato, green beans, peas, carrots, spinach, cabbage and a parmesan rind. When the soup was almost done, I added a zucchini, more spinach and pesto (which I happily discovered is incredibly easy to make with cuisinart).
Recent wines:
1999 Yorkville Merlot (a seductive wine, excellent)
Charles Shaw Gamay Beaujolais (very tasty for $2)
1999 Viaje Syrah (on the cheaper end, quite nice once it opened up)
Sunday, February 08, 2004
Golden Era & the Cult
To celebrate Tony's 31st on Feb 4, several of his closest and most fabulous friends gathered at Golden Era for dinner. The suicide wanna-be jumper at the building next door did nothing to dull the moment (while walking past, the cop even smiled at me, I think because I was maybe normal and not gawking at the man standing in the window on the 5th floor).
Golden Era is notable for two reasons: all food is vegan; the restaurant is owned and run by members of the Cult of Ching Hai. I don't think I really imagined the slightly glazed look in the eyes of those serving us.
http://www.godsimmediatecontact.com/
http://www.cultnews.com/archives/000723.html
The vegan food did a fabulous job of conveying the impression that one was actually eating meat through texturization and preparation of various sorts of foods like soy, wheat, gluten, etc. I kid you not, the "chicken" and "fish" tasted very much like real chicken and fish.
While walking back to my car, I began to question my impressions of the "fake" meat. We could have had a fulfilling and just as delicious meal without the approximated chicken, beef and fish. Yet, for some reason, we were compelled to try to convince ourselves that we were consuming real cow, fowl and fish. Doesn't that somehow seem wrong? While I respect why one would choose to be a vegan (or vegetarian for that matter), is it really necessary to "fool" oneself into thinking that meat is being consumed?
Golden Era is notable for two reasons: all food is vegan; the restaurant is owned and run by members of the Cult of Ching Hai. I don't think I really imagined the slightly glazed look in the eyes of those serving us.
http://www.godsimmediatecontact.com/
http://www.cultnews.com/archives/000723.html
The vegan food did a fabulous job of conveying the impression that one was actually eating meat through texturization and preparation of various sorts of foods like soy, wheat, gluten, etc. I kid you not, the "chicken" and "fish" tasted very much like real chicken and fish.
While walking back to my car, I began to question my impressions of the "fake" meat. We could have had a fulfilling and just as delicious meal without the approximated chicken, beef and fish. Yet, for some reason, we were compelled to try to convince ourselves that we were consuming real cow, fowl and fish. Doesn't that somehow seem wrong? While I respect why one would choose to be a vegan (or vegetarian for that matter), is it really necessary to "fool" oneself into thinking that meat is being consumed?
Superbowl XX??? Ads
Superbowl ads are always an interesting topic. Thankfully, the flatness and tackiness of the ads (notwithstanding male impotence, which seems to be an issue American men are dealing with - am I missing something?) was overshadowed by Justin Timberlake's baring of Janet Jackson's breast (now appropriately dubbed "teatgate" by Jon Stewart). However, one ad, which I've tivoed through repeatedly since being shown at the superbowl did make me pause for thought: the anti-drug ad, featuring person drowning in a lake while friend stands on the dock, observing impassionately.
First, I object to the anti-drug, warrish attitude that America has taken on what are considered illegal substances. Personally, I think that alcoholics can be far worse than potheads. And those that have bigger drug issues need help and clean needles.
But beyond that, I object to the ads message that you are a horrible person if you let your friend drown in drug abuse, implying that your complacency supports the addiction. Oftentimes, drug abusers are masters of disguise. They can happily coexist with friends and family without missing a beat. Without understanding and recognizing the signs of drug abuse, the lies an abuser tells friends and family are believed and accepted. Sometimes, the person is drowning at the other end of the lake, and you can't do anything about it. You don't know they're drowning, and when you do put the pieces together, it's too late.
Marty, one of my best friends over the past decade, disappeared last winter. We last spoke on January 6, 2003. His line was disconnected about a week later, although at the time, I thought he had once again been a victim of technology failing (he has a history of weird technical glitches impacting his life). Piecing facts together, a few weeks later he showed up at his mom's house and said he was going back to Chicago to get his cats and move to St. Louis for a new job. None of that happened, instead, I discovered in early March that he had abandoned his life in Chicago, his cats, his friends, his family...
I knew that Marty played around with drugs. I just didn't know that he had a serious habit. Things have now clicked into place - lies that he told are clearly revealed as covers for his drug habits. I had never been around someone with a serious drug problem, and the fact is, I just didn't understand or think about the signs that were so clearly positioned in front of me. I never assumed that one of my closest friends, someone whom I loved and would do anything to help and protect, would be a junkie.
During one of our last conversations, Marty gave me his mom's phone number. I called her a few times after he disappeared. Our last conversation, in the spring, was incredibly painful and poignant. We both were crying by the time the call ended. I haven't called her since - mainly because I'm too afraid of what I might hear.
I purposely didn't tell many friends/family about Marty's disappearance and its cause. I felt too guilty, too ashamed of the fact that I didn't do anything to stop him. I still feel guilty that I didn't see the signs. It's taken almost a year to come to terms, I've tried. But sometimes, despite best efforts, you fail. Especially if you don't know what kind of battle you're up against. Me vs. drugs - the drugs won.
I miss Marty. We used to talk at least a few times each month. Discussions were about everything: our hopes, our dreams, boys, sex, work, school, families, movies, politics, books, favorite drinks (alcohol), my cooking (with the exception of a few dishes, Marty was hopeless in the kitchen), his eating. We even took a few vacations together - alcohol laden affairs involving hopefully legal behavior.
I truly hope that he's still alive. I hope that he soon comes to terms with who he is and swims to the surface for air. I can't believe that he'll forever float in that lake, far away from me.
First, I object to the anti-drug, warrish attitude that America has taken on what are considered illegal substances. Personally, I think that alcoholics can be far worse than potheads. And those that have bigger drug issues need help and clean needles.
But beyond that, I object to the ads message that you are a horrible person if you let your friend drown in drug abuse, implying that your complacency supports the addiction. Oftentimes, drug abusers are masters of disguise. They can happily coexist with friends and family without missing a beat. Without understanding and recognizing the signs of drug abuse, the lies an abuser tells friends and family are believed and accepted. Sometimes, the person is drowning at the other end of the lake, and you can't do anything about it. You don't know they're drowning, and when you do put the pieces together, it's too late.
Marty, one of my best friends over the past decade, disappeared last winter. We last spoke on January 6, 2003. His line was disconnected about a week later, although at the time, I thought he had once again been a victim of technology failing (he has a history of weird technical glitches impacting his life). Piecing facts together, a few weeks later he showed up at his mom's house and said he was going back to Chicago to get his cats and move to St. Louis for a new job. None of that happened, instead, I discovered in early March that he had abandoned his life in Chicago, his cats, his friends, his family...
I knew that Marty played around with drugs. I just didn't know that he had a serious habit. Things have now clicked into place - lies that he told are clearly revealed as covers for his drug habits. I had never been around someone with a serious drug problem, and the fact is, I just didn't understand or think about the signs that were so clearly positioned in front of me. I never assumed that one of my closest friends, someone whom I loved and would do anything to help and protect, would be a junkie.
During one of our last conversations, Marty gave me his mom's phone number. I called her a few times after he disappeared. Our last conversation, in the spring, was incredibly painful and poignant. We both were crying by the time the call ended. I haven't called her since - mainly because I'm too afraid of what I might hear.
I purposely didn't tell many friends/family about Marty's disappearance and its cause. I felt too guilty, too ashamed of the fact that I didn't do anything to stop him. I still feel guilty that I didn't see the signs. It's taken almost a year to come to terms, I've tried. But sometimes, despite best efforts, you fail. Especially if you don't know what kind of battle you're up against. Me vs. drugs - the drugs won.
I miss Marty. We used to talk at least a few times each month. Discussions were about everything: our hopes, our dreams, boys, sex, work, school, families, movies, politics, books, favorite drinks (alcohol), my cooking (with the exception of a few dishes, Marty was hopeless in the kitchen), his eating. We even took a few vacations together - alcohol laden affairs involving hopefully legal behavior.
I truly hope that he's still alive. I hope that he soon comes to terms with who he is and swims to the surface for air. I can't believe that he'll forever float in that lake, far away from me.
Monday, February 02, 2004
a Few TV Notes
Only three more episodes of Sex and the City. I can't believe that Carrie dissed her friends to spend time with her new and beautiful boyfriend.
I set a season pass on my TiVo for American Idol. I couldn't help it. Simon and Randy are so incredibly cruel to the contestants, it's delicious. Paula is kind of a bubblehead. I have no idea how this show will unfold after the initial auditions...but I'll be finding out. Maybe I'll even write sarcastic episode recaps like I did after getting sucked in to the first Joe Millionaire. :)
I set a season pass on my TiVo for American Idol. I couldn't help it. Simon and Randy are so incredibly cruel to the contestants, it's delicious. Paula is kind of a bubblehead. I have no idea how this show will unfold after the initial auditions...but I'll be finding out. Maybe I'll even write sarcastic episode recaps like I did after getting sucked in to the first Joe Millionaire. :)
Reno Vacation
Not surprising, the phrase "Reno Vacation" does not have quite the same ring as "Vegas Vacation". As an aside, I wonder if I ever saw that movie? Something tells me that even if I didn't, I could probably tell you the jokes and the plot.
Reno is an interesting city. It really tries to be a miniature Vegas, but lacks that special level of tackiness and over the topness that Vegas succeeds in capturing so well. Reno is trying to catch up...but probably won't ever be able to. Nevertheless, in terms of sheer entertainment - whether that be acts, people watching or outdoor activities - Reno does do well.
On the trip up, I happily discovered that Togo's has reinstated the cranberry turkey sandwich. Yeah!!!
We ate dinner at Claim Jumper Saturday night. I haven't eaten at Claim Jumper in at least 10 years. The quality of the food is actually pretty good. But the portions are the epitomy of American gluttonliness. They were huge! Caroline and I split a tropical-themed salad (butter lettuce, cranberries, oranges, avocados in a sweet oil and vinegar) and the whiskey sauce chicken (chicken breast stuffed with a heavy, sweet sauce) accompanied by mashed potatoes and a giant biscuit. We barely ate half the salad, and an optimist would say we got through about a third of the main course. Of the 11 of us at the table, not one person got through their meal. I wonder why America suffers from a weight problem.
Reno is an interesting city. It really tries to be a miniature Vegas, but lacks that special level of tackiness and over the topness that Vegas succeeds in capturing so well. Reno is trying to catch up...but probably won't ever be able to. Nevertheless, in terms of sheer entertainment - whether that be acts, people watching or outdoor activities - Reno does do well.
On the trip up, I happily discovered that Togo's has reinstated the cranberry turkey sandwich. Yeah!!!
We ate dinner at Claim Jumper Saturday night. I haven't eaten at Claim Jumper in at least 10 years. The quality of the food is actually pretty good. But the portions are the epitomy of American gluttonliness. They were huge! Caroline and I split a tropical-themed salad (butter lettuce, cranberries, oranges, avocados in a sweet oil and vinegar) and the whiskey sauce chicken (chicken breast stuffed with a heavy, sweet sauce) accompanied by mashed potatoes and a giant biscuit. We barely ate half the salad, and an optimist would say we got through about a third of the main course. Of the 11 of us at the table, not one person got through their meal. I wonder why America suffers from a weight problem.
Wednesday, January 28, 2004
A Family's Perception of Being Single
A few weeks ago, during dinner with family members and a co-worker and his spouse, the topic of the colleagues' brother-in-law, who happens to be 30-something, single and a San Francisco dweller came up. My family members, ever sensitive folks that they are (hint: happily married couple who met each other by the age of 25, and thus, weren't that single) immediately suggested that a friend of theirs, who is single, female and also lives in the city, might be a good match.
I was dumbfounded, and said something to the effect of "hey, I'm sitting here and I'm single and I live near the city", which caused absolutely no reaction, except to once again suggest the friend.
So, of course, I've spent some time pondering their reaction, or lack of, and wondering why???
I admit, I spent almost my entire 20-something years single. Some of those years were spent single willingly, others were spent dating, and others single in protest (I live in Silicon Valley, which goes a ways towards explaining the last one).
Have those years of singleton (thanks, bridget) somehow branded me, in their eyes, as forever being single? Am I a type of pariah because I'm 31 and not married and don't trot home a significant other for every holiday? Is there an assumption that because I spent so long as a singleton, I will always be single and that there is now hope?
The one time that I did introduce someone to family whom I actually considered to be serious potential ended disasterously. I'm not sure exactly what happened, but I think part of it was an inability by some to really perceive that I was with an individual that I cared about and at the time, appeared to care about me, a real, flesh and blood, breathing member of the opposite sex. Family members had always, always seen me alone (roommates don't count) and just seemed to not know what to do.
Is this a trend that will continue? Will I always be seen and treated as forever single, or will the perception ever change? Can various members of my family migrate me from the "single relative" classification to one of "single member of society that doesn't want to die alone and be gnawed upon by a wild pack of dogs"?
I hope so...but for some reason, am seriously beginning to think not...
I was dumbfounded, and said something to the effect of "hey, I'm sitting here and I'm single and I live near the city", which caused absolutely no reaction, except to once again suggest the friend.
So, of course, I've spent some time pondering their reaction, or lack of, and wondering why???
I admit, I spent almost my entire 20-something years single. Some of those years were spent single willingly, others were spent dating, and others single in protest (I live in Silicon Valley, which goes a ways towards explaining the last one).
Have those years of singleton (thanks, bridget) somehow branded me, in their eyes, as forever being single? Am I a type of pariah because I'm 31 and not married and don't trot home a significant other for every holiday? Is there an assumption that because I spent so long as a singleton, I will always be single and that there is now hope?
The one time that I did introduce someone to family whom I actually considered to be serious potential ended disasterously. I'm not sure exactly what happened, but I think part of it was an inability by some to really perceive that I was with an individual that I cared about and at the time, appeared to care about me, a real, flesh and blood, breathing member of the opposite sex. Family members had always, always seen me alone (roommates don't count) and just seemed to not know what to do.
Is this a trend that will continue? Will I always be seen and treated as forever single, or will the perception ever change? Can various members of my family migrate me from the "single relative" classification to one of "single member of society that doesn't want to die alone and be gnawed upon by a wild pack of dogs"?
I hope so...but for some reason, am seriously beginning to think not...
Sunday, January 25, 2004
Eggplant Parmesan
The newest edition of Cooks Illustrated contains a recipe for egglant parmesan, a dish which I've never really been much into, for reasons unknown. I think my mom might have made it when I was a kid a few times, but the details are a bit fuzzy (I seem to recall a Halloween in which we were forced to eat a "slimey" dish if we wanted to trick or treat - why couldn't we ever have pizza for dinner on Halloween?)
I also recall that I was about the only person who would willingly eat the eggplant parmesan when I lived in the dorms my first two years of college. The reality of Foothill's eggplant parmesan was fried something accompanied by copious amounts of cheese and sauce. So really, I don't think I've had proper eggplant parmesan ever.
So last night, we tackled eggplant parmesan. It was time consuming; the recipe said that this was an easier method...which makes me think that I don't EVER want to make eggplant parmesan in the traditional way involving lots of frying.
The steps are: salt and drain sliced eggplant. Dredge in flour, egg and breadcrumbs. Bake the eggplant on pre-heated cookie sheets covered in oil until crispy brown (not quite fried, but giving the appearance of being fried). Make a simple tomato sauce (we added extra garlic, red pepper flakes and basil, cause we're from california and like spice) and then layer the sauce, cheeses (parmesan and mozarella), bake and then scatter with basil and serve. So very good.
Nilay made a spinach salad with mushrooms, red onions, toasted pine nuts and feta cheese. I liked it - my salads are always the same and sort of boring.
And, for some reason, before he came over, I started to think about dessert. One trip to the store later...and chocolate mousse was created.
We started the meal with cosmos (Nilay makes a great cosmo), and had a 1999 Rosenblum Zin (Annette's Reserve Rhodes Vineyard) and 2000 Monte Volpi Sangiovese (Mendocino). The Zin started off with a weird taste: Nilay said it was really spicy, I swear I tasted bacon in the finish. But in the end, it opened up very nicely.
I also recall that I was about the only person who would willingly eat the eggplant parmesan when I lived in the dorms my first two years of college. The reality of Foothill's eggplant parmesan was fried something accompanied by copious amounts of cheese and sauce. So really, I don't think I've had proper eggplant parmesan ever.
So last night, we tackled eggplant parmesan. It was time consuming; the recipe said that this was an easier method...which makes me think that I don't EVER want to make eggplant parmesan in the traditional way involving lots of frying.
The steps are: salt and drain sliced eggplant. Dredge in flour, egg and breadcrumbs. Bake the eggplant on pre-heated cookie sheets covered in oil until crispy brown (not quite fried, but giving the appearance of being fried). Make a simple tomato sauce (we added extra garlic, red pepper flakes and basil, cause we're from california and like spice) and then layer the sauce, cheeses (parmesan and mozarella), bake and then scatter with basil and serve. So very good.
Nilay made a spinach salad with mushrooms, red onions, toasted pine nuts and feta cheese. I liked it - my salads are always the same and sort of boring.
And, for some reason, before he came over, I started to think about dessert. One trip to the store later...and chocolate mousse was created.
We started the meal with cosmos (Nilay makes a great cosmo), and had a 1999 Rosenblum Zin (Annette's Reserve Rhodes Vineyard) and 2000 Monte Volpi Sangiovese (Mendocino). The Zin started off with a weird taste: Nilay said it was really spicy, I swear I tasted bacon in the finish. But in the end, it opened up very nicely.
Tokyo Go Go
Ate at Tokyo Go Go in the Mission the other night with Gabe and his bf Jason. Lots of food, very cool and eclectic atmosphere, excellent sushi and interesting combination of japanese + other stuff on the menu as well. I really enjoyed the seaweed salad and spider roll. I had never had a spider roll that required as much dismantling per piece as this roll did. Definitely want to go back again...and as well, the company was great (thanks guys!)
Wednesday, January 21, 2004
First Class Food
As a general rule, airline food sucks, especially if you're confined to the economy class as I am most of the time. Every once in a while, a dish surprises, as if the minimum wage chef had a dose of inspiration, or most likely (and if I'm to believe Anthony Bourdain), was probably coked out of his mind. Once, on a US Air flight, I had some some incredibly tasty lasagna. I was ready to ask for seconds...but alas, airlines don't do family style dining.
The other night, I upgraded into business class on a flight from JFK to SFO. The airlines foolishly let my friend Gabe and I sit together - I still feel bad for the family sitting in front of us if they did hear any of our conversation, since a good portion of it was not quite family appropriate material. Luckily, flights are noisy.
The food in business class is definitely better than the stuff they serve those in coach. Real plates, real silverware (except for plastic knives cleverly colored silver to give the appearance of realness), better (and free) wines. On land, the quality of food would be ok...but in the sky, it was fairly good.
Appetizers consisted of a salad with nicoise olives and shaved parmesan, smoked salmon and shrimp with creme freche. I chose the halibut encrusted with something, basmati rice and asparagus. Not too bad. And skipped dessert (some sort of peach cake, the sound of which is enough to make me want to gag). Luckily, Gabe had bought chocolate...which he shared with the flight attendants (they told me what a nice hubby i had - ha!) and me.
The other night, I upgraded into business class on a flight from JFK to SFO. The airlines foolishly let my friend Gabe and I sit together - I still feel bad for the family sitting in front of us if they did hear any of our conversation, since a good portion of it was not quite family appropriate material. Luckily, flights are noisy.
The food in business class is definitely better than the stuff they serve those in coach. Real plates, real silverware (except for plastic knives cleverly colored silver to give the appearance of realness), better (and free) wines. On land, the quality of food would be ok...but in the sky, it was fairly good.
Appetizers consisted of a salad with nicoise olives and shaved parmesan, smoked salmon and shrimp with creme freche. I chose the halibut encrusted with something, basmati rice and asparagus. Not too bad. And skipped dessert (some sort of peach cake, the sound of which is enough to make me want to gag). Luckily, Gabe had bought chocolate...which he shared with the flight attendants (they told me what a nice hubby i had - ha!) and me.
Saturday, January 17, 2004
More Cold Boston
We ate dinner at Fugakyu in Brookline (on beacon and harvard) last night. Fairly good Japanese food. I had my usual chirashi bowl, perfect if you're the single one dining with two couples.
For the first time ever, I sent back a drink at a bar Friday night. Some place called Dillon's - I heard a really cheesey ad on the radio, which should have been our first sign NOT to go. The cosmo tasted like the bartender didn't know what he/she was doing. The replacement was better, but definitely not even close to being even considered "good". Cosmos aren't that difficult to make: 2 parts vodka, 1 part triple sec or cointreau, a squeeze of lime and a splash of cranberry juice.
For the first time ever, I sent back a drink at a bar Friday night. Some place called Dillon's - I heard a really cheesey ad on the radio, which should have been our first sign NOT to go. The cosmo tasted like the bartender didn't know what he/she was doing. The replacement was better, but definitely not even close to being even considered "good". Cosmos aren't that difficult to make: 2 parts vodka, 1 part triple sec or cointreau, a squeeze of lime and a splash of cranberry juice.
Friday, January 16, 2004
Cold Boston
in Boston for business. Brought my brother a loaf of ACME sourdough bread. Slicing into it last night, he kept repeating, "this is real french bread!"
It's REALLY cold here.
Or to quote my grandma Luttrell, "It's colder than a witches tit".
It's REALLY cold here.
Or to quote my grandma Luttrell, "It's colder than a witches tit".
Sunday, January 11, 2004
Buca de Beppo
Suzette, Carrie and I had dinner at Buca in Palo Alto last night. Basically, several hours of eating, drinking and talking...I feel a bit sorry for those sitting nearby that had to listen to our somewhat obnoxious and perhaps, appetite suppressing conversations.
Buca is really best experienced with at least four people. The family-style portions are amazingly huge. Even with another person, we would have had leftovers. The theme is kind of in the spirit of the American-style interpretation of Italian food, which while not "authentic", I still find that I enjoy. It's always a fun place to go.
We started with chianti and deep fried calamari, served with a spicy tomato sauce. Next a ceasar salad. Linguine with generous amounts of butter, olive oil and a bit of hot pepper was wrapped in foil and baked with shrimp, clams, calamari and mussels arrived as the main course. Wisely, we skipped dessert.
Buca is really best experienced with at least four people. The family-style portions are amazingly huge. Even with another person, we would have had leftovers. The theme is kind of in the spirit of the American-style interpretation of Italian food, which while not "authentic", I still find that I enjoy. It's always a fun place to go.
We started with chianti and deep fried calamari, served with a spicy tomato sauce. Next a ceasar salad. Linguine with generous amounts of butter, olive oil and a bit of hot pepper was wrapped in foil and baked with shrimp, clams, calamari and mussels arrived as the main course. Wisely, we skipped dessert.
CES, continued
Trade shows are always a culinary adventure. Within an 8-hour time span, dining transforms from a power bar and bottle of water while sitting on a floor to dinner at a 4-star restaurant. It's all random and weird...and an accepted fact of life at trade shows.
Highlights of CES cuisine include:
Crafsteak with IGN/GameSpy. Served family style, I loved almost every single item. Spinach salad, tuna tartare, charcuterie plate (sopresseta, prosciutto, etc.), special mustards. Flat-iron kobe beef steak, a rib-eye, lamb shank, polenta, sauteed spinach, Jersusalem artichokes (simply amazing, must have again) and probably a few other things I'm forgetting. Dessert was overwhelming: chocolate souffle with sauce, creme brulee, an assortment of sorbes and ice creams, monkey bread with a bourbon sauce. I'm probably getting a few details confused. And of course, wine. With each course. Pre-dinner, Ray (business colleague) and I were adventurous, trying an Austrian red whose name I can't remember and which I had never heard of before. Quite good. Sadly, I had to leave about the time my hosts opened up what looked like an excellent bottle of champagne.
Ghost Bar party. (In case you don't know, Britney hangs out there when she's in Vegas, and she started off at Ghost Bar before heading off to get married; I avoided the white chapel after the Ghost Bar). Caviar and creme fraiche on criss-cross potato chips. Lamb chops with a cucumber mint sauce. Excellent shrimp. Not so great sushi (I think i might have gotten a slight case of food poisoning). Lots of champagne.
IDC Breakfast Briefing. The food looked fabulous - I felt so crappy due to the slight case of food poisoning and lack of sleep that as a result that I could only choke down some fruit and a mini muffin. Others loaded up their plates...and looked pretty happy.
Coyote Cafe. Excellent chips with salsa and guac. Could have been because we were completely starving.
Studio Cafe. I had to stop eating when i realized that I couldn't identity which was chicken and which was cheese in my quesadilla.
Highlights of CES cuisine include:
Crafsteak with IGN/GameSpy. Served family style, I loved almost every single item. Spinach salad, tuna tartare, charcuterie plate (sopresseta, prosciutto, etc.), special mustards. Flat-iron kobe beef steak, a rib-eye, lamb shank, polenta, sauteed spinach, Jersusalem artichokes (simply amazing, must have again) and probably a few other things I'm forgetting. Dessert was overwhelming: chocolate souffle with sauce, creme brulee, an assortment of sorbes and ice creams, monkey bread with a bourbon sauce. I'm probably getting a few details confused. And of course, wine. With each course. Pre-dinner, Ray (business colleague) and I were adventurous, trying an Austrian red whose name I can't remember and which I had never heard of before. Quite good. Sadly, I had to leave about the time my hosts opened up what looked like an excellent bottle of champagne.
Ghost Bar party. (In case you don't know, Britney hangs out there when she's in Vegas, and she started off at Ghost Bar before heading off to get married; I avoided the white chapel after the Ghost Bar). Caviar and creme fraiche on criss-cross potato chips. Lamb chops with a cucumber mint sauce. Excellent shrimp. Not so great sushi (I think i might have gotten a slight case of food poisoning). Lots of champagne.
IDC Breakfast Briefing. The food looked fabulous - I felt so crappy due to the slight case of food poisoning and lack of sleep that as a result that I could only choke down some fruit and a mini muffin. Others loaded up their plates...and looked pretty happy.
Coyote Cafe. Excellent chips with salsa and guac. Could have been because we were completely starving.
Studio Cafe. I had to stop eating when i realized that I couldn't identity which was chicken and which was cheese in my quesadilla.
Tuesday, January 06, 2004
Business in Vegas
I'm currently in Vegas for business (yeah, CES!), staying at the MGM Grand. Weirdness, my trying to be cool and Hollywood modern hotel room is decorated with three giant pictures of movie stars. Not sure who the females are, but the male is definitely Patric Stewart, not at all looking like Captain Picard or Professor Xavier. Probably one of his better, non-science fiction roles ;)
I ate dinner at Emeril's New Orleans Fish House, in the cafe. The oysters on the half shell were good, although I do prefer the French-style light shallot-based champagne dressing rather than cocktail sauce with a healthy dollop of horseradish. The horseradish tends to obscure the fresh taste of the oysters, imo. Still good...I sucked down a chef's half dozen (7!).
Main course was striped bass - had never had it before, but wanting to try ever since I saw the Fab Five organize a striped bass dinner for one of the inept straight males. The fish on its own was good, on the meaty side but oily enough to keep it from tasting like steak.
It was served with some type of rice pilaf with a heavy, spicy tomato sauce. I'm not convinced that the rice/sauce dish really went that well with the fish. But it was good, nonetheless.
BAM!!!
I ate dinner at Emeril's New Orleans Fish House, in the cafe. The oysters on the half shell were good, although I do prefer the French-style light shallot-based champagne dressing rather than cocktail sauce with a healthy dollop of horseradish. The horseradish tends to obscure the fresh taste of the oysters, imo. Still good...I sucked down a chef's half dozen (7!).
Main course was striped bass - had never had it before, but wanting to try ever since I saw the Fab Five organize a striped bass dinner for one of the inept straight males. The fish on its own was good, on the meaty side but oily enough to keep it from tasting like steak.
It was served with some type of rice pilaf with a heavy, spicy tomato sauce. I'm not convinced that the rice/sauce dish really went that well with the fish. But it was good, nonetheless.
BAM!!!
Sunday, January 04, 2004
Soup & the Earthquake
On the saturday of Labor Day Weekend 2000, I made split sea soup with rosemary and bacon from the September 2000 issue of Bon Appetit. Only, I substituted pancetta for the bacon in a fit of culinary experimentation. (www.epicurious.com)
Around 1:30AM that morning, I felt the bed jolt. I knew it was an earthquake, but having grown up in "earthquake country" (i.e., California, which has been threatening to fall into the ocean ever since the 1950s), rolled over and dozed. About 2AM, my phone rang. By the time I got to the phone, it had gone into voice mail, and my dad left a message wondering if I was ok. Whatever...I thought, trudging back to bed.
Five minutes later, the phone rang again. This time, it didn't roll to voice mail. My hysterical mom was on the phone - the big one had hit Napa. And since at the time, they didn't know that the house they'd own for 25 years was located about 3 miles from a fault (no one in Napa really knew), they assumed the real "big one" had hit and my apartment in Sunnyvale was in as much a shambles as their home.
I ended up driving to Napa the next day, not to help my parents clean up the mess that their house had become in the space of about 10 seconds, but to help out Pam, a good family friend. Her daughter Aimee, one of my best friends since we were 4 years old had moved to Florida, her son Andy, like all good sons, a bit useless in the face of emergency.
As I threw a few things together - not sure if I'd have to stay or if I could get back in time for a dinner party with friends that night - I wondered what Pam was thinking. And I realized that in all of the chaos and commotion, Pam probably hadn't eaten anything. So, split pea soup in a tupperware went to Napa with me.
I arrived at Pam's house around noon. She was sitting in her living room sipping on a glass of wine. I knew that she hadn't eaten anything. While she would never admit it, I think that secretly, she was glad that I'd brought something. I don't know if I made her eat sthe oup before we cleaned up her kitchen or after. But I remember that she ate it...with the glass of wine alongside.
Since then, I've always viewed the Bon Appetit split pea soup as restorative. I'm not really sure how much it helped Pam, but I want to say that it did. Soup is always viewed as a nourshing food, something to eat when you're sick or down or in the throws of winter, when sunlight combined with warmth is a thing of memories. Sometimes, certain recipes remain forever in your mind, inextricably wrapped around a memory, and other times, the taste disappears as soon as the pot is washed. The split pea soup is the former, not the latter.
Still grudgingly recovering from whatever illness drove me to think I was going to die, I made the split pea soup this weekend. The last time, I was in between relationships, trying to figure out what do to. The time before, I had moved to a new place and was trying to win favors in what proved to be a difficult roommate relationship. Another time, I was trying to make myself think I wouldn't have to move, when I really knew I would.
The split pea is like magical soup - it's always made me feel better. The memories of the first time I made it probably have much to do with that view. It's one of my comfort foods.
The earthquake did a lot of damage to Pam's house. I'd like to think that the soup helped her in a time of need. Maybe the fact that we got her kitchen - arguably, one of the most important rooms in the house - back in order helped. Who knows
Around 1:30AM that morning, I felt the bed jolt. I knew it was an earthquake, but having grown up in "earthquake country" (i.e., California, which has been threatening to fall into the ocean ever since the 1950s), rolled over and dozed. About 2AM, my phone rang. By the time I got to the phone, it had gone into voice mail, and my dad left a message wondering if I was ok. Whatever...I thought, trudging back to bed.
Five minutes later, the phone rang again. This time, it didn't roll to voice mail. My hysterical mom was on the phone - the big one had hit Napa. And since at the time, they didn't know that the house they'd own for 25 years was located about 3 miles from a fault (no one in Napa really knew), they assumed the real "big one" had hit and my apartment in Sunnyvale was in as much a shambles as their home.
I ended up driving to Napa the next day, not to help my parents clean up the mess that their house had become in the space of about 10 seconds, but to help out Pam, a good family friend. Her daughter Aimee, one of my best friends since we were 4 years old had moved to Florida, her son Andy, like all good sons, a bit useless in the face of emergency.
As I threw a few things together - not sure if I'd have to stay or if I could get back in time for a dinner party with friends that night - I wondered what Pam was thinking. And I realized that in all of the chaos and commotion, Pam probably hadn't eaten anything. So, split pea soup in a tupperware went to Napa with me.
I arrived at Pam's house around noon. She was sitting in her living room sipping on a glass of wine. I knew that she hadn't eaten anything. While she would never admit it, I think that secretly, she was glad that I'd brought something. I don't know if I made her eat sthe oup before we cleaned up her kitchen or after. But I remember that she ate it...with the glass of wine alongside.
Since then, I've always viewed the Bon Appetit split pea soup as restorative. I'm not really sure how much it helped Pam, but I want to say that it did. Soup is always viewed as a nourshing food, something to eat when you're sick or down or in the throws of winter, when sunlight combined with warmth is a thing of memories. Sometimes, certain recipes remain forever in your mind, inextricably wrapped around a memory, and other times, the taste disappears as soon as the pot is washed. The split pea soup is the former, not the latter.
Still grudgingly recovering from whatever illness drove me to think I was going to die, I made the split pea soup this weekend. The last time, I was in between relationships, trying to figure out what do to. The time before, I had moved to a new place and was trying to win favors in what proved to be a difficult roommate relationship. Another time, I was trying to make myself think I wouldn't have to move, when I really knew I would.
The split pea is like magical soup - it's always made me feel better. The memories of the first time I made it probably have much to do with that view. It's one of my comfort foods.
The earthquake did a lot of damage to Pam's house. I'd like to think that the soup helped her in a time of need. Maybe the fact that we got her kitchen - arguably, one of the most important rooms in the house - back in order helped. Who knows
Thursday, January 01, 2004
Illness
In revenge for the excesses of Christmas and the weekend, I have been crippled over the past several days with either a nasty case of food poisoning or the stomach flu. Whichever it was, I can honestly say that at certain moments of violent illness, death was a welcome option.
I really hate being sick. Dealing with the pure physicality of the pain and weakened state is only one aspect. The other is forcing myself to actually depend on others for help. With a few notable exceptions, I've always had a tendency to be independent and ask for little help. Being ill forced me to reach out - and it was really hard. But I had no choice; it was swallow my pride or suffer even more than I already was.
Sometimes, life forces you to make tough decisions.
I really hate being sick. Dealing with the pure physicality of the pain and weakened state is only one aspect. The other is forcing myself to actually depend on others for help. With a few notable exceptions, I've always had a tendency to be independent and ask for little help. Being ill forced me to reach out - and it was really hard. But I had no choice; it was swallow my pride or suffer even more than I already was.
Sometimes, life forces you to make tough decisions.
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