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!
Regularly updated journal on food, running and travel and other things about my life that I think are interesting and possibly, entertaining.
Saturday, October 23, 2004
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...
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