Cliche Travel Blog

Vietnam 50 Years Later

2010-03-25T22:18:00.000-07:00

im sitting here watching a Vietnamese music video. it's 3:30 am. it's a 4 woman (not girl, women, as in late twenties or thirties) girl band performing Britney spears, "hit me baby one more time". they seem to be in a forest, or perhaps a jungle, more appropriately. Somewhere, nearby, a fog machine is broken, and it's spew has been turned up to 11. There are at least 3 jeeps, 2 other SUVs, and maybe 10 motorbikes surrounding them, illuminating their performance with flashing headlights. Since there are 4 motorbike taxi's for every person in Saigon, and since everyone else drives a motorbike dayto day, every male looks like a motorbike driver. Thus the this video is suggesting to me this is an impromptu taxi drivers only party. Anyway, the women dancing and lip syncing seem somehow apathetic, and a little lazy. Like maybe they're only 65% committed to the performance. Obviously they've never watched a Garth Brooks performance, or Britney Spears for that matter.

"i mus confess, i stir belieeee". Priceless.

Straight karaoke style. For some reason, unbeknownst to me, in the background they're playing a clearly pirated copy of "A Bugs Life" on a jury-rigged 20 foot projection screen overlooking impromptu jungle concert/karaoke session. Even on a projector featured in the background of a music video, you can see someone was recording on a handycam in an actual theater presentation of "A Bugs Life". I can't explain this. How the Vietnamese equate CG animated insects and Britney Speares is a COMPLETE and TOTAL mystery to me. In Thailand they eat fried bugs, but I haven't seen it here, so I don't think that's it. Also, why not use a better pirated version for the music video? You can buy it on any street corner.

While I find myself all to quick to judge the Vietnamese as having some sort of cultural impairment, or lacking in some sort of societal sophistication, I think maybe that's a cop out. Really, it's probably just due to an immaturity in their music video direction and production businesses. Being communists probably doesn't help the matter (censorship from foreign media). I'm not even sure how long they've been allowed to make music videos that risque, sexual, or not completely sanitized here.

In fact, here in Saigon, as opposed to the hostile north, people party, have fancy restaurants, boutique bakeries, and high end coffee shops. It's not totally unlike a modern Western city, except the food is better and everyone parties a little harder. That being said, the ending close up of a solitary eagle on the hood of a chevy cavalier leaves me more puzzled than ever.
I came up with some words to help me describe my experience better that I would like to share: Jake'ism's of Vietnam:

1.Twenty-late year old: a person in their late 20's, prone to malaise and ennui, generally unemployed and traveling outside of their home continent. Distinct socio-economic demographic from the younger, new-grad European and Australian travelers which vastly outnumber them.
used in a sentence: "This one bar in Vang Vieng I looked up in Lonely Planet: Laos was filled with nothing but 20-late year olds fresh off of 2 week volunteering gigs in Cambodia."

2. Pho-face: Corruption of popular American phrase: "o-face", as first referenced in Office Space, pertaining to one's expression during climax.
used in sentence: "I'm going to eat this soup, and then show that hot waitress my pho-face"

3. Saigoner: ex-pat based in Saigon
used in sentence: "look at that 40 year old with the 20 year old vietnamese girl who looks disgusted to touch him, he's a total Saigoner"

4. farang-vision: the ability to spot Saigoners, or national/regional equivilent in other SouthEast asian countries. Farang is the term for a western man in Thailand.
used in sentence: "Do you have your farang vision yet? Then you must have noticed that Saigoner in the crosswalk being ignored by his vietnamese 'girlfriend'."

5. Hanoi'd: The general feeling expressed by northern vietnamese toward white westerners. Unpleasant body language and unfair price quoting.
used in a sentence: "400,000 dong a kilo for prawns? That sour, squating street vendor was clearly Hanoi'd that we even asked."

Vietnam is a strange and wonderful place.

St. Patricks Day - Erin Go Bite Me

2010-03-17T19:13:00.000-07:00

This is a repeat of a post by my older sister Aja, always and a strident and ardent defender of the truth. It contains a condensed version of reality behind the travessty and and massacre of St. Patricks day, and a scary reminder of the power of propaganda, misinformation, and the Church.
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From Aja:
It's St. Patricks Day, and I don't drink, go to bars or like to cook, but I do love holidays, and i wanted to participate beyond wearing green eyeshadow. So I thought I would take this opportunity to treat you all to one of Aja's Unsettling and Unpleasent But Historicly Accurate Holiday Origin Stories.

I present you with the true story of St. Patrick. Enjoy.

Saint Patrick wasn't actually Irish. He was a high born british native named Maewyn Succat, born around 373 AD, near the what is now the English Scottish border. He was the youngest son of a Damnonii Cheif in Caledonia. He was taken captive by the Romans shortly after birth. It was a sort of hostage exchange program between the Romans and respective leaders of their subject states, mention to ensure loyalty and cooperation.

So Patty was raised as a roman, and not allowed to go home until well into adulthood. Around that same time, the shit was really hitting the fan in Gaul, Brittan and what's now ireland. Actually, it was bad all over for the Romans (this was only 50-70 years before the "fall of the Roman Empire")...

Most of the citizans had either gone christian, or were fighting with christians, the state was almost bankrupt and infastructure was crumbling. Back in roman brittania, the locals seized thr moment and rebeled. There was a major insurecction lead by the druids (who were both religious leaders the unofficial local government). They wanted freedom from the roman empire, and the Romans as usual were having none of it.

Unfortunately for the Romans, the Celts had religious fervor on their side (Druids) which always makes people fight extra crazy. Also, unlike the Romans, they were used to being broke and disorganized. The local leaders had the Celts fighting viet cong style, and suffice it to say they were kicking some collonial ass.

They were doing so well, in fact, that the Druids weren't even willing to talk. This was a problem for the Romans, who contrary to popular belief, LOVED negotiated peace, as it was so much cheaper than war. Espessialy when the people fighting had already been blead dry generations ago.

in the meantime, Maewyn Succat had grown up, gone native (in this case Roman), and changed his name to Patricius, meaning high-born, (as in patrician).

So the Romans sent in Patrick, who inspite of having been born Caledonian was raised as a roman noble and (had serious stockholm syndrome) to negotiate peace.

Thinking he was one of theirs, the Druid leaders and local cheifs (100s of them) finally came out of hiding and agreed to a meeting.

They showed up in the agreed upon place, which was some building on the Isle of Mona. When Patrick got there, instead of negotiating peace, he had the doors nailed shut and burned the building down with everyone in it.

In a single blow he not only ended the war and destroyed the insurgent's entire leadership, he also killed all the native religious leaders and decimated druidism not only as a form of government, but also as an organized religion.

Which is why "St. Patrick" later became both a saint, and is famous for having 'driven the snakes out of Ireland.'

Happy Saint Patricks Day!!!

Where's the Beef?: Steve's Steakhouse - Phnom Penh

2010-02-28T01:27:00.000-08:00

For those of you who have traveled in southeast Asia, you may be aware that for a variety of reasons, beef, especially steak quality beef, can be hard to come by. And when you do, it's generally very expensive at fancy restaurants, and sometimes even then not all that great.

It's understandable; cows, and any attendant beef industry, just don't exist in this part of the world as we know it in the West, or in Australia. Japan is one of the few exceptions to this, but that's not southeast Asia is it? For one thing, cows are expensive. Much of southeast Asia, though improving by degrees and in some cases leaps and bounds, doesn't have the demand nor the economy to support such large scale ranching operations. Also, when a lot of your citizens are starving, it makes a lot more sense to grow rice with your open space than it does expensive, inefficient cows. Things like chickens and pigs make much sense under the conditions that most southeast Asian countries find themselves in currently.

That being said, the majority of cows you see in southeast Asia, and their meat in the markets, tend to be of a very low quality as far as eating is concerned. They aren't raised or finished the way beef cattle are in the states or Australia for example, and their diets tend to be much leaner. These cows have lean body mass indices that would make runway models jealous. It does not make for good eating.

Suffice it to say, I haven't had more than an errant fast-food burger here and there in the last 2 months since leaving the US. In the last week, since arriving in Phnom Penh, I've really been suffering from some serious carnivorous cravings. Being a former French colony, the food in Phnom Penh on average is actually quite good. A lot of it is French or French-influenced, most menus have beef on them in some capacity. Many offer some sort of steak frite, steak au poivre, or colloquialized version. Many of them attest to having "Australian beef", which according to my new Australian friend Ben, is a good thing. Needless to say as an American, I remained skeptical.

However, as we sat on the corner of Sisowath Quay (the road along the Tonlesap river) and rue 144 at our default street cafe (La Croisette) this morning, my beeflust got the best of me.

Me: "Ben, I need a steak. Let's find the best steak in Phnom Penh, what do you say?"
Ben: "As long as it's Australian, I'm game."

Ben, perhaps tragically, spends an inordinate amount of time trying to convince me how much better everything is in Australia than the US. I figured however Australian beef would be the best thing one could get out here short of selling the farm and splurging on some Kobe. I wasn't quite at that point yet.

A few google searches led me to an obscure name, "Steves Steakhouse", about 5 minutes away on Rue Pasteur, near the National Monument. The few words I could find at the time written about it were here: dopplr -Phnom Pehn. Allegedly, they were the best steaks in Phnom Penh, and they were locally raised, slaughtered and aged by the proprietor. This, I had to try. Even in booshy San Francisco, I knew of no restaurant raising IT'S OWN COWS to serve on the menu. It doesn't get much more local than that.

Price be damned, Ben and I jumped in a Tuk Tuk and headed out. At the time I hadn't seen this Chowhound review: One liner on Steves. Their entire review amounts to "avoid Steve's if you don't like boiled steak". This person is an idiot, or ordered something stupid.

We found the place without too much trouble, much to our surprise. Now, we had no idea what to expect. Things are whacky and unpredictable in Cambodia to begin with, an outrageous demand like a proper steakhouse was bound to be a crapshoot. However, we were pleasantly surprised by a western inspired, airy, covered patio with a large well appointed bar. We got there right around 12, and apparently Steve doesn't do a very brisque lunch service, as we were one of a only a few parties eating.

Once we got the menu's we realized we might be in a for a treat. The steak choices took up the first 2 pages of the menu. Of the varietals available there were:
1. Australian Beef (rib eye, sirloin, t-bone)
2. New Zealand Beef (rib eye, sirloin, t-bone)
3. Argentinian Beef (Sirloin I believe)
4. And finally, the mysterious local Steve's Cambodian beef.

Ben and I decided we had to try at least the Australian, New Zealand, and Cambodian steaks. We did just that with an Australian and Cambodian t-bone, and a New Zealand rib-eye to round things out.

As we were ordering it came to our attention that the middle aged white fellow sitting at the bar was no other than Steve, for which Steve's is named. I had to ask about the Cambodian beef.

Steve is from just outside St. Louis, MO, and an ex-pat living in Cambodia. His father who lives here with him is the oldest ex-pat in Cambodia at 89 years old. He grew up on a small farm in southern Missouri. To this day, the 89 year old gets up and works half a day, 5 days a week, at the Cambodian farm Steve own's just outside of Phnom Penh. Bow to the legendary mid-Western US work ethic.

Steve has lived in Cambodia for some time, and began telling us about the dismal state of beef in Cambodia. The cows he says are mostly work animals, and as such extremely lean, often malnourished, and tough. He said grinding hamburger out of them is nearly impossible since they have no fat. Some local places here add pork fat (sounds ok to me to be honest, but I got the point). Add to that an almost complete lack of refrigeration, and conditions of high heat and rampant flies at most all markets here, and you start to understand why Steve decided raising his own cows would be a good idea.

Steve said we were lucky the Cambodian beef was on the menu, as he generally only has it for 4 or 5 days after he kills a cow due it selling so quickly amongst the loyal and local customers. Otherwise he stocks prime New Zealand and Australian beef, as we were about to see. Much of the Australian beef shipped around Southeast Asia, according to Steve, has been frozen for up to a year, and is of pretty low quality. They aren't always grain finished, and the marbling doesn't have a chance to really develop. As such, most of it isn't very good. His was the good stuff however, he assured us.

When I asked him about aging, he said that he generally dry ages the local beef for 3-5 days in house in his cold room. He'd prefer 2-3 weeks, but electricity is so expensive in Cambodia that he would have to charge more for the meat which he doesn't want to do. Personally, I'm fine with this. Excessively aged meat that is lean to begin with (as most beef is outside of the States, and Kobe, Japan) really loses a lot of moisture, and I'm not a huge fan. I'm not positive what the state of his NZ and AUS beef is with regards to aging, but hopefully I can find out in the future.

With that Steve had to excuse himself, and wished us a good meal. The steaks all ranged between 10-14$US, and were between 14 and 18 ounces. These were knock-out prices if they ended up being even halfway decent steaks.

With the steaks you get a choice of potato and salad, which I won't go into at length, but the options were good and went well with the meat.

Now onto the steaks themselves. The New Zealand rib-eye was the real oddball, so we'll start there. It was cut a little thinner than I was expecting (about a 1/2" cooked, so a little more raw). Even though it was medium rare, it was dark, dark red in the middle. To be honest, I was reminded more than anything of lamb while eating this steak. It was irony and minerally and almost liver-y, and very well marbled. I could have chewed it without teeth. It was absolutely delicious, and I assure you it hadn't been boiled. But if you're going to order it, know what you're in for.

The Australian t-bone was the mildest of the 3 steaks we ordered. Ben ate most of it, but the bites I had we tender, beefy, and very good. To be honest however it almost tasted like I was eating a Veal t-bone. It lacked a little bit of beefy backbone I was expecting. Maybe that's just a cultural bias, Ben would certainly say so. It was still a delicious steak however, make no mistake.

Finally, the local Cambodian beef: my favorite. It possessed a strong beef character the Australian steak lacked, and was devoid of any overly iron notes like the Kiwi steak. Marbling was first rate, and it had been butchered very well, on-site. It was a fair inch and quarter thick, and cooked on the rare side of medium rare, which was what I wanted anyway but didn't try to explain. Being a neo-liberal San Francisco food douche, I felt good knowing that the cow started and ended it's life 20Km away, and that it traveled still warm from slaughter straight to Ben's walk-in. I really don't know where I could experience the same level of freshness and local-ness anywhere Stateside. Let me know if you do.

We ate every last bite, but didn't do quite as well on the sides. I highly recommend the Tomato and Cucumber salad option with the steaks, it's raw onions and Greek vinagrette cut the grease of the beef nicely in between drooling bites.

As if that weren't enough, Steve's has a couple of very nice pool tables that Ben and I took advantage of to while away the time we were left in a debilitating beef coma. I won both games, handily. Sorry Australia.

We ordered beer, but there appeared to be a wine list, the depth and breadth of which I cannot comment on. But I saw a wine cooler, for what it's worth.

So, let it be known: local Cambodian beef rivals anything I've eaten in the States, mid-Western steakhouse chic lives on in Phnom Penh, and not all US ex-pats are in Cambodia to participate in underage sex trafficking. Some of them are just continuing on the Manifest Destiny far from home. I hope to return to Steve's again before I leave.

Steve's Steakhouse and Greek Restaurant, 51 Pasteur St., just south of the National Monument, Phnom Penh.

Pro's:
-Excellent steak selection
-fantastic service
-nice traditional steakhouse sides.
-full bar, and the nicest pool table in Phnom Penh
-PRICE

Cons:
-The sear on the outside of the steaks wasn't quite as prolific as some US steak houses insist on. Personally, I think that's more necessary when the beef lacks flavor, like a lot of fatty US cornfed beef. On a good steak, it' just not required. Some will disagree with me.

Bali: Round 2

2010-02-06T21:33:00.000-08:00

After 4 days of seaweed farming, palm tree swaying, and brain altering SCUBA diving, it was time to leave Lembongan. This time we knew to take the speed boat, hoping to avoid almost certain death. After a quick trip back to Seminyak, we were picked up by Dewa, a friend of Gareng, the divemaster on Lembongan, and taken back to Kuta. After finding a hotel, we tucked in for the night. The next morning at 7am we were being picked up by Dewa for the 2.5 hour drive to Tulamben on the North coast of Bali for 2 dives. Both were beach dives, meaning we would enter on foot through the surf and swim out to the dive site, instead of jumping off a boat.

True to his word, our dive guide was waiting at 7am, and we began our long drive in a big, old van filled with our rented diving gear. Driving in Bali has to be experienced to be believed. The closest thing to a freeway here is a two lane road, devoid of traffic lights, stop signs, or turning lanes. The road is shared by trucks, cars, and about 5 zillion motorbikes, all fighting and vying for position. Each single directional lane serves as a passing lane for the other. If I haven’t made it clear, it’s essentially one gigantic clusterfuck. Accidents are commonplace, and there’s absolutely no one and nothing keeping order. If you thought it was impossible like me to ever, for a single moment, miss the California Highway Patrol, we were wrong.

The drive took us roughly along the coast and through foothills that grew increasingly remote, and soon green took over as the predominant color instead of the dirty blacks, browns and grays of southern Bali. Light rain turned into heavy downpour and back to drizzle over the course of the drive, leaving everything wet and glistening, and terrifyingly slippery as we snaked our way towards Tulamben. As we approached our destination, thick jungle gave way to breathtaking vistas of race paddies terraced into the hillside, broken occasionally by huts or more of the ever-present black lavastone carved Hindu shrines and temples. I had a feeling this Bali existed, but until today it was just a guess.

Our first dive took us to a rainy, gray, and rocky beach just off the “highway”. We parked the van under a stand of trees and suited up in the pouring rain. The only building in site was a small restroom and a shack of a food stand 50 yards from the crashing waves, and about 10 small fishing boats. We suited up in our SCUBA gear in the pouring rain and headed to the water. In typical Bali fashion, the wrinkled old woman who ran the food stand silently and without fanfair put out an offering and lit incense for us a few feet from where we were getting equipped. Apparently she wanted to make sure the diving Gods were on our side; it was very touching. This particular dive was called “the drop off”; 50 meters off the beach was a young but thriving coral reef about 20 meters wide, leading to a very steep drop off, some 100 to 200 feet straight down into blue water. We would be swimming out to the reef, around a small rocky point, and descending in order to swim along this thin strip of coral and lava rock between the surf on our right and the deep blue water to our left. As we entered we didn’t know the visibility or current we’d be presented with, except for a broken English report from a mysterious diver exiting the water that both were “pretty good”, whatever that meant.

Thankfully the current turned out to be very weak, and the visibility was somewhere around 60-70 feet, despite the pouring rain and low sunlight from the clouds above. Perhaps the Hindu diving Gods were smiling on us after all. We were met with a stunning reef, teaming with life. Highlights included a 6 foot, brilliant green goliath grouper, a 6 foot barracuda, an enormous, color changing octopus, 2 tiny red and white candy cane colored lobsters, and 3 zebrafish in various states of repose. This was in addition to the usual damsels, clowns fish, parrotfish, and hundreds of other tropical, aquarium quality flora and fauna. SCUBA diving is like treasure hunting: you have a rough idea of where to go, maybe a streaky, faded map of Bali dive sites like our guide. It’s a little dangerous, and you never know what you’ll find until you let the air out of your BC and start slowly sinking into the water. Sometimes you see things you can’t even describe to other people who weren’t there, things that very few other people will ever see with their own eyes, unless it’s through sterile, polished aquarium glass, or in a book. What you’re left with is a memory that is so unique and unlike any other that it would be impossible to forget, and stays with you forever. If that’s not treasure hunting I don’t know what is.

Our second dive took us to the wreck of a torpedoed World War II battleship just a mile or so up the coast. Apparently this US ship was hit somewhere further west, and was being towed to a port somewhere nearby. It began taking on water however, and the crew knew it wouldn’t make the journey. It was beached 50 meters from where it sits today on the black rock beach 60 years ago. Then in 1963, a nearby volcano erupted, and the resulting tremors were strong enough to roll the ship off the beach and into the surf where it sits today.

The ship started in 20 feet of water, dropping diagnonally all the way down to 60. This was my first wreck dive, and I understand now the excitement people have in their voices when they talk about wreck diving. Swimming under and through coral encrusted, rusted booms and over twisted broken decks and canons is terrifying, awe-inspiring, and thrilling all at the same time. The wildlife was largely similar to the “drop-off” we dove previously, if not slightly less diverse. One highlight here however was thousand-plus school of silver jackfish that passed over head at one point. We sat down on the ocean floor and watched them pulse and roll just underneath the surface for a few minutes. If you’ve ever seen video of a “bait ball” on Planet Earth or another Discovery channel program, that would give you some idea of the visual. I still don’t understand how they move so tightly without slamming into each other. I also learned how fire coral got its name the hard way after grabbing some with a bare hand to peer into a hole in the ship too small to swim through. It’s like a hundred little bee stings all over my hands. Live and learn, respect the sea, and don’t grab shit you can’t indentify.

As we left the north of Bali and headed back to Kuta, Dewa explained that the rain we were driving through was caused by microclimate moisture from the nearby volcano. This volcano was also responsible lava outflows that created fertile ground for the coral reefs to grow on. Fire and water, land and sea, the shipwrecks destruction and reefs creation; the ying and yang of universe was literally screaming at me all day. You can’t buy this stuff in a store.

Tomorrow our dive guide Dewa has offered to take me to Denpasar for authentic babi guling, or roast suckling pig at a real Balinese “warung” (roadside restaurant). The justifications for this trip are becoming easier and easier to recognize as each day goes by.

Bali / Lembongan

2010-02-06T21:29:00.001-08:00

hello from Lembongon!!!

Let me apologize first for the errors that this email will be riddled with. This keyboard stinks, and won't type certain letters as capital. I'm sitting in a 3 computer internet cafe that is the small room in someones house. they are doing laundry and watching Indonesian soap operas in a room adjecent with the door open. they seem nice. Also, 10 feet away a confused rooser is crowing; it's only 4pm.

So, when last we left our hero, I was battling "crunchy lung swine flu" as my sister Aja so aptly put it. As you can tell from this email I pulled through. We did hoever spend 4 more days lounging around with a lot of Swedes on Koh Lanta recovering from that terrible germ. We also did some snorkeling, some partying, and a lot of eating. Koh Lanta was beautiful, but it was time to move on.

We caught a ferry back to Phuket and stayed the night on the beach near the aiport to catch our early flight to Kuala Lumpur, with a brief (8 hour) layover, to continue on to Denpasar Bali. We arrived in Bali that evening, and headed straight to Kuta. Kuta is the backpacker, young person, hip/happening part of Bali. We found a nice guesthouse, and headed out to see the nightlife.

Kuta as some of you may recall, was the site of not 1 but 2 massively destructive terrorist bombings in 2002 and 2005. They were aimed at clubs on the main drag, and there's a large memorial commemorating the people who died in the pursuit of a great party and a nice beach; RIP. We had some dinner, some beers, and explored the nightlife. IT was NUTS. multi level clubs, wierd dancing performances by chicks in strange outfits, magicians, you name it. It was interesting for sure, but very odd.

Our first full day in Bali we hired a van for the 5 of us (30 bucks total, SO CHEAP) and headed to a beach area called Nusa Dua. Specifcally we went Gerger beach (where the St Regis Bali is located). This is one of the nicest beaches I've ever been to. White sand, shallow for 500 yards out to a reef where incredible surf breaks, and 2 dollars for a chair and umbrella all day. hey deliver food and drinks to your chiar from beachside "warungs", which are basically little shacky-type restaurants. What was very interesting, and common I would come to find out, is that they cultivate and harvest seaweed in the shallow reef water we were swimming in. ALl these little guys on rafts all day with long bamboo poles go back and forth tending their little seagardens, and piling up seaweed, presumably to sell. Where it goes I do not know, but probably things like McDonalds ice cream and shampoo. Your guess is as good as mine.

After we tired of lazing on the nicest beach around, we headed to another world famous beach andsurf spot, called Dreamland, about 40 minutes away. It was filthy, and smelly, and I hated it. Luckily there was a resort on the bluff above it with a nice infinity pool looking out on the water that we took advantage of. We left after about an hour.

WIth the reamins of the day we had the driver take us to a famous temple called Uluwatu. his temple sits on a ridge overlooking the ocean about 400 feet up. The views were spectacular as was the temple. What Uluwatu is famous for however, is it's resident popluation of monkeys, which are of course, sacred. syou enter you are dressed in a sarong out of respect, and sold pineapple chuinks and peanuts to feed the
monkeys. They're quite aggressive, but it was a lot of fun to feed them by hand. If I EVER get pictures up, there will be some of the temple and it's attendant monkeys. By dusk we headed back to the hotel where we cleaned up, andwent out for dinner and some more drinks in Kuta.

The second day in Bali was pretty amazing. We went back to Gerger beach in the morning, simply because it was so splendid. After a few hours we headed back to the hotel. While at the beach however we met a couple locals who invited us to dinner at their house in Legian, a small beachtown a few minutes north of Kuta. hissort of oppurtunity does not present itself very often, and we knew we were in for something very special, being hosted by locals.

After a very interesting cab ride with a driver who soley quoted American movie lines with bad words in them ("Antoganize me, motherfucker") and Guns and Roses lyrics (Welcome to tha Jungle, baybeeeee"), we eventually stumbled upon the small lane/alley where the BBQ was taking place.

We were invited by a middle aged women who is the cook in a small restaurant in Legian. She and her 5 nieces who live with her (and one french boyfriend who was present as well) made us a very traditional meal of balinese curries, grilled fish, and rice. The Aunt and her nieces were actually from Borneo, and severl of the dishes were unique to Borneo, which was a very special treat. We all ate in their lovely little courtyard for 3 or 4 hours, and got to know each other. It's one of my best memories of the trip, and she invited me to come back and learn to cook Balinese and Borneo-ese food anytime I wish. I plan to take her up on it.

he next morning we left early for our ferry out of Seminyak on the west side of Bali. We were headed to the island we are currently on, Lembongan. We missed our speedboat however, and were forced to take a slowboat the hour and a half to the island. o say the journey was rough would be an understatement. The boat was at least 40 years old, and basically a 30 long hull with 2 zip tied bamboo pole pontoons on each side. On calm seas, this wouldn't have been a big deal. owever, we spent 90 minutes getting thrashed in 3-7 foot swells between Bali and Lembongan. he boat creaked and strained and sounded like it would explode the entire time. BEsides us, there were 7 or 8 other tourists, 10 or so islanders heading home, some food supplies, and a few chickens. It was pretty interesting. I think I got some pictures.

We made it safely (alive anyway) to Lembongan and immediately started what I know call the "guesthouse dance", where we go from place to place, haggling, looking for rooms, and eventually finding somewhere to stay. We're actually in very nice, hillside, ocean facing bungalows, with incredible views of the bay and distant Bali. Here too in the crystal clear water you can see the signs of seaweed cultivation as in Bali. It's really cool.

Let me tell you a little about Lembongan (Wikipedia);

Everyone lives in tiny Hindu temples that are carved out of stone and totally amazing and beautiful, like Bali, but more so. It's undescribable, but I'll try. Only 2000 people live here, and they're pretty much all actual native Indonesians. They seem to all be in the tourism industry, seaweed cultivation, or just do the work of maintaining the islands and it's structures. Some make those bueatiful Balinese painted masks of demon faces you see in museums.

The diving is completely amazing; we go out for 2 dives a day everyday, on a boat with just me and the 4 guys I'm traveling with, plus 2 natives who are dive masters and run a dive shop here. I've never been diving anywhere like it. I swim in schools of fish every color of the rainbow, along a sloped wall of coral and anenonmies that goes for a far as you can see (which is up to 100-150 feet in the clear Indonesian water). We sea eels, turtles, big fish, little fish, and if were lucky this week, a mola mola, whale shark, or manta ray.

Sometimes we drift dive, which means you get dropped off in fast moving water, and literally just drift and watch the scenery until you run out of air. I prefer regular diving, but it's fun to mix it up sometimes. The current is strong here, 4-8 knots (4.5-9 mph). That might not sound fast, but Michael Phelps at his fastest in the Olympics swims at a peak speed of about 4 mph. Picture the scene in Little Nemo where they jump in and out of the underwater current with the surfer turtles. He difference being that sometimes the current upwells and downwells, and sometimes it flings you into sharp coral heads or out into deep blue water if you're not careful. It's pretty exciting. Drift diving is not for the faint of heart.

Were on day two on Lembongan, and are planning another 3. After that, who knows. Maybe Sumatra, maybe Sulawesi, maybe Komodo island (twice the current in the water and Komodo dragons!), or maybe just back to Bali for now. In any case, I'll keep you all posted, and can't wait to hear from those of you inclined to write back.

Much Love from Indonesia

Koh Phi Phi / Koh Lanta

2010-02-06T21:27:00.000-08:00

So last time I wrote I was on the little island of Koh Phi Phi in the Andaman sea. The next morning we went on our first dive trip since getting to Thailand. We started out at 8am and we were set up for two dives back to back. The first one was nice, but a little rough. Some of us, including myself, hadn't been in the water in gear for some time (4 years for me).

We did some skill refreshing underwater, like mask clears, and regulator sharing. I burned through my oxygen way too fast on that dive, which is generally a sign that you're working too hard, not using your BC vest efficiently to remain neutrally buoyant, and/or just breathing poorly. We did see some beautiful fish and coral, but somewhere between the massive amount of tourist diving and the tsunami, I wasn't as impressed as I was expecting. To top it off, during our decompression stop (you basically float at 15 feet for 5 minutes to allow the nitrogen to dissolve slowly out of your blood) a very oblivious dive boat almost ran us over. I've never experienced that before, and it's quite rare as your bubbles are very obvious. I chalk it off to just how busy and packed Koh Phi Phi is in general this time of year. Idyllic, swaying palms and long beautiful beaches it was not. It felt more like Cabo San Lucas on spring break, just in Thailand.

The second dive was a whole other story. After the first we boated to the cove and beach whre "The Beach" was shot with Leonardo DiCaprio. It was stunning. Unfortuntealy I didn't take bring my camera because I was worried it would get wet. There are plenty of them on the internet though. We ate lunch and then motored to the next dive spot after about an hour.

This dive was totally different, even though it was just around the other side of the island. The visibility was higher (100+ feet), and we saw some really cool stuff. I saw my second real shark swimming in the wild (a black tipped reef shark) that was a fair 6 feet long, and absolutely majestic. We swam with a sea turtle for a minute or two before he disappeared, I suspect he didn't like the sharks presence very much. To top that off, I saw an ENORMOUS scorpion fish peaking out from under a rock, which was breathtaking with all his long fins sticking out everywhere.

This is all in addition to giant clams, mantis shrimp, nudibranchs, and every type of fish we've ever had in our salt water fish tanks. Now I know where they get them. The clown fish were especially cool in the wild. I also did much better managing my air this time, ending up with more than our dive master by the time we surfaced.

The food is amazing everywhere we go and cheap, which I think I mentioned before. I've been eating a lot of green papaya salads, I think it's my new fave.

We decided early the next morning it was time to leave Phi Phi, and head for Koh Lanta, where I am writing this from. Koh Lanta is a bigger island, but more relaxed, more spread out, and as I would come to realize much more like the idyllic, swaying palm tree Thai island I was hoping for. After an afternoon ferry ride from Phi Phi to Lanta, we began our two our trek around the island to find a guesthouse to stay in. Lots of haggling, arguing, and suspicious deal-making we found a few rooms on the water. We're paying about 850baht a night, which is less than 30 dollars. The water is 100 feet from our door, the beach goes for miles, and the water is perfect. After getting our gear in the rooms we immediately went for a swim, which just happened to be at sunset. I took pictures of that however, as there would be now way to do it justice with words.

After dinner I was exhasuted and not feeling well and went to bed. It turned out I was coming down with something, and in the middle of the night I woke up freezing with a fever and a lot of aching (and what my family would call "crunchy-lung"). To be honest, I 'd take this over intestinal unrest any day, and as we speak the tylenol has taken care of the most unpleasant aspects of whatever is working itself through me. To be honest, I have been sleeping very little, trying to take in as much of what we're doing and where we are as possible. There's no question I need to start taking better care of myself from a rest perceptive; I think I've learned my lesson.

Today I am trying to decide if I should go snorkeling, scootering, and exploring with the guys, or stay in and try to beat whatever I'm sick with. I'd hate to miss a whole day on this beautiful island, but I guess health should come first.

Rawai/Koh Phi Phi

2010-02-06T21:25:00.001-08:00

After two days in Bangkok, we decided it was time to make our way south to the Andaman sea, home to the storied and splendid islands of Thailand (most of them). In order to do that, we had to take a flight from Bangkok to Phuket. This is the same Phuket that was basically destroyed in the Tsunami a few years ago. I had never been before so I wouldn’t know what to expect to be different, but it was what it was. Getting into Phuket we bought our ferry tickets for the next day out of Phuket Town, and hopped in a SUV taxi to meet my good friend Thel, who is living on the southern tip in a small town called Rawai.

After getting settled in a guesthouse, the 5 of us along with Thel and two friends who were staying with him headed down to get some dinner. We ate at a local place with low tables on the sidewalk right up against the seawall. It was awesome. And so was the food: Luke and I both had a steamed/braised whole white snapper, and it was one of the best whole fish preparations I’ve ever had.

After that we headed to a local beach bar where the ladies working behind the bar were literally UNBEATABLE at Connect Four. Now I’m a smart guy, and I’ve played a fair amount of Connect Four. But this was unreal. They would beat me and I wouldn’t even know it until I went to put another piece in and they’d start laughing at me. I was completely humbled. We played Connect Four and partied with Rawai’s finest until the wee hours. Too bad we had a 7:30am ferry to the world renowned Koh Phi Phi the next morning…

Koh Phi Phi

The next morning we were up bright and early for a white-knuckle, wheelie popping, tire screeching taxi ride to the ferry. All 5 of us we’re crammed into the shoddily caged-in bed of a small pickup truck cum taxi, clinging for our lives around every turn and roundabout.

Our ferry was quite large, and had a few decks. We posted up outside in front to get a view, some fresh air, and have an easy jump into the pool if the ferry shit the bed and capsized. Thankfully no such drama occurred, and we ended up meeting some nice Australians. They helped whittle the 2 hour ferry ride away pretty quickly.

Pulling to Phi Phi left us mostly speechless. The straight vertical limestone cliffs covered in jungle on top, jutting straight out of the ocean hundreds of feet up were pretty spectacular. And the color of the water was so inviting it took every ounce of restraint I had not to jump in as we were docking.

Phi Phi like Bangkok and Rawai, required a bit of walking around, asking about rooms, arguing about prices, etc before we found a very nice and reasonable guesthouse. The name escapes me now, but I’ll try to remember and write it down.

Bangkok

2010-02-06T21:24:00.001-08:00

After wandering around the Bangkok airport collecting everyone, we headed to Khao San road, the alleged backpacker center. We picked the first semi-clean looking guesthouse that advertised a pool, which ended up being pretty nice.

Khao San Palace was by no means palatial, but it had private bathrooms, air-conditioning, a mini-fridge, and double occupancy for 900 baht (30$) a night. Also, the pool area ended up being a nice place to kick it when we got sick of the constant heckling and pitching of all of the vendors and tuk tuk drivers along Khao San.

After we settled in, we took a walk to find some food. It turns out you can go pretty much anywhere in the area and get better thai curry (and I’m sure other dishes) than pretty much anywhere I’ve been in the States. Not only was it phenomenal, it was like a $1.50.

We spent the rest of the day checking out the shops, bar-hopping, and generally screwing around. Highlights included:

-Jake and Pat eating fried bugs. Crickets, grasshoppers, mealworms, and some other disgusting black thing I couldn’t identify.

-Pat buying a green laser pointer from one of the phenomenally obnoxious walking street vendors. For the rest of our time in Khao San Pat would simply try to resell the laser pointer back to them in response. I genuinely think this was the first time anyone had ever tried that, because they were completely confused. Or he’d just point it at them until they left. Genius.

-I was forced into a 50 baht Ro Sham Bo match with a very aggressive ~8 year old girl selling roses. She threw down hard though, and was a little bit obnoxious. I gave her 100 baht to go away.

After that the night was relatively uneventful, save for a lot of beer drinking and laser pointer abuse.

On our second day in Bangkok, we made sure to take full advantage of the pool for the majority of the morning. I managed to drop my iPhone and cracked it’s screen, but considering I’ve done that 1000 times in the last year, it was just a matter of time. I bought a case and screen protector, and so far it’s holding up quite well. The fake Apple Store in Koh San was relatively nice, not to mention convenient.

After eating some lunch we headed to Wat Po, which is home to the largest Buddha in Thailand. Not only that, it’s laying down. See pictures for details. Basically, this place was massive, beautiful, serene, and everything else you would assume from a giant Buddhist temple. It was a nice break from the constant party atmosphere of Koh San.

After Wat Po was when things really got interesting. We decided to take in a Tuesday night of Muay Thai fights at the world famous Lumpini stadium. It’s smaller than I expected, old school, no frills, and totally awesome. The fighters warm up in the hallway on the way to the men’s bathroom. After the main event fight, I physically bullied and threatened the winner of that match to take a picture with me. I think you can tell how scared he looks in the picture. He knows it’s because I was about to clobber him if he didn’t stay put. Actually, they always take pictures with the audience after fights, I was just kidding about threatening him.

After the fight some things happened and we went some places, but those hopefully will never make it into print.

3am PST: China Airlines, somewhere over the Pacific

2010-02-06T21:23:00.000-08:00

4 hours underway. This plane is huge. In typical Jake fashion, I looked up the planes configuration as I checked in online this morning from Santa Barbara. Seatexpert.com was gracious enough to let me know that there were about 6 seats in economy that were better than the others. As the plane tapers at its front and back, certain rows need to be less wide, and this results in a few rows having a gap between the window and the seat. It's glorious. My left leg has never been so stretched out on a plane. But let's be honest, I'm still in coach. It's still very cramped; I still have to crawl over my strangely comatose and clearly native Asian seatmate (thanks’ to Seatexpert.com, I'm in one of only a handful of 2 seat rows) to use the lavatory (which I've yet to do...can I make it 15 hours?).

To be honest, he's really obnoxious. He didn't put his bag above him, so he's forced to spread his legs wider than a Hustler centerfold. He's a good 5 inches over the "seat line". Also, he's one of THOSE people, who think the middle armrest is for some known only to his Pagan god’s reason HIS sovereign real estate. It's fucking annoying to have to sit crooked this whole time.

Add to this the tooth grinding, bone jarring, and excruciatingly consistent turbulence we experienced for the first 3 solid hours of this flight. My mother mentioned something about El Nino before we took off; sometimes I forget in all her craziness she knows a thing or two. Not like I could have done anything about it I guess, but I suppose it's nice to know what you're up against occasionally. As an aside, big ups to the all female flight attendants of China Airlines, they served food, poured drinks, and bussed 400 passengers with unconscionable aplomb through what felt like a fucking hurricane.

As I checked in this morning, snickering to myself about all the people who weren't crafty enough to look up 747-400 seating charts, I guess I figured with 15 hours on the plane, I could really use any little advantage I could come up with to survive sane and intact. Those poor suckers all around me, crushed in next to each other would simply have to suffer for their lack of foresight.

For the first 30 minutes of this flight, I was quite indignant at my neighbor’s ferociously intrusive knee violating MY personal space as he slumbered on. First I thought he was just an asshole, knowingly pushing me around since he was bigger than me. There's that Napoleon complex rearing its ugly head. After a short time I relaxed and realized he probably had no idea, he was legitimately asleep.

A bit later, as I took a few minutes to look around at how much more or less miserable my fellow passengers looked, I couldn't help but feel like a real jerk. I've spent the better part of my life looking out for myself one way or another. It's generally my first instinct, and frankly I'm pretty good at it. As I surveyed this wretched cabin, my shoulders already aching, and my ass already sleeping as deeply as the man to my right, I realized that someone with longer legs probably deserves this seat. I realized, I'm always taking as much as I can, just in case I need it.

I think I have a lot of reasons for going on this weird, impromptu, career devastating, and when all is said and done, expensive trip.

Embracing uncertainty, laughing in the face of perceived danger (or at least not avoiding it outright) these feel like good goals. Being worldly, well traveled, and knowledgeable about other places and people? Yeah, I'll take that.

But a subtler, and less glamorous (harder to admit?) outcome I'm chasing is some good, old-fashioned character building. I purposefully chose Southeast Asia, Africa, and hopefully South America to force myself to experience life in parts of the world where selfishness isn't much of an option. I wanted to go to places where I'd be ashamed to think and feel the way I do most of the time. Maybe those places don't exist, and it's a pipedream. But I have a feeling they do. I may not have had to leave the States to find it, but excess and wealth is so skewed at home, I'm not sure I'd know how to recognize it there.

I also fully expect to see the opposite: suffering and misery as a result of self-absorption and selfishness writ large. The minefields and utter destitution in Cambodia for instance. I don't know if reality is the right word for it, but at least a different, less familiar and less comfortable reality.

I don't know who this guy next to me is or why he's so clueless as to where his knees or my toes are, but fuck it. I'm just going to let him splay. If I was him, I guess I'd appreciate the same. Be the change you want to see in the world, right? Baby steps...

Kicking Things Off

2010-01-11T21:18:00.000-08:00

I leave for Bangkok in 5 days. I have a lot of things left undone, but I'm starting not to care. It's time to just start this trip already. More as things develop.

Recipe Concept: Seared Oranges with Vanilla Honey, Greek Yogurt, and Pistachios

2009-05-27T00:10:00.000-07:00

This one came to me tonight as I was trying to fall asleep. I had been reading the NYT Dining section before bed and saw an article about "burnt oranges". I read it, but didn't pay much attention. I just remember skillet seared oranges and greek yogurt. After an hour or so, this one popped into my head. Maybe if I write it down I'll be able to fall asleep, finally.

Peel and section orange. add teaspoon of sugar and 1/2 tablespoon butter to skillet. Allow sugat to melt and brown with butter, add oranges and cook 1-2 minutes each side. The idea is to get a nice deep brown crust. Try not to blacken the butter or sugar, just deep brown. Remove oranges

Over very low heat, add 5-6 tablespoons of honey to the skillet, and the scraped seeds and empty pod of one vanilla bean. Allow to steep for 15 minutes. Remove seed pod. Add two tablespoons orange juice to thin the honey.

Plate with orange slices in a mound on top a few heaping teaspoons of Greek Yogurt. Drizzle enthusiastically with honey sauce.

Find crunchy, salty, and preferably extra green pistachios for texture, color and balance, and place them conservatively around the plate. Finish perhaps with just a sprinkle of orange zest.

Poached Pears

2009-03-02T11:13:00.000-08:00

So short notice I found myself in need of a good poached pear recipe for a dinner party last week. After some web recipe browsing I came along this:

Poached Pears at Angela's food blog

I am an idiot and didn't think to take pictures of my own work, but I will write down some errors/issues with my execution, so if anyone else wants to try they can be wary of what might be obvious mistakes the first time around:

1. I was reading off my tiny iPhone screen, and thought the 1/2 cup of sugar was suppsoed to be 2 cups, and put in about 1.5 cups before I realized. I tried to compensate with extra lemon juice and 5 or 6 tablespoons of balsamic vinegar. This ended up working quite well.

2. My friends house where the cooking was happening did not have a food processor or mixer, so I had to make whipped cream with a blender. It works, but keep an eye on it. Mine went from liquid to almost butter way faster than expected.

3. Omit the lavender if you don't have really fresh, high quality lavender available. Otherwise it just adds a weird musty flavor.

4. I reduced the poaching liquid just a little too much, it was think when it cooled on the plate, forcing people to really work to get it in each bite. My miscalculation may have been due in part to the excess sugar I mentioned above. If the amounts had been right upfront, it probably would have reduced more slowly than it did. Not a deal breaker, this was more just me being derelict in my duties for a smoke out on the stoop at a crucial point in the reduction.

5. Make sure your pears are ripe, but more importantly, if they aren't, keep the less ripe ones poaching longer. Tough pears aren't very good.

6. Finally, in regards to the original recipe, I found everything was delicious, clear, and well strained without constantly straining everything. In fact, for the reduction piece, I only strained the poaching liquid once, and that was right after the step where the original chef put in the pear cores for 5 minutes. After that I let it reduce without any particulates and it turned out just fine, Thomas Keller be damned.

This recipe really fantastically delicious. I never do dessert (one of my failings), and so I made a couple technical goofs (used to reducing stocks which are thickened by collagen, not carmelly sugar), but even my ineptitude at pastry couldn't screw what I think was a really wonderful dish. Kudos to the folks at Angela's food blog.

Recipe: Roasted Marrow: Mesclun Mix with Lemon, Cilantro, and Beef Fat Vinaigrette

2009-01-26T16:02:00.000-08:00

I was at the local Safeway (Market St.) which I almost never buy meat at, but I was taken aback by the ginormous marrow bones they had available yesterday. I bought a pack, having been craving just that very thing.

When I got home I simply set the stove for 400F, and stood the mammoth pieces on end in a saute pan. I gave them a quick coat of olive oil and salt to flavor the delicious little scraps of meat left on the outside while they roasted.

It took about 30 minutes for them to roast completely, and once done I removed and sliced them for the salad.

For the vinaigrette I mixed 3/2 pan drippings from the roasted bones and lemon juice. A tablespoon of fresh oive oil smoothed it all out somewhat. Finally, I minced a bit of cilantro and threw it in for good measure. As pictured below, the end result was a delightful little salad. I'd order it in a restuarant in a heart beat.

Review: Rumiano Dry Monterey Jack Cheese

2009-01-22T22:38:00.000-08:00

Monterey Jack is a working man's cheese. It's blue collar. It's how you class up tacos in middle class America when you invite other grown ups over to eat. To be fair, small dairies make some delicious local Jacks here in northern California. So when I saw "aged over 6 months" and "dry", it caught my attention. I've never heard of dry Monterey jack.

This cheese is very mild. That follows when you consider Jack's are mild cheeses to begin with. As you might expect, this cheese tastes like a stronger, more concentrated version of a jack. It's also drier (dug), but strangely not crumbly. It's almost like you'd imagine (or I would imagine) a dried out mozzarella to be like. This would be pretty good shaved over a salad I think. On it's own it's a little weak, but if you really honestly like the way Jack tastes, this will suit you fine.

Review: Cablanca Goats Milk Gouda

2009-01-22T22:15:00.000-08:00

Figured I'd start my cheese reviews off with what I think is a real oddball: goats milk gouda. Why is that weird you ask? Well, gouda is not an uncommon cheese, and many people who would be inclined to read this blog have probably had it at one time or another. It's often smoked, but most people don't realize that gouda is not by definition smoked, it's just a common variety.

So this cheese tastes like normal, unsmoked gouda, but it also tastes like goat cheese. This is no big surprise since it's made out of goats milk. It also changes the texture to be more chevre-like. Whereas gouda feels like a slightly waxy and stretchy cheddar in consistency, this goats milk gouda is soft and less stretchy, its melts in the mouth like a regular chevre goat cheese.

I liked this cheese a lot. It didn't make my top 10 cheese list (I'm not even sure I have one), but I would buy it again. If nothing else it's a conversation piece for people interested in cheese, when served on a cheese plate. (The reason it looks so white in the picture is because it's really, bizarrely white. There isn't even a flash...)

Bought at: Market St. Safeway

Concept: Chicken Liver with Marcona Almonds and Grapes

2009-01-22T15:54:00.000-08:00

Seared chicken livers, stuffed with a sweet grape softened in butter. marcona almond sliver speared through the grape. grape held into chicken liver with a ribbon of pancetta, also seared until crispy.

Concept: Pumpkin Cinnamon Rolls with Ginger, Honey and Butter Icing

2009-01-22T15:51:00.001-08:00

pumpkin rolled in the cinnamon roll with with the typical sugar/butter/cinnamon spread. Maybe the ginger comes out of the icing and gets cooked into the pumpkin fill?

Also, as a play on gingersnaps, maybe the cinnamon roll could be made with molasses and brown sugar, and maybe whole wheat flour? I am not a seasoned baker, so substituting whole wheat flour for bleached or unbleached white flour is not something I am particularly familiar with.

Goat Cheese and Honey Vinaigrette

2009-01-22T15:31:00.000-08:00

This is fast, easy, and really delicious; it will dress one large, entree sized salad:

-2 tbsp White wine vinegar (1 part)
-6 tbsp Olive oil (3 parts, 4 ifyou like a milder vinaigrette)
-1 tsp good, local honey (or 2 tsp; depends on the amount of vinegar and the mildness of the goat cheese, taste taste taste!)
-1/2 tsp
-1/2 tsp minced shallots
salt and pepper to taste

mix all of the ingredients well, dress salad just before serving. I highly recommend warming the honey so it's runny in the microwave for 15-30 seconds first so it's easy to mix. I like the goat cheese in the dressing, but it's fine to leave it out and put it in the salad on it's own. Roasted beets would be lovely in this salad, and in fact the dressing would be perfect on a beet salad.

Roasted Lamb Chops with Oregano, Garlic, and Lemon

2009-01-22T15:03:00.001-08:00

I bought a beautiful lamb chop at Divisidero Meat Market this week, and last night I threw it together with what little I had in the house:

-Lamb chop, cut of your choice
-1/2 tsp dried oregano (2x if fresh) per chop
-clove of garlic (2 if multiple chops)
-juice of half lemon and 1/4 teaspoon of it's zest, minced
-olive oil, same amount as lemon juice (couple tablespoons?)
-salt and fresh cracked black pepper

This doesn't need to marinate long, maybe 30-40 minutes, but I'm sure it could go overnight. I love the taste of lamb though, so I err on the short side. It's more for seasoning, a good lamb chop will be tender anyway.

Everyone's stove/oven situation is different, but the idea is to keep the meat red/pink (personal preference, I like lamb medium rare on the rare side) and also get the fat crispy. I put a pan on the stove and get it hot enough to sear the meat. I brush off most of the garlic so it doesn't burn and then throw the hot pan and barely seared chop under the broiler. Flip as appropriate based on thickness. There be some sizzling and the faintest hint of crispy almost char, reminiscent of a wood fired grill or oven. Hey, I live in an apartment, what else can I do?

If you really want to kick this up a little, take the pan drippings/brown bits and splash in a glug of white wine, let it reduce (the pan will be HOT so it will only take a moment) and off of the heat throw in a tablespoon of butter to mount the pan sauce.

Sublime.

Inaugural Post

2009-01-22T14:51:00.000-08:00

This is post is going to be mostly declarative. Intents of this blog:

-Post recipes for food I make and eat think is delicious
-Post ideas for dishes/recipes I have but haven't made
-Post ideas for dishes I don't even have recipes for, just flavors and concepts
-Post about wonderful food related experiences in and around SF.
-Anything else food related that comes up

I mostly want a place to put recipes and recipe ideas so I don't forget them, so that will be the majority of the content.

Good eating!