For those who don't know me, the brightest constellations in my personal universe are food/cooking, music, dance & teaching/writing. When it comes to food, one of stars I sail by is chef/author/TV personality Anthony Bourdain. He apparently hung himself earlier today. It's especially poignant as I'd recently gotten the last work of his I hadn't read yet and I'd finished reading it earlier today when I heard the news.
I have every episode of a Cook's Tour, No Reservations and Parts Unknown backed up on my computer so I can watch them whenever I want. Not only have I (finally) read everything he's written about food, I've even read his works of fiction written while we was still working as a chef. His intelligence was obvious, and I had great affinity for his sense of snark, but what I respected most about him was his level of intellectual and emotional integrity. He was always honest (and also disclosed when he was holding back out of respect for what it takes to be a chef) and at times his anger got the best of him when expressing opinions, but he could acknowledge when he'd gone too far and apologize. He'd traveled and seen enough to be open-minded when meeting people whose world view was mutually exclusive with his. He put it this way in "The Nasty Bits":
'...I mean, if I can drunk with a bunch of probably murderous Russian gangsters and have a good time, why can't I get along with an evangelical Republican from Texas?'
He'd managed to overcome addictions to crack & heroin and parlayed a tell-all book about the restaurant industry into a career many foodies including me, envied: traveling the world exploring ethnic cuisines and getting paid handsomely for it. Granted, the career had its pitfalls, his wife recently divorced him because he was typically on the road eight months of the year, but he was currently dating actress Asia Argento. And while he was on the road (in France), his best friend Eric Ripert (head chef at Le Bernardin in NYC) was traveling with him (and was the one who found the body). I find it unfathomable that even with his best friend close by to confide in, he chose to take his own life. Frankly, I'm stunned.
I'm going to go have a drink and a cigar and further contemplate his passing.
RIP.
Friday, June 8, 2018
Tuesday, February 13, 2018
Tta Roh Guk Bap
The unusually warm weather we've been having this February (highs in the 80's) has apparently come to an end. Not that it gets all that cold here in southern California - the high will be around 60 degrees for the rest of the week with lows in the 40's. But it's enough of a change to get me to try something different this morning as I perform my weekly Korean breakfast soup special, and I have ordered Tta Roh Guk Bap, spicy beef soup with brisket and dried cabbage. It seems more appropriate as I discover condensation on my car windshield this morning.
I don't know if it's a good omen that the dried cabbage reminds me of the soups my mother would make with various dried Chinese vegetables when I got sick as a child; I've been fighting a sinus infection for over two weeks now. I finally relented and started an antibiotic regimen (500 mg amoxicillin twice daily) but frankly, I put more faith in the restorative power of asian soups and vegetables. At the very least, I'm looking for the spicy kimchi to help clear my sinuses as I use the pair of scissors on the table to cut the cabbage kimchi into bite size pieces to make them easier to eat with mouthfuls of my brown rice. The rice is actually closer to purple in color but that's not an issue to me as I dump the cabbage kimchi and the rest of the juice into my rice bowl. I'm sure I'm violating all sorts of Korean customs by doing so - and more so by picking up my bowl and using my chopsticks to shovel the contents of the bowl into my mouth. Unlike other Asian cultures, apparently Koreans do not pick up their rice bowls. So I try to do this only when no one seems to be watching. But I'm sure that they know - somehow. Maybe they check for fingerprints on the sides of the bowl or something.
Between the spice level and the funk of the dried cabbage, I sense no need to add salt like you might for sul long tang. The spice level has prompted me to perspire freely on my forehead and neck - the reaction to capsaicin routinely embarrasses me as I use up all available napkins trying to dry off. I am initially disappointed that the spice level does not seem to have had any effect on my sinuses. But then I sneeze and the subsequent attempt to blow my nose suggests that my sinuses are in fact clear of phlegm. So I apply pressure to the middle of my upper lip, momentarily prompting the blood vessels in my nose to expand and I am breathing normally. It appears that the soup and spices have done all they can, and I'm forced to check when I need to take my next dosage of amoxicillin. But never underestimate the restorative power of an Asian soup - especially when it's made by an elderly Asian women. I guess that's the point of this post.
I don't know if it's a good omen that the dried cabbage reminds me of the soups my mother would make with various dried Chinese vegetables when I got sick as a child; I've been fighting a sinus infection for over two weeks now. I finally relented and started an antibiotic regimen (500 mg amoxicillin twice daily) but frankly, I put more faith in the restorative power of asian soups and vegetables. At the very least, I'm looking for the spicy kimchi to help clear my sinuses as I use the pair of scissors on the table to cut the cabbage kimchi into bite size pieces to make them easier to eat with mouthfuls of my brown rice. The rice is actually closer to purple in color but that's not an issue to me as I dump the cabbage kimchi and the rest of the juice into my rice bowl. I'm sure I'm violating all sorts of Korean customs by doing so - and more so by picking up my bowl and using my chopsticks to shovel the contents of the bowl into my mouth. Unlike other Asian cultures, apparently Koreans do not pick up their rice bowls. So I try to do this only when no one seems to be watching. But I'm sure that they know - somehow. Maybe they check for fingerprints on the sides of the bowl or something.
Between the spice level and the funk of the dried cabbage, I sense no need to add salt like you might for sul long tang. The spice level has prompted me to perspire freely on my forehead and neck - the reaction to capsaicin routinely embarrasses me as I use up all available napkins trying to dry off. I am initially disappointed that the spice level does not seem to have had any effect on my sinuses. But then I sneeze and the subsequent attempt to blow my nose suggests that my sinuses are in fact clear of phlegm. So I apply pressure to the middle of my upper lip, momentarily prompting the blood vessels in my nose to expand and I am breathing normally. It appears that the soup and spices have done all they can, and I'm forced to check when I need to take my next dosage of amoxicillin. But never underestimate the restorative power of an Asian soup - especially when it's made by an elderly Asian women. I guess that's the point of this post.
Wednesday, January 3, 2018
D.L.G.
I began tutoring part time late last year. My initial goal was to leverage my ability to do well on standardized tests and charge a premium for helping others improve their SAT/ACT scores. That's still a long term goal, but the company I currently work for has given me mainly elementary school age children and I'm more than a bit surprised to discover how much I enjoy working with my students. Some of it's that I perceive that I'm making a difference and I can already see more than one student begin to get through the required material more quickly.
But most of the newly discovered joy has come from getting to know my students. I'm beginning to regret in a serious way the fact that at my age, I am not likely to father a daughter to raise as I have begun to understand the meaning of the phrase: "daddy's little girl". As I begin to mourn this loss, it occurs to me that there are so many women who, for whatever reason, never got to be "daddy's little girl" either. And I can't help but wonder how much of an impact that's had on how the current culture is today.
But most of the newly discovered joy has come from getting to know my students. I'm beginning to regret in a serious way the fact that at my age, I am not likely to father a daughter to raise as I have begun to understand the meaning of the phrase: "daddy's little girl". As I begin to mourn this loss, it occurs to me that there are so many women who, for whatever reason, never got to be "daddy's little girl" either. And I can't help but wonder how much of an impact that's had on how the current culture is today.
Monday, December 11, 2017
Do Ga Ni Tang Part Two
I realize that there is no Do Ga Ni Tang Part One, it's really Sul Long Tang revisited, but whatever; Sun Nong Dan has become a near weekly ritual; though not always the same day of the week.
Today I arrive at 10:30 just in time to get the breakfast special price. By the time I order, every other patron has left, and the waitress shuts off the music. This reinforces the idea that the music is designed more to be an irritant than to provide ambiance; they want you to eat and get out!
The relative silence suits me as I go through the ritual of tasting and flavoring my soup.. It's as if circumstances have all contrived to create my own little oasis. The universe revolves around me for a few seconds, before I renounce my narcissistic tendencies. I suppose everyone displays narcissistic behavior at times, but there are those who consistently reframe situations to make it about themselves in some way.
Narcissism perpetuates itself; narcissistic parents produce narcissistic children - kids get neglected when the parent makes everything about themselves and resort to the same behavior to get the attention they didn't receive as children. It's even more challenging because narcissists can't/won't be told anything - their narcissism won't allow them to accept an idea unless they believe it was their own idea to begin with.
I used to enjoy watching the sitcoms "Everybody Loves Raymond" and "Two and a Half Men". It took me a while to recognize that a common link was the narcissistic mother in the family and seeing the consequences of that in the behavior of their sons. I resonated with that even though my mother doesn't act like either of the mothers' characters in those shows and it took me a while to accept the idea that my mother's behavior fit the category of the behavior of narcissists n part because it was camouflaged by shame based values of Asian culture and in part because I then had to deal with the consequences of that behavior. In short, my mother defined being a good mother by doing certain things that she thought a good mother should do, which usually wasn't what I needed at the time. My not getting the attention I needed at the time prompted me to seek getting that attention elsewhere.
We all exhibit behavior like this at some level when we make it more about appeasing our own anxieties about a situation. I imagine that each of us has thought something along the lines of: "I couldn't forgive myself if I let you ________", the point being that we make it more about our sense of guilt instead of the other person's well being.
An irony I have found is that one can behave exactly the same way in certain situations but be motivated entirely by the joy to be found - and when everyone finds it, it does become about you - but not to the exclusion of everyone else. The bottom line, we still end up doing good sometimes even when the motives are less than pure.
Today I arrive at 10:30 just in time to get the breakfast special price. By the time I order, every other patron has left, and the waitress shuts off the music. This reinforces the idea that the music is designed more to be an irritant than to provide ambiance; they want you to eat and get out!
The relative silence suits me as I go through the ritual of tasting and flavoring my soup.. It's as if circumstances have all contrived to create my own little oasis. The universe revolves around me for a few seconds, before I renounce my narcissistic tendencies. I suppose everyone displays narcissistic behavior at times, but there are those who consistently reframe situations to make it about themselves in some way.
Narcissism perpetuates itself; narcissistic parents produce narcissistic children - kids get neglected when the parent makes everything about themselves and resort to the same behavior to get the attention they didn't receive as children. It's even more challenging because narcissists can't/won't be told anything - their narcissism won't allow them to accept an idea unless they believe it was their own idea to begin with.
I used to enjoy watching the sitcoms "Everybody Loves Raymond" and "Two and a Half Men". It took me a while to recognize that a common link was the narcissistic mother in the family and seeing the consequences of that in the behavior of their sons. I resonated with that even though my mother doesn't act like either of the mothers' characters in those shows and it took me a while to accept the idea that my mother's behavior fit the category of the behavior of narcissists n part because it was camouflaged by shame based values of Asian culture and in part because I then had to deal with the consequences of that behavior. In short, my mother defined being a good mother by doing certain things that she thought a good mother should do, which usually wasn't what I needed at the time. My not getting the attention I needed at the time prompted me to seek getting that attention elsewhere.
We all exhibit behavior like this at some level when we make it more about appeasing our own anxieties about a situation. I imagine that each of us has thought something along the lines of: "I couldn't forgive myself if I let you ________", the point being that we make it more about our sense of guilt instead of the other person's well being.
An irony I have found is that one can behave exactly the same way in certain situations but be motivated entirely by the joy to be found - and when everyone finds it, it does become about you - but not to the exclusion of everyone else. The bottom line, we still end up doing good sometimes even when the motives are less than pure.
Sunday, October 29, 2017
Sul Long Tang Revisited
I haven't yet decided if this is going to become a weekly ritual, but I'm back at Sun Nong Dan for their breakfast special. Today I'm going with the Do Ga Ni Tang. Same milky-white broth, but with noodles and ox-knees. We're talking sizable chunks of tendon and all things gelatinous. I love the range of textures; it can be cooked so that it dissolves on the tongue, it can be spongy, it can be chewy, almost like an al dente pasta. It occurs to me that tendon covers the range of textures of many western comfort foods: macaroni and cheese, mashed potatoes, yet many westerners find the idea of eating tendon just too odd for them. To each their own.
I consider the container of ground black pepper among the condiments. I normally use kimchi juice to spice up my soup but today I add a heaping spoonful of that pepper into my bowl, with only soup spoon full of kimchi juice, and I notice an appreciable depth to the sense of spiciness. It's a lot like the kind of sound you get from a nine foot grand piano.
The soup has come to the table still simmering in the bowl. As I retrieve bits of meat and tendon from my bowl and leave them in the small bowl of dipping sauce, it occurs to me that the dipping sauce is as much about cooling down the meat as it is a flavoring agent. Either way, I'm grateful.
There's been a general murmur of sorts from the other patrons that I've blocked out, but I suddenly note that I'm hearing the Mandarin dialect of Chinese being spoken. OK, I'm in the SGV; the Chinese demographic is being targeted by the new Japanese/Korean restaurants. I take a quick look around trying to identify the speakers, and I'm in for a surprise; the people speaking Mandarin are the staff - and they're speaking among themselves. As the person who's been waiting on my table passes by, I wave her down and I mention that I notice that she's been speaking in Mandarin. She seems surprised that I'm able to identify the Mandarin dialect and asks me if I speak Mandarin. After I tell her yes, she explains that the owners want the staff to be able to speak Mandarin since they get so many Chinese customers. This serves to support my supposition that the Chinese demographic *is* being targeted.
The black pepper that I added has settled at the bottom of bowl and that amount has not changed while the volume of soup is now less than half of the original, and the soup is now noticeably spicier, and I find myself perspiring quite freely and I ask the waitress for a few extra napkins. I choose to forego the remainder of the bowl and I ask for the check. I'm done in only forty five minutes today. But it's all good even though today is noticeably overcast compared to the week before.
I consider the container of ground black pepper among the condiments. I normally use kimchi juice to spice up my soup but today I add a heaping spoonful of that pepper into my bowl, with only soup spoon full of kimchi juice, and I notice an appreciable depth to the sense of spiciness. It's a lot like the kind of sound you get from a nine foot grand piano.
The soup has come to the table still simmering in the bowl. As I retrieve bits of meat and tendon from my bowl and leave them in the small bowl of dipping sauce, it occurs to me that the dipping sauce is as much about cooling down the meat as it is a flavoring agent. Either way, I'm grateful.
There's been a general murmur of sorts from the other patrons that I've blocked out, but I suddenly note that I'm hearing the Mandarin dialect of Chinese being spoken. OK, I'm in the SGV; the Chinese demographic is being targeted by the new Japanese/Korean restaurants. I take a quick look around trying to identify the speakers, and I'm in for a surprise; the people speaking Mandarin are the staff - and they're speaking among themselves. As the person who's been waiting on my table passes by, I wave her down and I mention that I notice that she's been speaking in Mandarin. She seems surprised that I'm able to identify the Mandarin dialect and asks me if I speak Mandarin. After I tell her yes, she explains that the owners want the staff to be able to speak Mandarin since they get so many Chinese customers. This serves to support my supposition that the Chinese demographic *is* being targeted.
The black pepper that I added has settled at the bottom of bowl and that amount has not changed while the volume of soup is now less than half of the original, and the soup is now noticeably spicier, and I find myself perspiring quite freely and I ask the waitress for a few extra napkins. I choose to forego the remainder of the bowl and I ask for the check. I'm done in only forty five minutes today. But it's all good even though today is noticeably overcast compared to the week before.
Sunday, October 22, 2017
Sul Long Tang
One of the things I love about living in Los Angeles is the level of cultural & ethnic diversity, particularly when it comes to food. I happen to live in the San Gabriel Valley, known for being home to what is arguably the most diverse selection of authentic regional Chinese cuisines outside of China. If you want good authentic Chinese cuisine, you drive to the SGV. Similarly, if you want good authentic Korean food, you typically drive to Koreatown (or to a small enclave in Orange County). That's changing for residents of the SGV, as both new Japanese and Korean restaurants have been moving/expanding into the SGV. And that's a good thing. Case in point, Sun Nong Dan opened two branches in the SGV. The mother ship in K-town is known for the Galbi Jim (rib stew) but also for their Sul Long Tang (ox bone soup). And they offer a $6.99 breakfast special from 7-10:30am every morning.Sul Long Tang is comfort food; broth, milky white from hours of simmering ox/beef bones. It's a deceptively yet still deeply personal experience; each person seasons their bowl to taste, adding sea salt, scallions, pepper, and in some cases, kimchi. I place my order and am served rice, 2 types of kimchi and a dipping sauce flavored with slices of jalapeno and white onion. I have been told by a Korean friend that the dipping sauce is for the meat in the soup.
I might be the only person eating alone, prompting the waitress to seat me at a table while everyone else gets seated in one of the booths, but I submit that the lack of distraction allows me to enjoy my meal more fully than the rest. It's not a quiet place, but I'm able to shut that out and nibble on my kimchi and little bits of rice while I wait for my bowl of soup.
When my soup arrives, I slowly add salt from the bowl on the table, stirring and tasting until I find the balance that suits me. Ditto for the minced green onion also to be found in a bowl on the table. I eschew the ground black pepper for a few slices of the cabbage kimchi. I also slowly kimchi liquid to my soup until I reach my personal equilibrium of flavors. The slightly tangy, slightly sweet, slightly spicy sauce provides a nice foil to the soup, kimchi and rice. The rice; you are given a choice of white or brown (purple) rice, but asking for white rice would be like ordering your pastrami on a croissant - it might actually be good, but you just don't. The slightly nuttiness/sweetness of the brown rice adds more notes and overtones. And because I am alone, I can devote my full attention to the symphony of flavors and textures. It's almost a surprise to discover that almost an hour has passed before I begin to contemplate the bottom of my bowl.The colors outside look a little brighter and I feel more assured that today is going to be a good day. I am grateful that Sun Nong Dan has moved to the SGV.
Sunday, August 6, 2017
Asian American Male Angst
“I am an Oriental. And being an Oriental, I could never be completely a man.”
This line comes from David Henry Hwang's M Butterfly and that line rings true for many asian american males today. I penned lyrics for a blues song entitled: Asian American Actor
First I played a grocer
Cast as a lab tech
I hope to be a ninja
It's the only role that's left for
the Asian American actor.
I'm an Asian American actor.I'm an Asian American actor.and I'm singing the Asian American actor blues.
as an outlet for the observation that when it comes to American mainstream media those seem to be the only roles where you see asian-american males.
Then there's the huge imbalance in which hot asian women are cast as the love interest of white males while asian men often don't even get asian women, much less non-asian women. There's a network show that started this summer called Salvation. The ratings make it seem likely that the series won't survive, but I find it noteworthy that the show's plot includes an asian male (half, actually, but the son cast in the show is clearly full-blooded asian) in a sexual relationship with a major cast member (Jennifer Finnigan). It turns out that this male character has had a liason with at least one other female cast member (this one happens to be black). Personally, I kinda like the show, but I suspect that I'd still support the show just because of the fact that asian males are depicted as being capable of having relationships with (hot) non-asian women.
I've lived in southern California for almost 30 years, and the diversity makes this less of an issue on a day to day basis; the majority of the women I've dated have been non-asian, but I'm very aware that certain stereotypes remain embedded in the minds of mainstream America, and that awareness has made me hesitant when I could have been much more assertive.
This line comes from David Henry Hwang's M Butterfly and that line rings true for many asian american males today. I penned lyrics for a blues song entitled: Asian American Actor
First I played a grocer
Cast as a lab tech
I hope to be a ninja
It's the only role that's left for
the Asian American actor.
I'm an Asian American actor.I'm an Asian American actor.and I'm singing the Asian American actor blues.
as an outlet for the observation that when it comes to American mainstream media those seem to be the only roles where you see asian-american males.
Then there's the huge imbalance in which hot asian women are cast as the love interest of white males while asian men often don't even get asian women, much less non-asian women. There's a network show that started this summer called Salvation. The ratings make it seem likely that the series won't survive, but I find it noteworthy that the show's plot includes an asian male (half, actually, but the son cast in the show is clearly full-blooded asian) in a sexual relationship with a major cast member (Jennifer Finnigan). It turns out that this male character has had a liason with at least one other female cast member (this one happens to be black). Personally, I kinda like the show, but I suspect that I'd still support the show just because of the fact that asian males are depicted as being capable of having relationships with (hot) non-asian women.
I've lived in southern California for almost 30 years, and the diversity makes this less of an issue on a day to day basis; the majority of the women I've dated have been non-asian, but I'm very aware that certain stereotypes remain embedded in the minds of mainstream America, and that awareness has made me hesitant when I could have been much more assertive.
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