Past blaster.

Am staring at the noxious orange grease stagnating in my waxed take out box that once contained risotto and tandoori chicken (shut up, leftovers, ok?!) and trying to cover it up with my orange peel. Ignoring the fact that it is now stewing in my stomach...

Had one of those rare, 'catching up' dinners last night with SFtoNY. SFtoNY is one of those people that pops into your life on an occasional basis-but always with funny, introspective and intelligent glimpses of life. We're friends that were sort of...accidentally meant to be friends. In that comfortable, we're of different genders but we can talk about pretty much anything, fairly candidly-dissing and smack talking included. We met under somewhat auspicious circumstances.

My second to last night of vacation in NY, October 2005, Spam and I are, admittedly, getting tired of each other's company and have been for about one and a half days. She mentions that she's going to call up a friend of hers for dinner-and I immediately balk. I assume he will be: fat, immature, arrogant, fobby...I don't know why. But I hear that he is an ex-pat Bay Area guy and you know, just ASSUME he's your typical spoiled ABC (American Born Chinese). Well, SFtoNY doesn't disappoint. At the last minute, after hearing we are in the East Village and he is roughly 1/2 an hour away, he bails. Day two: after an afternoon of Broadway shows and Gray's Papaya-I'm in a much more accepting mood and we meet up with SFtoNY at a cheap clothing shop where Spam is trying on pants.

Supplies! (as the joke goes).

To my shock, SFtoNY is NOT fat, NOT immature, NOT arrogant and NOT fobby. He may, in fact, be polar opposites of all these things. The biggest surprise of all being how considerate and upfront he is. We stop near NYU to catch our breath and wait for Hurricane (Spam's other East Coast friend), when she finally meets up with us she assumes that SFtoNY and I are old friends. We're not, but it feels that way. We talk about mutual acquaintances, familiar haunts and other such topics. At dinner, he tells us funny stories and badgers Hurricane into getting the bartender's number. It is a balmy night in Manhattan and we catch a marching band in Washington Square. SFtoNY donates to the cause; something that never fails to impress me about anyone. We stop by the peanut butter restaurant (such wonders exist in New York) There are no end to the bad Asian jokes at the comedy club, all three of us take them in stride. (Spam mostly by sleeping through the last sets).

We agree to keep in touch-but it takes two years, two blogs, 6 Yelp emails and a covert AIM conversation to actually make that happen. 6 months after SFtoNY actually came back to San Francisco. Dinner at Kitchen Kura is oddly perfect; homestyle, no frills, pretty good food. Conversation runs the gamut from Bruce Lee to work to parents to the culturally bereft to Seattle to acting class and back again. Work, career and dating are all sprinkled about-but take a back seat to Miyazaki films and the Crow.

Before y'all start getting dishy on me, SFtoNY has a girlfriend-that he's been seeing for the last two years. So don't get any ideas. It's not like that. But it's nice to feel this familiar with someone I barely know. To build a friendship based on one night seems odd, true. But there's none of that 'polite' bullshit going on. It's straight up, 'I trust you so you trust me.' - to find this rapport is so rare. I'll take it where I can find it.

He is, however, not going to beat me at karaoke.

Kitchen Kura
1525 Irving Street (@16th)
San Francisco, CA 94122
(415) 731-2054

new meaning to multi-tasking

Wow...I am easily amused and often impressed by the level of artistry displayed on American stages today. But this;THIS is just hardcore.

Pittsburgh Opera Music Director Antony Walker Stands in For Ailing Radames, Continues Conducting

The story goes that the lead playing Radames gets ill, loses his voice in the third act and the cover tenor is on a delayed flight to Pittsburg. So what does the conductor do? Sets up a microphone while the singer lip synchs! While STILL conducting! I know I've seen Malfoy do this now in two shows, and know it can be done, but still..dang...

It's like Colicchio walks into the kitchen, critiques the other contestants, cooks and then wins immunity all at the same time. BAHM!

via the MetOpera Magazine

fanfare

Are we all who we are supposed to be?

And if so-what compels the people who become great to know that they have that greatness inside? Pardon the confusing circumvention, but it may be a by-product of the minor food poisoning I contracted this weekend. Are we all capable of greatness, and is it only by process of elimination, luck and determination that we achieve it?

Now, I sound like Tony Robbins.

I've been watching the entire season of the now-defunct sci-fi western, 'Firefly'. Where WAS I when this series came out? And why did I not want to watch it then? Maybe I was all Joss Whedon-ed out or something. But this series, if you haven't watched it yet, is AWESOME. And not because I'm a scifi/fantasy fan geek girl. First of all, the writing, for the millions of people that watched other Whedon shows like, "Buffy" and "Angel", is fantastic. Just this side of ironic without getting unnecessarily snarky or too smart. All of the characters are well-drawn and distinct, but not cartoonish. They have depth and intelligence and...some of the lines are just friggin' hilarious. Next, Whedon knows how to craft a show well-going seamlessly from comedy to drama to intense battlescenes. He purposely used hand-held, old fashioned "bad" camera angles, lens flares and zoom effects to get the 70s style Western down pat. And it all crafts a wonderfully rich and evocative show that isn't hokey so much as real.

There are a billion 'Firefly' fans out there who are going, "duh" and "way to jump onto the bandwagon late".

Anyhoo, Adam Baldwin-the actor who plays the thuggish and lugheaded brawn of the crew, Jayne, was quoted as saying about his character, "He thinks HE'S the hero." And Whedon was quick to point out in the commentary that each character, from the lowest to the most heroic likes to think of themselves as the hero. Except, for possibly, the one character that IS the hero, captain Mal Reynolds (played by yummy sexy Nathan Fillion). And I guess, the segues into my original question...are we all who we're supposed to be?

Can the meathead muscle bound greedy guts be the hero in his own mind?
Can the uptight, elitist, uppity, genius doctor warrant a crown of laurel?
Can the misunderstood, outcast, psychic teenager achieve legendary status?
Can the hill-billy, tomboy mechanic gain a following?
Can the stoic, second in command female start a revolution?
Can the beautiful, cultured whore win a kingdom?
Can the wacky, goofy pilot command a parade?
Can the preacher erect a memorial?

Can we all at some time, prove ourselves, worthy of the label, "Hero of the Universe"? What can we do to earn this? And what do we do in our everyday lives that we seemingly brush aside or disregard that either proves or disproves our heroic tendencies? In the story of our lives, we are the hero. Or the villain. Or the romantic lead. Or the ingenue. It only matters how we conduct ourselves and our own perception of that role.

Watch 'Firefly'
Don't eat "warm" sushi
Sleep early.
I'm out.

Be careful ladies.

To say it, is to declaim it right? To declare it. To shout it to the heavens. Ok...

I was groped on Bart today.

On a train FULL of people heading to the ball game, in plain view. As I slept in a seat, by the guy sitting next to me. On a train in the middle of the commute rush.

What can I say? I can blame it on men-for it was a man, who was sitting next to me in a black knitted cap, duffle bag and idiotic smile. I can blame it on myself for "not being more careful about dozing off on public transit." I can blame it on public transit for not being more cautious about monitoring passengers. I can blame it on the other passengers for not watching out for me. Whatever.

The truth is, IT HAPPENED.

5:45pm train from Pittsburg/Baypoint to SF. I dozed off somewhere around McArthur and I believe this guy got on around 19th Street or so. He is young, mid-twenties. Dark, shoulder length hair and eyes, short (5'3" - shorter than me anyway), might be Latino or Filipino. Wearing all black, knitted cap, dull looking-sort of dazed expression. Carrying a duffle bag. No remorse whatsoever. I woke up to find his hand, open palm against my right thigh/butt cheek and his own open legs sprawled wide open. He is PRETENDING to doze.

The second I woke up, in the tunnel to Embarcadero, I could see and feel his palm pressed to my leg. It was a weird shock. He put it there, like my leg belonged to him. I shifted immediately, scrunched up right next to the window and started to make faces. I was WILLING him to open his eyes and apologize. The asshole, slowly pulled his hand back into his own lap and pretended that he was still sleeping. I wanted to SCREAM, "Get up! Get up you fucking asshole and at least look me in the eyes you PERVERTED COWARD." I sit there for another 4-5 minutes, fuming, making faces, staring at other passengers trying to get them to see that there is a problem, while still trying to project my body out the side of the train. Trying to get as far away from this dirty, disgusting person as possible.

Here is the thing, I'm sad to say, that some people (many men) never get. Assholes need to keep their hands to themselves. I don't care how a woman is dressed, you NEVER take advantage of anyone like this. Don't blame the woman for falling asleep - it was a fucking commuter train. Don't blame me for ANYTHING. I should be safe.

In this situation, I am blameless. I am the VICTIM. Or am I? Should I be? I do not have a camera on my phone (for the which the more tech savvy of you can go f*&% yourselves right now for lecturing me), so I do the next best thing that I can think of in my outrage and fury. The second the train stops at Embarcadero, I stand up. The Groper stands up in the aisle, and moves across it to the empty two-seater across and sits down, doing his best to stare straight ahead. The elderly couple behind me, graciously asks me if I would like to ahead of them in the aisle to get to the door (and I never thanked them), but I go straight up to the Groper, stick my finger in his face, look him dead in the eyes and say,

"Don't you EVER touch anyone ever AGAIN!!"

and storm off the train.

Eloquence...perhaps not. But no swear words, just pure unadulterated anger. Fury, yes. And I hope enough people heard me to stay away from this jerk. I hope he feels guilty. I hope he feels ashamed. And I hope he didn't think that I was going to stay quiet any longer. Riding up the escalator, I feel light. Like it didn't really happen. In that weird space in between.

And then riding MUNI home, catharsis. I stuck up for myself. I can finally stick up for myself. I am not a person who will let people like this mistreat me anymore. I cannot guarantee it won't happen ever again, but this time, I can let my anger and guilt go. Because I did something about it in the moment. I confronted my attacker. And even though I did not beat the S*&^ out of him, I did not go quiet into the night. I will not go quiet into the night any longer. This is ridiculous. If people won't treat me with respect, then I will confront them.

I am good. I deserve to be treated well. Enough of this bullshit.

It's not "Free" if I have to pay for it.

Morons are climbing the bridge.

Greeeatt...

Of course, it's always students for a free Tibet. Never listed as, "Social Libertarian Students Living off of Government or Federally funded grants at an uppity university who have little better on their time than to get arrested or scale bridges or cost tax-payers more money." what about the Moms who want to free Tibet? Or the doughnut makers? Or attorneys? Or scuba divers? Or childcare providers? Or chimney sweeps? Oh right...cause those people are working.

I'm not a conservative nor a Republican or Christian right-winger, but I seriously feel that crazy people need to stay off my friggin' commute. Protest the right way, and do work on causes where it will do the most good. Climbing a bridge and posting a flag is tandamount to me wanting to lose weight and then watching a tai bo video while sitting on my ass. I have nothing against either Tibet or China or the cause itself. I have a problem with people figuring that pulling a stunt like this will help anything.

Aside from this being a really dangerous thing to do, and shutting down lanes on the bridge, CHP officers have to take time out to get these people down, it's just futile. Most of all, I hate people doing stupid stuff while I have to work. Grrr....

Not in the biblical sense.

Friends who you know, and who know you, make life amazing. I am full of delicious thai food. Last night was Dr. T's b-day and he was back in town from Minnesota ("Thank god" - words straight from the doc's mouth); so he picked Osha Thai at the Embarcadero. I'm debating writing a review on Yelp-just cause I don't feel like they need one; there were enough wannabe trendsters and pseudo hip Asians clogging that restaurant to last a lifetime. Me being one of them.

Before dinner though, I had quite a few minutes to spare, so I decided to shop around downtown for a b-day present for Rawbean. The day before, I had found what I thought was the PERFECT present. But then I second guessed myself, "Wait, if it's totally perfect...she probably already has one." shit. I call her bf, Buckethead, to no avail. I give up. So Day 2: Waltzed into J.Crew...nothing. Took a look at some other trendy shoe/accessory/purse boutiques; finally ended up at my go-to stop; Borders. Because if your friend is a normal human being, generally they will like to :

a) watch movies
b) read books
c) listen to music
or some combination thereof.

I stop by the Sci-Fi section - nothing
Cooking section - nothing
Crafting section - nothing
New literature - nothing

Sensing the trend here? Of course, being the narcisstic shopper, I pick up a book (the delicious and presumptous, but seminal 'Art of Eating' by MFK Fisher) for myself and find out the release date for the HBO 'John Adams' (June 2008-just in time for...uh...watching); but as racks of cds swim before my eyes and DVD after DVD becomes just one big colored swirl 'neath slippery plastic vacumn wrappers-I can't figure out anything to get my friend. My friend who loves English literature, Star Wars, the Pixies and Jurassic 5 and Smashing Pumpkins. But this was all when we were 23. It's now five years later, and...this thought scared the beejeebus out of me.

What if I don't know my friend anymore?

Me, the ever determinate and detailed Taurus. The one who knows what she's buying before she's even on the train to get to the store. And the 3 next alternatives. For even the most particular of her friends. Dear god, Rawbean and I were roomates for two years and now, a scant time later, I couldn't tell you if she would prefer Vampire Weekend over Flight of the Concords. Or the Strokes. My brain starts to hurt and my arm ache from carrying the massive 600 page tome of Fisher around and around the store. I go back to the Sci Fi section-their Star Wars stuff sucks and the cookbooks all blur into a mass of bright colors and cuisines. I try Wen, she's at dinner and doesn't pick up her phone.

It's a harsh, harsh reality. To call someone a friend and yet not be able to map out in detail, the little nuances that make them them. See, you know, when you're a friend, whether to get them the black shirt or the pink shirt. When you stop by a boutique, you start to rename items by the people in your life that would use them. It's a matter of pride and loyalty more than the perfect gift. It's being a true friend. True friends, yes stick by you and challenge you and will do the things that they think are crazy but you think are awesome. You know their second favorite color and why you can't use 'that' pillow. They know that ice cream counts as a lunch food and don't make fun of your security blanket. But being a true friend also takes time, years of understanding and chai and crying and laughing and all that good Hallmark shit.

And I felt like I was more in the Wal-mart region.

Grasping at straws, I try Buckethead one more time. This time he answers: "Hey! Sorry I didn't get back to you yesterday, I was sick. But yeah, the [thing] you were mentioning-she doesn't have anything like that. If you got it for her, I think she'd be happy about it."

That perfect gift? Just got perfecter.

DoucheCount

Thoughts on Last Night's Top Chef: Episode 4
Ryan is a douche.

People wake up, breakfast, they miss Erik-especially Manuel-who also misses his kids. yawn. Manuel is so diplomatic-it's almost like he's a robot. Spike thinks that being a lesbian on this challenge is an advantage; and eyes disrupting the fairly astute and considerate pairing of Zoi and Jen while still trying to hook up with Andrew. Douche.

Quickfire: knife skills with Daniel Boulud!

Ryan and Richard will not get extra consideration for previous work in Boulud's kitchen. Or at least, Ryan won't - cause he's douche. Apparently, Boulud's style was not, "to his taste." Uh, and he only worked there for a MONTH. What can you possibly learn in a month? Props to Boulud's memory though. Even Bayless said last week in an article about his TC experience, "Ryan is a douche."

I couldn't quite wrap my head around this challenge; was it supposed to be about knife skills or creating an actual edible dish? Most of the time, knife sknills are best showcased in garnish elements-but a lot of people were able to pull fairly creative dishes off-Zoi's poached egg
on a bed of veggies looked delicious-spa like. And I think Dale's win in this case, was incredibly well earned. He tournades an avocado, shaves radishes and blanches asparagus to create a fresh, creative looking vegan sashimi dish. The ice adds texture, keeps the veggies fresh and snappy and also acts as a structural element.

Witty Cooking tip: Always marinate your zucchini.

From Padma's blog: But it’s, let me put it to you this way: It’s very precise, and it’s somebody who’s after my own heart with that philosophy, so I’m with him on this. (ooh snap Rushdie, wife is being a douche)
“I have no doubt in my mind that the people we’re making this food for will culinarily crap in their pants.” Thanks for the visual, Andrew.

On to the elimination challenge. People separate into teams of two and have to create a dish inspired by their favorite movie. Hahha. Note that not only has Ryan only seen two movies in the last 3 years-but up against Mark's genuinely more indie and creative movie list ('To Kill
a Mockingbird') he FAILS. His favorite movie is 'Dumb and Dumber'?!? Douche. It is only by sheer luck that they come up with, 'A Christmas Story' and tie it into a successful scene and dish. But it is like playing charades with a deaf guy and a blind guy. Mark is all, "Are you retarded or just too full of yourself to notice I have no idea what you're talking about?" They end up creating quail (when Whole Foods is out of duck? how can you be out of duck? That's bizarre) two ways: breast atop carrot puree, cranberry chutney (nice) and quail thigh meat stuffed into a spring roll.

The rest of the players are as follow:

Antonia/Zoi: Talk to Her (Spanish influences, vibrant colors, strong women)Double lamb chop, romesco, gremolata (which Top Chef spells gremalata...what?) with cauliflower puree

Richard/Dale/Andrew: Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (imaginative, inspired, chocolate) Seared salmon-hand smoked with tapioca pearl caviar and white chocolate wasabi and a celery soda

Stephanie/Lisa: Top Secret (cow)
Seared NY strip, braised short rib and apple pot sticker with savory caramel sauce

Manuel/Spike: Good Morning Vietnam (Vietnamese food)

Chilean sea bass fresh spring roll with black vermicelli (wow, where do you get black vermicelli?)

Jen/Nikki: Il Postino (Italian food)

Tortellini stuffed with cavolo nero, pecorino.

If anything, I think this challenge just really shows how much these people don't think about a menu coherently. I agreed with Stephanie and Lisa-doing a dessert or last course blows-but this menu was all meat, meat and more meat. What if someone was a vegetarian? And lightness? I think an overall theme would have worked for the members better instead of branching off and creating separate dishes. Talk to Her - could have ended up a brillant soup or salad with pomegranate, endive and cilantro rolls. However, I think all the dishes looked and sounded strong and delicious; so maybe this really wasn't about teamwork as it was individual showmanship. Even though Lisa is really willful, I give it up to Stephanie for holding her ground and also contributing her ideas professionally and calmly. Their dish was one of the ones I wanted to grab out of the tv and shove in my mouth. Potsticker with braised shortrib and apple with savory caramel sounds soooo good. Lisa's explanation for the dish is balls though; "I love the cow scene in 'Top Secret!'?" What sort of justification is that? Why didn't they just do 'Ghandi' or something?

Spike forces Manuel to cook Vietnamese food cause it's what he does. Manny is still reeling from the complicated pronuciation dish he presented to Bayless so he concedes. But not on the fish issue-he wants to use high end and moist sea bass while Spike prefers the lower end, bony but trendy tilapia. Spike gives in, but not without some douch-ey comments.

Andrew as an Oompa Loompa: Douch-ey and also, proves he is still doing meth.

Dale: shooting pool at like 5am? In a lavender track jacket? Mocking Andrew? Funny and douch-ey

Nikki: WE KNOW YOU'RE ITALIAN!! Get over it girl. You're gonna be Pasta Patti if you keep it up.

Guests are Richard Roeper (who looks a little like the guy from 'Rocky Horror') and Aisha Tyler-who I love. She's so snarky and smart and pretty. Padma wears the TIGHTEST blue dress ever created from man or beast. It's like they skinned Mystique or something and made a dress out of her. Maybe Boulud = Blue. They eat.

While plating, Richard's little Go-go Gadget smoker dies (ooh, snap, no more cool smoky stuff for Richard) and they end up holding the fish over a piece of wood that they've lit on fire-that's pretty Mr. Miyagi of them. White chocolate and wasabi go quite well with the fish and together (Vosages trick) and also with their celery soda. Sexy ladies like carrot puree, men take note. Roeper also mocks the "experts" who are tearing into dishes. Son of a Douche. Colicchio Papa Bear, stays mum and eats more beef while Ted Allen jumps into the fray and asserts, "Yes, we ARE ripping them new ones. Where do YOU masticate cuisine Roeper? TGIFridays?! Whoops..."
Judging: They like Team Douche 1 (Fish and Chocolate) and Team Douche 2 (Quail = Duck) and Stephanie and Lisa. Spike and Zoi talk shit about the Richard/Dale/Andrew team when they are called in to the Winner's Circle chiding their flavor palate. Spike says, literally, that their flavors do not go together. Hahah! Douche. (I'm really starting to dislike Spike) Can I mention, though, that Richard has pink crocs which is douchiness added to douche. Fucking A man. A fauxhawk AND pink crocs? Just add Dale's headband and call it a day! Unfortunately, even though Spike is a bigger douche, it's Robomanuel who gets to go home to his kids. Bubye!

Next week: Dale and Zoi duke it out for top homochef-Jen kicks a chair in retaliation. Damn girl-you be pwhipped.

DoucheCount: Ryan = Douche (x6)Spike = Douche (x4)Andrew = Douche (x1)Richard = Douche (x2)