At Soba, the stove has had no knobs for a long, long time. Controlling heat on the six high-pressure gas burners could be a painful task, forcing all of your upper body strength into turning a hot steel rod which was, in most cases, fused in place by carbon accumulation.

But the other day, the Southbend people finally came through, and fitted new plastic dials onto the jagged metal. Today, working sautè was like the Christmas miracle for me. I mean, you may think things like this don't matter much in a kitchen. But it's the stupid, insignificant details like stove knobs, or not having enough two ounce ladles, that destroy you. At one point, we had a fucking fork tied to a string, hanging off the oven door, that we used as a wrench to work the stove. Anyway, these are the kind of problems that the people who make your food have.

I went to the Carnegie Museum before work today, to see the exhibit on Louis Comfort Tiffany. Aside from the collection itself being incredible, it was so refreshing to do something cultural with my life before stepping on the line. For awhile I thought the untraditional schedule we cooks are cursed with was, well, destroying my life, but lately I've realized that it's quite an advantage. Things are just better when you don't work nine to five as a corporate drone.

a year in first sentences

January: Well, the year is over. With the new year, I'll be truly settled into my new life--as both a professional cook and an independent person.

February: I miss the clef. It was never about the people or the recognition, though the sense of self-accomplishment and community helped me immeasurably during that time in my life.

March: This is incredibly good. I've got Thursday and Friday off both work and school. I don't even know what I'm going to do, but it might involve the strip district around noon, parsnips, turnips, or rutabagas, and perhaps the catch of the day.

April: Woo! Sweet party last night. Woo. I may have found a house to live in too, which is good. We'll see how that works out.

May: Get together a Vidalia onion, a few cloves of garlic, a lime, two almost-ripe mangos.

June: So I got paid (for 89 hours of work) just in time to pay first month's rent on my new place.

July: Well, the move (some boxes and luggage) is complete.

August: Before finishing, this was the dull wood panel in my small dining room, complete with streaks from someone's shoes and specks of paint.

September: I'm sorry, but occasionally, vegetarians make me a little angry at humanity.

October: Forgive my literary hiatus, but I've been busy making dinner for thousands of people.

November: Well, nothing out of the ordinary is going on here.

December: Hooray! Winter is finally here, although this time last year I was already up to my ankles in snow.

a pretty good party

Hooray! Winter is finally here, although this time last year I was already up to my ankles in snow. Despite being cold, it's still good weather for Chuck Taylors up here, which is a disappointment so far--I anxiously await being able to make snowmen on my rooftop.

Of course, despite my utter lack of belief in what it represents, Christmas has already begun for me. The other day I baked cookies with my good friend, and have quite a few stars, gingerbread men, and christmas trees on my coffee table, all laden with the appropriately shaped sprinkles. It is, of course, only the tip of the iceberg. Soon, my studio apartment will be decorated with glowing strings of red chili peppers, and I will be engaged on several occasions, I do hope, on drinking wassail until I pass out. There may also be Reed's Spiced Apple Brew in store, which is a wonderful investment any time of the year.

I don't have any idea what I'll be doing for the actual Christmas holiday. I've already pretty much realized I won't be able to make it back to Texas until shortly after New Years, when my body will be broken by the restaurant industry. At the very worst, this bachelor pad-turned-professional kitchen will have a goose roasting.

I bought a new stockpot. And a saucepan. Roughly 25 dollars each, which was quite a steal. The pot is a 16-quart, which means I can make several gallons of stock easily now, rather than stuffing bones and vegetables into the little Farberware I found in the trash at PCI, or my 6-quart sautoise. My kitchen now contains every item of cookware needed to create almost everything I know to be good in the world, except maybe one decent nonstick pan. The next step for me is a KitchenAid and a meat grinder, and a terrine mold. Yes, I know, I need to scrub the top of my stove.

I went down to Trader Joe's for the first time yesterday, and despite the brisk walk to East Liberty, it was well worth it. Due to Pennsylvania's liquor laws, they can't really do here what they're famous for--cheap, good wine in large quantities--but even without the booze, it's a wonderful experience to just go in there and look at everything. I bought a pound of New Mexicon Pinon beans (absolutely wonderful), some real Bourbon vanilla extract, some very nice real maple syrup (buying fake ensures a terrorist victory), and a small jar with a surprisingly substantial amount of Spanish saffron in it (four dollars!!), which, I'm sure, will yield a much nicer color and flavor than the tiny capsules I buy from the Pennsylvania Macaroni Company in the Strip.

Of course, getting paid right before my days off, I couldn't resist going to Whole Foods on the way back. The three natural food stores in my area, Trader Joe's, Whole Foods, and the Market District Giant Eagle are basically all on the same street in a line, with Trader Joe's being the most far out and the Giant Eagle being the closest to my apartment. The meaning of this to me is greater than The Mall of America, Fifth Avenue, or Chinatown in New York--things like black truffle oil, Elysian Fields lamb, and Prince Edward Island mussels are like Prada handbags to me, and to have such convenient access to them is dangerous to my budget. I managed to get away from Whole Foods this time, however, with nothing more than some blackstrap molasses, very good orange blossom honey, and a replacement pastry brush (long ago, the one I received from PCI burst into flame in a barbecue mishap). Somehow, I was able to walk by the cheese department, bigger than my apartment and featuring excellent English Stilton.

Tomorrow is Jacques Pepin's lecture at the Carnegie Music Hall. I didn't get my tickets in the mail, so I'm going to have to run by the university somewhere to pick them up. The oppurtunity to have one of the great culinary masterminds teach me what he knows is too awesome to pass up.

I'm going to have a very rough week ahead, I know--Tuesday through Saturday. But having a weekend off may as well have been a vacation. For once, I woke up feeling refreshed this morning, not aching in every part of my body or smelling like a hideous mixture of bleach and garlic processed through a Robot-Coupe. I got to continue working on Anthony Bourdain's new book. I roasted bones and mirepoix, and stirred a pincage, shirtless, in the comfort of my own messy two-room home, and woke up at nine in the morning to strain a perfect brown stock, or, as the Escoffier says, an estouffade. I made mushroom risotto with fresh chervil and white truffle oil. A bèchamel with caramelized onions and garlic, with fresh basil and parmesan cheese, accompanied pasta. At Soba on Friday, I went to a Scotch and Cognac tasting which was (despite my sitting next to the dishwasher, who mixed all his scotch together and shot it back) sublime.

It's quite necessary to kick back and enjoy, in a lower key, what you dedicate your life to professionally, no matter what it is. Maybe when I tie my long, white apron over my chef's jacket today, I'll remember what I try to believe in all the time: life should be allowed to happen, for better or for worse, and isn't something to worry about--and risotto Milanese is really, really fucking good.

i've got somethin' to hold on to

Oh, man. Just one more day, and then it's a beautiful Friday and Saturday off. It couldn't come sooner. Days like today, when I wake up and every muscle in my body hurts, and I find myself unable to do much other than order an americano and walk in the direction of work, are rough.

The past two days I was over the stove, tomorrow I'm over the wok. Just one more day of kicking the valves on full-blast, ladling oil and frantically tossing ingredients over my shoulders, steaming mussels and searing tuna steaks, frying rice with ginger, garlic, cilantro and scallions, squirting fish sauce and sesame oil, turning a cold faucet into a steel bowl of 550 degree oil and bathing myself in steam. Every once in awhile, I'll throw some wet bok choy, or some shoestring potatoes into a hot wok and light a fire the size of a small apartment kitchen, and I'll have to rely on my clean, cancerless lungs (a rare commodity in our industry) to blow it out or risk dumping a burnt mess out and starting over in the middle of the dinner rush. By the end of the night, my eyes will hurt from all the flashes of light--between shaoxing cooking wine, various accidents, and fishes hitting pans on sautè, we start a lot of fires. And my knees, my feet, my back will ache, and I'll want to sit down because I haven't in twelve hours, but I won't.

As much as the busy nights are exhilirating, there is an impending sense of doom at this point in the week--the business is making a steady crescendo, from an easy Sunday to a pain-in-the-ass latenight Wednesday to a catering, special-menu party Thursday to a rather mentally and physically abusive weekend, where we'll come in an hour early to prep for a war. I love the work but I still frown at the culinary institute for being such a bunch of assholes--through all the sanitation, restaurant management, and cuisine education, there's not a lot of honesty as far as working from one to one in a hot kitchen goes.

amazing wok team!

The Soba Restaurant and Lounge wishes you a very happy Thanksgiving!

Yeah, yeah, I haven't written in awhile. I'm not dead though, despite the inhuman consumption of various wines and spirits on a very, very fine Thanksgiving enjoyed with my friends from the restaurant. Highlights of that particular evening include Trivial Pursuit 80s Edition, a board game called Cranium, and actually letting some of these motherfuckers get into cars to drive home. I also have an exquisite photograph of our general manager with his sweater pulled over his face, which, in the interest of my career, will not be making a debut on the internet. All in all, a lovely holiday this year, even if it was away from the family--dinner prepared by a professional chef is undoubtedly something to factor in as well.

What have I been up to lately, you ask? Well, aside from being the new American Dream, I:

--Had a very short-lived affair with a young photographer (smoker. yuck)
--Baked several loaves of bread very, very late at night
--Worked roughly 55 hours last week, a contributing factor in my dear journal's hiatus
--Fixed my 35mm camera
--Began working on music for a caroling ensemble composed of co-workers and other friends (It Came Upon a Midnight Clear, Hark the Herald Angels Sing, Silent Night, a Morten Lauridsen O Magnum Mysterium, and that old Balulalow, right out of the Klein High School Choir's music library)

More to come after I bust my ass for twelve hours tomorrow!

view the world from american eyes

Well, nothing out of the ordinary is going on here. I feel the need to write, however, and besides, people yell at me when I don't.

Autumn, though? That's incredible. Despite only being my second up here, the season is impossible to take for granted. At this point, the leaves have done what they will, so people are all fucked up about winter being almost here, but that's the quirkiness of Northerners for you--anger and depression over shit they have absolutely no influence over. Not that I'm saying anything bad about Northerners, since in the South, the theme is to picket gay peoples' funerals, stomp you into the ground for having unique beliefs and opinions, et cetera. I could go on for awhile.

Tomorrow I've got another Scrabble match at The Quiet Storm. It's becoming sort of a weekly thing between Zach, Jacque and I, for which I am very happy. I've had a consistent schedule with Wednesdays and Thursdays off for awhile now, so to get out after the end of the work week and do something intellectually challenging is a rather refreshing change from various Orders, Fires and also, Pick-ups. Maybe the greatest thing about any time off from my job is that I can allow myself to simply concentrate on one thing alone, instead of ten, fifteen entreès all at once, which can be a bit mentally exhausting.

4 AM idea:

I want to have a mods and rockers party.

<3

It's 4:30! Ridiculous. I'm wide awake--I feel like running, kickboxing, cooking, or jumping into a pile of leaves. I'm not even wired on anything, just very much alive.

http://vids.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=vids.individual&videoID=1203357539

I kind of want to start a movement like this in Pittsburgh, but I need a partner. Who wants to make giant FREE HUGS signs and fill the world with love, starting in Oakland?

punk rock

cioppino

this is what hell is like.

The other night I went down to the X on Walnut Street, a 24-hour gym, to see about a membership. Chef mentioned the place to me and it seemed attractive, being open for business when I am at my most active: one in the morning. I had a free workout and not only was I satisfied with the equipment selection, I think I may be hooked on weightlifting again. I feel wonderfully sore today, knowing I'll be a little bit stronger when it goes away; not only that, just toning up after not having worked out like that in a long time really did something for my posture, ability to breathe deeply, etc. We often joke at Soba that we should all chip in for chiropractic sessions, and that a potential chiropractor might say, after examination, something along the lines of, "What the hell have you guys been doing? Standing up for eleven hours straight, hunched over, every day?"

Finished cleaning up around 1:30 tonight. Pretty rough day, but I brought home some treats aside from the usual leftover staff meal: several pounds of fishheads to make a nice fumet with, and the remnants of a bottle of Chartreuse liqueur from a co-worker. As far as sweet liqueurs go, it's rather nice (and smooth for 55% alcohol!).

Oh, and I cooked for Al Franken tonight. You know one of those, "Hey, Al Franken's on the books tonight," nights. I suppose it's a nice thing about this industry: occasionally you feed your heroes.

Yesterday, while I had a rack of shortribs braising on the stove of my studio, I headed downtown to wander around, something I hadn't done in awhile (plus, Dunkin' Donuts is a guilty pleasure). At the Barnes and Noble, I bought a copy of the Escoffier Cook Book--something that, considering my classical French training at the culinary institute, should have been my bible long ago. An excerpt:

Filets de Soles Victoria

Fold the fillets, and poach them in fish fumet.
Arrange them in an oval on a dish, and garnish the centre with three oz. of the meat from the tail of the spiny or Rock lobster, and one oz. of truffle in dice per every four fillets.
Coat the fillets and the garnish with sauce Victoria, and set to glaze quickly.

Heavy shit. Maybe my mother is right in saying that I'm a purist, but I love all the French stuff, the right and only way to do something authentically, a standard in exactness for cuisine to be followed, to be expanded and built upon further only when mastered.

Shortribs, during braising.

Liberty Avenue close to sundown.

Anonymous cooking student.

Somewhere around tenth street.

Shortribs with rosemary demi-glace, broccoli beurre noisette, cremini mushroom ragout with shallot and chive.

what?

If I were a stone, I would be: obsidian
If I were a tree, I would be: a live oak
If I were a bird, I would be: a mexican eagle
If I were a machine, I would be: a motorcycle engine
If I were a tool, I would be: a wooden spoon
If I were a flower/plant, I would be: chervil
If I were a kind of weather, I would be: snow
If I were a mythical creature, I would be: atlas
If I were a musical instrument, I would be: a fender telecaster
If I were a land animal, I would be: a cougar
If I were a color, I would be: crimson
If I were an emotion, I would be: lust
If I were a vegetable, I would be: broccoli
If I were a sound, I would be: rain on a tin roof
If I were an Element, I would be: fire
If I were a car, I would be: an MGB
If I were a song, I would be: born to be wild, steppenwolf
If I were to trade places with another person for a day, it would be: a soldier
If I were a movie, I would be: waking life
If I were a food, I would be: daube de boeuf bourguignon
If I were a place, I would be: sixth street bridge
If I were a material, I would be: iron
If I were a taste, I would be: espresso
If I were an object, I would be: a french knife
If I were a word, I would be: military-industrial complex
If I were a body part, I would be: a hand
If I were a facial expression, I would be: squinty and serious
If I were a comic/cartoon character, I would be: batman
If I were a shape, I would be: a triangle
If I were a number, I would be: 1
If I were a month, I would be: january
If I were a day of the week, I would be: tuesday
If I were a time of day, I would be: five o'clock
If I were a direction, I would be: north
If I were a piece of furniture, I would be: a dining room table
If I were a sin, I would be: lust
If I were a historical figure, I would be: dwight eisenhower
If I were a liquid, I would be: rum
If I were a method of death, I would be: shot on the street
If I were a planet, I would be: mercury
If I were a scent, I would be: mussels steamed in white wine
If I were a sea animal, I would be: a yellowfin tuna
If I were an insect, I would be: a mantis
If I were a language, I would be: french
If I were a country, I would be: germany
If I were a body of water, I would be: a river
If I were a Greek god/goddess, I would be: hephaestus

marca verde

So aside from musing on the meaning of alcoholism and drug addiction, I've been up to a lot lately. Last Thursday I worked a huge catering gig downtown--a 500 person fundraiser for the Pittsburgh Cultural Trust. It was a pretty smooth (and surprisingly easy) operation until it came time to clean the place up. Imagine doing dishes for such an event in a cold alley with no running water, stacking wire racks of plates and glasses up on wooden platforms for extraction by the rental company in the morning.

Today I woke up earlier than usual to go read the paper at Starbucks (quite possibly one of my favorite things to do, ever, in the world). Also, I walked through Whole Foods and found unusually cheap blue Stilton. Exquisite.

Earlier in the week, I played a new sport called Frisbee Golf, which involves frisbees, and adheres to golf-like rules. It's golf for hippies. Hooray! I became stuck in Schenley Park with no ride as a result of this sport, and was an hour late to work.

Earlier, yea, even earlier than that, I went out to meet friends for a grand scrabble tournament. When only my friend, the server Jacque, showed up at the meeting-place, we had a lovely chat and proceeded to look for a scrabble board for ourselves. When that proved unsuccessful (American society is breaking down, and bookstores no longer sell Scrabble), she taught me the fine art of soapmaking in her Victorian home North of the city. I learned that chemical burns from lye are bad, and I was convinced to join the fan club of an amazing cat.

hooray, cooking!

Forgive my literary hiatus, but I've been busy making dinner for thousands of people. It is sad, also, that these days it is a challenge to conjure up anything at all to write. Mostly I come up with, "Today I worked for the greater part of the day, came home and drank tea, then went to bed." But then again, I enjoy the seemingly mundane. I woudn't be doing it if it were monotonous.

Tonight I went down to the bar for a bit after work. As usual, the whole restaurant crew was there, singing and celebrating and unlikely to remember any of it the next day. I had a drink and chatted with some colleagues for awhile but didn't stick around long. It was, in the most literal sense, not my scene. Not that I don't get along with my co-workers or that I haven't had my share of drunken revelry (Ole!), but it's no secret that I'm not a big drinker, and I don't do marijuana. There are those who seem to live merely to be drunk, high, etc, or only seem happy when they are. It really saddens me that some people live to experience that, a state of mind that's simply different from what they usually feel like, as if the everyday isn't worth really living through. Not to mention I'm a smart motherfucker, and I'd like to stay that way. Whether it's a six-pack of Coors Light a or a bottle of vodka, it will destroy you. There are men who have taught me this.

Don't get me wrong. I love my wine, my beer, my spirits (though perhaps in more of an Epicurean sense), and perhaps in some cases it is true, as the Marquis de Sade said, "Conversation, like other bodily functions, goes better with lubrication." But I don't drink to escape my life. I drink because a good Chardonnay, a Straub or a nice bottle of rum are wonderful parts of my life. Despite the obvious physical pain, occasional anger, arguable social isolation that what I'm dedicated to brings me, I'm rather fond of it and if it ever becomes something I merely have to get through every day in order to feel better afterwards, I'll quit.

I have seized this day.

So, after a much-needed vacation, I'm back to the daily grind at the restaurant. I'm figuring out the wok, but slowly--maybe if PCI's Chef Bailey had taught us to stir-fry authentically and not in a large rondeau, my learning curve wouldn't be quite so skewed, but that's neither here nor there. Work is very, very gratifying.

Also with regards to my job, my six-month review was today. I won't go into heavy details, but let's say that I'm a very valued member of the team, I'm a cook's cook no matter my age or experience level, and I no longer live in terrible, indentured servitude-like poverty. Today made me align myself more consciously with what I have thus far stood behind: I have a responsibility to this kitchen and the food that comes out of it, and nothing can stop me.

But moving on, my time in Austin was very, very well-spent. I think I cooked every night, affirming either my committment to my craft or my total insanity. The company, as well as the food, was wonderful. It won't be so long before I'm back down South again, of that we can be sure of.

Austin, kept weird.

Every night's a party (venison burgers).

In Texas, we do our French cuisine outdoors.

Just a lovely bite: sauteèd Sockeye salmon and swordfish with Sauce Bercy, turnip rissolè, sauteèd asparagus with homegrown basil, heirloom tomato.

it is what it is.

Mise for my hobby. The diced up meat of a chuck cross cut (no one buys this because they don't know what the hell to do with it), heirloom tomatoes, etc.

Bread dough, rising off the humidity and heat made by my soup.

Roasting bones, to develop a richer flavor.

Yes, that pan is as wide as my stove. Sometimes you need twice as much heat.

I didn't finish photographing all that, but what I ended up doing is a veloutè based soup. I'll tell you how! Hooray.

Roast your beef bones in a cranked up oven--you want a nice browning, which will give you a rich, full flavor as opposed to a boiled meat essence. While that's going on, get plenty of olive oil almost smoking hot in a saucepan, stockpot, whatever will hold your soup. Add your meat, and move it around to get some nice caramelization on the outside. It's really important not to just dump all your meat in at once--even using a commercial gas range, all that mass hitting the pan will leech out all the heat you built up and cause the meat to release all its moisture, thus boiling rather than browning. Yes, cooking is just stupid highschool physics, except in a very high-stress environment.

Once you've got your meat a nice color, you've come to a choice. An important decision. The way I did this tonight was to brown the meat, then brown the vegetables and tomato paste (I did homemade tomato paste with the heirlooms for this), then add water, bones, and aromatics--much like the process you'd go through if you were making a big batch of stock. It's essentially the same method, but simmering those veggies for as long as it takes to tenderize the meat and release flavor from the bones makes for vegetable puree, overcooked indistinguishable pieces of carrot and celery that are mushy even by American family standards. When this had simmered enough for me, I picked the pieces of meat out and added them back into the liquid, after I had strained it. It sounds ridiculous, but I've actually done it before at the school and it's not as tedious at you might think.. Your other option is to tie up your vegetables in a cheesecloth bag and let that simmer in with your liquid, which will still release flavor, but prevent you from caramelizing the veggies first. It depends on what you're going for, I suppose. Maybe you could brown mirepoix and then put that in a cheesecloth bag; it seems like a bigger pain in the ass than picking out the meat.

Anyway, the soup has simmered with bay leaf, peppercorns, thyme, other dry herbs if you want, and meanwhile I've made a blonde roux--equal parts flour and oil, cooked together until evenly golden (and don't get that shit on you)--in a seperate pot. The liquid and the diced beef is strained into this hot roux. You have now made a veloutè. At this point, you can add the vegetables you actually want to eat. I'll be taking the pot of veloutè to work tomorrow and adding carrot, celery, onion, probably potatoes as well. Cook those to the desired doneness (anything with roux in it must simmer for at least 20 minutes in it anyway, to cook out the raw flour taste), season, finish with a pat of butter, and you're good to go. It should be thick, in my opinion, a nice nappè (to coat the back of a spoon)--anything less and it just doesn't have the same hearty, stick-to-your-ribs effect. Besides, a thin soup makes good bread useless.

So aside from my latenight cooking adventures, life is going on rather well. In fact, there is big news--Soba has decided to train me on the wok station! While not my original goal, I suppose it was only a matter of time before I started really doing some Asian cooking, and in any case, I will be a master of this restaurant's entire line once I get the hang of cooking with 90,000 BTUs.

gas is back on

Pot of beans. Or should I say, 6-quart mirrored stainless steel Cuisinart sautoise of beans. I started these off by browning the diced scraps of the pork spareribs with onion, carrot, and celery. Using bay, chili powder, cumin, paprika, and various herbs (as well as all the excess drippings from the ribs during roasting), I simmered the beans for about three hours.

Pork spareribs and my own rub (containing, among assorted herbs and spices, ground espresso beans). Contrary to popular belief you don't need a big iron barbeque grill to do barbeque--you can do it in a tiny studio apartment, as long as the meat fits in your oven (this almost did not). Roasted these for two hours, mopped some sauce on 'em, and finished them in the broiler. The tenderness of this product was amazing especially considering how easy it was to prepare--I never in my life imagined that this could be accomplished with some spices and aluminum foil.

It's hard to make out, but you can see my little buddy, Renoir, in this picture (he does not like the flash). Here, he's eating a carrot. Currently he is inside my toaster, eating crumbs. He and I are very alike--adventurous, passionate about food, Led Zeppelin fans.


Today is not a great day for bread. The dry, cool weather made this thing proof outward and not up at all--in the end it collapsed a little bit. If I'd made baguettes it would've worked out better. I'll call it a foccacia--it doesn't matter what the hell it looks like, it's going to keep me extremely popular at work.

"you're always killin somethin just by livin on this earth."

I'm sorry, but occasionally, vegetarians make me a little angry at humanity. It was suggested to me recently that we can end war on this planet forever if everyone started by not eating animals. "It's all the same, Junior. Killing people is just the same as killing cattle, chickens, pigs. It's all murder." I honestly don't know if the low amount of vitamin B12 in these peoples' systems makes them delirious, or what, but to think that stopping the inhumanity involved in foie gras production is more important than the war in Iraq or alternative fuel sources or global warming points to a very, very distorted sense of priority. In other words, quit dicking around spreading PETA pamphlets in trendy neighborhoods and stop the real bullshit that's going on in the world!

Has anyone else just ever wondered what the fuck is wrong with our generation? We're a whole bunch of losers--we're medicated for the things people used to have to deal with in their youth, we don't give a shit about global issues or anything else for that matter, we have no work ethic whatsoever, constantly depressed or acting like it, worried about our weight, what our friends think about us, unsure of our identities, we have no idea where we're going or what we're supposed to do in life. We drink, smoke, snort, and shoot up to escape the reality that isn't that bad.

We don't believe in ourselves, we have no sense of ethics or morality yet we're quick to pass judgement on the immoral, thanks to the propaganda of our government. We're confused when there's nothing to be confused about, we all listen to terrible, terrible music about how much life sucks (see Linkin Park, bottom of page), and we have almost no culture. Why do we make life out to be so grave, so serious when it's meant to be a good time punctuated by stupidly easy decisions? The only people who look like they have a sense of purpose are religious fanatics!

I don't know what's worth fighting for
Or why I have to scream
I don't know why I instigate
And say what I don't mean
I don't know how I got this way
I'll never be alright

(shut the fuck up and get a job!)

grilled kajiki

Today and yesterday have been some of the best workdays ever. My game, so to speak, is on. I am on my game. You know.

I am addicted to this place that I live. It's an obsession, almost. Maybe everyone is like this about their first apartment, but this place is fucking adorable. I would take some more up-to-date pictures but it'll have to wait until I buy batteries tomorrow. We've got the big lobster platter (thanks Mom and Dad), the floor lamp with different-colored bulbs, the nice cutting board, utensils and pans hanging on the walls, shelf full of cookbooks and muffin pans and rolling pins. And lovely green plants that aren't dying anymore (transplant was badly needed)!

In other news, my "ex" and I have gotten back together. We sort of went our seperate ways at the beginning of the summer since she was going on a school-related tour of several Asian countries for the summer, but now that she's back, we picked up where we left off. This makes me happy; we get along well, in the sense that I can't even remember us ever having a fight or argument. She also brought me back coffee beans and spices from Cambodia, which is a surefire way to win my heart.

Tonight for a VIP amuse-bouche, I made an heirloom tomato concassè with chardonnay, fresh basil, garlic, shallot, and our five-spice duck confit. Hopefully, sensual creations like this will eventually earn me a place in Hell as the devil's personal chef.

slow enough for photography

Grilled Hawaiian opah. Heirloom tomato salad with Hawaiian sea salt, cracked black pepper, and chiffonaded shiso leaves. Fingerling potato rissolè with apple-smoked bacon and local sweet corn.

Mise en place.

My home away from home.

The wok station.

The opah, a halibut, and an "Asian Cioppino".

wtf mates

Just one of those thoughts, that you have when you wake up:











What is the deal with people wearing sunglasses that are big enough for a fucking rhinocerous?

i did not have sexual relations with that barista.

So, how are things in Pittsburgh, you ask?

The studio, the one that I live in, is truly a home now. Thing I have never even considered the possibility of owning are now staples of my everyday life. I have my own couch, my own desk, chair, coffee table, bed. I have an espresso machine, a toaster, a microwave. Lamps, shelves, a fan. All of these things I have acquired with my own power, and now they exist solely to improve the quality of my life! Life is wonderful! I am very glad, in retrospect, to have moved into this specific apartment, and to have chosen living on my own over finding another roommate.

At work, I sweat for many hours every day. I make things which are delicious in very enjoyable ways. It's true what they say about cooking, though: it's a very rewarding job. Even on the busy nights, the ones where you swear and burn and cut yourself and feel like you're not even there, like you're just some little thing in a cockpit
controlling arms and legs, manipulating hot pans and food, when you hear about a customer having a dining experience they'll never forget, your day is made. A server came in the other day and told me their customer said a halibut was the "best thing they've ever eaten" and it justified 55 hours a week, callouses and scars, having to teach the FNG (fucking new guy) how to deep-fry an order of calamari. There are few ways to escape having to deal with the real world. I don't deal with politics or business, really--my life is only about making people feel good on a level that has nothing to do with the bullshit of the human race.






So I'm figuring out the guitar on a pretty basic level, and slowly. Teaching yourself is not easy but I've been giving all the time I can to it, playing scales and chords until my fingertips are rough, which is, I guess, how that works. It's fun. I like making noise.

I was surprised to learn the other day that I do not actually live alone--I have a small, gray companion who lives behind the radiator, evidently in some hole underneath the loose carpet. I saw the mouse for the first time two nights ago as I was eating toast. He was crawling around my feet and it surprised me how unafraid he was of the monstrous sneakers he was exploring. Anyway, rather than waging war against that which is not desirable in some peoples' eyes, I decided to name my little friend Renoir and live with him in harmony. Besides, this is not a very expensive apartment.

(artwork by sterling)

~organic food, cage-free hens, better
to know who grows your produce
than who your tax dollars kill

The espresso and rock station.

A romaine salad with red onion, garlic, manzanilla olives, cherry tomatoes, and smoked salmon. Dressed with Marca Verde extra virgin olive oil and strawberry-infused balsamic vinegar.

this is kind of cute.

Put your iTunes/Winamp/WMP on shuffle. Say the following questions aloud, and press play. Use the song title as the answer to the question. No cheating.

1. How does the world see you?
willie nelson - on the road again

2. Will I have a happy life?
system of a down - jet pilot

3. What do my friends think of me?
john coltrane - everytime we say goodbye

4. Do people secretly lust after me?
beethoven - flight of the bumblebee

5. How can I make myself happy?
bush - letting the cables sleep

6. What should I do with my life?
air - playground love

7. Will I ever have children?
dj tiesto - obsession

not sure what that means.

8. What is some good advice for me?
led zepplin - over the hills and far away

9. How will I be remembered?
skinny puppy - chainsaw

10. What's my signature dancing song?
sigur ros - hjartad hamast

11. What's my current theme song?
iron maiden - charlotte the harlot

12. What do others think is my current theme song?
frank sinatra - fly me to the moon

what?

13. What shall they play at my funeral?
the ramones - what a wonderful world

nice.

14. What type of women do I like?
antinomie - ibiza megamix 2003

15. How's my love life?
the weakerthans - our retired explorer

Oh, man. 1983 Honda Nighthawk CB550SC. Shaft-driven, 900 bucks.

Sorry for sliding into the abyss lately, I've just been busy with work, the guitar, things of this nature. My paycheck today is for ninety-nine hours. It pays some bills, that's for sure.

Speaking of bills, I got my first ever electric bill today. 33 dollars, including activation fee. I felt like a real live adult.

I think sometime after my vacation next month, I'm going to look at going to Boston for a few days. A round trip via train will cost me only about 91 bucks! Honestly, I'm not sure what I'd do but who the hell needs a reason to go anywhere? Also I may end up in Boston in a year or two. Who knows. Eventually I'm going to be in a bigger city, that's for sure.

Behringer V-Tone rocks my socks off.

Mushroom bread: shallot, garlic, minced cremini mushrooms, a generous pinch of marjoram and a drop of white truffle oil. Rosemary and a bit of ground coriander on the outside with sugar to caramelize.

<3

Here's to baking bread at 3 in the morning.

hooray, home improvement!

Before finishing, this was the dull wood panel in my small dining room, complete with streaks from someone's shoes and specks of paint.

Not too bad for a first try. I really had no idea what I was doing but now that I've fixed something I feel like a man. Actually, I may put on another coat and then finish it with some polyacrylic stuff, though it would mean another long walk to Home Depot. Also, part of it is visible on the other side next to my fridge, so it may be an unfinished project (ha! unfinished!).


Also, I made a pizza with a friend the other night. Delicioso.

Those hours at Soba are paying off. Today I bought a 5.5qt Cuisinart mirrored stainless sautoise. I've had my eye on it for awhile, and it is quite possibly the sexiest piece of cookware I have ever been able to lay upon my own stove.


This, and another pepper that hasn't yet ripened are all I really got out of my plants. Nevertheless I've got to cook this guy soon and it doesn't take a lot of habanero to make something great.

Today the apartment has begun to take form. With the aid of my new desk (Ikea, used, 5$ and a cumbersome walk down my street, via craigslist.com) I can now sit at the computer without hunching over a cardboard box, and today I acquired many essentials including coffee mugs (still have no glasses or silverware, I'll be back tomorrow for that probably), ice trays, and a toilet brush. Tonight a friend and I will conquer some pizza from scratch and likely sit and eat on the floor.

"yeah, just turned 21 as a matter of fact. I'll have a Straub?"

Need to acquire some batteries for the camera. Haven't been able to put up a lot of photos lately.

Here's to waking up hungover something ridiculous, 30 minutes before I'm scheduled to work, doing a busy Saturday night on the line, and then going out to party again afterwards. Looking forward to work today again too.

Hooray, beer!

whole nutmeg <3

Today was a very good day. Quite possibly the most challenging so far in my short career, in fact--party of 25, party of 15, full house all in a very short period of time. On Mondays we don't operate with a very big crew, which left the GM expediting, the only chef we had with us helping out the wok station, and me juggling six filets, five halibuts, three duck breasts, in addition to normal service.

I've been on grill before, helping out a little with big nights like this. I've done the simple cooking, grill-marks and cooking sets on the range. But tonight was the first night the whole thing was entrusted to me, no help outside. I felt powerful, determining temps for my steaks, putting massive quantities of food into the oven at once, doing sautè work in big sautoise to fit all the vegetables in. It felt awesome, actually.

So, aside from all the ridiculous business lately (Singapore Food Festival last week is a whole different story), things are going rather well. I've been running a lot lately, as this climate is a bit more forgiving than what I'm used to in July. It feels good to stay in shape, helps a lot with staying focused. I'd recommend to anyone weightlifting, running, anything that pushes you to a limit, as well as meditation. Not because it awakens any kind of spiritual bullshit deep inside you, but because everyone should take some time to clear your mind, get your thoughts in line. Also, don't smoke marijuana. No one believes me when I say this but I never have, and never will.

As far as the financial situation goes, I am no longer living on angel hair pasta and olive oil. While still definitely squeezing my pennies and so forth, I was able to buy a good amount of food, stuff to put my posters up, hang my kitchen utensils on the wall, etc. The apartment, or the Death Star as I like to call it (that was a direct plagiarism from Dane Cook), now looks a lot more like home. It would be lovely, however, to have a desk, maybe a couch and a dining room table and chairs. Life is a work in progress.

1986 Honda Shadow 500cc. Shaft-driven. Only 7500 miles. Damn me for being short 1500 dollars.

So, my life continues to be rather minimalist. Still with no valid photo ID or ATM card, I do in fact have money, but no means to get it out of the bank. The problem is thus: I asked for a new card to be mailed to me when I changed my address at the branch downtown, but the banker I talked to mentioned he'd have to first change my address, wait a day, and then order the card so it wouldn't be shipped to my old address. Obviously the bastard forgot to do that, because I called the bank yesterday and the order was never placed.

All is set right now. I'm going to get a new ID soon, I got some cash so I could eat and not die, and I yelled at my bank. Enough about bills: I'm going to talk about cooking now.

Sautè is exhilarating. And clean. No tempura batter, deep-fryer, sticky rice. I sear fish in an almost scientifically precise way--the oil in the pan must be a certain quantity, an exact temperature, the fish must hit the pan the perfect way, and be turned over flawlessly, or it will stick/fall apart and look like hell. It's all a matter of being in tune with the laws that govern the products you work with. Blanch your rissolè potatoes too long, and when you sautè them they'll stick to the pan and be a pain in the ass. Add your garlic too early, and it will absorb the residual heat of the pan and burn, even without a flame. Sear duck breasts too hot and you won't render any fat out, etc. It's true that you get a feel for it, that there's a subjective intimacy with your equipment and food that you acquire. But it's all just the mastery of a craft, a science, using facts and technique to put out some good shit.

I've also got to say that it's a bit more dangerous, unexpectedly, than working the fryer. My first week I was nervously searing and flipping halibut fillets, and had an unsavory habit of rinsing the flesh off my forearms with hot oil. Also, attached to the range is a shelf that we keep all the pans on--it's the grill cook's job to take the clean ones out of the window and put them away. During a big party when I had six all-clad sautès on the range, all with fish in them, my buddy reached over with some still-wet pans and dripped cold water onto all six of my burners, creating a five-foot inferno before my eyes. Luckily I saw it coming and ducked by the steam table behind me, but considering all the junk I was working on at the time, it unnecessarily made me more on edge than I already was. In any case, with some experience under my belt now, the number and intensity of the burns on my hands and arms have lessened a bit.

centred avenue

I know I'm a professional now and all that, but it's still not a blog without these.

1. What bill do you hate paying the most? The loan payment. Gas is good, electric is good, paying rent even makes me feel accomplished. It's just not something I can even imagine an end to.
2. What's the best place to eat a romantic dinner? My apartment. Trust me.
3. Last time you Puked from Drinking? Several, several months ago. Embarrassingly, tequila is not a good drunk for me.
4. When was the last time you got drunk and danced on a bar? It's on my to-do list.
5. Name of your First Grade Teacher? Mrs. Smith.
6. What do you really want to be doing right now? Lifting weights. I miss my gym.
7. What did you want to be when you were growing up? Not a cook. Through childhood, it was comedian, I think. That changed into computer programmer, writer, and then cook.
8.How many colleges did you attend before you settled? Settled? Not in my vocabulary.
9. Why did you wear the shirt that you have on right now? Well, when it wasn't four in the morning, I was wearing a favorite shirt of mine. Mostly because it went with the black slacks I wore to work today, because I am out of clothing and have been waiting until my day off to do laundry.
10. Gas Prices! First Thought? Could be, and will be way worse.
11. If you could move anywhere and take someone with you where would you go and who? I'd go to New York with someone I haven't met yet.
12. First Thought When the alarm went off this morning? I have been asleep since daylight.
13. Last thought before Falling asleep last night? The sun is rising.
14. Favorite style of Underwear? Boxers. And my favorite pair is pink, from American Eagle, because I'm a man's man..
15. Favorite style of Underwear for the opposite sex? Not one to be picky.
16. What Errand/Chore do you despise? Washing the dishes when I bake. Cooking is deglazing and rinsing off, baking involves flour and doughy junk.
17. If you didn't have to work what would you do? Have a social life.
18. Get up early or sleep in? I love the morning, but my schedule prevents me from enjoying it.
19. Your Favorite Cartoon Character? Rocko from Rocko's Modern Life.
20. Favorite NON sexual thing to do at night with a girl/guy? Look at the city from a hill, at 3 AM, in January.
21. A secret that you wouldn't mind everyone knowing? I failed the meats practical. I had the easiest dish in the recipe book and my chicken came out raw.
22. What was your First Car? They'll be obsolete by the time I can afford one.
23. Your Best Your Mamma Joke? Ugh, no.
24. Your Favorite Lunch Meat? Haven't lived in Pittsburgh quite long enough to answer that.
25. What do you get every time you go into a WAWA? I don't understand the question and I refuse to answer it. (Arrested Development)
26. Beach Or Lake? River.
27. Do you think Marriage is an outdated ritual that was invented by people who died at 20? I wouldn't go that far, but I don't quite believe in it. It's a tax break, a religious thing, and a license to keep loving someone. People who're really in love stay together without taking vows to.
28. Who do you Stalk on myspace? Honestly? There's a waitress at work that I have a serious thing for.
29. Favorite Guilty Pleasure? Battlestar Galactica. I am a geek and I love sci-fi, and admit that I may have to buy digital cable when the third season starts in October.
30. Favorite Movie you wouldn't want anyone to find out about? Guys tend to think I'm gay when I say I loved Amelie.
31. What's your drink? Rum, bourbon, whiskey, vodka, gin. On the rocks. I don't often mix perfectly good liquor with things, unless it's another kind of liquor.
32. Cowboys or Indians? Cowboys.
33. Cops or Robbers? Robbers.
34. Do you cheer for the bad guy? Some people think I am the bad guy.
35. What Hollywood star do you think resembles you best? Even if I followed pop culture I couldn't imagine who I resemble.
36. If you had to pick one which cast member of Lost would you be? Whoever rocks the most.
37. What do you want when you are sick? I don't get sick.
38. Who from High School would you like to run into? Emily, Sterling, Kathy, Rob, Todd, Julia.
39. What radio station is your car radio tuned to right now? Listening to an ambient group from Pittsburgh at the moment.
41. Stiffler or Oz? Guh? Oh no, pop culture again.
42. Norm or Cliff? ...
43. The Cosby Show or the Simpsons? Simpsons.
44. Worst Relationship Mistake that you wish you could take back? Not pursuing something that I should've.
45. Do you Like the Person who sits directly across from you at work? I think I've actually sat down in Soba three times. Even still, neither of the two women in the kitchen are my type.
46. If you could get away with it who would you kill? I sat here for a full minute trying to think of something less clichè than the president. The vocalist from Creed, maybe.
47. What Famous person would you like to have dinner with? Paul McCartney.
48. What famous Person would you like to sleep with? I've only ever slept with famous people. Duh.
49. Have you ever had to use a fire extinguisher for its intended purpose? Nope. That's what the Ansul system is for.
50. Last book you read for real? "The Fuck-Up" by Arthur Nersesian.
51. Do you have a teddy bear? I used to have several. Now I am alone in the night!
52. Strangest Place you have ever brushed your teeth? I often do it in the kitchen.
53. Somewhere in California you've never been and would like to go? Napa Valley.
54. Number of texts in a day? I do not use my telephone to type messages to people. If I'm going to get out my phone, write out full sentences with ten little buttons on a 1x1 screen, and pay money to send them to my friends, I think I can be considerate enough to just give my friends a Goddamn phone call.
55. At this point in your life would you rather start a new career or relationship? At this point in my life, my career is my relationship.
56. Do you go to church? Let's just say church never went to me.
57. Pen or pencil? Pencil--Mirado Black Warrior.
58. Describe your favorite Day? Strip district with twenty bucks. Nothing is more moving to a cook than observing the things that food can do for people. This may happen tomorrow.
59. How many jobs have you had? Legally, two.
60. What would be your "dream job"? Doing what I'm doing now in a French place, in a bigger city, and for more money.
61. What do you want to achieve in life? Nothing in particular. Achievement isn't a big deal to me so much as experience.

saucièr

Well, the move (some boxes and luggage) is complete. I live in a studio apartment with a very well-equipped kitchen, and a bed. And a chair. Things have only gotten better since the move-in--Sunday night, I acquired a twin mattress from a co-worker, which I carried over my head down Centre Avenue to my apartment building. Monday, my electricity was turned on and I was able to withdraw enough money from my bank account to buy some stuff to eat. Having no valid ID, however, I must wait until my new ATM card gets here late this week or early next week to access my money budgeted for living expenses.

Otherwise, stuff rocks. I've been bumped up to sautè at work, which was where I wanted to be working.