Don't Tell 'Em What's In It!

I once when to a dinner party, where they simmered onions and tomatoes for 40 minutes; longer for what most people consider decent. Salt, pepper. Stir in your fettucini al dente and then take it off the heat and mash a ripe avocado into it. It will turn into a very creamy and light avocado sauce. Squeeze half a sweet lemon, and toss.

The result is absolutely wonderful non-italian, cheeze free pasta; simple, intellectual, satisfying.

This bowl above is a little different. I browned a handfull of ground beef, threw in a serrano pepper and a little sliced garlic. Add onion. Stir in hot rotini, al dente. Turn off heat, mash the avocado into a sauce, squeeze half a lemon and give it a good stir and serve it while it's hot.

It's better than you think.


what's in it!

It was ONLY a dream

This morning I dreamt that I was a little kid again, with a bunch of other little kids--of course I was the oldest. I dreamt that we were at a party, and all the adults wanted to gossip, so they took over the kitchen and had us sit in the dining area.

Then my dad came out with a tub of exotic fruity ice cream, with five different flavors. Tamarind, guava, avocado, passion fruit, and mango. My dad served the youngest first, and went around the table and got to me. I asked for a halo-halo; a little of each flavor. He served me happily, and I was excited to eat.

Then he took the pile of spoons off the table and said he'd be right back. We waited, and waited, and then started getting disappointed. Dad? I called? I could hear the adults laughing in the kitchen. Dad! Are you bringing the spoons?

By now, the ice cream is melting, and the little kids are starting to cry. Then I realized he was doing it again. He is an expert at setting people up for something and then denying it to them. Also, one of his favorite things to do is make us wait for him, to keep himself the center of attention as long as possible. I didn't want to go into the kitchen of laughing adults to get the spoons myself because by now I was crying too.

DAD! DAAAAD! I'm screaming angrily, and swearing to the younger kids that I would rip off his arms and beat him with them. Someday, will step on his IV. No I won't.

DAAAAD! DAAD! DAAAAAAD! DAAAAD! DAAAAD!

I shouted myself awake, angry at my father who I haven't lived with in almost ten years, with a sad craving for tamarind ice cream.

Anyway, that was just a dream.

Here's an actual memory: when we were kids, and we were all piled into a van, going camping somewhere maybe , we'd be listening to the radio, and a song we really, really liked would come on the radio--I'm thinking "Freedom" by Wham!. Anyway, we'd all burst into singing, because that's how we are, and we're all happy and then my dad would happily click! turn the radio off.

Hey! all the kids said, disappointed. My mom would say, "That's mean." And then my dad would say "I just wanted to hear the kids sing." Then he'd turn the radio back on again, and all the kids would immediately start singing again and be just as happy as they were; all the kids, that is, except for me.

Me, I would be sitting in the back seat, quietly contemplating how much I hated my father, as my cousins sang excitedly all around me.

Mashed Avocado

Guacamole is good. In Mexico, we never had American-style guacamole with a lot of spicy ingredients. Instead, we had a avocados mashed completely smooth with a pinch of salt and some lime juice. I like to throw in some hot peppers. Spread it on a tostada. That's all. It should taste like avocado.

Today I went with some other teachers to visit S, who had a tumorous section of her jaw removed and replaced with some of her hip bone. She's doing well; she should start taking liquids orally this Sunday. She'll have to have radiation treatment to stop lymphoma from spreading.

The parents brought lunch to the faculty today. They call it "Gratia" and it's a whole bunch of salads and a dessert or two. One thing about working at an uppity mostly-white school is that the parents bring good food. At that other school, we got a grocery plate of cold cuts.

Today In My Mouth...

Breakfast: roast eggplant, li'l smokies, hard toast rubbed with garlic.

Lunch: Italian Kaiser, 1/4 lb. jojos from the Hop In Market Deli, Dave flavored Jones Soda. This sammich was 6 inches tall; an inch of pepperoni, and inch of salami, two inches of shaved ham, lettuce, provolone, italian dressing on a soft kaiser roll with cornmeal crumbs. I love cornmeal crumbs! Afterwards, S brought cherry double chocolate muffins to a meeting and yes, I ate one.

Dinner: Hotwings (from frozen) and rice. Crystal Lite lemon tea.

CONSISTENT ETHIC OF LIFE!

So the school I work at is Catholic, and there's a concerted effort now to teach and discuss the "consistent ethic of life," the challenging Catholic teaching that says that all life is sacred, including the unborn (hence the pro-life Catholics) and convicted criminals (hence the anti-death penalty Catholics).

I don't have any problem teaching this ethic; I don't even have a problem upholding it in my own life. No, I haven't personally confronted the challenging parts of the the ethic, but if ever I do, I expect that the consistent ethic of life will play an important role in decisions that I make.

So why did I not vote for the "moral values" president?

Because the government is a pile of shit when it comes to spiritual and moral guidance, and the Christians as a faith community suck ass when it comes to providing for the health and safety of the population. Not to mention the fact that a chunk of the population does not belong to the Christian faith community, and their right to not belong to it is 'self-evident.'

Follow? So one of my moral values as an American Catholic is that Church and State should remain SEPARATE. This is a separation that the writers of the Constitution used WORDS to ensure. There can be no doubt of their intent. The fact that they were religious men themselves only underscores their commitment to the separation between church and state.

So I will tell my students that abortion is an awful choice. No problem. I'll also tell them that abortion is not the source problem; unwanted pregnancy is the source of the problem, abortion is an awful consequence. Eliminate the source of the problem, eliminate the awful consequence.

(This is where you squeal in protest, saying "you'll never succeed at eliminating unwanted pregnancies!" at which point I will stop talking to you).

I will also tell them that the most despicable criminal has an eternal soul, and that the Church's job is to minister. You can't save someone's soul if they're dead.

I will also tell them that Christ treated the poor, the oppressed, the marginalized, and the condemned with love and compassion, not with hate, suspicion, or accusations, and certainly not with protests or fire bombs. In fact, Jesus' anger tends to be directed towards the Pharisees (the self-righteous, hypocritical religious scholars) and the money changers (who made a dishonest living off of the generosity of the faithful. Remind you of anyone?

And that, children, is why the Church does not perform abortions and does not put people to death (anymore). The State does.

The State's job is to find solutions for the populations problems with health and safety. I hope someday we find better solutions than abortion and capital punishment. Until then, we work, we teach, we pray.

By the way, if Row v. Wade is ever overturned somehow, martial law would be the only thing with a remote chance of holding this country together. The battles will be fought at the city line.

Early Start

It's 3pm and I'm already home from work. I should go to the store, but I'm chronically lazy. Besides, I was up way early this morning.

I woke up at 4 am, and lay in bed thinking for a while. Around 5am I got up and got dressed, and by 6am I was on the road, looking for breakfast. I checked out Silver Fork [still closed], went to Pike Place [not even the fish markets were open] and the Varsity [opens at 7]. It was pathetic. By then it was too late to go someplace Mecca or the 5 Point, so I got a gross sandwich at Jack In The Box. I got to work and made a worksheet about it.

Anyway, I taught my class, went to a meeting--only slightly maddening--and then afterwards I went to Huong Bihn for lunch, and got what I always got; skewerd pork, meatballs, shrimp, and ground shrimp formed onto a sugar cane.

When I was done, I went back to work and did everything I was supposed to do. I sat on the couch for awhile, and then when class let out, I went home. Voila.

Boring story to you, early day home for me.

I have to remember to buy garlic and some pasta, refill the water jug . . . . there are dishes to do, laundry as always, and journals to grade. I really just want to take a nap.

Maybe later I will write about the Catholic Consistent Ethic of Life. Maybe.

Dreams and Choices

I had several dreams last night, but I only remember one. I remember chastising B during an intermission at a horrifyingly boring assembly at which they were going over a multiple choice social studies final. It was taking FOREVER, and I complained bitterly about it, exasperated and dramatic like Scarlet O'Hara, throwing myself in frustration onto an adjustable bed. It cracked me up. My dreams lately have been ridiculous.

I dragged my sorry ass out of bed this morning at 6:20; I got dressed and left the house at 7am sharp. On my way out the door, I debated with myself as to how to feed my obnoxious hunger. I had wanted to get a couple of bahn mi from Saigon Deli, but I didn't want to be late for work. So I made a poor choice and spent my last 4 dollars on a gross Burger King breakfast biscuit.

I taught one class, the challenging class, but a lot of students were out sick, so it wasn't so bad. There is something nasty going around; I can't help but wonder if it has something to do with the headache I have right now. After my class, my prep period was spent busting out labels and flash-planning the k meeting. During the lunch period, I was meeting with student leaders, and then it was back up to the classroom. After that was a rehearsal, and after that I busted out of there and drove up to the Ave. I tried to get $40 from the cash machine, but it wasn't cooperating; i.e., nsf. So I took out $20 and walked up to Than Vi, and scarfed down charbroiled beef skewers with rice vermicelli. I ran out of there and hopped into the car and drove back to school for the three hour k meeting.

I finally made it home at 7pm. I made myself a bowl of rice, eggplant, and li'l smokies. I have a lot of work to do, but my email is so slow right now. They're webcasting the big game. Hmph.

My Dinner

Here's a shot of my dinner last night. It was fried fish (the filet with skin is shown here) with eggplant and tomatoes, and steamed rice. I made this plate actually just for the picture, not to eat, so that's why there's so much. I ended up eating a good chunk of it, though.

The eggplants were the Italian kind; I think they were called "nichole." I roasted them in the oven for 50 minutes with salt and pepper flakes. Then I put them into a container and snipped at them with some kitchen shears, mixed them up until it was a chunky mash. A little salt and some cubed tomatoes, and that's it.

Pritong Isda

I fried fish with flour, salt, pepper, and corn meal; I used canola oil. I forgot what kind of fish it was. Had some Italian name. the fish lady sold it to me.

When I went into Mutual Fish today, it was totally filipino day. Everyone was speaking tagalog; the people who didn't speak tagalog were not speaking. I asked what was good; she pointed at this fish. It looked good. I asked her, how should I cook it, just prito it? She said yah! and then whispered to me in tagalog that it's better than bangus; no little bones.

Well, it's a kind of milk fish, like bangus, and it's fine. A little expensive for me, but good. Next time I will ask for a salt water fish. Hell, next time, I'll get shellfish.

Yesterday and today was our sophomore retreat, an urban plunge. We gathered, prayed, played some games, gave them a couple of training sessions, made hundreds of burritos, and then took them to agencies around the city. Then we brought them back, debriefed a little, had a mass, and then simulated a homeless shelter. They slept on the cafeteria floor.

We woke them up this morning, had a quick blessing, and then sent them off to different service agencies. Me and B spent most of the day driving around, taking pictures of students working. When we were finishing up at St. Francis House, we noticed an elderly filipina leaving with a wheeled shopping basket, stuffed to the top; a vacuum cleaner; a microwave. B asked, how are you taking all this home? She said, oh, I'm walking. With a microwave? Then I'll take the bus. With a microwave? Never mind, we'll take you.

She might have lived about 7 blocks away, up hill, but there was no way she was making it without us. I asked her in tagalog, where are you from? what is your name? but I think she was deaf in one ear, because she just went on amiably about how her house was coming up.

When we got to her house, she asked us to put the microwave and vacuum cleaner on the curb. No, Auntie, we'll take it up to your house! So she lead us to her house, a secret house behind the house we thought it was.

Later, I tried to remember the word for deaf. Telek? I called mama in Vegas; it's 'dingi.' What's telek, then? That's pangasinan! Oh.

Anyway, at the end of the day we gathered the kids again, had a quick debrief and sent them home. It wasn't bad.

Tomorrow I have a meeting from 3 to 6. We work hard.

Hmph, they better be good.

H's friend in England sent this problematically named candy to her. We have yet to sample, but but I'm going to send a copy this image to a Congalese guy I know.

Here's another ethnically themed snack. When will I be able to snack on something named after a stereotype of ignorant white people? Hmph, it better taste good.

I wrote a blog earlier that didn't get published. It was about a dream I had that D broke into somebody's messy house and was pouring out the liquor cabinet like it was her own. When the owner finally showed up, I woke up panting. It was a great dream, with sunlight, hardwood floors, dirty dishes and clean bras next to each other on the counter.

Spaghetti Improvvizati

Oh no! It's "Movie Night In Canada," and CBC is showing The Empire Strikes Back! Yes, I own the DVD, so what? For those of you who don't know, "Movie Night In Canada" is the sad replacement of "Hockey Night In Canada" now that the NHL is on strike. Ha.

So I melted some butter with some olive oil, cracked some pepper into it, dumped in a little can of chopped california olives, squirted some tomato & vegetable paste into it and sauteed it all around. Then I dumped in a can of italian-style stewed tomatoes and crushed into the sauce with my wooden spoon. Simmer until the pasta's done, and then toss it all together over a medium flame. Some pinched mozzarella went on top. And when I say mozzarella, I mean string cheese.

Look's like meat, duddn't it.

You can serve this to your vegetarian friends, or as an unfussy primo piatto. Besides, spaghetti's not supposed to be an entree; it's supposed to be an entree. When I was in Italy, my host family asked me what Americans had for dinner; my American room mate said, "sometimes I have spaghetti." The Italians said, "Yah. . . . And . . . ?" And he said. "That's it!"

It took a while for them to wrap their heads around a concept of spaghetti as a meal. For them, it's the little plate you start with before getting to the meat and vegetables. Then comes salad, and after that, dessert, and then fruit. By then I was drunk and went straight to bed.

And the best part is, when I was in Italy, stuffing myself, I lost weight. Was it the walking? or was it the fresh organic food? Maybe it was meals at regular times, including breakfast, everyday for two months. Non si sa.

Food Panic

I didn't ask what it was called. It's a spicey noodle roll with a slice of sausage in it.

Today, a friend of mine T told me to check out My Canh on Martin Luther King, a little dining room near the Buddhist temple. And after work today, I started feeling the food panic associated with carb addiction; my head started to hurt, and I felt like I was going to kill somebody if I didn't eat something. Any way, I jumped into the car and found my way down into the construction zone.

When I got there, finally! I was seated by a 15 year old girl, who put me on the empty side of the restaurant. I wanted some rice, some grilled stuff, some leafy stuff, and some fish sauce, but T told me to order Five Spice Chicken, which is two thighs fried with secret spices. He was right, it was delicious, and cheap too; less than seven bucks. But since it was a la carte, I missed out on the variety. And the vegetables; I ate all the lettuce garnish. What!?

Anyway, I was still hungry afterwards, so I crossed the street to Tony's Bakery (past Western Co. Doughnuts, past Than Thao--which looked yum) and bought me a creme bun, which was barely sweet, a four pack of steamed sio pao (it's exactly the same as the filipino version), and the salad roll seen in the photo above.

That's a pretty hoppin' corner. There's a McDonalds, a Baskin Robbins, My Canh, a market selling furniture and Korean blankets, Western Co, Than Thao, Tony's, Saigon Dynasty, Viet Wah, and a ton of other small businesses. Hopefully when the light rail is built, they'll clean up the sidewalk, make it pedestrian friendly, and make a decent crossing there. If they don't make a crossing, the business district will be sliced in half; an urban callostomy.

Sigh. I have no faith in Sound Transit. You can tell by the way they name their stations that they're compensating for not going down Rainier Ave. Also, they PROJECTED that there would be 12 accidents per year, 3 fatalities per year. Light rail wonks like to say it's only homeless people, dogs, and idiots who try to beat the train, but you know, even three of those per year is too much for me. Chalk it up to my consistent ethic of life.

Monorail is going to be quicker, cheaper, less intrusive, quieter, safer, and most of all, cooler. Don't believe me? Check out this video. Still don't belive me? You're an idiot.

Sigh. Time to grade.

Short Break From Grading.

Here's J's thesis on Korean-style Chinese food.

In Seattle, Korean restaurants can be sorted into two categories: teriyaki restaurants, and Korean enclave restaurants.

The teriyaki restaurants are most often bulgogi and cater to white folks--i.e., saucy, cheap, and huge portions. These restaurants are all over the place. Mexicans love bulgogi. Did you know?

The restaurants in the Korean enclaves are more mysterious to me, because they tend to be way out in the sprawl, or in Tacoma, so I don't get out there often. There are a few Korean grill places; I don't get to go to those usually unless I get a group together, which invariably means my parents. They might be secretly Korean.

I spend my days also looking for a Korean lunch counter like Steve's in Ass Arbor. I had a cold, cucumber soup once there that I still dream about.

GRADING

No time to post! Grading! Meow.

!Arriba los obispos!

This just in: The Spanish Bishop's conferenece now reccomends condoms to help prevent the spread of AIDS. !Por fin!

Insane Meatloaf Surprise

Here, my friends, is an under-lit tight shot of my Insane Meatloaf surprise. It's not a filipino recipe, but involves several filipino principles.

First, boil some eggs. Break a raw egg into a bowl and scramble it with a lot of soy sauce, black pepper, diced sweet onion, leftover cooked rice, and finally ground beef.

Form into a loaf or loaves. With your thumb, create a trough. Put peeled, boiled eggs into the well and close it up carefully so that there's no air bubbles. Cover your loaf with strips of bacon, bake in a preheated 375 degree oven for an hour or less. Serve with steamed rice and diced tomatoes.

Here's what it looks like on a plate.

insane meatloaf surprise! 

Still Not Grading

I didn't have the presence of mind to take a picture of my dinner, but it was delicious.

First, I sweated some garlic with black pepper and italian herbs in some butter and olive oil. Then I put in a teaspoon of flour and cooked it a little on low. Then I stirred in the liquid of a can of clams and brought it to a simmer. When my spaghetti was al dente, I tossed it into my sauce. I served it with some fresh tomatoes and a sprinke of that 'cave aged gruyere' I talked about earlier.

That's it! I tried to make pa amb tomaquet, but it doesn't work with Japanese square bread. You need a hard country loaf.

I have nothing to say about this.

This is the Dania chair I want to buy for the dining room. I also want a round table, with pedestal feet. This won't happen anytime soon.

This is the "swedish" dinner I made a this summer. Meatballs in brown gravy, boiled red potatoes, cranberry sauce from a can (instead of loganberrys or whatever it is they eat) and a can of cut corn--which is absolutely not swedish, but I wanted something yellow. Easy.

I fell on the ground.

And just like that, folks, I have entered the world of photo blogging. I'm using Hello BloggerBot.

I need to take a shower and grade now. Stay tuned for some VISUALS.

Not grading.

My Day At The Market. (or: How To Get Fat).

I showed up at Pike Place Market with a hankerin' for Cincinati-style chili over spaghetti. When I got there, I remembered they don't have spaghetti, only shells, and I hate shells. So I got my chili over black beans and corn bread, but planned on bringing home a pint so I couldd spaghetti it up myself. Unfortunately, when I looked at the menu, the pint size was over $10. In fact all of their bulk chili prices had gone up, with $450 for 10 gallons. Sheesh. I hope I'm remembering correctly.

So I left the restaurant with my craving satisfied, but without a pint of chili, and I walked over to DeLaurenti for some everyday sprinkling cheese. Of course, I left with $15 worth of a pyranees, reblochon, and some cave-aged gruyere for everyday sprinkling. Oh, and a tube of tomato paste.

The thing about walking in the Market is this; on the weekend, when you're showing your tourist friends around, the Market is a crowded tourist magnet. They want to stroll, and look at the shopping, and you really don't want to feed them there, you want to take them someplace civilized.

But on a rainy weekday in January, the Market is relatively empty, and the temptation of uncivilized food is hard to resist. I stepped out of DeLaurenti and waked straight across the aisle to Daily Dozen Doughnuts (scroll down here for a review) and bought a dozen plain for two dollars. Still warm, with the hole swollen shut.

I went down to Pure Foods to see if they had octopus today; they're renovating and will be back in a couple of weeks. I walked by Jack's Fish Spot without drooling (I was walking fast) and ducked into Post Alley, avoiding Mr. D's Greek Deli, all of that devilment north of it. I stuck my head into Pike Place Chowder; it was packed. I took a look at light switch covers at Milagros, and then left! realizing I had eaten all my doughnuts. So I didn't even look at seasonal fruit or veggies.

Imagine how fat I'd be if I was one of those rich, decadent market dwellers with nothing to do but eat at the market, debate liberal politics with my tax accountant, and live off the interest of my stock holdings. I would be FAT.

Time to grade. Or at least take a shower.

I'm watching a 2002 documentary on crop circles. Wasn't the hoax reavealed a long time ago?

Tonight I went to my friend AM's house for Golden Globe party. She served and arrugula salad with parmeggiano reggiano ribbons peeled off with a vegetable peeler. Dinner was a bowl of chili. I love me some chili, and I prefer it to not be too tomatoey. I put all possible toppings in it. AM had tortilla chips, green onions, cheddar, and sour cream. My personal favorites are corn bread, fritos, diced onions, cheddar, and sour cream. Mmmm, tomorrow I'm going to World Class Chili at Pike Place Market. Or maybe I'll get a chili dog.

Dessert tonight was individual chocolate souffles. Perfect.

Some Recipes!

There is one side dish in my family that is a no brainer: diced tomatoes.

Take some fresh, ripe tomatoes that have never been refrigerated. Dice them. Toss them with a pinch of kosher salt.

Put a couple of table spoons of the bright, juicy tomato love on your plate next to your steaming white rice and your garlicy adobo. Or vinagery pork chop. Or longanisa. See what I mean by no brainer? or with lumpia breakfast.

Here's a sixty second appetizer and another no brainer: cool cumbersticks with soy sauce.

Peel and wedge an English or Japanese cucumber. An american cucumber will work too, but you might have to core it. Or not, it's not that big of a deal. Pile cucumber sticks on a clean white plate, bring it out to your friends, and then drizzle with rich soy sauce.

I know it sounds simple, but I had a guest actually applaud once. Simple gifts ...

Do I not have enough recipes up here?

Here's a lean, mean lumpia shanghai recipe:

Beat an egg in your mixing bowl; beat with a generous shot of rich soy sauce and some fresh cracked black pepper. Add bamboo shoots (strip), waterchestnuts (chopped into matchsticks), about half a sweet onion, diced, half a pound or so of cooked salad shrimp (rinsed in beer, if you like) and a pound or so of ground pork. (Secret: ground turkey tastes good too). Mix it up with your hands!

Make a cornstarch paste in a sawsawan with some water; not too runny, and not to pastey either. Go for the consistency of 2% milk.

Separate you lumpia wrappers. You can use the crepe style, the spring roll shells, or that spongy kind, but do NOT use pastry. Cover your separated wrappers with a damp cloth.

Wrapping protocol:
Place the lumpia wrapper on the board in front of you. Brush the far end with paste. Put a spoonfull or two of filling on the near side. You can smooth it out now into a clean line using three fingers, or you can try to squeeze it into place using the wrapper as you roll it. In either case, fold the nearside end of the wrapper over the filling and pull it tight, so that there are no air bubbles trapped inside. Fold in the ends and roll the wrap completely, so that you have one long, skinny lumpia. Fix the shape, and dab extra paste where necessary. Place the roll seam-side down on a board and let it dry as you roll up the rest.

When you're done rolling everything, take a break. Wash your hands. Put stuff away, start heating the oil, go to the bathroom, do something else. Let your lumpia shells dry a little.

When your oil is hot, slice the lumpia in half. I only like to drop seven or eight at a time, because whenever you drop something into the oil, the cooking temperature takes a dive. When the skins turn golden blonde, pull them out. If you made your lumpia a little fatter, you'll have to cook them until they're brown.

If your lumpia starts to stick together in the oil, leave it alone. It's better to separate them once they're fully cooked.

Anyway, drain the lumpia vertically in a tall bowl over paper towels. They will taste best in about 20 minutes, so tell your guests to back off.

NEVER COVER YOUR LUMPIA WITH PLASTIC OR FOIL, DAMMIT! You've just busted your ass to give it a hard protective shell, and covering it will make it soggy. If your house is so dirty you're afraid disease will settle on your lumpia if you don't cover it, you should a) clean your house, b) not serve food, and c) talk to your psychiatrist. Soggy lumpia makes me ANGRY.

Ok, if you are going to walk through a dusty construction sight or are traveling by horse or something, cover your lumpia with a fresh paper towel. AND THAT'S ALL.

My favorite sawsaw is garlic vinagre, but you can also use banana ketchup or that roast chicken sauce. If you have enough soy sauce and a good onion, though, you'll only use saw saw as a correction.

If you have left over lumpia, DON'T WRAP IT IN FOIL OR PLASTIC unless you want me to punch you. Wrap it in paper towel and eat it when you get home. Tomorrow, it will be a soggy grease slick.

Do you have vegetarian friends? Make banana lumpia. Buy regular bananas, slice each half banana into four even sticks (think veggie sticks) and wrap them in a lumpia WITHOUT any sugar or anything, just plain, ripe banana. Fry them to a very light blond color, and you're done. Actually, do the banana lumpia first, as it fries cleaner and will not be "contaminated" by meat or shrimp, in the oil or on the rolling board.

Don't serve any sauce with your banana lumpia. It is sweet enough with ripe banana.

Stay tuned for a boneless arrozcaldo, and a rich chicken adobo. I don't have a pansit recipe per se, just a set of principles. I'm thinking about working on a fat leche flan, a rellenong manok, and a mussels sinigang. We'll see.

Hey everybody, I'm watching the US Women's Figure Skating championship. Why? Because it's not grading. That's why.

Sasha Cohen just fell on her butt; then she did a layback spin the axis of which was one of her boobs, and you could see it rotate. The girl has got some crazy spins and spirals, which is fine with me, because during all the footwork they've got this crazy pigeon cam that rotates around the rink opposite of the skater. Technologically it's very cool, but in practice it makes me seasick.

Michelle Kwan is next. Skating is wierd; when they really like you, they throw stuff on the ground. Hmph.

So I went to the big house warming party; they are nice people and I think they are going to be a good influence on the hoa. They served fondu, which is delicious and fun, but it remains a little foreign to me. I do see the advantage; prep everything before hand, and it takes care of itself. I do, however, think it's more effective as a multi-course casual sit down meal, you know, like up in your alpine lodge with all your teutonic, sweater-wearing friends--and less effective as a stand up american buffet table graze.

Here's some pointers for our buffet-loving readers:

1) The buffet table's natual enemy is the WALL. Get your buffet table away from the damn wall. Pull the table away from the wall, and you double your the space from your serving area.

2) The buffet table's toxic friend: the long line! It makes your food and your guests wait for each other unnecessarily. Fix: instead of one buffet table with massive amounts of food, have multiple buffet tables with all the same food. Downside: you have to work a little more to keep food on the table. Upside: more access = less time for people in line.

3) Advanced buffet theory: use round tables. People won't know where to start, or where to line up. But multiple tables will reduce the number of people waiting at each buffet table, so with round tables people will go directly to their food instead of waiting in line for it. And since they won't be following a series per se, they will effectively be hunting and gathering for their food. Instead of the cafeteria metaphor, going to my round tables buffet would be more like SHOPPING.

That said, my neighbors' fondu buffet was lovely. There was both chese (bread and veggies) and chocolate (cookies, cake, and fruit). And lots of wine!

La folle qui habite dans le numero deux est arrive. Ni moi ni la presidente lui avons dite bonsoir. J'ai essaye de lui dire bonjour, mais elle m'ignorait. Tant mieux.

Hey kids,

I found a pretty cool restaurant guide for Seattle. They seem to be foodies without being decor snobs, and it looks to me like they know how to eat rice. They've got an easy ratings system, which I might not fully agree with, but you can tell it's very thoughtfully done, and all listings include address and phone number. I'd like to see more links, but a lot of these places probably don't have websites. I know, huh.

H wanted to go to Ibiza tonight. Long story short, we ended up at the Harvest Vine, easily the most celebrated taperia in Seattle. We had pulpo, salchicha asada, jamon cerrano, a french basque cheese, and I had a San Miguel. It was all delicious, but expensive. We were the first to arrive, but we didn't take a table; we sat at the big copper counter so we could voyeur the cooks. The food was fresh made, so even though the dining room is tiny, the staff was slammed.

Note: if you want to to be a tapas chef at the Harvest Vine, you have to be skinny, attractive, and have moves, because you are totally on stage, the kitchen is tiny, and the entire menu is being ordered all at once.

Pulpo: this takes an hour to boil, so I'm sure they were pre-boiled. The tender tentacles were chunked, salted, dusted with paprika, and drizzled with evoo; acompanied by a red potato. The result is a texture much more tender than the flash cooked taco you get at sushi restaurants.

Jamon cerrano: five impeccable slices of the cured ham, covering a large square plate, nothing else. Perfect.

Salchicha asada: reminded me of europe, where salchichas are long and skinny, perfect for high heat grilling. And of course, there was a red coloring, which looked beautiful with grill mark crust.

Missing from the menu: tortilla espanola, patatas bravas . . .

Invita la casa: two pieces of toast with some creamy hummus-like legume pate. H thought there might be chese in it.

Bueno, time for a house warming party. Hope I don't see the neighbors. We're bringing some vinho verde and a cork stabber.

I'm up early this morning; took H to work. It is a winter day in Seattle. The air is crisp and cold like biting a fresh apple. The sky is clean and clear, and mountains are visible to the east and west, as is Rainier to the south. In weather like this, I feel like eating a big bowl of shellfish and slupring the broth from the bowl. My grandmother used to say that slurping broth was behaving like the mountain people. She also used to say that about dipping cookies into your beverage.

It doesn't matter. I can't afford a bowl of shellfish! The best I can do is a bowl of reheated rice and some lil' smokies left over from last night.

Sci-fi night was funny. Our goal was to watch Star Trek Enterprise and then Battlestar Galactica: the new series. Given the entertainment, I did not try to outclass myself with the snacks. Two bags of potato chips, Tim's of course, regular and wasabi. Gala apples. Boiled shrimp served with cocktail sauce and neufchatel on a ritz cracker. I boiled and peeled the shrimp myself, because duh, but I'm considering buying the pre-peeled shrimp next time I do this. There was also a blackberry pie.

Dinner, before the guests came, was steamed rice, li'l smokies, and diced kamatis. Classy!

So T and M came over, as did A and H, who came bearing mochi ice cream dessert, coffee flavor, and half pint of red bean ice cream. The mochi balls were perfect little bites of extasy.

So we watched half of the Enterprise episode; that got too boring, so we turned it to the hype surrounding the BG series premier. M, A, and I all remember the old series. M was very vocal about hating the new series, but he seemed to be taken by the visuals. A had missed the miniseries, so we had to do some explaining, for his benefit, and also for H who was not that excited about being at a geek night.

Anyway, we watched it, and M and I were both a little bored--not enough space battles, too much administration drama. H, on the otherhand, was intrigued.

I gave final exams yesterday; grades are due Thursday. I don't want to grade.

This guy is funny. He has a story about the Chipotle Grill, which now has a clone on the Ave in the UDistrict. (I guess if I say it's on the Ave, you already know what neighborhood it's in).

ANYWAY! I went there a couple times when I was in exile at Madison, Wisconsin. There was a new CG in Madison on State Street. [tangent: "State" is a stupid name for a street, especially an important one. Yes, there are other unoriginal names, but 'State' has got to be the cake-taker].

I ended up there a couple times, mostly following somebody. In case you don't know, it's a bland burrito stand run for gringos, by gringos, with undocumented immigrants in the kitchen smirking as they collect a paycheck by making food that's about as interesting as half a piece of scratch paper. Once your friends find a place they like, they'll try to get you to go there again by saying, "I don't know, let's just go to Chipotle's" (note the spontaneous possessive). Anyway, they act as if all options are exhausted and that they're offering this suggestion as a last exit; we'll suffer this restaurant rather than go hungry. Of course it's all a ruse; they're trying to trick the foodie into settling for what is their favorite restaurant.

I know, K used to pull it all the time; "Let's just go to Red Robin."

Here's a hint, my friends; if you want to spend time with me, don't pick restaurants I hate. Go there without me; meet me later for dessert. I hate being tricked. If you'd rather spend time with me than eat that garbage, then shut up and eat what I tell you to eat. There's no use in being fat and gluttonous if all you eat is basuras.

My friend R used to say that Chipotle reminded her of 2001: A Space Odyssey. The aliens were able to replicate the look of food from the information they got from tv signals broadcast into space, but they had no information on the taste or smell, so it was all bland. Ladies and Gentlemen, Chipotle Grill.

Red Robin used to be a favorite restaurant of mine. But then the inevitable cost cutting happens, and service gets stingier and more expensive. Now, there is no reason to go, and no, I don't give a crap about the stupid ice cream drinks, so give it up.

One last rant; there is no reason to wait for a table in Seattle, Washington. This place is sick with food and empty tables. Trendy new restaurants do not have trendy new food; they have the same damn food in the supermarket, ok? You've got 2 minutes to find me a table. There are few exceptions.

Sorry, one more: Pan-Asian cuisine (also known as 'Asian fusion') is code for 'not Asian cuisine' or even more precisely 'No Asians cuisine.' It's a way that uppity gringos can experience gringofied (or frenchified!) food without having to see any actual Asians.

Last one, I promise: if you can't use chopsticks, ask for a fork and move on. I don't mind if you can't, but if you make it the topic of conversation, I will spit in your soup. Do you understand? Eat your food, use whatever utensil you are comfortable with, but there is nothing you can say about it that isn't ignorant. In addition, using chopsticks for anything besides picking up food is tacky. They're not drumsticks, and I don't think your walrus face is funny. Put them down and contemplate your shame.

Oh, where to begin.

Today I wanted Japanese curry; brown and rich. Comfort food at it's best. J and B wanted to come with me, so we all went to Fort St. George, a young, hip, Japanese hangout. I let J and B out at the door and then circled the block to find parking. By the time I got into the dining room, J and B were siting at the corner table, sipping water and proofing an information sheet. The people at the next table were smoking, which is yuck, but pretty Japanese. Anyway, I sat down, asked if the smoke bothered them. They said no, but then I scouted the menu for the veggie options, for J's sake. Didn't find much, so we got up and left.

I have a deeply held belief that any foodie worth his salt should be able feed people with diet restritions without batting an eye. You just have to educate yourself a little.

So anyway, we ended up at Hing Loon, and when we sat down, they started proofing the info sheet again. So when the waitress came, I smiled and ordered Buddhist Special, Szechwan Eggplant (veggie sauce) and Curried Scallops. And steamed rice.

Buddhist special (Buddha's delight, in other places) is yum; interesting mushrooms, carved veggies, triangles of fried tofu, a pile of bean thread noodles to make the whole dish taller, water chestnuts. I noticed J was going for the tofu. I throroughly enjoy this dish, although if I had my way there would probably be bbq pork in it. Sorry, Buddha.

Szechwan eggplant was delicious too, due in large part to fresh young chinese eggplant. They had been sliced and wedged into inch-long pieces and tossed into a delicious szechwan sauce that was ketchupy without being ketchup. This was definately yum.

Finally, curried scallops. Chinese curry tends to be brighter, brassier than Japanese curry. Our dish was deffinately comfort food, thick and saucy with carrots, potatoes, and scallops the size of double-stuff oreos.

Hing Loon offers a small sesame ball at the end of your meal, along with a fortune cookie. We all left with the pain of overeating, but a little thankful that I didn't order salt and pepper squid.

abrupt change of subject.

so my light bill arrived the other day and I was a little surprised that my balance was over $900, and then realized that they had my address wrong. I called to ask, and learned a couple things. 1) I had been paying my neighbors' bill 2) My neighbors had not paid their light bill in four years. The person at the company who is helping me, her name is Angel, and today I faxed her my closing papers so that she could see when I moved in. I feel bad for my neighbor; probably no one had ever told her that she had to pay for electricity.

I'm blogging instead of grading or exercizing.

So I bought some chinese eggplant, chunked them into three and then sliced each chunk in half the long way. I layed them cut side up onto an aluminum foil lined broiler pan. Then I brushed on some olive oil, but it soaked it up so fast, I ended up drizzling it on straight from the bottle. Handfull of fleur de sel, some cracked pepper, threw it in the oven for half an hour.

After that, I threw them into a tupperware and then stabbed at them with some kitchen shears. Mixed in some chopped tomatoes. Auntie R uses patis, which is that salty fish sauce, but I think I got it covered with fleur de sel.

Eat it with rice and those vinagrey pork chops. It's not something you'd serve to guests, unless they're the kind of guests who swear a lot and who wear the same clothes on consecutive days. You know, the kind of guests you want with you in a fight. That's the kind of people who'd like roast eggplant and tomatoes.

Buy a lot of eggplants, because they really cook down. Also, make sure to use the chinese eggplants, so you don't have to peel them.

Ok, time to go to bed. Nothing accomplished tonight but blogging.

I came home from work late; picked up H, stopped at the store. Bought some eggplant; I'll roast them later, then mix them with sliced tomatoes.

Anway, I didn't get home until after seven, took care of some personal needs and then hit the road again to find some dinner. I ended up three blocks from my house at El Asadero, which is a taco bus. People call it a 'roach coach' but I've never seen a roach in the Pacific Northwest. Supposedly we have some.

Anyway, I got two tacos de pollo and two tacos de carne asada, one tamal, and a jarritos. It was six bucks and some change. The tortillitas were soft and fresh; they tasted like bright corn sunshine. The meat was saucy and delicious, maybe a little saucier than what I was used to in central Mexico. The only way I would have improved on the meat would have been to let it brown a little on the grill, like when H and I went to visit D in Chicago and we had three lunches.

Anyway, taco bus is delicious. There's all sorts of taco vehicles on Rainier Avenue South and Martin Luther King Jr. Way South. I'm also a fan of the taco truck in downtown Columbia City, but since it's only a truck, there's no indoor seating. They do have horchata, though, which is a plus.

Seattle is a long, skinny city. It's shaped like an hour glass, with significant body's of water keeping it slim. I've lived in the UDistrict and Wallingford, which are both north of the Ship Canal. I lived for three years on the north side of Capitol Hill, which was great. I've also lived in Rainier Beach, and now I live Mt. Baker/Columbia City, which is definately the south side.

The point is this; people that live north of the Ship Canal have no idea that there is authentic Mexican food in Seattle. Students of mine show up at school after a year of college and tell me, yah, you can't get real Mexican food in Seattle, yuh just can't; and then they procede to brag to me about how there's great Mexican food everywhere but here. I've even had someone tell me that there are no Mexican people in Seattle, which is ridiculous; if you're eating hot food in Seattle, a Mexican probably cooked it.

So what's the deal with the north-Seattlites who can't find a taco? I don't know, I'm not responsible for them. There are very few people I know who can find their way around the whole city. It's really too bad; there's good food in most neighborhoods. And most of it is cheap.

I am sick with jealousy at Delicious Biting. That whole "picture-is-worth-a-thousand-words" busines is pretty powerful, but how do all her pictures seem to fit perfectly into the colorscheme? Do you think she photoshops them? Hmph.

There's also the angry Screed, which doesn't have photos but she's really careful with her words. Is this thing on--she's a good storyteller; where the heck has she been?

Anyway, I made a decision long ago that my blog would just be a journal so that when I'm old and kabao someone can rememer how random I was. I don't care if it reads like a 5th grade journal! I don't care if my french is sloppy!

It smells like mustard up in here; I'm roasting a pork tenderloin.

So I'm watching the People's Choice Award and it's awful. American celebrities have a hard time being gracious. Sure, this award means less to them than other awards, but do they have to be asses? These people need to watch more beauty pagents.

Adam Sandler just did a random chemistry joke. hmph.

Yesterday, H, T and I decided to go to Taste of India. It was slammed. They said 20 minutes, we said yah, right.

So we hopped into the car and went to Cedars which was also slammed. By this time H is very hungry. So I said, let's go to Jitterbug. Also slammed. Fortunately, we were on 45th street; Wallingford Pizza, Rain, Rusty Pelican, Moon Temple, Guadelajara, Chutney's, Taco Del Mar, Lotus, Kabul . . . I'm forgetting a bunch, but you get the point; about a dozen restaurants within four blocks of each other.

We ended up at Au Buchon. T and H ordered an earthy mushroom potage; I ordered a pate de campagne to share. Yum. The potage had a fat chunk of goat cheese that T put aside and H stirred in. I would have put it in my mouth. T's dinner was Penne Mediterranean; it was like a zucchini rattatouille with penne. He said it was good, but he set aside another fat hunk of goat cheese. H ordered the coq au vin. It was yummy but saucier than I thought it should be. Also, two chicken quaters seems like a lot.

I should mention that we took a decent table, but I sat at the one seat that could see into the kitchen through the service window, so I could spy. If it's usually bad to sit where you can see and hear the kitchen, at Au Buchon it's pretty interesting. First of all, you can see everybody's beautiful food. I saw a lot of steaks move, as well as escargot, creme brulee, creme puffs, all kids of lovely food. Second, the kitchen is clean and serene. The chef is all business. Occasionally, our jeans-wearing waiter/proprietor asks him about dishes in French.

Anyway, I sat in view of the service window, and I saw that T's food was the first to be set out. It was steaming hot. H's plate was set out next, and finally after a minute, my fettucine alla carbonara arived. Then monsieur les jeans walked the food two steps to our table. We were all surprised when T said that his food was still too hot to eat.

My carbonara was delicious, but it wasn't really carbonara. Sure it had pancetta and a creamy sauce, but I was hoping they would serve it the french way, with an egg on top, parmeggiano at the table, peas, etc. It wasn't like that, instead it was a glorified aflredo with pancetta and some red onions. It was delicious but there was way too much sauce. It was so rich it gave me a creme headache, so I had to order a coffee. Should have ordered tea.

I was a little surprised that the soup and salads were not included with the meal; actually, I wasn't surprised at all, I was surprised that M. les jeans asked "soup or salad" so casually. When he asked what wine, I said "on n'est pas tres vin." The perrier was individual so we stuck with water.

We were way too stuffed for dessert, which is a shame.

The dude next to us was eating steak/foie gras with a side of carbonara. Can you imagine? A main dish with a side of a richer, heavier main dish?

Anyway, we'll go back someday just for dessert. Not anytime soon, though, because I'm broke as a joke.

the new dairy queen commercial for their bacon burger is dirty. I'll look for a link.

I might as well change the name of this blog to "what I'm watching on tv" because the reason I turned on my computer right now is that I'm watching Battlestar Galactica (the reimagining) and I love it. I used to watch the old one religiously, because I thought the spacecraft were cool and I enjoyed watching weapons fire. I had the opportunity to watch the original series a while ago, and I cannot stress enough what a pile of crap that series was.

But I'm watching the reimagining now and I love it. Well, I love the visuals. It's easy to like characters in war movies.

Je vais ecrire l'histoire de l'assembee de noel, mais il faut l'ecrire en francais. Je viens de voir un reportage qu'on peut perdre le boulot en ecrivant ce qui se passe au bureau. Mais il faut ecrire de cette atrocite, quand meme. Donc je vais le faire en francais pour que le monde ne se rends pas compte. Bah, le monde non francophone.

Le dix-neuf decembre il y avait l'assemblee de noel. D'abord, une ensemble de profs avons chante; moi j'ai interprete les tamours. Apres ca, ils ont invite quatre eleves a s'assoir dans un bain d'eau glacee (dans une piscine gonflable). Ils leur ont donnes des grandes granitas et leurs ont dis que le dernier ga de se quitter de la piscine gagnerait la competition.

Ensuite il y avait un papa noel qui insultait les eleves avec des plaisanteries racistes, sexistes, et en general tres antipatiques. Les eleves se riait mais tout le monde se sentait mal. Moi, je commencais a dire "next! ce qui suit!" mais ils ont continue avec le papa noel. J'ai regarde leur moderateur, qui ne faisait rien pour beaucoup de temps. En fin apres beaucoup d'insultes il a fait la geste d'arreter. Papa Noel a fait deux encore et puis il s'est retire.

Ensuite, ils ont fixe des oeuf au fronts de 8 autres garcons qui avait des jeunes filles sur le dos, et comme ca ils ont fait la bataille des poulets. On etait elimine quand l'oeuf du pair se cassait. Ca c'etait horrible, parce qu'a la fin il s'agissait d'un jeu d'endurence. A la fin le dernier pair a gagne parce que la deuxieme a tombe par terre.

Fin. Les quatre gars dans le bain congele? Personne n'est sorti; ils etaits mi-congeles leurs memes quand en fin quelqu'un leur a dit qu'il etait fini le concours. Quelle horreur.

Et ainsi tout le monde est parti en vacances de Noel. Les profs etions tous fureiux. Beacoup ont ecrit des emails; c'etait le theme du jour a la fete des profs. Les deux moderateurs ont ecrit des excuse sur l'email. Ce qui nous a rendu tous furieux c'etait quand le moderateur se comportait comme si c'etait tout la faute aux eleves. Il y avait des excuses sur l'hautes voix, des excuses a une reunion des profs, et en fin il y avait une assemblee ou les eleves ont donne encore des excuses. Les eleves ne comprennent rien pour quoi on continue d'etre furieux, pour quoi ils continue a ofrir des excuses. Le moderateur ne comprend rien non plus; il croit qu'il s'agit d'un problem avec des eleves maleleves. Nous essayons de leur dire qu'il s'agit d'un manque de supervision, et qu'ils sont les deux moderateurs qui sont les responsables. Ils ne comprennent rien.

An interesting twist: le directeur a declare ses intentions de se retirer d'etre directeur; l'annee prochaine il veut etre prof d'anglais. Je suis tres content pour lui, et je veux bien qu'ils cherchent quelqu'un de mieux. On craint par contre qu'il aille etre le moderateur incompetant qui va lui remplacer; il a les documents necessaires. Donc, le faculte fait tout maintenant d'empecher cela, mais on sait jamais ce qu'il va faire le president, et il est deja janvier.

Oh, la vache. A table.

There was one part of the "Do You Speak American" show that I did really dig, it was the LA School Districts Academic English Mastery program.

This is a program that teaches kids who are native speakers of African American Vernacular how to express themselves in Standard American English through contrastive analysis. Two awesome things happen. One is kids learn descriptive rules of both SAE and AAV in a context which celebrates their dialect as an intrinsic artifact of their culture; they learn SAE without devaluing AAV as "bad English" or "slang;" in effect learning the grammar of non-standard variations. This is true bilingual education, and it's exactly what reactionary people all over the country decried when Oakland School District wanted to recognize "Ebonics" as a different variety of English. Duh!

Anyway, the second awesome thing that happens is that kids become totally grammatically aware and conversant in linguistic terminology. In the program, they showed a fourth grade class (I'm guessing). A teacher had kids split into groups and asked them, what language is this, and they would yell "Mainstream American!" or "AL" (African American Language); and then he'd ask them to code switch "Who can code switch that for me?" and then he'd ask "what's the difference" and they'd discuss in groups and come up with "3rd person singular marker!" It was a dream come true.

In my spanish classes, I have people who ask me to define what a verb is every time I say the word; i.e., every class. Then they say, wull, it's because I never learned it before . . . and then I say, yah, because you're dumb and you don't listen. Well, I don't say it out loud, but one day I will.

I have a very dorky story to tell.

It was 8pm, which was the time I had set aside to grade. Then "Do You Speak American" came on, and I had to watch that of course, being a former linguist. The host of the show had promised a linguistic road trip through America, but unfortunatly the 'linguistics' part of it ended up being very pedestrian and the 'road trip' part was overemphasized. 30% of this documentary must have been music dubbed in as the dude walked into the shot and onto a train, or drove past a river or whatever. He managed to talk about the Boston, Philidelphia, and Pittsburg dialects without actually providing audio examples.

I'm not going to list my complaints of this show, because it would be too long and dorky. So regardless, I noticed it was already 9pm, and the documentary showed no signs of quitting. So then I had to watch West Wing, with "Do You Speak American" during the commercials, which were more substancial than I expected. No problem, I thought, I'll grade papers at 10.

Well, 10pm rolled around, and wouldn't you know it, "Do You Speak American" is a 3 hour tour. A three hour tour. It's not even that good, but of course I'm watching it. How often do you get to watch a special about regional and cultural dialectology in the US?

So I watched it, dammit, and now it's 11 and I'm going to bed. They'll get their papers back on Friday. Get off my back.

So kids take money to school for lunch, and then they have change. So then I come up to them with a jar marked "tsunami relief" and within 45 minutes I've collected over $70 for the Jesuit Relief Services. It's sick, kiddies, this jar is packed with money for the poor and broken hearted. So I'm on my way back to the office and this woman criticizes me, saying I'm no different from a bum on the street corner.

It's time once again to look at our mission statement and our core values, everyone.

We had a fun Cowsin Friday last night, New Year's Eve. M, H and I showed up at C's condo. We snacked, had drinks, watched gross animals on tv (on HD, no less), called family. At midnight we went up to the roof with some worthless drunk neighbors and watched the Space Needle fireworks. Fun!

I got home at 2am, and was about to go to bed when I got a call from my friend Y, who had been at Times Square. He told me that they are still recovering from Kwatit Karabao Karaoke a few weeks ago.

Happy New Year everyone!