Dish a Day

Nick's Crispy Tacos. Don't Bike There.

2013-05-27T15:31:00.002-07:00

NIck's Crispy Tacos is a well established taco institution in San Francisco. And for the longest time I couldn't really take them seriously. C'mon: it resides inside of a club. And with a name like Nick's, I just assumed some sort of abomination by some burned out surfer with one too many boozed out trips to Baja and visits to Sammy Hagar's Cabo Wabo. I was wrong of course. It just took a few years to see the error of my ways.

After a cruise up the very dangerous polk street yesterday, my companion suggested a stop at Nick's. Two Baja style tacos arrived and impressive they were. Perfectly batter fried white fish, green and purple cabbage, all topped with creamy and slightly spicy sauce. A few squirts of lime and I almost forgot that I was in the Marina. Almost. (Or is it Cow Hollow?) My only complaint was that the tortillas were shown no love at all. I don't think they even touched a comal. Had they even briefly touched a seasoned grill these tacos would have been an A-plus.

After ordering I noticed a sign begging patrons to save parking on Polk Street. In other words, Nick's was one of the local businesses fighting proposed improvements to Polk Street. Polk street is something of a cluster fuck at the moment. It is the only north south corridor for people biking in the neighborhood. And cycling is exploding in this city. Unfortunately, so are the accidents. Needless to say, the city is working on improvements to main thoroughfares in order to ensure the safety of those not behind the wheel. However, a few of very vocal business owners are doing their best to stop SFMTA improvements on Polk to make it safer for cyclists and pedestrians. These business owners, including Nick's very own Howard Schindler seem to be stuck in the 1970s in their vision of transit. Even though a full 80 percent of people visiting Polk street arrive on foot, Bike, or transit, their main interest appears to be to save a few parking spots.

After finishing our meal and starting up Polk street, only a few blocks from Nick's, a driver kicked open his door nearly striking my companion in a manner nearly identical to the way I was doored back in 2009. A few blocks later another car nearly caused another accident. This time, a car almost turned into a cyclist in a move that could be chalked up to blindness, drunkenness, or simple negligence. It didn't need to happen. Mind you, I've seen cyclists behave in the same way, but this whole situation can be avoided with streets that serve everybody's needs. See San Francisco Bicycle Coalition's information about Polk street here.

Others don't see a problem here and they are certainly entitled to their opinion. But I'll be taking my business to places that care about my safety and well being. Good luck in the 20th century guys.

Nick's Crispy Tacos
http://www.nickscrispytaco.com
1500 Broadway San Francisco, CA 94109
(415) 409-8226

Pizza-a-Day

2013-02-02T12:56:00.001-08:00

How was your January this year? Mine was busy. I ate a lot of pizza.

Pizza. It has long been a daunting task for me. So daunting that I simply didn't approach it. I let others take the lead. And usually that was good enough. You see, I am more or less in the camp that thinks you should do something well or not at all. I don't own an oven that goes up to 800 degrees, and have long found most homemade pizza to be so subpar and depressing that it kept me away.

Some people swear by pizza stones. I'm ignorant. Of the two pizza stones in my house, one has broken into many pieces and the other simply doesn't fit into the oven. The door doesn't close and you have what is essentially a rock sticking out of a rather inefficient heater. What I do have, and any self respecting cook should as well, is a cast iron skillet. I use it for everything and so should you. I can't stress this enough. So a couple months ago I got to thinking, is there another work around for making pizza at home that doesn't require a fancy oven or specialty equipment? The answer is yes.

Most of the method I employed is covered in this article here. But here's the quick and dirty: Turm on your broiler. Heat a cast iron skillet on your oven until you think it might catch fire. Assemble your pizza, slide it into red hot skillet, and then into the oven for a few minutes. That's it. Enjoy your pizza. The end.

Here is a simple pizza of sauce, parmesan, and blue cheese on the peel. A floured wood cutting board works great too.

Here's the pizza in the pan right after being slid off the peel and into the skillet.

And here it is a few minutes later.

I'm still a couple papers away from my MA in linguistics. Instead of making papers in January I made pizzas everyday. I am a moron but also I am a better pizza cook. If anything can be learned from this, it is that learning a skill takes time. Putting your energies into something once or twice might lead to decent results. But doing something day in, day out just might make you an expert. Do I make perfect pizzas? Hello no. Can I make these pizzas in my sleep? Yes I can. I still have a lot of things to improve upon. Getting comfortable with the ingredients and methods is the step that must be overcome before you can actually have some control. Before then you might just be getting lucky.

Some of the "best" food I've ever eaten (can I really say such a thing?) has often been made by folks who have been making a particular dish for years. For decades even. Their techniques have developed from a deep understanding of the ingredients, techniques, and results. In many ways this project was inspired from artisan bakers, noodle vendors, and taco sellers I have been blown away by over the years across the globe. No, I'm not in the same league nor will I ever be, but making the same thing each and every day has lead me to have an even deeper appreciation for those who spend years of their life making one thing each and every day of their work week.

If you have some time to spare and a desire to make pizza on your own, here's my basic dough recipe straight outta the Cheese Board recipe book.

Here it is without much elaboration:

1 tablespoon of yeast

1.5 cups of water

1.5 teaspoon of salt

2 tablespoons of olive oil

3.5 cups of flour

Over the course of the month I experimented with different combinations of flour. I found that two cups of white bread flour and a cup and a half of whole wheat made the best crust. But then again, I'm still experimenting. You should too.

Get baking.

And for those of you who only care about the pictures, here's the slideshow of pizzas from the month:

Yamo

2012-09-21T14:46:00.000-07:00

Today I want to talk about Yamo, one of my very favorite restaurants in San Francisco. Yamo is a long standing Burmese joint in San Francisco's mission. It's not a secret by any means and it's always got a line. And Sometimes that wait is intolerable.

What brings me back over and over again is the small seating area, which only seats about twelve, that places you right in the kitchen. This sense of immediacy is one of the more exhilarating things really. you see and hear metal utensils smack against the wok, see flames jump as oil is added, hear indecipherable words, phrases and cackles from the older ladies who work their butts off in this tiny space. There are no frills, and the atmosphere is simply the well worn kitchen and seating area. There's nothing you don't need in this place save for the food.

So, how is the food? It's pretty good! I mostly ignore the stir fry dishes, as they just seem to be retreads of well known Chinese dishes. However, a few things are worth a try. On my most recent visit, we started with the tea leaf salad.

It's a great mix of fermented, fishy, salty, and crunchy. It's small, but so is the price.

My companion tore into the ever popular house noodles. It looked and tasted nice enough.

Just about every visit though, I get the poorly named "Chicken Noodle Soup."

If it isn't obvious from the picture, it's a bowl of coconut curry noodles, topped with shallots and cilantro. For me it's an ultimate comfort food. It never ceases to excite my taste buds and satisfy a certain craving.

Don't let me overstate here dear reader. This isn't a place to take a group, or get a fancy or even exceptionally authentic Burmese meal. It's really the charm of the experience that keeps me coming back. If you were to look up 'hole in the wall' in the dictionary there would be a picture of Yamo next to the definition. For me, Yamo is one of the closest experiences in America to eating at a noodle stall in the street or in an alley somewhere in Asia. What you get is simple, fresh, and cheap food. It always puts a smile on my face.

Yamo
3406 18th St
San Francisco, CA 94110
(415) 553-8911

One Last Cup

2012-09-12T22:23:00.001-07:00

This afternoon I finally broke down and cooked up the very last of my Oaxacan chocolate. I was hoping to save it for some special occasion but then realized that no occasion would ever present itself and to continue hoarding this treasure would continue either until I forgot about it entirely or it became ingested by some vermin. So in between some tasks which are unmemorable and thus unmentionable, I heated it on the stove top. I made it foamy not with the traditional wooden implement seen here, but with a milk frother bought a couple of years ago at Ikea. Modern times!

As with food and drink consumed away from its place of birth, something wasn't quite right, but then again nothing ever is. Today I wasn't feeling the overwhelming sense of melancholy I felt during previous moments of consumption and I suppose that's a good thing. If you're anything like me dear reader, food and drink is not merely about the moment at which it is consumed, but also reminiscent of the previous times and places gone by. These are too numerous and weighty to broach in this medium but i will say that nothing else tastes quite like a fresh, hot, foamy cup of Oaxacan hot chocolate. Until we meet again...

A Word On Freshness: Tortillas and Quesadillas

2012-07-09T23:09:00.003-07:00

A conversation over dinner some nights ago hit upon the age old question of how food can taste so good in certain parts of the world. Countless meals eaten in the most random places can be so revelatory. The topic was Italy, a country for which I have no experience, but my addition to the conversation was a simply about the issue of freshness. Is it that simple?

All too often living in a cosmopolitan city we get cocky and begin thinking that simply because we have the immigrants, the available import markets and produce, and in the Bay Area the climate, we can produce anything our hearts desire. This might be so in some circumstances, but by and large it is always incredibly difficult o reproduce here what is so commonplace elsewhere. Which brings me to tortillas.

Last summer while making Mole Negro with my Zapotec consultant, a part of the process involved going to the molinero to grind up our ingredients into the curry paste we had spent a smoke filled morning making. While our mole went through the large grinding machine, a small old woman came in with her treated hominy, the raw ingredient for masa which produces tortillas. She carried only a small bucket which she must have only have been processing for home use. After paying the owner for use of the machines, she fed her ingredients through. She was soon on her way and I wish I could have followed her.

Likely the masa seen above went straight into fresh tortillas. The best tortillas you will ever (not) have.

At the place where I ate my meals during the week, they sometimes did things the old fashioned way, using a stone metate.

This time consuming process was once more commonplace, but after spending considerable time in Mexico over the years, this is not a method I have often had the pleasure to observe.

This masa was used to make "simple" quesadillas filled with epazote and quesillo, the stringy cheese briefly mentioned here.

Simple ingredients lead to simple pleasures.

Just about the perfect cena. Quesadillas with a spoonful or two of beans on the side, as well as some fresh salsa and guacamole.

This fresh made and "simple" meal is so simple I've yet to find anything that touches it north of the border.

Empress of China

2012-07-02T20:08:00.000-07:00

Without being too negative and droning on about cheap plastic junk shops and appalling food, let me simply recommend that you avoid San Francisco's Chinatown. I might enjoy the occasional walk through, but it is no means worth your time if in town for a limited period of time. That said, I was pleasantly surprised by a recent experience at the old-school institution, The Empress of China.

The Emperess of China has been around just about forever and I imagine that while tastes have changed, their menu has not. The place is a real throw back and seems to have changed little for decades and cruises on reputation alone. However, a couple of friends of mine swore that they had a happy hour worth stopping by for, and seeing that I seem to have a surpluss of time as of late, I tagged along. I was not disappointed.

From the hours of three to five there is a rather pleasant happy hour. This is early enough in fact to avoid the tourists who follow the unfortunate advice of their guidebooks or hotel staffs that recommend that they visit the Emperess of China for their rather pricey and mediocre fare. A lot the reviews suggest to go only for the view and with this I cannot argue.

From the Lounge, which is where the ahppy hour is held, you are treated to a lovely view of the very touristy (and junk shop lined) Grant avenue. It makes for one of the more pleasant views of Chinatwon I have enjoyed. And with your view you can enjoy a ridiculous drink. I chose the popular Empress Mai Tai.

Normally I draw the line at umbrellas in my drink, but for a half off drink I was willing to forget my self respect for an hour or two.

Emperess of China (Happy Hour 3-5 pm)
838 Grant Ave
San Francisco, CA 94108
(415) 434-1345
http://www.empressofchinasf.com/

Ode to Tacos and a Taco Stand

2012-05-16T11:01:00.000-07:00

It was almost a year ago that I left for Oaxaca Mexico for the summer and yet many of the meals, snacks, sights, and sounds are still very much on my mind. Today's rumination is about tacos, but more specifically only one taco stand in the town of Teotitlan del Valle.

Attached to the central market, Samburgesa Sam's opens up in the evenings and remains so until most of the town is asleep. As the name suggests, hamburgers are on offer, as are tacos and a variety of other simple snack foods. The tacos weren't necessarily revelatory, but they were always just about the perfect punctuation to a day. The pleasant evenings by the central square with families coming for an evening bite, men stopping by for a drink, and a gathering of friends reminded me of the importance of these types of spaces. If i remember correctly, while I was eating the above plate of tacos, a man was bucked right off of his horse onto the uneven cobblestone street. What else could he do but get back on? Everyone sort of nervously laughed and returned to their food and drink. All I could think about was how much it must have hurt.
I'm not sure if there's much more to say about tacos other than what I've already said before in posts written long ago. Tortillas are the perfect vehicle for grilled meats and condiments. This deceptively simple food has me running all over San Francisco in search of perfection. However, nothing compares to these modest tacos in Teotitlan del Valle. In many ways it is the taco stand that made me fall in love with street food and I've been chasing that dragon ever since. It's been over a decade now since I first really started wrestling with the pleasures of street food. The concepts of immediacy, freshness, and community are simple pleasures not easily found just anywhere.

LA Rants; Food

2012-02-08T17:08:00.000-08:00

I'm guilty of the rather banal sin of speaking ill of the city of Los Angeles. I mean, with such a huge and slow moving target reeking of all that is wrong with America's relationship with the automobile and the type of development it has encouraged is the lazy person's line of reasoning. That was once me and that person is now dead. Maybe only on the inside but that perspective is, well, boring. Yes, LA is a beast of a place best left only really explored with a local who knows how to get around. So that's what I did last month and frankly I can't wait to get back.

LA provides an interesting contrast to say, a city like San Francisco. San Francisco provides a good counterexample of what is wrong with LA. San Francisco is walkable, bikable, livable, beautiful, (insert hyperbole here). However its small size and attractiveness means that everyone wants to be here and it's very very expensive. So expensive in fact that the second floor flat I live at and share with five other people is worth something around a million dollars. "Affordable" rent only exists for us only due to the blessing of rent control. Some day in the future the current or future owner could feasibly kick us out and with that might mean the end of my tenure in this fine city. But I'm getting a little side tracked here. The point is that people are pretty smug about their little slice of heaven in San Francisco while being rather disdainful of those who would choose to live elsewhere, such as in the stinking behemoth of LA. But on each and every visit to LA I find the cost of things lower, the immigrant communities more vibrant, and the food more accessible and even better. It just comes with a larger slice of dystopia.

My photos don't tell much of a story and I like it that way.I know very little about LA, but what I do know is that I am always able to eat very well on each and every visit.

Chilaquiles are always great at Tacos Delta in Silverlake.

Tacos Delta
3806 W Sunset Blvd
Los Angeles, CA 90026

Driving around, as one does in LA, we came across a Thai sweets shop. no joke. What else did they have but the seemingly rare kanom krok. I was captivated as always.

We sampled a number of hard to find Thai sweets that I've not had in a few years. I was impressed.

Thong Lo
1100 N Main St
Los Angeles, CA 90012

And of course, there were taco trucks. Everywhere. We needed only walk to the closest truck in the neighborhood I was staying. They had a lovely pastor spit right inside. Impressive.

Great tacos for a buck a piece and I was left thinking about how effortlessly I was able to eat well in LA. This is the kind of eating that made me a food blogger: food right in front of me; ever present, everyday. We didn't exactly plan on any of this stuff, we simply came upon it and stopped for a bite. We didn't brave lines or pay top dollar in the endless pursuit of in-fashion foods. LA provided these few bites and more, and really, it was no big deal.

The Small Matter of my Hands. And Bicycles.

2011-11-18T13:48:00.000-08:00

A couple Sundays ago, for the first time in almost exactly two months I shakily hopped back onto a bicycle. After a quick ride up and down my street in the Lower Haight in the city of San Francisco, I realized I was good to go and rode across town free from the clenches of flaky and often unnecessary public transportation. So what happened?

In early September I made a colossally stupid set of decisions that lead me to have a rather frightening accident on my trusty touring bike. I'm so bored with the story I'll keep it brief: I was going camping and I packed a bag for what I thought would be a rather easy ride from the city of Dublin to Livermore, up into the nearby hills, and to a lovely reservoir where I could go swimming, sit around a camp fire, and maybe howl at the moon come nightfall. Anyhow I did a poor job packing, I went alone, I left late, google maps sent me an unexpected way onto dirt trails, my tires were over pumped, my brakes were soft, and I was tired. I lost control of my bike kind of in the middle of nowhere, went over my handlebars, landed on my head, messed up both wrists, and had to hike my ass a few miles with increasingly useless hands so I could be driven to some depressing emergency room. At least the bike was unscathed. Incredible.

Months later I still don't have the greatest of hearing in my left ear and have the strength of an eight year old boy in both my hands. However, a little more that a week after the cast came off my left hand, I was ready to ride again and this is cause to celebrate. I feel like I'm getting my life back.

I can't overstate how important bikes are in my life. I've done a fair bit of travel by bike. Around Southern Thailand, Northern Thailand, Laos, and the American West Coast. Besides these trips, I go just about everywhere by bike. It's fun, it's healthy, and it a great way to see the city. I rode thousands of miles in the last calendar year and in many ways these miles are a large part of my general health, both physical and mental. After my eight mile commute I feel very different after a nice ride than a wait and a sit or stand on a MUNI train that's for sure. I'm not mister fitness or anything, but I guarantee that riding one's bike on a daily commute will work wonders for you. It has me. And for the last couple months I've been pretty bummed out as I have to sit out nice days, organized rides, and my normal exercise regimen. I decided to take up running again for a while and after a few miles I always wanted to just be back on my bike. Now that I'm slowly getting back into it, needless to say, I'm a little giddy.

In the last couple of weeks I've put well over a hundred miles on my bike. I'm feeling stronger and now I feel almost no pain at all. At least as far as my hands are concerned.

I write about food on this blog. Or at least usually. Bikes play a large part of my life these days and the everyday mundane experiences I have are more often than not shaped by my bike. It's hard for me not to talk about it.

Bikes get me where I wanna go. They help me make my appointments and help me burn calories. After a few months of riding erratic public transit I was tired of the waiting and tired of the paying. I'd rather be drinking a cup of coffee after or during a ride. A place where I can ride a bike is also a place I want to eat. Places that attract cars is a place I want to keep away from. It's rather simple. Much like this blog started over a love of street food, the author continues to be interested in the streets that we walk, ride, and drive on. I'd rather be be riding. Always.

Queso Fresco

2011-09-26T23:39:00.000-07:00

At the house I stayed at in Teotitlan del Valle, one of the women made queso fresco, or fresh cheese daily. I imagine it is a tough and unglamorous life. Around the time I got up each morning to prepare for another day of linguistic analysis, she was already loading a motortaxi with her day's wares to sell at the morning market.

On several occasions I bought a round of cheese and ate it alongside one of my breakfasts. Other times I just gave it to one of my friends who is simply crazy about the stuff. It's soft, moist, a little salty, and goes great on tortillas with beans, avocados and salsa. Makes a killer sandwich as well. This is a style of cheese you can find just about any place in Mexico. It might be a common food, and even a mundane specimen for how common it is, but its simple freshness is very hard to beat.

Another family member made quesillo, otherwise known as Queso de Oaxaca outside of Oaxaca. This stringy stretchy cheese is great for quesadillas and sandwiches. While staying in Oaxaca City I spent a few days eating mostly this, which was kind of a mistake. However, I'm still not sure I got my fill after a number of weeks.

These cheeses are a reminder of something I always enjoy about the developing world. Fresh, and even handmade food is the norm not the exception. In my current home of San Francisco the current food revival has made celebrities out of those who make food from scratch, using older methods of preparation. In other parts of the world where the food systems have not yet been completely taken over by agribusiness and convenience foods, you are likely to find foods like these cheeses a part of daily life.

Sopa de Menudo

2011-09-09T01:19:00.000-07:00

I've been letting things slide as of late but my mind is still on Mexico. Don't leave me.

As I briefly mentioned in my previous post, the central market in Oaxaca City is a rather touristy affair. It's certainly worth a visit but it can be a bit stressful owing to the plethora of vendors trying to sell you trinkets and the rather inflated prices. The market seems more focused on tourists than it does on the quality of its produce and prepared food. Maybe I'm jaded as the vendors, but having people wave menus at me usually is a sign that I want to be somewhere else. However, there is one corner of the market more or less uninterested with tourism and that's what I want to talk about today.

Soon after entering the market one encounters rows of counter seating surrounding small kitchens. There must be half a dozen or so of these comedores and they all serve the same thing and one thing only: Sopa de menudo.

My first weekend in Oaxaca city I noticed the popularity of these stalls while the rest of the market seemed a little sleepy. These stalls were jumpin' and it was hard to get a seat. Maybe many folks were nursing hangovers (I might have been), or maybe they simply come for the quality of the soup.

This is a salty, spicy and rich broth which bathes a variety of cow parts of which you can choose your favorites. Eating this soup reminded me of my love of what many Americans might think of as strange meat, but I truly love the different tastes and textures from the various parts of the animal. I can guaran-fucking-tee you that a cow is made up of more than just steak and ribs, fatty.

A stack of tortillas, a bowl of cow parts, a savory broth and a receding headache sound like heaven right about now.

It goes without saying that a market stall that sells one thing and one thing only better get it right. Imagine stumbling to this stall nursing a debilitating headache and finding the soup or the meat sub par. People wouldn't stand for it, the stall will be under visited and they would close. When there's only one thing to be had and folks crowd around to get in on the action while ignoring the rest of the other stall you know you've found something good.

I went to Oaxaca looking forward to a variety of foods that the state is justifiably famous for. Once again, it was something totally unexpected that keeps popping into my head several weeks later. Something to think about.

Enmoladas

2011-08-15T00:01:00.000-07:00

Before I move away from the greatness of mole negro (see here and here), I thought it important to make one more pertinent post, however short it may be.

In Oaxaca City, at the rather touristy and touty 20 de Noviembre market, I encountered some rather wonderful enmoladas. Enmoladas are really quite a simple affair. They are simply tortillas smothered in mole negro and in this case topped with a little queso fresco and onions. This is a great dish for serious mole fans. Where most tamales give you only a small taste, enmoladas give you a meal that is literally swimming in mole. I could have done without the slab of pork but it did provide some protein for a day of moderate energy expenditure.

There's little else to say. I don't remember which market stall I procured these particular enmoladas from, although most stalls serve more or less the same thing. I just can't stop looking at this picture. Once you look into the darkness, it has you. It certainly has me.

Tamales de Mole Negro

2011-08-12T16:33:00.000-07:00

When my Zapotec consultant demonstrated the making of mole for us, it wasn't purely four our benefit. This mole would actually constitute the filling of her tamales that she sells for a yearly festival in Teotitlan del Valle. I was too busy with work the day that these were being made to document anything other than their consumption. All smiles.

My consultant's family owns a house across from the picturesque church in town and during the festival in July the house is used as a restaurant of sorts to sell huge buckets-full of tamales and beer to tourists and locals alike.

The day of the festival we sat at tables on the upper floor of the house and took in the sights and sounds. It was really one of the more pleasant dining experiences I have had in some time. Maybe it was the quality of the tamales, or maybe it was just being a part of the process. Either way, this was just about the perfect evening.

I've eaten hundreds of tamales over the years and a fair few on this recent trip to Mexico, and I was more than happy to have found these were some of the best I have ever had. I told my host with enthusiasm and she either didn't believe me, or she is so used to hearing this that it had little effect on her. I made sure to tell her more than once.

Good food needs nothing else at all. However, tamales, beer and view like this makes for a winning combination. Looking at the photos several weeks later makes me rather nostalgic. Maybe I'll be back next year...

Making Mole Negro

2011-07-26T17:03:00.000-07:00

For my first few weeks in Mexico I was working on a language preservation project in Teotitlan del Valle in the state of Oaxaca. My group was primarily involved with collecting texts from Zapotec speakers. When I got my assignment I just about died when I learned that I would be collecting a recipe for mole negro. The recipe was not the point, as we were looking for certain constructions for which there had been little data thus far collected. I'd say we did pretty well, but I won't go on about that here.

As a side project my team and I have started putting together a book of sorts for the museo. To do this I shot photos of my consultant making mole and talking us through the process. This is a long, smoky, and dirty process of which I loved every minute.

Instead of describing each and every detail with the photographs I've decided just to put the slideshow here. When I get home later in the summer, I'll try and fashion a recipe for a normal serving size. For now, enjoy the photos!

La Fiesta de San Juan Bautista

2011-07-14T12:00:00.000-07:00

I don’t want to start this post with some trite anecdote about Mexicans being festive people. Such declarations reduce a diverse people to base cultural stereotypes. However, I have certainly been involved in a fair few great celebrations as of late. The Fiesta de San Juan Batista in Teotitlan del Valle was certainly one of the most memorable.

A few fridays ago after finishing my day’s work, I headed into the center of Teotitlan to see what was happening. I was greeted with a couple of dozen men on horseback. In the middle of the street, there was a sheep tied to a crossbeam under which the caballeros would pass. As they rode their goal was to lasso the immobilized animal by the head. Whoever managed to lasso the sheep by the head the most times, won the sheep.

A large number of people from town congregated to watch the contest. Drinks were distributed freely. Soon after arriving several different men, young and old were offering me shots of mescal from communal cups. Pretty quickly, things started to get a little hazy as people were pouring generous amounts of fine mescal made at nearby fincas or in their cuñados backyards.

As the party progressed, the sheep was lassoed time and time again. I stumbled off to grab dinner and when I returned an hour later, things were still jumping and the mescal was still flowing. The poor sheep was actually taking it pretty well. Eventually, I simply stopped paying attention to the contest and I sat for a second dinner on the square. Men approached me and offered me tepache, beers, and more mescal. I grabbed a plate of tacos to soak up the worrying amount of booze in my system.

More on these tacos at a later date.

Sometime well late into the evening a man was sitting nearby with a sheep on a leash. I honestly have no idea if this was the same sheep or not, but seeing how he was getting a lot of attention, I decided to join in and take his picture. He was more than happy to pose.

The whole photo set can be seen here.

Juice Stand

2011-07-13T09:54:00.000-07:00

For the last few weeks I've been eating and drinking my way through Oaxacan cuisine. In Teotitlan del Valle I had food and drink for which Oaxaca is famous for. But I still can't bring myself to write about it as all I can think about is beverages. I'm having one as a write this.

I like to start my day with a beverage, as I pointed out in the previous post. This day's beverage was a simple and delicious carrot juice.

Yes the juice is good but that is only part of the equation. My perch provides me a window into the lives of others. I arrive just as people are arriving at the market and I watch the market come alive as I ingest my morning blood sugar kick start. I know a few vendors and we exchange greetings. Others tell me that the chocolate lady whom I frequent will be back at her stand in a matter of minutes to prepare for me another chocolate. Later, I tell them.

This juice stand is no different than juice stands I've haunted all over Mexico. And that's what I love. These stands are a great example of what I like from the street or market vendor: they do one thing or a handful of closely related things. This is not a kitchen sink approach to dining. Let somebody else take care of the tortas, tamales, or desayunos. The juice vendor has a variety of fresh fruits for jugos and liquados. The menu mostly stays the same wherever you are and is only limited by what the seasons can provide. They provide a lot.

To me this juice stand and the others like it are an incredible image of beauty and efficiency.

Chocolate Stand

2011-06-28T07:52:00.000-07:00

If there is one thing I know, it is that the mundane experiences of life are the ones I hold onto and cherish. These days, before heading to my breakfast, I try and swing by my favorite chocolate and coffee stand to grab a fresh foamy cup of chocolate, share a little conversation, and simply watch the world go by.

Behind me, men are selling turkeys and chickens on the ground, women are selling tamales out of baskets and a variety of chiles, fruits and vegetables are displayed in small piles for the daily shoppers of this small Zapotec town of Teotitlan del Valle. If I could I would pause these minutes just about forever. However, the universe is indifferent to such childish wishes and the days continue much as they always have and will until the whole mess collapses in on itself. I finish my cup, head into the market for a little of this or that then head to my breakfast where I am fed well, but it can't match the ten minutes I spend over a cup of chocolate.

More to come.

The First Meal

2011-06-17T15:03:00.000-07:00

I had grand plans to waltz off the plane and head to a bustling market in the heart of Oaxaca City. Hell, I even had a menu marginally planned out. It didn't work out that way. A missed connection, and general airline ineptitude stranded me in Mexico City. At least I got a meal voucher. So instead of eating at a small counter in a bustling market I ate at some restaurant in an airport. Yay. I orderd a favorite: huevos divorciados, or divroced eggs. It's basically chilaquiles seperating two eggs each with a different sauce. I'm sure it's explained in the prenup.

While I ate my eggs I watched oversexed women gyrate on Mexican music television. It's good to be back.

On the Way

2011-06-16T18:34:00.000-07:00

Morelia, Mexico. Late 2005.

It's been hard to get the blog moving as of late. I've been preoccupied with some things. In a few hours I'm leaving on a red eye flight for Mexico. I'm doing some grad work down in Oaxaca for the next several weeks. More specifically I'm doing some language preservation work with Zapotec in a small community outside of Oaxaca City. I'm both incredibly nervous and excited about this opportunity. As you can probably imagine I'll have my camera with me. When I'm not too busy translating Zapotec into Spanish, and then into English, I'll try and do as much eating as possible. With at least four meals a day, I will hopefully have a thing or two to say.

I haven't been to Mexico in well over five years and the last time I was in Oaxaca was way back in 2003. If I hadn't gotten lost in Asia during the mid-late 2000s I likely would have been back many more times. Mexico is one of my very favorite places that never ceases to captivate me for a variety of reasons. With this work/study trip I'm especially excited to get closer to one of my favorite regions of the country.

I haven't left the country in a few years for reasons which I won't dissect at this juncture, but right about now it is just what the doctor ordered.

In the Kitchen

2011-06-10T15:11:00.000-07:00

Once a dry spell begins, it's kind of difficult to start publishing posts again. I feel like there's a lot I want to say, give some interesting advice, and or provide interesting content. Yesterday's breakfast put to rest such thoughts. I woke up with a headache and a dark outlook. There was leftover cornbread so I started to make one of my very favorite breakfasts.

I fried an egg sunny side up, placed it on fried cornbread, and smothered it in maple syrup. I got my camera and was grumbling about how I was wasting my time and life with these photos when my housemate suggested that I just embrace it. So I did.

Looking down upon my morning meal I was reminded of my love of food and food photography. It's not high art, but it's something. I've spent the better part of a year finding myself frustrated by the dining scene in San Francisco to the point of paralysis. I find solace in the kitchen, and occasionally something to make me smile.

Carry On...

2011-05-24T21:08:00.000-07:00

Sorry readers, I've been mostly absent owing to my responsibilities at the Ramjack corporation. Additionally, I have had a hard time being excited about blogging in my current city of residence. Right now, I am starting to wonder what relevance blogging really has anymore in this era of food as a fashion and food as a lifestyle. I blame Michael Pollan and celebrity chefs. Is there room for this marginally informed, foul mouthed grump? I'm not so sure. However, I think I'm going to try and come out of hiding.

The eating continues, the photography persists, and I hope to kick myself into gear. Stay tuned.

Homemade Birthday Tacos, Simplicity

2011-03-30T11:54:00.000-07:00

Chatting with a friend last week, the topic turned to food as it often does. I think I said something about getting a quick bowl of noodles or some other cheap fare on my way home. She commented how funny it was that I was this super cheap foodie type. As much as I don't like the word foodie, this was not an insult by the way. I took it as a statement of principles really. I like food. I like eating food. I like talking about food. And I like for my food to be no big deal. Not too expensive, accessible to a wide variety of people. All too often food is a fashion accessory in this town. The intersection of cost, fad, and fancy all too often cause me to lose any and all interest. So when I had a little party to celebrate my recent birthday, I tried to keep things simple.

A couple of kind helpers and I made a beautiful taco meal for a large group of people. I made the tortillas from scratch, a friend educated me on the art of salsa making, and we grilled up some fine carne asada. A few simple condiments and they were damn near perfect. No fancy and or expensive restaurants for us. A plate of tacos (or three) and some home made michealadas was all we needed.

If there was a restaurant that did it like this, at a price we wanted, at a comfort level we liked, with the capacity we needed, we just might go out. I assure you there is no such place and furthermore, not to brag, there are few places that could do it as well as this. Just sayin'.

February Food, Losing the Plot

2011-03-03T16:50:00.000-08:00

After my month of Thai food in January, I figured I'd do something food related in February. It didn't really work out. I shot pictures of things that I put together in my kitchen and a few things enjoyed while out. They don't paint a coherent picture of anything.

The above slide show paints a picture that is a person eating and drinking well but kinda all over the place. I won't tell you that there's anything wrong with what you see, but I do get kinda tired of eating without a little more focus. If you're just here for the pictures you might be happy, but with so much to eat from so many points of origin, it's had to be much of an authority and provide adequately informative content. Really, it just advertises my diet which just isn't that interesting. I can eat just about any cuisine that I want here, but there's little here that is better than from its country of origin. Well, except maybe for the beer.

With so much to dabble in, I sorta lose the narrative. Scratch that, I have a hard time finding any narrative at all.

Thai Food Postmortem and Other Thoughts

2011-02-01T23:25:00.000-08:00

This morning I awoke and wasn't thinking about Thai food. Actually, maybe I was thinking about it, just not obsessing. The last month I spent a lot of time trying to figure out how I was going to make something different and do it right. Today I relaxed and reflected. Lucky for me, I was just about out of fish sauce.

Over the course of the month I got more and more used to the processes involved to execute a collection of dishes from one of my favorite cuisines. I'm far from an expert but I've made a good start. It helped to have lived in Thailand for a while and be familiar with the flavors and have a general idea about how things ought to taste. It helped even more to have had David Thomson's excellent cookbook "Thai food." If you've found this month interesting, I highly recommend purchasing this book.

If you decide to purchase this book, be prepared to run into a few difficulties. The recipes do not suggest shortcuts or rely on substitutions to make it easier to make these dishes. Over the month I was constantly disappointed to be unable to make certain dishes because of unavailable key ingredients. Instead of trying them without key ingredients, I simply skipped certain recipes entirely. I feel that a lot of my success was based on being pretty inflexible. I was unwilling to leave things out due to availability or make other alterations due to different peoples' dietary limitations. This left certain people out I suppose, but I wanted to try and nail these recipes when I could, and not leave them incomplete for whatever reason. After becoming very familiar with the flavor combinations is when I can imagine changing things, certainly not before.

It might seem strange that two and a half years after having lived in Thailand I would take up this project. Maybe it's hard to deny that. However, I can offer two rationales for this. ONE: I'm stubborn. I wanted to do this right and didn't want to take any half measures. To really make a proper effort at a lot of this food required me to purchase what I lovingly called my "shadow kitchen". I bought enough ingredients to fill a kitchen, plus the refrigerator was always filling up with my hard to find produce. This was a lot of work and maybe a little annoying for my housemates. TWO: There was a lot of other stuff to explore in the Bay Area before coming back around to Thai food. After moving to the area I was curious about what Thai food there might have been, but the same went for a lot of other cuisines.

There weren't many surprises in cooking the food itself, but it made me think about other cooking issues. Most importantly, I came to the opinion that people should be using more recipes. I'm pretty handy in the kitchen these days, but putting myself on a strict regimen of cooking Thai food by some very strict guidelines made for excellent results. Much like I just about always follow recipes when I bake, maybe it's a good idea to do the same for my normal cooking. I know a lot of incompetent cooks who should only ever follow directions lest they make something borderline toxic, but I extend this advice to people who are already comfortable and confident in the kitchen. You might learn something. Or maybe a lot.

I'm still trying to decide how this book, these recipes, and recently formed habits will factor into my future cooking. As I mentioned, some of this stuff was difficult to shop for. Certain ingredients are imported and found only in speciality shops. Others are found only during certain times of the year from certain vendors at local farmers markets. As much as I'd like to be making curries and other dishes frequently, the acquisition of ingredients makes that unlikely. It's fun to take this up as a project and see if and how it effects my eating habits. Some things I could see becoming part of my repertoire.

This morning I walked into the kitchen and assembled my breakfast. I didn't need any help deciding what to make. It was effortless. I loaded up on kiwis at the farmers market the other day. We still have almonds purchased a while back at another farmers market. We had local yogurt in the fridge, and honey from someone's backyard bees. It almost made itself.

This made sense. It probably isn't being repeated by any of my neighbors, it's not a dish I ate growing up, and I've probably not ever made exactly the same thing. I just threw it together and it was good. Like always, this anything goes approach to food makes me stop and ponder my food culture and the difficulties in writing about the food that is often in front of me. It's a work in progress.

Mango and Sticky Rice

2011-01-31T23:56:00.000-08:00

Today I made my last dish for the month long Thai cooking project. Mango and sticky rice, one of my favorite sacks/desserts, relies on fresh mangoes to be a success. Actually, it also relies on proper knowledge of what the dish is supposed to be. I've had mango and sticky rice served to me by friends and acquaintances over the years where the rice was a like a pudding with all kinds of strange additions. I've encountered this on more than one occasion but I still have no idea where they are getting their recipes.

First things first, you need sticky rice. To make sticky rice you soak sticky rice overnight then steam it the following morning. I used a steamer over a wok. Notice, there is nothing below the rice. It worked like magic.

Steam...

Twenty to thirty minutes later I had sticky rice and if I wasn't making a dessert, I could have been done.

I treated the finished rice with coconut cream, sugar, and a little salt.

The coconut cream topping the recipe called for sounded too sweet, so I just made it salty, like the mango and sticky rice of my memories (here and here). I felt that this was the right choice as it gave the dish some much needed balance.

This dessert was a pleasant misfire for me, but a good learning experience. The mango was all wrong, I undercooked the rice, and I found the rice too sweet. Would I make it again? Maybe, but first I would get a more appropriate variety of mango. Mine was a large round variety that is prone to tartness. When I make this again, I need to find the sweetest possible mango.

Tomorrow, I'll be back to do a write up of the past month.