Category Archives: On The Road

On The Road

Spot This!

Posted on by
Reply

I’m here to shill again.

Over the past year I’ve been transitioning my career. I’ve made it known that I am leaving behind the brick-and-mortar lifestyle of the mom and pop entrepreneur and am throwing my hat into the technology ring. Reinventing myself suggests I get to be/do whatever I want, so I’ve decided to marry my greatest passions, food and technology as I travel down new paths. The entrepreneurial skills I’ve amassed over 20 years allows me some flexibility to hone in on where I can best contribute.

I recently landed as a consultant at a company called Foodspotting. They’ve asked me to help them reach the next level in the evolution of the company. They started as a vehicle for food enthusiasts to take photos of food, dishes specifically, and share them with the world (on Foodspotting itself) and throughout your social networks. As a result of the millions of photos they quickly amassed, Foodspotting morphed into a serious discovery tool for people who are looking for something to eat. By browsing the best dishes nearby or searching for particular dishes, FS became a top player in connecting hungry people to yummy food. Looking forward, we believe there is an opportunity to help restaurants connect more closely with their patrons. I’ll be sharing more on how later.

But today I am sharing the news that Foodspotting launched their new website. And as jaded as I have become about much of the food and technology scene, I’m blown away by what you can do with this site.

So let’s say you’re someone who likes Unagi. Go to http://foodspotting.com and search for Unagi and you’ll get a stunning photo wall of the most popular unagi dishes in the world. Enter a destination, say San Francisco, and get the most popular (or latest if you prefer) unagi dishes in San Francisco.

One of my favorite dishes, as I illustrated previously, is Cacio e Pepe. Or how about Roast Pork Sandwich in Philadelphia, or Pizza in New York, or Naples, or even Bangkok! Search on anything, anywhere, and you’ll get serious food porn that you can share on your networks (the share icon is next to the search bar). I’ve spent the past few weeks playing on the beta site shooting links to all of my food friends.

Moreover, this is an amazing way to really drill down on what is good in a place. The truth is that the more people shoot photos of any particular dish, the more popular it is within the food crowd. I’ve found no other resource for democratizing food discovery than this.

Try it and you’ll see. If you know an area and you search for the most popular dishes, it’s going to be spot on. For example, in the Mission District of San Francisco, you can’t argue that Salted Caramel at Bi-Rite, Secret Breakfast at Humphry Slocombe, Morning Buns at Tartine and Pizza Margherita at Delfina aren’t the must-have’s in the neighborhood. Dig deeper and you’ll find the secret gems that only foodies know about (can you say bacon-wrapped hot dogs?). It’s the perfect food-crazed travel tool.

I look forward to utilizing this more as a blogging tool. Any time I talk about a dish, now I can show you with other people’s (mostly great) photos. Now go spot some food and share it with me. What is the coolest search you can do on the new Foodspotting?

The Secret Sauce

Posted on by
1

I’ve lived a fine life. When I was 16, as many young American Hebrews do, I took a trip to Israel to explore the motherland and deepen my connection to the religion. For me it worked in the other direction. I saw so many secular Israelis, seemingly fulfilling the Zionist mission, yet absent of piety and reverence. They just were. People connected to their history but not wrapped up in god or dogma. I never looked back.

Then came college. Somehow, I cannot recall how I wound up doing my final year abroad in Italy. Seriously, I don’t know what led me to this decision. I knew nothing abut the place, had no connection (other than my mother’s half-Italian heritage, which merely meant good spaghetti and meatballs in our house). But there I was, deep in the experience of learning Italian history, culture, language, art, archaeology… I never looked back.

After I graduated college my first and only job was in the travel industry. I stumbled upon it while looking for anything I could do after moving to Boulder, Colorado on a whim. I was planning to study nautical archaeology at CU, as there was a professor who focused on Roman ports in Israel, the perfect marriage of my passions. To pay the bills, I took a position with a tour company specializing in adventures in Southeast Asia. I was a Mac guy that could work magic on their Filemaker database. Soon I was spending months a year in Asia building their sales division and becoming a noted expert on travel in Asia. I never looked back.

I’m fortunate to say that travel is my greatest passion that I’ve continually fulfilled. It’s my familiar. I slip it on easily. Throughout the ups and downs of life, I always seek to create new experiences by discovering new lands. In fact, I really live for the next trip. No matter what I’m doing, I want to know that I have two or three weeks in the not so distant future that will recharge my batteries. It the only way I know how to accept and manage the doldrums of normal life (ok, it’s not so bad, really…but you get the point).

Now, on the road in Argentina, discovering a new place, yet again, with a life very different than my last trip to Spain in 2010 and Greece in 2009, I’ve noticed a trend. First, it doesn’t matter where life has taken us, when we travel we reconnect with ourselves. Without the pressures of our daily grind, the expectations we set for ourselves, the routine…it’s easier to get to the root and be present. Moreover, when we experience another culture a traveler will relinquish his predisposition, ignorance and fears and become more receptive to what the universe offers. We let go a little easier, we experience a little deeper.

On this trip I’ve already found a deep connection to Argentina. I know it, even after just a few days. The formula adds up – they have the secret sauce. It’s not hard for my readers to see that my favorite places in the world are Thailand and Italy. I speak both languages passably and have returned time and again, something I haven’t done in many of the other lands I’ve visited. When I look at the commonalities between the places, and now add Argentina to the mix, there is a pattern: I like places that have a broad geographical diversity, Thailand’s north and south couldn’t be more different. Italy’s have practically seceded from each other. Argentina has Patagonia and wine country and Buenos Aires and more. There’s a casual elegance about everything here. Its not Europe, but it’s got the same charm. Then there are the people, friendly and welcoming all across the board. In each of these places you really feel like you can get a sense of their true experience. They welcome you to participate.

But most importantly, and I wouldn’t be the Zealot if it weren’t so, each country reigns supreme on their continent for food. Sure, you can argue that Vietnamese is better than Thai or French is superior to Italian or the Brazilians or Chileans outdo the Argentines. But this is my blog and I’m the one ranting. So, I’ll say it. Thai, Italian and Argentine food sensibilities speak to me and I consider them the best. I dream of Thai noodles and curries. I lust after handmade pasta and regional Italian cuisine. And so far, I’m quite impressed with Argentine seafood, empanadas and of course the beef. I’m looking forward to two more weeks of exploration.

I love that there are common threads in these places. I am glad to be uncovering this secret sauce of my own. I’m positively certain we all have our own secret sauces. It helps me to understand me a little better. It gives me joy to have places that I can return and feel at home, so far away, yet so familiar. I’m loving being present. And, I’ll never look back…

20111218-125229.jpg

It’s The Ingredients, Stupid!

Posted on by
1

I’ve reached the ass-end of the world, and it’s actually quite lovely! No joke…after a three hour flight to Dallas followed by a ten hour flight to Buenos Aires, then a fourty-five minute bus ride to Aeroparque and a four hour flight to Ushuaia, you just run out of room. There ain’t much further you can travel.

In fact, when looking at the expansion patterns of early man, starting in the Rift Valley, across the Bering Strait land bridge, through the Americas – this was the last place they landed. 10,000 years ago, when civilizations were starting to develop in earnest (good morning Mesopotamia!), the last place mankind reached was here. Tierra Del Fuego. Cape Horn. Bumfuck Argentina.

There’s a barren windswept quality to the place. Rugged mountains, frigid seas. Big ice-breakers and Antartica-bound cruise ships. Yet it is still Argentina, which means really-charming, European (almost), civilized, and… well-fed. Stunning, actually. And who would expect, a place to find a really good meal. Really good.

I’d read about the quality restaurants in Ushuaia, but that’s very relative and subjective. I certainly can’t trust Yelp or Tripadvisor for relevant reviews. Ness, the only recommendation resource of any worth, hasn’t expanded outside of the USA, so I’m left to my own devices. Tales of legendary fish at a place called Kaupè lured us to try, even though prices were more in line with Danko than Ushuaia. Lonely Planet ranked this place the #4 restaurant in South America. Here? Really?

We entered a lovely house-like dining room where the chef-owner was standing in his whites, talking to guests. The place had a hush to it like many temples-of-food I’d visited in the past. Not as quiet as French Laundry, but that similar anticipatory reverence. The view is lovely, with large windows opening up to the Channel Beagle. There were large hunks of pure white fish on most plates, blinding white, impossibly white. There were few accoutrements.

We ordered from a small food menu and a massive wine list of argentine varietals. Katia would have a Sea Bass in black butter. She was craving fish, singing about it, dancing at the thought after our two days of travel and airplane food. King Crab in the chef’s sauce for me. Carpaccio and scallop appetizers. Malbec.

Hot yummy house-made bread was delivered with a spinach cream in lieu of butter. Heavenly. The wine was sublime. Scallops were fresh and tasty swimming in a light interpretation of Lyonaisse. The carpaccio was outrageous, topped with a local cheese and large capers. Everyone talks about the quality of Argentine beef. My first taste was raw and it was magic.

But it was the white brick of fish we wanted. When it came to the table we nearly needed sunglasses. Did I mention it was snow white? One bite and Katia melted: “best fish I’ve ever had”. The sauce was excellent, but it really just complimented the moist and tender sea bass. It didn’t need much. We plowed through it with abandon, almost treating my wonderful king crab as a side dish.

A quick non sequitur. The one side dish we did have were some potatoes with a light mustard sauce. Any time I travel, potatoes are extremely different than home. Small in stature, deep in flavor, the non-US potato is a treat. Most US potatoes leave me flat. Why can’t we figure this one out. Even the best farmers market potatoes seem to lack that non-US depth of flavor. Maybe it’s the water?

Which leads me to the title of this post. After our meal we sat and talked with the chef until closing time. He was quiet and affable, self-taught…a local, in fact. This left me quizzical. what was his preparation of this fish, what was the technique? How did he accomplish what our trained chefs in SF seem to miss so often with fish? He smiled and said “it’s the ingredients” (I’ve added the ‘stupid’ part to reflect my own snarkiness). The fish, the beef, the potatoes – he gets them every day from the source and they happen to be very good sources.

I’ll give the man more credit for his handling of these ingredient, but as we all quest for perfection in our culinary goals it’s not a bad mantra to keep in our heads: As we murder, molest, marinade and mangle our food sometime we need to just step back, get to the root of flavor and remember that “It’s the ingredients, stupid”.

20111218-125346.jpg

Hand-Crafting Pasta with the Epicurean Zealot

Posted on by
Reply

I’m taking it to the streets… that’s right. Time for the Zealot to put up or shut up. In the coming weeks and months you will see real live food-related activity coming from this direction. Perhaps some surprises too. But for now, I’ve got a hot one that’s gonna sell out fast….

Register for Hand-Crafting Pasta with the Epicurean Zealot in San Francisco, CA on Eventbrite

In this hands-on course at the lovely Cookhouse Kitchen you will first learn how to make a silky 7-yolk pasta dough, the gold-standard for fresh pasta. While the dough sets we’ll cook simple, yet flavorful sauce pairings to match our pastas.  Then, we’ll craft a few shapes including flat and stuffed varieties.


The menu will be driven by what’s available at the farmers market. Here is an example of a recent menu (4/15/11):

  • Hand-cut papardelle with fatted calf toulouse sausage and saffron sugo
  • Spring pea and pecorino agnolotti
  • Fresh ricotta triangoli with tomatoes, fatted-calf pancetta and asparagus

Following the class, we’ll enjoy a family-style meal of our creations.

This course is designed for beginner to expert home chefs and focuses on the world of fresh pasta. You’ll be surprised at how simple it is to craft unique fresh pastas that exceed the quality in most restaurants. You’ll learn about what flavors and textures enhance the shapes and styles of pasta. 

Register for Hand-Crafting Pasta with the Epicurean Zealot in San Francisco, CA on Eventbrite

We’ll work in small groups so everyone can get their hands dirty and really learn the ‘touch’ associated with every aspect of the process.

Ring of Fire, Part 1

Posted on by
Reply

Give me a fire and I will cook! My mantra for the summer is going to be something like this. I’ve never put it into words, but I am fanatical about cooking over a fire, ideally outdoors, even better in the wilderness. There’s something primal about taming the wild fire and coaxing a culinary concoction and the more challenging the environment, the more satisfying the results.

That said, I’m starting a short series on the subject. Upcoming posts will be about backyard grilling, followed by car camping and then backpacking. In each case, I will share some recipes, techniques, tools and tidbits on how to maximize each experience to the fullest.

But for now, I want to share a story about one of my favorite dishes to cook over fire and how I learned it…

I was working on an archaeological excavation in Israel in the early 90′s at a place called Caesarea Maritima. The location couldn’t have been more idyllic, perched on a flour-white sand beach on the Mediterranean Sea. The Israeli Olympic team had headquarters that provided us accommodations and there was a welcoming town nearby. The volunteers on the excavation were college students from across the country and you couldn’t imagine a more exciting and alluring environment to spend a summer. I often recall it as summer camp for adults.

Throughout the summer I had the good fortune of working in a trench that turned out to be one of the top archaeological finds of the year. A wonderous Byzantine mosaic floor of a marketplace scene was identified in our trench and we spent weeks carefully removing the dirt and then chipping away a layers of oxidization to reveal the art beneath.

Zealot the Archaeologist

Zealot the Archaeologist

Our average day was as follows: Wake at 4:30am and have first breakfast. Dig at sunrise and return for second breakfast around 9am. By noon the sun was so hot that we’d head to lunch and call it a day. The afternoons were spent poking through the shards and tidbits we uncovered or just hanging out on the beach, surfing or napping. Early evening was time to classify our finds and we’d spend hours underneath tents of mesh netting picking through pottery bits. In the evening we’d have classes with the professors and usually wind up at the bar to get piss-drunk. Wake up – start over.

When it was determined that our mosaic floor was of significant importance, a team of Italian preservationists were called in to take over. The site was too delicate to leave in the hands of students any longer. Because the Israelis didn’t speak Italian and the Italians barely spoke English, let alone Hebrew, I was asked to stick around and translate as necessary between the crews. It was a wonderful opportunity. And mostly because I got to hang out with the Italians!

Which brings me to the relevance of my tale. Despite having lived a year in Italy, I had never had proper bruschetta (and let’s clear this up again people – it’s pronounced Bru-Schket-Tah or Bru-Sket-Tah, depending on where you’re from – please stop with the Bru-Shet-Tah!) The Italians showed up and immediately adapted their lifestyle. It wasn’t hard for them to track down the right tomatoes, the right cheeses, the right pasta. It just seemed to magically appear, as if we were in Tuscany. And it was often cooked over fire.

When Bruschetta is done properly, it has a balance of flavors that combine to create a treat for the ages. Many cultures mimic the form, like Pa amb tomàquet, the Catalan bread where they rub tomato on toast and season with olive oil and salt. Or, Lathovrekhto, the greek style bruschetta that may include vegetable spreads or just oil and salt.  But, it is the Italian variety that reins supreme.

The origin comes from the word bruscare, which means to roast over coals. In it’s purest form the bread retains the smokiness and char from the grill, which is then rubbed with garlic and coated in olive oil and salt. By rubbing the garlic you get the essence without any bitterness. The play between the smoke and the sweetness of the oil, drawn out by the salt is just perfection.

But where it really gets interesting for me is when you top the bruschetta with some Roma tomatoes, cut to a brunoise size, tossed with olive oil and salt and heaped on top. Add some basil if that’s your thing (I like it chiffonade if so…) Of course a shot of fresh-cracked pepper is essential. The cool-sweet tomatoes add a another layer to the experience and it all just comes together. Something so simple, yet so perfectly right.

The Italians would end their day and set up their grill on a nearby golf course as we watched the sunset – drinking, singing, dancing, joking and eating. And eating. And drinking! I learned bruschetta here. It didn’t take much. It will last a lifetime.

The Joi of Khao Soi

Posted on by
3

I want you to close your eyes and dream about Thailand with me. As I’ve mentioned before, during the 90s I owned an adventure travel business focused on Southeast and South Asia. I spent many months poking around the hidden corners of Laos, Burma, Vietnam, India, Nepal, Bhutan……but there is one place that I can truly call my home-away-from-home: Thailand.

Khao Soi Noodle Soup

Photo Courtesy of David Hagerman at Easting Asia (LINK)

As the gateway to Southeast Asia, Thailand is easy to navigate, has unbelievably friendly people, a great diversity of interesting sights, stunning countryside and, most importantly, the best food in Asia. Hands down. Sorry to you Indiaphiles or Vietnamists, I believe the Thais have it. Food is such an inextricable element of the culture in Thailand, much like in Italy it dominates much of the experience. Also like Italy, Thai food is quite regional: from seafood and spicy curry in the South, to grilled meats and papaya salad in the Northeast. They’ve borrowed the best influences from their neighbors, incorporating elements of Malay, Indian, Chinese and even Burmese traditions into their culinary fabric.

Today’s journey takes us to a Burmese influenced dish called Khao Soi. Let us start with our old friend Wikipedia:

Khao soi or Khao soy (Thai: ข้าวซอย) is a Burmese-influenced dish served in northern Laos and northern Thailand, especially Luang Prabang and Chiang Mai, respectively. In northern Laos, this dish is a soup made with wide rice noodles, coarsely chopped pork, tomatoes, fermented soy beans, chillies, shallots, and garlic, then topped with pork rind, bean sprouts, chopped scallions, and chopped cilantro. In northern Thailand, it is a soup-like dish made with deep-fried crispy egg noodles, pickled cabbage, shallots, lime, nam prik pao, and meat in a curry-like sauce containing coconut milk. The curry is similar to that of yellow or Massaman curries but is thinner. Some recipes use Massaman curry in the dish. Though northern Lao people have a special way of preparing this dish, different versions of it can be found at Lao restaurants. It is popular as a street dish eaten by Thai people, though not frequently served in Western Thai restaurants.

So, let’s get on to the dream sequence. It’s a hot day in the Chiang Mai. Lunch time. (Khao Soi is a lunch dish, as are most noodle fare – so stop ordering Pad Thai for dinner – in fact, stop ordering Pad Thai at all, there are so many other better Thai noodle dishes – but that’s another post). We’re on a motorbike poking around the city, exhaust and dust kicks up from thousands of other motorbikes clogging the streets. Under a hot tin roof there is a gaggle of people seated on plastic chairs hovered over big bowls, slurping up noodles buried under hunks of stewed meat and crunchy, pickled veggies. The steam from a curry-rich, sweet and savory broth billows into their faces and all you can think about is the Thai word “Hom”, which means aromatic.

Chiang Mai Khao Soi Shop

Photo Courtesy of David Hagerman at Easting Asia (LINK)

We park our bike on the shoulder and take a seat. The sound of Thai people chattering can resemble crickets or cicadas in the jungle (if you’ve never heard this sound click here to listen) – it is cacophonous, yet soothing at the same time. We order startlingly cold Singha Beer. We wait for our Khao Soi. It can take a while, so maybe a few beers are in order. Our heads start to swim a little bit in anticipation of something exquisite and numbed by the Singha. Maybe it takes so long for the soup to arrive because you have to get mentally prepared. Khao Soi is best served relaxed.

At last the bowls arrive. Thai are big fans of self-seasoning. Khao Soi has a specific lineup: sour picked veggies, roasted chili paste, lime and raw shallots. We play with the seasoning, adjust for spiciness and begin to pray over the bowl. Crunchy noodles that sit on top and when mixed with the broth and the wet noodles, add a contrast that defines Khao Soi, to me. The meat is fall-off-the-bone tender (chicken or beef or both) and has absorbed the flavor of this powerful broth. An occasional bite of a veggie or shallot adds another layer of texture an flavor that evokes a smile or a nod. We scoop the coconut broth with our spoons in tandem with our noodle and meat foraging. We start to sweat. Ahhhh.

Thai Massage

Thai Massage

Nothing follows a spicy, heady, noodle fest like a Thai massage. It is almost essential to unscramble your body and brain. In San Francisco, you can have them both, within a block of each other. Last week I received a text from the owner of Grand Pu Bah: “Hello! I have Northern-style spice curry noodle today. Cheer!!!”. I text back: “Khao Soi??!!!”. It’s a special that shows up on the menu rarely and is unlike any of their other ‘refined’ Thai dishes. It’s rustic and raunchy – just like you’ll find on the streets of Chiang Mai. If you have a chance to track this special down, don’t miss it! And…….Suchada Thai massage is 1/2 block down the street. Ahhhh.

Red, White and Blue Potato Salad

Posted on by
1

For my friend Gabriela, who wasn’t going to ask for the recipe because it seemed complicated, I offer this simple interpretation of the improvised potato salad we enjoyed this weekend. Thank you for your continual hosting panache at your spectacular Santa Cruz digs on the perfect beach with an outstanding cadre of cohorts.

Red White and Blue Potatoes

Red White and Blue Potatoes

Originally, I planned to do an Ahi Poke. Hawaii is part of the USA that probably doesn’t get much love from the mainland on this holiday. It seems to be all about the heartland, when it comes to the food of the fourth. Hot dogs, hamburgers, corn on the cob – you get the gist. But when I went to the store, I faced the conundrum over choosing seafood these days. The Ahi was “sustainably” farmed according to Whole Foods, but the fine print mentioned Fiji and the guy behind the counter said he thought it probably came from Indonesia. I couldn’t do it – too much traveling.

So, I wandered the aisles looking for some inspiration. There were going to be some heavy weight culinairesses in attendance. I couldn’t slack. Then it hit me. In the produce section, lined up in a row there were some local tiny white potatoes, red potatoes and glorious purple potatoes. Close enough to red, white and blue for my sensibility. Smaller is always better with potatoes, in my opinion. Some sweet corn, english peas, local spring onions and dill all were screaming to jump in my bag. For added measure I grabbed some of those TLC Ranch pastured eggs heralded by Rebecca T. in the comments of my previous egg post. Here’s how easy it was, Gaby:

Red White and Blue Potato Salad

Red White and Blue Potato Salad

In a large pot of salted water, boil the potatoes, shucked corn and eggs. I would add the red potatoes at least 10 minutes after the others. They are softer and will fall apart if they go as long as the white and purple (which mine did). Pull the corn out once the water boils and cut the kernels off. Pull the eggs out a few minutes after the pot boils. The objective is to get them soft-hard cooked. Cool them in ice water. After you de-pod your peas, put them in the strainer in the water for a moment to blanch them. Take all of the veggies / eggs and put them in the fridge to cool.

When the potatoes are just fork tender remove them from the boiling water and transfer them to ice water to cool them down quickly and stop the cooking. Slice your onions finely and put them in a large bowl. Add some dijon mustard, champagne vinegar (or comparable) and whisk in olive oil to emulsify.

When your potatoes are cool, dry them, slice them into bite-size pieces and add them to the dressing. Toss in the peas, corn and break up some dill. Gently toss the whole thing together to get everything coated well with the dressing and onions. Salt and pepper to taste and then slice the eggs on top.

I enjoy this simple type of potato salad. There is a little bite from the vinegar but no heaviness from mayo. The flavors of the fresh peas, corn and onions pop to compliment the richness of a good potato. And Rebecca was right, her TLC Ranch eggs were outstanding!! Click on the image to visit her website.

I hope all of your 4ths were as enjoyable as mine. Great time with the family and friends. We are truly fortunate.

Berkeley Farmer’s Market

Posted on by
1

I’ve been dissing Berkeley for a long time. Julie always said she could live in the East Bay and I would counter that “I couldn’t take all of the armpit hair” or “the Patchouli would suffocate me” or “I’d probably drive off the Bay Bridge if I had to use it to commute”. Well, I must be going nuts, because I am starting to soften.

 

Berkeley Farmer's Market

Berkeley Farmer's Market

 

Last night we decided to step outside our norm and hit the Berkeley Farmer’s Market. Years ago, I had been to the Center Street @ MLK location and was pretty impressed. I went with my friend CSP, who is a Queen Bee in the world of the East Bay food elite. I was a little intimidated back then. This time we hit the Shattuck @ Rose location. The vibe was decidedly East Bay, but free from armpit hair and patchouli. Kids were running around. People were chatting casually. Live musicians were playing. Everyone was friendly.

Like most Bay Area markets, the produce was exceptional. I picked up some little gems, pasture-raised eggs, a flat of strawberries, spring onions and some very healthy looking spinach. Judah grabbed an ice cream cone with his pal Caroline and they raced up and down the well-protected street (homemade cones! what a great idea). Our friend Greg snapped photos (seen here, thanks!) as the light was terrific and the colors of the wares were vibrant.

 

Judah and Caroline with their Cones

Judah and Caroline with their Cones

 

Afterward we walked a block away to a playground across for the kids to play. I surprised Julie by saying that I could actually consider this sort of country living (two of my favorite people live right across the street from that park). We ate dinner at Breads of India, which I remember being a lot better than it was. Tonight the sauces weren’t complex enough with far too little salt. At least the breads were still great.

Then it was time to head back across the bridge. I only cursed at four or six people on the way home, as opposed to my usual ten. Berkeley definitely had an effect on me.

On My Way Home: Fresh Fish!

Posted on by
Reply

Internet has been spotty at our last jaunt on the island of Milos. We’ve been driving through the construction zone that is burying the new high-speed line as we come and go to our villa in Pollonia. Food has been straightforward Greek here, nothing to write home about, yet consistently good. This is the first time we’ve really been able to indulge in fresh fish though, which is an interesting conundrum.

 

Fish Close Up

Fish Close Up

I’ve never been to an island culture before that made eating fish so prohibitive. The average fish is 40-100 euros per kilo, which quickly adds up. We’ve heard claims that the Mediterranean is over-fished. Some say that only the best line-caught fish are sold fresh in restaurants and the rest is frozen. Whatever the case, eating fish is more of a luxury than a staple to the Greek diet, which came as a surprise.

More importantly, for the first time in a number of years, I’m not looking forward to coming home right now. Since introducing a young child in the mix, traveling has presented new challenges. I’ve uniformly been ready to return to the comforts of home on our jaunts to Mexico, Spain and Ecuador. But now that Judah is four, he’s starting to participate in the experience of the traveling more and it’s a lot of fun. I can’t wait to show him more of this wonderful world!

 

Judah in Greece

Judah in Greece

Lastly, I am excited and nervous about how I am going to maintain the reinforced, and new, principles I am taking from Michael Pollan. After finishing Omnivore’s Dilemma I immediately devoured In Defense of Food (click to buy) and don’t think I can look at the supermarket in the same way. I was a Whole Foods devotee and my eyes are now wide open to the fact that the industrial food complex is not limited to the traditional food system. I cannot stress how important it is to read these books. Do yourself the favor…

I am hopeful that I can keep up with my posts at home. Running a more-than-full-time career requires a lot of time. But I love the energy generated by my food posts. Help me spread the word and give me suggestions for posts and I’ll be motivated to keep it up. I’ll see you back in the states in a few days. And I’ll be reviewing Flour & Water as soon I return.

The Pastoral Life: Folengandros

Posted on by
Reply
The heaviness of Santorini was lifted as soon as we reached the port. Our ferry was bound for Ios, Sikinos, Folengandros and Milos. We were planning to head to Milos and thought a couple day’s stop in Folengandros would be a nice transition. We heard that it has majestic cliffs and a charming small-village culture. It would be a welcome change to the angst of Santorini.  

Judah Climbs to the Church, Folengandros, Greece

Judah Climbs to the Church, Folengandros, Greece

Folengandros has a population of about 650 during the summer and 350 the rest of the year. It is quite mountainous and the towering cliffs serve as a deterrent to most beach-seeking tourists. In fact, for many years the island was known as the Alcatraz of Greece, as exiles were sent here. Nowadays it seems to be home to a slow-moving group of Greeks who seek the simple life are unrepentant about it. And they’ve got a ton of Churches in which to repent.
Sheep Herding, Folengandros, Greece

Sheep Herding, Folengandros, Greece

We drove around the island yesterday and saw an abundance of grazing goat and sheep. Having just completed Omnivore’s Dilemma I’ve been wrestling with how we can find a balance in our lives by seeking a more sustainable food supply. Seeing these animals that will ultimately become my “Matsada”, a local dish I am excited to try this evening, I can’t help think that there was a time where it was easier to find that balance. And, in some places, it is still the only option. On this island of 350 full-time residents, these pastoral animals are their primary source of meat.

Meatballs and Fried Potatoes, Irene's, Folengandros, Greece

Meatballs and Fried Potatoes, Irene's, Folengandros, Greece

But, I’d like to get back to food.  The lunch we just ate brought my attention full-circle. Not necessarily for the quality of the food or the uniqueness of the preparations, but rather because of the simplicity and honesty of it. The setting was a courtyard outside a makeshift kitchen, which clearly occupied the ground floor of the owner’s home. Irene, in fact, was the owner, as the name of her restaurant attests. Her husband joins her in the kitchen, where they sincerely seem to take pride in feeding others.

J&J at Irene's, Folengandros, Greece

J&J at Irene's, Folengandros, Greece

We lunched on Greek Salad, meatballs and fried potatoes, zucchini cakes, and a toasted garlic bread. Everything was tasty, fresh and made with care. Any restaurant would be proud to offer such quality. Judah even left behind his phobias to try the meatballs and proclaimed them “yummy”. But what stole the show was the [free] cake that arrived at the end of the meal. It was a moist yellow cake with lemon and honey. Utter perfection. We all gobbled it up with abandon and applauded our hosts when they returned.

Lemon Honey Cake, Irene's, Folengandros, Greece

Lemon Honey Cake, Irene's, Folengandros, Greece

This meal marked a clear departure from the past four days and a return to some of the themes we started with in Greece. For one, we didn’t receive a single free treat in Santorini. Not that we expect it or require it, but it was certainly part of the charm of our first week in Greece. Moreover, it represents the local’s true desire to welcome their guests. And we do feel welcome. When I offered “bravo” (the Greeks have borrowed the word from the Italians) they were effusive with their thanks. For us, it is a great way to start the final week of our trip.

The Santorini Paradox

Posted on by
1

This rant is a departure from food for a moment. If you haven’t noticed, what my blog is really about is my lifestyle. Food happens to be my greatest passion. Travel is a close second with reading and music not far behind. These things really all come together when I am living in balance. I consider myself a hedonist, which is best defined as “a school of philosophy which argues that pleasure has an ultimate importance and is the most important pursuit of humanity”. This is my ‘religion’.

 

Oia Blue Villa, Santorini, Greece

Oia Blue Villa, Santorini, Greece

 

Santorini has me in a frenzy. I want to love it. I want to cherish it as the most stellar geological freak, window-into-history, nature-kicks-everyone’s-ass, mind-fuck on the planet. It is all of that, and more. The deeper I dig into the history the more I am intrigued and the more I want to learn. The longer I stare out into the caldera, which is my current view as I write this from my balcony at the Oia Blue Villa (pictured above), the longer I want to drift in amazement at how insignificant we are compared to the power of this earth.

But then there’s the fucking tourists. I know, let’s just get it out of the way….I am a hypocrite and an elitist. What gives me the right to claim superiority over any other traveler? Who am I to judge someone else and feel that my experience is more valid or just than theirs? I have no right to judge others when I myself am a tourist. Herein lies the paradox. I get that. I own it. But I still feel it and I don’t apologize for it.

For the uninitiated, Santorini was a honking volcano in the middle of the Mediterranean until around 1600BC. It was also a major outpost for the Minoan civilization, which pre-dated the Greeks and vied for power against the Myceneans. Until the thing blew up. I mean the whole island popped it’s lid and left nothing but the edges of the mountain (the rim) and a vast sinkhole (the caldera) that spans 18 km at it’s widest point. This was the 2nd largest volcanic eruption in the history of humankind. The first was 73,000 years ago and left only 10,000 people on the planet. Look at the aerial shot and you’ll get the picture.

Aerial View of Santorini

Aerial View of Santorini

I’ve been to a lot of cool places on earth. I’ve seen many geological wonders. But this place takes the cake. Where else can you witness the raw force of nature at such a scale up close so accessibly? And the Greeks don’t mess around. They’ve built villages all along the inside of the rim. Stunning white villa/caves sit precariously on the edge of the abyss with winding stairways, cafés, terraces and infinity pools that scoff at the 700ft tsunami that rose from here 3600 years ago and destroyed Crete. It’s tasteful, yet alarming.

The cruise ships pull up to the harbor and a stream of tour buses pick up the pods and drop them off in the various villages, Oia being the most scenic and sunsettyful. The pathways in Oia are very narrow, which means it gets tight. The presence of the crowds is palpable, and this isn’t even close to high-season now. In July and August the place swells by multiples with throngs of people, 10 cruise ships at a time and nearly overflows into the volcano. And it’s not the type of tourist that ‘gets-it’. It’s the cruise-ship, packaged tourist, all-you-can-eat-buffet, day-excursion, barely-get-your-hands-dirty-with-the-local-culture stuff that I abhor. Mix that with Germans and Italians having their party holidays and add in a nice stream of backpacker-ouzo-thump-thump-full-moon-ravers. And again, I know, I am an unapologetic hypocrite and an elitist. Tough.

 

Cruise Ships in Santorini Caldera

Cruise Ships in Santorini Caldera

 

Scholarly types are pointing at Santorini as the most logical location for the legend of Atlantis. Plato provides the most lucid account of this mythical city, now under the sea. It would make sense that a Greek story actually occurred in Greece, considering their somewhat limited world-view at the time. Standing here I understand how it is possible. Much of his writing about Atlantis matches the place well.

But moreover, the metaphors in Plato’s tale of Atlantis strike me.”When the human nature got the upper hand” (Plato, Critias 121b), they became sinful and invaded by crimes. As a consequence, they were bound to loose their paradise. Maybe all this tourism is building up to something and we’re supposed to be lured here so that badass mother-earth can bitch-slap as many people as possible, during a full-moon party while all the cruise ships are having Mexico theme night.

So, again, the Paradox. I’m still looking out on the caldera. I just had an hour conversation with our villa’s concierge who is a South African transplant and manages a crop of luxury properties on Santorini. But she totally gets it and agrees. Yet, she moved here. She’s so drawn to the primitive power of her Atlantis, that the shlock are just a manageable nuisance that clog her paradise for a few months a year. AND, they enable her by providing buckets of cash for her thriving business.

For me, I am storing away the images and emotions so I can recall them when the world feels small. I doubt I will return here. I’ve got my slice of Atlantis and my ship sails tomorrow (no, its not a cruise ship, wiseass).

The Dish: Warm Country Feta

Posted on by
1
Ambrosia & Nectar

Ambrosia & Nectar

Had an exceptional dish tonight that I needed to share. Up the hill from our villa on Santorini is a little place called Ambrosia & Nectar. Giada DiLaurentis beat us there and did a feature on this dish. The benefit is that we have the recipe to recreate it at home.

The cheese is just warm enough, but not too hot. The crust is flakey and the sauce is sweet. With the right Feta, the balance of saltiness and sweet play very well together. Sesame seeds and figs add layers that also work well. This could be an appetizer or a dessert. Amazing.

More thoughts on Santorini soon. I have conflicting feelings about the state of tourism and environmentalism here, though really appreciate being here in low season. I can only imagine the throngs of cruise-boaters in July and August filling the streets of Oia trying to grab that magical photo of the caldera and buy that special little trinket. Moreover, I can’t imagine what happens to all of the plastic bottles generated since there is ZERO natural potable water on the island.

Click here for Giada’s recipe courtesy of Food Network.

Warm Country Feta, Ambrosia & Nectar, Santorini

Warm Country Feta, Ambrosia & Nectar, Santorini

Interlude: Greek Food Porn

Posted on by
Reply

Souvlaki Complex: Who You Calling Gyro?

Posted on by
3

 

Pita, pork, giro. Nafplio, Greece

Pita, pork, giro. Nafplio, Greece

Let’s get right to it, a Gyro ain’t Greek! We love Gyros. Julie could live on vertically grilled lamb wrapped in a pita or lavash, stuffed with veggies and some tadziki or tahini. Visit any Mediterranean place in the USA and you can have a Gyro. But don’t ask for this in Greece.

 

It took us a week to figure it out. Frankly, we didn’t see it, and we didn’t ask. We’d look on menus and signs, but nada, zilch, nunca. So we started to get curious and asked our hotelier. “What is this thing we call Gyro? You know, pita sandwich, lamb, cucumbers?”. Hotelier: “Oh, lamb? You mean Souvlaki!”

Close, but not quite. Today we finally figured it out. Well, sort of.  We went to a Souvlaki restaurant. I quickly learned that Souvlaki is a generic term for lamb, often skewered like a kebab. Very popular in Greece with restaurants dedicated to the cause. But not a Gyro. Still, we were close.

And there on the menu we found it. Well, sort of. “Pita, chicken, giro”, “Pita, pork, giro”. Chicken? Pork? Julie wasn’t having it: “I would like the Pita, lamb, giro”. Waiter: “No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no” (said like Zohan). “Souvlaki lamb is too big to fit on pita. Only pork or chicken”. Sure enough I confirmed the vertical rotisserie had only pork and chicken. Lamb was for grilling – you know, Souvlaki. Kebabs. So, we ordered the Pita, one-of-each, giro.

Damn good eats (see pic). Pork was moist, flavorful and included tadziki, fried potatoes, tomatoes on a grilled pita. Chicken was also flavorful, but no tadziki and less exotic. We both had only one, even though our waiter emasculated us for not eating two.  They were only 2 euros each. This was as close as we’re gonna get to a Gyro.

Turns out that a Gyro is an American invention by a guy named Papa George. You can read an article about him, admittedly by his own company, here. If this stuff really interested you, like me, you can read the Gyro wiki HERE, which ascribes a relationship to Middle Eastern Shewarma and Turkish döner kebab.

There’s nothing wrong with inventing new stuff that’s kinda like an old-country dish. I can’t tell you when I ever saw spaghetti and meatballs in Italy. Sure, you can get polpette of various types and they certainly love their pasta, but to combine them – nah.

So, Americans, be proud and go eat some Gyro for me! I’ll happy continue with the pork and chicken pita or a lamb kebab until I get home. When I return, we’ll continue to enjoy our Gyros, for their own merits, and be content that the record is set straight.

Ed: (Don’t you just love how this whole post contradicts my post about bastardizing Greek salads? But Gyros are actually good, right?)