Reason for the Delay...

I haven't forgotten about the blog. And no this isn't the first of a couple fizz-out blog posts where I'm trying to hang on to the blogging dream but I slowly let it go because I forget about it. I have reasons for not posting - none of which prohibited me from writing something but simply distracted me from doing so. Here are my reasons:
1. Got engaged. Readers whoever you are know this because you read my last post. I've been in a state of bliss since.
2. Started a new internship. And really loving it. Haven't looked at the clock once since I've been working there (honeymoon period... I know... but it's actually very stimulating). They couldn't have found someone to help them out who is better fit for the position than I am... that's just a fact.
3. I've actually had plans almost every night after work and on the weekends catching up with friends/family since I've been back... which is odd for me as I have been used to being idle living in a foreign country with people speaking crazy languages around me.
4. I really haven't cooked that much.

The last reason is just crazy... but I really haven't cooked that much since I've been home. I enjoy hanging out and letting other people cook for me occasionally and it's been one of those stretches.

But just wait... a new blog post will surely happen after these next few days... I'm dog-sitting for a GORILLA-SIZED dog that belongs to my boss... it'll be fun and there will definitely be something to write about.

Engagement Post

I recently became engaged. And very fitting for me (and this blog), the engagement ceremonies included a post-decision smorgasbord of breakfast at Lou's in Hanover, New Hampshire. I do not know why anyone reading would end up in Hanover, New Hampshire, but if you do, go to Lou's. It just makes you feel good. It's a classic diner in all the sense... waitresses ripping cigarettes between orders, coffee burnt to hell and served by the gallon, the bar filled with cops and workers escaping the cold for a cup of burnt Joe, and most importantly, good old-fashioned oily buttery breakfast food. And when I was thinking about HOW to pop the question to the old lady, all of my ideas included breakfast, and strangely, diners. I ended up including New Hampshire Lou's as the final choice, but there was one other option.

The fiancee and I were really good friends before we started dating. Met in college, hung out all the time, got along great, and remained friends for over a year. Then we decided to take a "friendly" trip to Rhode Island to visit one of my friends at Brown University in Providence. The car ride felt different, the drinking games with my buddy felt different, and after only a day, it was clear that this little road trip was causing a bit of an upheaval in our traditional friendship. The last day of the road trip, we were staying in Newport, Rhode Island at the fiancee's family home. We woke up, walked down the street to Gary's - a phenomenal low-key diner in the often pretentious Newport. What I loved about that breakfast and what I always love about Gary's is that you can walk in and see a completely different side of Newport... not the sailboats/cocktail parties/Jazz festival side of Newport, but the "I've lived here for 50 years and I live here year-round" side of Newport. To be clear, I'm not HATING on either side of Newport... one of the reasons I love Newport is that you get both doses of life here... you get the ultra-wealthy eating a fish sandwich next to the fisherman himself... and they get along. What I'm trying to explain is the ambiance of places like Gary's, which exist in some form in all small towns. I love that when you walk in, you can wear whatever you want and it's OK. I love that the waitress looks at you strangely when you have to look at the menu as if you didn't know what you were going to order before you walked in. I love that it's cheap.

But getting back to the story, we ate a fantastic breakfast together at Gary's alone (I had a Western Omelet Sandwich... will never forget that) and then walked back up the hill to the house and lounged around watching "In Her Shoes" with Cameron Diaz for the rest of the morning. I don't know if it was the delicious breakfast, Cameron Diaz's phenomenal "acting," or the change in vibe of our relationship, but for the entire movie I felt as if all of what had happened that day was right. The girl I was with wanted to go to Gary's and eat diner food, she wanted to watch a terrible movie and waste the morning away, and she wanted to lay down on my lap even though we were "friends." It was that morning that I will always remember being the time where I knew this "friend" was a friend no longer. And she knew it too.

So my other engagement idea was re-creating that entire morning - breakfast at Gary's, a viewing of "In Her Shoes," and the subsequent proposal. However, living in Paris and only being in the United States briefly threw a wrinkle into that idea. I wasn't going to be able to make it to Newport with her any time soon... not possible. And I didn't want to wait any more. And the romantic in me who had thought about this day for years was struggling with this reality - wait for the Gary's proposal or think of something new. Just as I was getting really frustrated, something perfect happened. My fiancee's mother offered me HER mother's engagement ring to give to her daughter. I am not big into material goods, and the whole engagement ring idea was a little difficult for me... but this was perfect. I was extremely honored that her mother felt strongly enough to make such a gesture, and I knew what I needed to do. Luckily, we were headed to spend some time after Thanksgiving in New Hampshire where the fiancee's mother and grandmother lived for years... and where the ring spent most of its days. I decided to merge my two engagement ideas. We drove to my fiancee's grandmother's house, I asked her to marry me on the street in front of the house with snow on the ground everywhere. I told her that I was marrying her, but also marrying her family. I told her that there is no part of her that I don't love, there is no part of her family that I don't love, and to honor that commitment with her grandmother's ring makes perfect sense. And then we went to Lou's Diner in downtown Hanover to celebrate, Newport Gary's style.

I never thought about proposing this way, and the Rom-Com watching sap in me thought of a million other ways. But when someone offers something to you that personal, and when you love someone so much that you don't want to wait any longer, you create your Gary's proposal no matter where you are. And now we have a new diner with a new story to add to Gary's... and it's even better than the first one.

*I had a Southwestern Breakfast Quesadilla at Lou's... chorizo, cojita cheese... delicious.*

You Can't Spell "Wait-Service" Without the "Wait"

Huuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuge pet peeve of mine: When people go to restaurants and are pissed when they have to wait for something. When you cook at home, you either microwave something and it tastes mediocre (or in the case of Hot Pockets it tastes like a pocket full of love), you cook something quick on the stove and it's uneventful, or you take some serious time to put together a COMPLETE meal and you are rewarded plentifully. Hopefully, when you go out to a restaurant where you are already going to pay more than you would for a home-cooked meal (most of the time), you would wish the staff to prepare something with a little effort. And for all of you people with absurd time-bending expectations, effort = time. I can not stand when someone orders an intricate dish (like a risotto for example) and then complains when it's been 25 minutes and their food hasn't arrived yet. Well, impatient diner, let me break it down for you. In a restaurant with 50 chairs (that's a small one), there are probably 2 or 3 people working the kitchen serving 50 people. Many times, they are preparing appetizers, entrees, and desserts fresh... if you are eating at a place worthy of respect. Your risotto takes about 15-20 minutes (if you're good) to cook just right from beginning to end, and it takes a lot of attention (i.e. stirring). In addition to that risotto, the cooks in the back have to simultaneously sear off some steaks for table 9, toss a salad for the health-conscious person who refuses to allow thyself any gastronomic pleasure, delicately fry some flounder for your buddy to the left, and do it all in a fashion that makes sure everything all comes out at the same time with some heat left in it. Thought of the day for you, impatient diner: The next time you can't focus for two minutes scrambling some eggs and watching bacon in the other pan, remember the 3 cooks that can make magic for 50 people at a time... It's ok if you have to wait a little bit... don't freak out... and if you're that hungry, eat a little snack before dinner (or lose some weight because you're probably over-indulgent... you're probably fat).

Moving on, in the second part of this post, I'm going to make an argument for the French way of service, where they intend on doing whatever they can to allow you to enjoy your evening privately, no matter how long it takes you to finish your mousse au chocolat. The biggest difference that I've noticed between American table service and French table service has to be the general protocol for the waiter-customer interaction. In the U.S., you are greeted by a host/hostess who promptly seats you or gives you a precise estimation of when your butt will be in a chair (and if they're wrong about that "15 minute wait", customer Rick, who works in Business, will be proud to express his discontent by belittling the high school hostess to prove to his wife who hates him that he is still manly in this world). In France, on the other hand, if you are told you must wait, you either get a drink at the bar or go outside and enjoy the fresh air because you realize other people might also want to dine at good restaurants... I know... a revelation. To make it simpler, I will do some comparison's (side-by-side) of the U.S. restaurant experience vs. the French restaurant experience.

U.S.A. - The server seats you and immediately asks for your drink orders

FRANCE - You are seated and aren't spoken to for the next 10 minutes so you can get settled in

U.S.A. - The server explains the specials, which are always the most expensive things on the menu

FRANCE - The server explains in detail what is in-season and any significant recent changes to the menu

U.S.A. - The server knows the name of the restaurant

FRANCE - The server knows the name of every ingredient used in every dish on the menu, and knows the name of the butcher's son who carved up your skirt steak.

U.S.A. - The server returns every 3-4 minutes to "ask you how everything is going" as if you were at a constant risk of cardiac failure

FRANCE - The server waits until you make eye contact with them to even think about bothering you during your pleasant meal with friends or family

U.S.A. - The second you finish your last bite of mashed potatoes, a bus boy flies by in one motion and swipes up your plate

FRANCE - The server gives you more bread when you are finished eating so you can sop up the extra sauce you've been eating with your finger for the last 7 minutes

U.S.A. - The check is brought to you at any point during the meal... appetizer, entree, dessert

FRANCE - The check is only brought to you upon request... and even then, the server encourages you to stay and try something else... not because they want your money, but because they acknowledge your love of food

U.S.A. - The servers are paid off tips

FRANCE - The servers receive a livable wage NOT including tips

U.S.A. - The service industry is considered a lower-level profession

FRANCE - All professionals in the restaurant industry are highly-esteemed and respected

Which one do you think that I prefer??? Upon coming to France, some Americans might think that the waitstaff at restaurants in this country are inattentive and even rude. But that's just not true. There is an emphasis on allowing the diner to do exactly what they came to the restaurant to do: eat some delicious food, talk with their friends and family, and leave when they want to. The last thing I want when I'm catching up with friends during dinner is to have someone asking me if "I'm doing alright" every 5 minutes. American waitstaff, here's a tip: I'm doing alright if the people I'm with at the table haven't called 911.

Breaking it Down in H&M

I'll follow the long blog post with a short and sweet one about my experience at H&M Clothing Stores today. I set out to deposit some checks at the bank and soon found myself wandering around Rue de Rivoli. There is a lot of shopping on Rue de Rivoli, and I haven't historically been very attune to fashion, but today I found myself wanting to pick up some things to spruce up the closet.

The instant I decided to go on a mission to upgrade my fashion profile, I felt a strange sense of excitement. I darted into H&M and literally was hopping around the store grabbing things off the shelf left and right. I want to think I have a decent fashion sense as is, but I normally don't pick up cardigans and expensive jackets off the shelf to try on. Pitbull and Ne-Yo's "Give Me Everything" was bumping on high volume, and as I was trying on a more than bold light blue sweater, I actually drilled my elbow on the changing room wall in a furry of sick dance moves (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qpqBAOpamJs). I then paused for about a second and a half, dropped down with a one-legged squat, and raised the roof to get myself back on track and back on beat. It was a blast... I ended up buying some pretty sweet clothes, made a few people laugh by dancing in public, and thoroughly enjoyed my night of shopping by just riding the positive energy surge.

This is making it into my food blog because the same sensation I got while trying on clothes today I get when I cook. It's fun. I have this weird sensation every time I go shopping in a grocery store when I'm with my girlfriend; I start bouncing around the aisles like a complete imbecile pointing to things that we need for the night's meal as if they were spectators in a crowd at my personal grocery store concert. I think it's an important thing to realize when you have these sort of energetic, uplifting sensations. I try to ride these as often as possible... just now as I am writing this post, I'm listening to Pitbull and I'm brought right back... I'm bbbbbbouncing in my chair and typing. "Excuse me... and I might drink a little more than I should tonight... and I might take you home with me if I could tonight... Tonight... "

Keeping the Goulash: A Tradition

Since today is a traditional day (It's my birthday), I feel like posting something relating to tradition... here's what I wrote on the plane home from Prague yesterday:

As I sit on the airplane writing this, my stomach still is in intestinal arrest. I'm pretty sure that it isn't angry at me, it is just a little tired from this last weekend in Prague, Czech Republic. I took this trip to Prague because of the European Baseball Coaches Association Convention. I'm all for professional development, and the convention was fantastic, but no coaches' speech was as good as the Czech food and beer I experienced each night. Let me tell you about it.

For those who don't know, Czech food is extremely dense and heavy... and each menu item is literally labeled in grams so you know exactly how much food you're receiving when you order. Typically, each Czech dish is an assortment of some cut of pork (or multiple cuts of pork... sometimes duck or goose), a few dumplings (usually made of potato or bread), sauerkraut, onions, and a rich dark sauce made from the remnants of all the cooked meat. And typically, you eat all of this with a few 0.5 liter dark or light-colored Czech beers, many times made in house or just down the street. There is not much variety between Czech restaurants, and the subtle differences between different breweries' beers make you want to walk all around the city trying to find the best one (side note: impossible to do). Yet, for some reason, when I was in Prague this weekend, I saw tourists filling up Italian restaurants and TGI Friday's every night. I'd like to give some of them the benefit of the doubt in that maybe after one entire week in Prague, tourists might want a little change from the traditional fare (not me... but I can understand... or at least make that observation). This brings me to my thesis for this post: When you're in a city that is known for a specific local cuisine that has been rooted in its culinary history for years, you need to eat that food often. And secondly, I really hope that these cuisines always stay to their traditional roots despite the fact that almost all culinary needs can be met in any country with the technology available currently.

Let's talk about eating locally, and moreover, choosing restaurant-specific menu items. First, if you are traveling in Miami, you better be eating Cuban food and fish... and then going to the beach and losing your mind in a ridiculous salsa dance. There's a reason Will Smith got so excited about Miami latin culture that he felt it necessary to include a salty lyric in one of his songs (“Welcome to Miami... Bienvenidos a Miami”... and Will Smith was/is the man while we're at it). Moving on, if you're in Memphis, you better be eating ribs and other barbecue, and then following that up with some whiskey shots and open mic performances. If you're in New England, go to Maine and eat a lobster roll, get off your butt and eat some pancakes with Vermont maple syrup, then head to Rhode Island and slurp up some chowder (clear broth or cream... who really cares it's all good). If you're in France, eat the cheese, drink the wine, yell at some people/be generally annoyed, and indulge on some beefy cuts of steak. If you're in Prague, find a good bowl of Goulash and drink a few beers in a crowded and rambunctious beer cave. IT'S JUST WHAT YOU DO. And if you don't do this, then why are you going all of these places? For the hotel WiFi? I didn't think so... and if you are going for the hotel WiFi, you either need to quit your job or see a mental health professional.

Going further, the same cuisine/environment specific approach needs to be taken when you're staying in your home town eating out at a local restaurant. My biggest pet peeve is when I invite someone to go to my favorite barbecue place (still up for debate between institutions in Key Largo, Charlotte, Portland OR, Washington DC, and Boston) and they order a burger or a Caesar salad. When ill-advised decisions like these are made in my presence, I literally feel like jumping across the table and pouring barbecue sauce on my guest(s)' head to remind them that they are in a barbecue establishment. What's worse, is when I'm enjoying my pulled pork sandwich and hush puppies and I get a remark about how my guest doesn't think the food is that impressive. OF COURSE IT'S NOT... YOU'RE EATING A SALAD AT A PLACE WHERE AN ENTIRE PIG IS ROASTING OVER AN OPEN FIRE WITH A SPIKE THROUGH ITS MOUTH... I DON'T THINK REX, WHOSE BEEN ROASTING PIGS SINCE THE EARLY 60's, IS THE SALAD TOSSING TYPE... NOT REALLY THE PLACE YOU ORDER A NICE BOWL OF GREENS, NANCY (Reference: Nancy is a name I use in general for people who I feel are missing the point in something... or just being unintelligent in general). You get my point, and if you don't, it's simple. Go to places that are known for something and stay in the realm of their specialty. And if you don't have that knowledge, just ask the server what you should get and they'll usually point you in the right direction.

Transitioning to my second mini-thesis (also can be referred to as a HYPOthesis), I am very scared that with all of the incredible advances in culinary technology, local cuisines will stray from their roots. It's a very controversial concept for me – this advancement in culinary popularity and technology. On the one hand, both home cooks and restauranteurs have an incredible wealth of resources available to them: the internet, the food network, ingredients from afar, artisan cookware, straight from the source meat, etc. On the other hand, people living close to the coast are no longer required to base their diet on fish, and people from Idaho can eat more than potatoes. My greatest fear is that my joy of regional eating will vanish because everyone everywhere will be cooking a new blended cuisine with no real identity. One positive of this situation is that the quality of food preparation in general will continue to rise without a doubt. The wealth of knowledge, resources, and general interest in cooking these days is steadily climbing (I didn't look up any statistics to prove that, but I'm pretty sure of it). But I want to make an argument for the little guys... for the Alsatian grandmother who whips up an outrageous Choucroute Garnie... for the Hawaii dad grilling some pineapple pork and macaroni salad... for anyone who actually cooks Naan in that big stone heat bowl... because I know that these guys make it better than anyone can in Iowa or Istanbul.

I'll leave you with a simple statement: Eat something Italian in Italy, ask your server what's good at your local Italian joint, and don't even think you can tell me that someone in your hometown can make better Cannelloni than someone from the Big Boot. Let's let the Italians keep doing that... because they're better than you.*

*DISCLAIMER – I'm not saying you shouldn't cook because you suck... I'm just saying you should respect those who can Party Rock Anthem Shuffle around you in the kitchen.

Mon Vieil Ami: Just Killing Dreams with Bad Sides

Last night I had a great meal in Paris. My absence on the blog front for the last 3 days can be explained by the presence of my girlfriend's parents here in town. They are the nicest people and they always treat me well, which now includes me crashing on their couch on the Ile de Saint Louis in the middle of Paris. Needless to say, I don't want to be a drag on the social vibe by blogging during happy hour. I woke up this morning and started writing this post because last night's dinner warranted some thoughts.

We had a fantastic dinner hier soir at a restaurant called Mon Vieil Ami. You could classify this place under a category of restaurants that are commonly referred to as "Neo-Bistros." Basically, these places serve the same traditional plates as classic bistros but with a little different culinary flair and a more "hiply" decorated dining room. I really like these places, and I really liked Mon Vieil Ami if it weren't for one seriously amateur after-thought: Farfalle pasta with wild mushrooms as a side dish for pintade (Guinea Hen). Ok, I'm not pulling a hypocritical move and ranting like a typical blogger about pretentious food preferences... here's my point: DON'T RUIN A GREAT MEAL BY FORGETTING OR HALF-ASSING YOUR SIDE DISH. All the best meals I have EVER eaten have had incredible sides to accompany the main course. What it seemed like Mon Vieil Ami did was rid their pantry of some over-bought inventory of pasta by throwing it on the plate with their very delicious pintade. But it ruined everything. I looked back on the website after dinner because I don't remember seeing pasta ANYWHERE on the online menu, and sure enough, what normally came with the pintade was a wild mushroom risotto... which makes sense with a white meat plate. French people don't typically eat pasta, and it showed in this side dish of Farfalle. Boo you Mon Vieil Ami. Boooooooooooo.

So now I'm going to leave you on a higher note with some ideas for side dishes to match great meals. I remember the first time I was really impressed by a side dish was when I ate a Locke Ober steakhouse in Boston. I ordered an unbelievably prepared piece of filet mignon, and the creamed spinach that came with it blew my socks off. The steak was charred and rare in the middle, and the spinach melted in my mouth just like the steak did. My point is... if I had eaten a side of canned corn with the steak, it wouldn't have been the same experience. For some guidance, here is a short list of great side items that I make pretty often:

1. With steak...

- Sauteed new or Yukon gold potatoes... boil them whole for about 10-12 minutes... in a separate pot, bring olive oil, butter, and fresh thyme up to a medium heat slowly. Cut the potatoes in half and brown them up a bit in the butter/oil/thyme mixture (about 2 minutes).

- Creamed Spinach

- Lightly fried plantains

- Caesar Salad with FRESHLY made Caesar dressing... with real anchovies... not hard to make... google it... stop being lazy... instead... be awesome... you can also settle for anchovy paste... do it.

2. With chicken...

- Risotto

- Mixed wild rice

- Oven-roasted green beans... bacon or proscuitto...

3. With fish...

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Over-Herbed and Nestle Extremed

So what's great about this blog is that it's real. None of this “my perfectly seared steak was delicious but a little lacking on the ratio of herbs-to-butter in the basil-butter topping” bullshit. I'll leave those comments to the people who think people reading actually give a shit about their acute observations and experiences with basil on a sirloin. Attention pretentious bloggers: no one had the steak that you are writing about, and therefore, no one gives a shit if the restaurant over-herbed your piece of meat. My opinion? You should have “over-herbed” yourself a little bit before you went to the steak house so that you enjoyed your steak no matter how much basil was delicately melted into that compound butter.

Tonight's post is as real as it gets in a city with unreal food. I successfully moved for the second time in 2 days today to my final resting place for the duration of Year 1 in Paris (not to worry... Year 2 will be here soon). In celebration of this momentous occasion (not really, a friend just wanted an excuse for me to come over and crush some charcuterie and wine), I went to my friend's place to have a low-key evening with some good food and booze. In preparation for this evening, I sparsely ate during the day, munching on a fresh tomato and mozzarella salad with balsamic vinegar and then a demi-baguette with butter. In return, my day of sparse eating turned my night of casual drinking into an unexpected late night walk home of inebriation. And in comes the Nestle Extreme...

I was walking down the street after hopping off the subway and I felt a real impulse for an ice cream cone. This surprised me because I'm not usually an ice cream craving kind of guy. When I get cravings, they are more of the Casey's Place cheeseburger (holler Vero Beach) or Gray's Papaya hot dog variety (not really for Gray's Papaya... I just want to see if anyone from NYC comments because of that). Nonetheless, this time, I was craving some ice cream. I was only about 2 blocks from home and it was around 1 a.m. so I was a little worried about the accessibility of ice cream at this hour. And I wasn't about to walk any further to satisfy my craving. Sure enough, I saw an open-air storefront lit up with a GIGANTIC ice cream cooler out front. I deliberated for all of about 5 seconds, and picked out the ice cream like I often pick out wines – by the label. The Nestle Extreme proved to be the winner last night and it lived up to the hype of its name. I was EXTREME-ly satisfied.

My craving for an ice cream cone last night made me think of something that I often take for granted. The beauty of living in a huge city is that you can literally find whatever you want around the corner at any time of day or night. I've gotten used to doing things based on impulse, and being able to satisfy those impulses easily at a moments notice. In Paris in particular, if I have the urge to shred up a recently rotisseried chicken for a fresh chicken salad sandwich, I can find a whole bird on a stick no more than a 5 minute walk in ANY direction. If I want a normal macaron, or even an over-sized macaron, I can find both of those things in the same store... and that store probably also sells rotisserie chickens next door. If I want a filet of cod that was recently enjoying itself in the local icy waters, I can find one before news of its death has reached its extended fish family. OK, time to go buy a baguette downstairs... chances are, it came out of the oven about 10 minutes ago.