On Getting It Right

 A trend that should end with the year: The influencer food critic.

The phrase 'go with your gut' has a great many more implications in the food world than most other places, but something all too readily forgotten is the reason it exists in the first place. It comes chiefly from persons of vast experience and expertise who subconsciously drew upon and analyzed those things in their decision making, resulting in more rapid, decisive action than might have been expected. The current common (mis)interpretation is near the reverse- it's used to justify 'shooting from the hip', imprecise decisions with limited information, time, and thought.

It's not that I don't understand it- the general public wants to be heard, so they look for those in which they see some fragment of themselves. Problem is, they aren't willing to accept a feeling of inadequacy, so they pin their attention and faith to the inadequate. Many things are popular because they speak to a familiar outlook or experience- but familiar doesn't mean worthwhile. Being the everyman only matters if it offers something worthy of attention, and there's a lot of improvement that needs to happen to the general public before that's reliably possible.

Listen to experts. Learn the principles behind what's good, why it's good, and do the work to appreciate it that way. Don't take the word of just anyone- especially someone TikTok tells you to.

I'm going to spend my last day of 2023 with a bottle of prosecco, making a very nice dashi for some 年越し蕎麦. A little East, a little West, and a lot of real expertise.

Christmas Humor

 

You know why Christmas is so popular in Japan?

Because it's exactly like Japan.

It's a bunch of customs and miscellany pilfered from other places and times that did it first, and then tweaked harder than a Ph.D's bibliography page.

Anyway- Merry Christmas, everyone.
Here's one of my favorite instrumentals, first introduced to me by an old friend.

Weather!

Dammit, I moved to California so I wouldn't have to deal with weather.

Of course, I grew up around contractors and landscapers, so I learned to deal with weather when it happens.

Whoever renovated this place quite clearly did not. I've spent the entire day stuffing towels in the window frames because there's more dripping and leakage than there is dry space, and it sometimes comes so fast I've had to wring out towels before putting them in the wash.

I bet gutters and a mild slope on the roof might have helped. I bet a sloped grade and a catchbasin for the parking area wouldn't have hurt either. I bet properly sealing the fucking window frames would have done some good too!

Wonder what the 'maintenance' crew will have to say about it. Assuming they ever appear.

Helping With Holidays: Learning to Host

There's a reason so many holiday disasters show up in movies, romcoms, and sitcoms- the general public unreservedly empathizes. Why? Because they don't know how to entertain! The craft of hosting is not as commonly learned or practiced a skill as it ought to be, which is how I've been keeping the lights on lately.

People have been asking me over for my How To Holiday consultation. The concept is pretty straightforward from my end- are you entertaining for the first time in a while, and think you might be in over your head? Have me come visit! For a modest fee, I take a thorough look at your house, decor, arrangements, kitchen, menu, guest list, and whatever else we think needs checking over. Then, together, we make a plan to help you pull it all off without a hitch. I get to eat that week, and they get peace of mind in an otherwise very stressful time. Simple, right?

Well... yes, once you get the basics down.

The notion of spectacle gets everybody from time to time, and it's really easy to give in to ambition, take a leap of faith, and faceplant in front of everybody you were trying to impress. So the first thing to do is Avoid That, and the best way to do that is to keep things simple, and play to your strengths. 

Got a nice house? Decorate without being gaudy, and make it as accessible as possible. Spacious kitchen? Consider bringing the party in there. Love to cook? Lean into it. But above all else, do these things carefully. 

• Fancy decorations? Might get broken if your guests have young children. Know your guests.
• Party in the kitchen? Make sure there's space for everyone, and that there's plenty of food that doesn't need cooking so the mess stays minimal. 
• Doing a whole lot of cooking? Figure out what can be done ahead, so you can spend more time with the people you really want to see while you enjoy yourselves together- last minute touches are all well and good, but not at the expense of your guests.
• How long is everyone over for? Think about traffic, travel, and relative sobriety.
• Shoe space, coat space, fridge space, freezer space, closet space, parking space, it's all important.
• What's on the radio, stereo, or TV? 
• How are you and yours dressing? What mood are you trying to set?

This is just the start of it, really. Learning how to think like a host isn't difficult, exactly, but it does require a measured, thoughtful approach. Once your party's over though, you've learned what worked, what didn't, why, and how to make it better next time. These are skills you can apply over and over again no matter where you are. 

The greatest gifts, after all, are knowledge and understanding.

In Memoriam

You always loved to sleep. You were ready when it was time for the endless one.

Goodbye, Mocha. Uncle Wolfy loves you, now and always.

Lisbon, Part 2

The vibe of the city of Lisbon is most intriguing. Everyone seemed to go about at a leisurely pace, yet still with steady purpose. As a Jersey boy I learned to Move, not to meander, so a little adjustment was in order. Taking the time to see the sights was well worth the doing though, and so I submitted myself to the flow of the more relaxing local pace. 

I was put in mind of New Orleans quite early on in my time there, and the comparison never really got out of my head. In another three or four hundred years, I suspect it would look a lot like Lisbon does now. Modern conveniences laid with care upon and alongside the well-polished bones of a vast and complex history.

Churches were huge, yet in addition to the massive basilicas and other sites, many such places were hidden among the streets just like any other building. That felt strange, given how externally ostentatious most churches have been in the places I've lived. Strangely enough, I didn't feel even a little out of place in any of these, even when the chapels were empty. Perhaps it's the history, the shared understanding of age and time that I have, and that the culture in the US really doesn't.

Markets and restaurant rows were plentiful and relentless- each and every one I made it to had a thoroughly raucous vibe, everyone enthusiastically going about their business on both sides of the counters, much and many open to the air. Though the weather was also a bit brisk, no one seemed to mind. There were lots of cookie-cutter souvenir shops with all manner of small, probably quite breakable things. I did, however, pick up some postcards. After mailing them though, I discovered that mail in Portugal can be used to set one's calendar rather than one's watch. So... mom, husky, if either of you read this, you may possibly get a postcard sometime in the next year.

Now touring the streets was made relatively simple with metro passes, so score one for public transit outside of the US. Big surprise, right? Pbbbth. The architecture itself served to make navigation relatively easy, with the buses and trolleys running regularly and plenty of landmarks. Though to my mind the metro stops really need larger signs or more visible onboard route maps. If you aren't counting stops or have a timer set, you've got to keep your eyes and ears open! 

It also seemed like every couple of blocks there was another bakery with the local specialty on offer- Pasteis de Nata, or 'cream tarts'. These suckers were everywhere, and since they're composed of many of my favorite dessert components, they redeemed a lot of the other less than stellar food.

They're actually not too tough to make- it's an infused custard, poured into what's basically kouign-amann dough pressed into a tart shell shape, then baked till crispy, flakey, and decadent. It's rich, buttery, and delicious while not being too sweet. I would cheerfully eat them every day (and very well may have- shhh, don't tell). Also they come most commonly in 6-packs, like the sleeve I'm holding in the picture here. That's why they're dangerous! You think "I'll just get one!", and suddenly you're staring at the empty sleeve, nursing a large cup of coffee, and wanting a nap.

The notion of Portugal having fantastic food is so pervasive, but finding the bulk of the reasons why seemed to want to take more time than I had. A notion, for example, that would not leave my head amidst a questionable lunch decision: "How does a place so well known both for seafood *and* for invading Japan have crappy sushi?" That was certainly A Day all right.

By this time I had more or less fought through the time change, but still groused about it at 3am when I couldn't stay asleep. Having the dreadful Daylight Savings hit me the day before I flew across the world made it a special sort of grumble-inducing. Though all that was nothing compared to the trip back. Never before have I actually wanted a layover for airplane travel, but the trip to SFO definitely had me wishing I had one. If there is ever a next time, perhaps I'll touch down in DC for the night, pester a friend for a couch and a ride, then finish the journey the following day.

Book Review: "Invitation to a Banquet", by Fuchsia Dunlop

I've mentioned before that in the pursuit of knowledge, prejudice goes in all directions. Now as then as always, the notion of 'authenticity' has done great and lasting harm to earnest effort and serious scholarship for no other reason than look, mien, or pedigree. It takes some aggressively enthusiastic commitment and dedication to aspiring scholarship and understanding to adequately deflect or overwhelm those biases- coming from those one might seek to teach as much or more as from those one might seek to learn from.

Which is where we run into people like me, who hunker down and do the work while being too poor to go anywhere or do anything but read and research. We also run into people like Fuchsia Dunlop, who dived into the deep end of the practical application side. Her work and efforts are quite familiar to me, and have been for many years- just a day or two ago I put up a review of her 2009 memoir to prime the pump, as it were, for this. 

As a writer, her style is shaped by her study- deeply layered with information in a manner like unto poetry, and very much designed to be as informative as possible in accordance with the level of understanding possessed by the reader. A (non-Chinese) layperson would read this book and learn vast amounts; a mainland Chinese citizen layperson would read it and learn no less, but different things at different levels due to cultural background osmosis; I myself smiled as I turned the pages, knowing full well many of the potential battles involved in being the Token White Person trying to be taken seriously as a well-informed professional in certain matters of Asia. 

The sections of the book are simple enough, with a Prologue, Origins, Ingredients, Techniques, Ideas, and an Epilogue. Clever structuring of subsections, however, is what places Invitation to a Banquet on a pedestal of excellence. Each one uses as its framing structure a different given dish from Chinese culinary history. This in itself is a cleverly complex decision, emphasizing the notion of layered levels of understanding. Whether it's simply recipes, or branching out to histories, art and culture, agriculture, or more notions besides, the chapters do a fantastic job of sharing the essential while opening many diverse windows of opportunity to explore further, and it does so with fluidity and grace. 

While that was a fine self-evident success, a historical analysis also came to mind, and I considered how component parts of the manuscript might have worked as examples of the classical Chinese 'Eight-Legged Essay' format. (I cannot see those words without recalling the class I first learned the term in, and a friend's idle drawing of a pile of grouchy looking pages with spider legs.) I'm still thinking about it, and may yet have thoughts on it, but that's too much for now- that will come in a more in-depth analysis at a later date.

Not only is the manuscript extraordinary, but her bibliography and acknowledgement sections are similarly stellar. Scads of sources in both English and Chinese, historical translations, modern works, familiar and uncommon alike. Then comes the massive list of persons from all parts of the world and all walks of life that helped make her, and thence this book, more clever and comprehensively complete.

Of all Fuchsia's books, this serves best of them all as either an introduction or a capstone. 

Read it with relish. Then read it again, and see how much more you learn!