Sombrero Seder.

The seder was a moderate success.

Food was on point, as you would demand and imagine. The people that showed up were phenomenal; I wish more had shown, but it was a tuesday night, and most cannot commit to a party on that evening, I understand.

Cazadores Blanco, Mexican beers, masa ball soup, and ropa vieja were all great, new-traditional Mexican Passover choices. I would throw this party down forever. The idea swims in my head with much affinity....



I am getting ready for the Sombrero Seder tonight.



I had a wild, vivid dream last night, or really this morning before I awoke.

I was on a Canadian roadtrip, and I reached a city, surely more magical than anything that exists, and surely anything that exists in Canada. It was akin to a modern Machu Picchu, as it was an epic physical locale, with an old meets modern city, like say Copenhagen, Montreal or Palmerston North. (I've only ever actually been to one of those places, and it had a nice square I hear....) When I looked on a map in the dream, it appeared around the area of where Kelowna is. Huh.

So this dream was so vivid I drew it:

And it still doesn't do the dream city justice. There were glaciers on 2 sides, and this crazy old quarter, and it even had a subway. There were houses overhanging the glacier/waterfalls, and I thought to myself, "that seems dangerous." And it would be.

And then I woke up, feeling like the adventure was unfinished; I wanted the journey to have an ending, and the city to be known to me.

And then on my way to work, I thought again of this dream, and I made the connection to this song, by Weezer, which Kenji picked a couple weeks ago, on the jukebox at Leny's, while we played pool. He said it was "good value for the money." It's a great song....


Spring Sun.

I had an Oly day in the sun.

It was filled with lunch with my dad, coffee downtown, reading a book on preservation of food in the sun (drying was ironically a chapter), painting in the same sun with my little sister, eating some braised rabbit hindquarter for dinner with a potato-mushroom broth, and then some dessert of a really nice raspberry tart from the San Francisco St. Bakery.

And now I am home chillin'. It was a great, sunny spring day.
Sleep here soon, as it is 1 am....


Madness, March.

Oh Yeah!

My tourney bracket is officially busted.

I did great-ish the first round. Second round, I got hit by the upset bus. Kansas? Gone. (They were going to win it all, per me). Pitt? Lost today. Nova? Ooooohhh, not so much.

The only team I have left in the final 4 is W Virginia, and really, Kentucky is going to beat them, as they are straight hammering the opposition in the opening weekend.

Yeah. I am glad I have little to no money on this thing this year.....



Yo. I need to say "Yo" more. Yo. Yo-Yo.

That's called a rap. A rap battle you just lost.

Yes. I've got little to point out, or shall I say, my days off were relatively lacking in action.
I did though, see a bum-couple break up because the dude had drank the last of the PBRs...
And I ate at nettletown, a restaurant housed in the former sitka & spruce locale on eastlake. It's owned by a girl who cooked for Matt Dillon, and her concept is lunch, influenced by her Swiss and Vietnamese heritage, as well as with local sourcing. There are some interesting things on the menu, and the food was good, but lacked the finish I was expecting. Such as: the soup. It needed more seasoning, and wasn't garnished. Or: my kale salad was a lot of kale, which equals fiber-tastic.
I also avoided, to the best of my abilities, the St. Patrick's day drinkers. Why do people get so excited to drink Guinness and wear green when they aren't even Irish? I don't get all crazy for Venezuelan Day, or whatever. I've never gotten that....

But I did eat some super-yum corned beef hash with a crazy fresh farm egg on it at work today. It was fine and dandy, like sugar-candy, yo.



The best thing about friends is they send you highly unanticipated things. Like this:

When Trever and I first moved to Seattle in 2001, we lived together in the shady ID. It's still shady. In fact, it is still SO shady, that less than an hour ago, at 1:15 AM, I left the best karaoke bar (for the people watching, not the song selection), and was asked by a bum unpacking something onto the side walk this question:

"Do you know what this is?!?" He was excited.

I replied, "I have NO idea what that is." I was leaving with my friend. We walked on, and he asked me if I knew what it was. I said, "I think that was a cheap microscope that he found/stole, and was hoping that I bought it." As we walked away, he shouted, " I got weed!"

It was half-hearted.

So anyways. This hood is REAL. The picture above was from the last night the best ever ramen shop EVER was open: Koraku. T-Man and I went down, waited in a long-ass line, and ate a meal with strangers. One of them was a cute chick one of us should have gone on a date with.

But we were young and innocent.....

Anyways. Real ramen. With the fish cakes, and the host of sides and the tea and the touch of home. It's like eating at the Ulmer's house, when all 3 boys are home, and then there's me, pretending I didn't eat dinner, and sure I'd love to eat some curry, because, why not?



I think that I have in my head I'm making matzoh ball soup tonight. When I get an idea like that, I can't shake it off....
So what makes my soup so much better? Easy. Skillz.
Ok, really, time and patience and commitment to excellence. Overview:

Roast a whole, well seasoned chicken. Cool it a bit once it's done. Pull off all the meat, and leave it on the side. Make a stock with the carcass and some store-bought broth. Simmer that for a bit, like 4-6 hours if you can. Really. Then, strain that, and chop up your carrots, onions and parsnips (no celery I feel, but they can go in the stock), and sweat those, then add the broth. Boil your kneydl which you made with the fat that you get from the broth, separately, and then serve with the soup. Make sure you top with chopped parsley and dill (both fresh) and black pepper.

It's a serious matter for a serious man.


Night Moves.

I feel as if my work week is relatively un-blog worthy. It is just wake up, watch or read something over coffee and a reasonably healthy breakfast, and then work.

And then sometimes I go out, say, to the P-I, like I did last night, or to a house party where I was given fried chicken immediately upon entry, and got into a tickle/wresting match with a girl who never had a chance of winning.

Or home, like tonight, for a rain run (ruin).

And then sleep around 2-3am. So that's a day in the life of an alligator.

Special tomorrow may be:
spiced wagyu meatballs, carrot bbq sauce, emmer lavosh crackers, wild greens.



If I had a band, I'd make my music videos this awesome. ALWAYS.


Take That.

It's my weekend.
I went to a place called Toulouse Petite last night after work- most insane happy hour ever. A huge (way too huge, but uncomplex) menu, cheap. Like, Cheese Grits- $3. And that's filling.
And it's literally a roll down the hill from work....

But besides that, this BBC story about cooking is fascinating. If we hadn't learned to cook, we'd be chewing for 6 hours to acquire enough calories. Which meant cooking meat. Which means we are *supposed* to eat meat. Take that Vegans!