Listening: Don’t you wanna swim with me? Don’t you wanna feel my skin on your skin? It's only natural.
What's my problem? Figuring out the next move.
I was lured into the world of food and cooking through new American, French based cooking. I was. I was enamored with seared foie gras, deep rich sauces, and pan seared fish. I was lured in by the perfect individual plates with their schmears, swooshes, drizzles and garnishes. I was birthed into this industry making vinaigrettes and aiolis. I live in rendering individual duck breasts and pan searing/roasting fish. I reduce down my stocks. I use wine. And butter. Lots of butter.
I was taught cooking in a western style using western ingredients. It largely defines who I currently am as a cook. The restaurants that I have cooked at are all western restaurants, whether it's the American regional cuisine I'm doing now or the French/Cuban fusion food that I started off doing at the beginning of my career.
The fuct up thing is that when I put up specials, or add my input on specials, it is, without a doubt, with an Asian flair. I have made Peking duck, ginger and lotus broths, crispy fried sushi rice cakes, quick kimchee, and dumplings upon dumplings upon dumplings.
A lot of these are flavors that I grew up with. Aside from cucumbers and asparagus being a couple of my top favorite vegetables, I would also throw in gai lan, or Chinese broccoli, water chestnuts, bean sprouts, and morning glory.
I love soy sauce and chili pastes. I love noodles and dumplings. Do I cook with them much at work? Not so much. Usually only for staff meal or the occasional special.
I'm finding that more and more every day, my soul as an Asian-American cook supersedes my soul as a western cook. I'm not saying that I want to put down my saucepans and my demiglace and trade them in for woks and claypots. I just feel the need to use the flavors that I grew up with and the ones that I hold closer to my heart. I feel the need to learn to produce and use that which I am so familiar with.
Lately, I find myself being enamored with cookbooks focusing on Asian cuisine. I bypass the TK's AdHoc cookbook and barely give a second glance to Joel Robuchon's books (though they are very nice books). Instead, I spent a half hour looking at a book that strictly dealt with Asian dumplings, how to make the wrappers from scratch, how to fold them, and what to fill them with. It was entrancing. I looked at the Momofuku cookbook and was drawn in by the ingredients, the methods and the dishes.
So, as I ave been thinking about my career, I think that maybe I should try to go work at an Asian based restaurant. I don't mean that I want to go work in Chinatown, though that would be really cool. I feel like I need to work at a place that will help me become a better fine dining cook while allowing me to use some of my Asian tastes.
I would love to go work for David Chang at Momofuku in New York City, but I'm sure that guy has a million people banging on his door. Ken Oringer does Asian fusion food at his sushi bar, but I think that's far too close to white tablecloths for me. Ming Tsai... well.... He's out in the 'burbs, and I'm not particularly fond of his food.
I did, however find a job posting on Bostonchefs.com for a new place opening up in Inman Square. It describes itself as a Chinese style noodle house that will be creating Chinese inspired dishes using locally grown ingredients. They'll be using whole animals, which is a plus in my book as well. The chef, apparently, worked at Lumiere, T.W. Food and Hungry Mother, which is a big selling point for me as well.
I'm planning on dropping off my resume this Monday when I'm back home for break. We'll see how this all plays out. But for now, I think it might be a good move for me. Maybe it's time I got in touch with my roots in a professional setting.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Day 185: Git You Moist
Listening: Are we human or are we denser? My sign is vital. My hands are cold. And I'm on my knees looking for the answer.
What's my problem? Procrastination and boredom.
I realize that I have been a bit laxed in getting pictures up of what I have been doing this summer, or even this fall, so I'm gonna have a little payoff post. So, here y'all are. Half of these pictures are why I now weigh the most I ever have in my life.
Pigs ears like gummi worms, all ready to be dredged and fried.
Mini fresh ham biscuits of love.
Pig's ear poutine, Deep fried pork rillette stuffed with foie gras and cranberry jam, and fresh ham biscuits with housemade honey mustard.
The housecure: Fresh ham, country pate, tete de porc, citrus and parsley headcheese, copa, apple and fennel sausage, and mortadella
Crispy fried poached duck egg
The team of pork whores
What you get when your thumb gets into a fight with a julienne peeler.
Pork, foie, ginger & leek potsticker, or two bites of perfection.
All of my soldiers lined up.
This is what I do when I'm bored. I hand roll and hand fold 63 individual potstickers.
I just wanted to let you know that everyday, our onions come from "somewhere."
What's my problem? Procrastination and boredom.
I realize that I have been a bit laxed in getting pictures up of what I have been doing this summer, or even this fall, so I'm gonna have a little payoff post. So, here y'all are. Half of these pictures are why I now weigh the most I ever have in my life.
Pigs ears like gummi worms, all ready to be dredged and fried.
Mini fresh ham biscuits of love.
Pig's ear poutine, Deep fried pork rillette stuffed with foie gras and cranberry jam, and fresh ham biscuits with housemade honey mustard.
The housecure: Fresh ham, country pate, tete de porc, citrus and parsley headcheese, copa, apple and fennel sausage, and mortadella
Crispy fried poached duck egg
The team of pork whores
What you get when your thumb gets into a fight with a julienne peeler.
Pork, foie, ginger & leek potsticker, or two bites of perfection.
All of my soldiers lined up.
This is what I do when I'm bored. I hand roll and hand fold 63 individual potstickers.
I just wanted to let you know that everyday, our onions come from "somewhere."
Monday, November 9, 2009
Day 184: Dead Body Parts or I Wanna Dance With Somebody
Listening: Go upstairs and change. We gon' do some things. I'm gon' tie ya down. Let's just move aroun'.
What's my problem? There are far too many lost arts, or at least arts that people will look at you strange about.
December ninth, Raphael Saadiq is going to be playing at the House of Blues, and I'm PSYCHED. For those of you who don't know his music it's neo-soul/Motown, and it makes me want to dance. His music has made me want to get up and dance since I was in middle school listening to Tony Toni Tone doing the Roger Rabbit and the running man.
When I think about going to this concert and his music, I don't want to just stand and bob to it. I want to dance. By dance, I don't just mean flail about by myself (which I have done before). I want to dance with somebody. I want connection and lead/follow. I want to groove with somebody.
Unfortunately, that doesn't happen much anymore in the modern world. For most people, partner dancing is reserved for wedding receptions where you have your carefully choreographed foxtrot, and your swaying back and forth dance with the father/mother of the bride/groom dance. If you're still in high school or middle school, partner dancing exists, I guess. But really is there any feeling in the groove, or are they just trying to cop a feel?
The problem exists in my mind that there is no casual venue where people can dance if they want to. I have friends who might disagree, who think, "Hey, there are several lindy hop/west coast swing/Argentine tango dances a week." That's not what I'm looking for. I'm looking for a place where the music exists whether the dance happens or not, and the option of dancing is exercised because of the music, not because of the dance. I want to go, listen to some good music, and groove with someone random without them looking at me funny because I'm touching their hand when I'm dancing with them, not grinding hips.
It's tough. As I think about art forms that I have participated in, a great deal of them are dead, dying, or just plain snickered at these days.
I am an ex-raver/ex-DJ. In the United States, the rave scene is dead. If you want to listen to electronic music, you have to go to clubs with Armani clad hipsters who are thinking, "Are you really wearing that?" That fun, welcoming, sweaty, underground scene that I used to be a part of died sometime around seven years ago. There are no more colorful flyers at record stores telling you that these twelve DJs will be playing here at this warehouse until six in the morning. There are no longer any active online rave bulletin boards or hotlines to call. The fun is gone.
The music is still there, both new and old. I listen to it often and want to jump around with kids in bright clothes who suck on pacifiers. By kids, I mean people over eighteen years old. I have friends who have babies who wear bright clothes and suck on pacifiers.
There are festivals around the world who cater to electronic music, but nothing you can find on any given day off. I remember a day when there were at least seven parties in a week that were all well attended by all sorts of folk, just showing up to dance to the music. Now I'd be lucky if I could find a decent club night once a month.
The truth of the matter is that though I say these art forms are dead or are dying, they're really just underground where they're just not as accessible, or they've changed to something less organic. Sure, I can go to Winter Music Conference in Miami in March to jump around to some killer DJs, but I want it where I live... continuously. And, sure, I could either go to a night to dance a specific step to specific music, or I could grab someone random out of the crowd at a concert hall to dance, but I don't want to feel like the only reason I'm there is to dance, or that I'm the only one who wants to dance like that.
I guess that's what it comes down to is organics. I want things to happen naturally. I want to groove with a girl, because the music moves us both, and we can move together in a natural, non-contrived way. I want to go to parties where the crowd comes together for the love of the music, not the love of the scene, the love of the booze or the love of the pills.
So, anyways, I had this thing that I wanted to tie in about how the art of dating is lost, but I think I've said enough about music and dancing. But, if you do like Raphael Saadiq and plan on going to see his show, and you do catch the groove and want to dance, I'll be there. If you don't know, here are a few clips of him.
Bear with the sound quality. It gets better.
What's my problem? There are far too many lost arts, or at least arts that people will look at you strange about.
December ninth, Raphael Saadiq is going to be playing at the House of Blues, and I'm PSYCHED. For those of you who don't know his music it's neo-soul/Motown, and it makes me want to dance. His music has made me want to get up and dance since I was in middle school listening to Tony Toni Tone doing the Roger Rabbit and the running man.
When I think about going to this concert and his music, I don't want to just stand and bob to it. I want to dance. By dance, I don't just mean flail about by myself (which I have done before). I want to dance with somebody. I want connection and lead/follow. I want to groove with somebody.
Unfortunately, that doesn't happen much anymore in the modern world. For most people, partner dancing is reserved for wedding receptions where you have your carefully choreographed foxtrot, and your swaying back and forth dance with the father/mother of the bride/groom dance. If you're still in high school or middle school, partner dancing exists, I guess. But really is there any feeling in the groove, or are they just trying to cop a feel?
The problem exists in my mind that there is no casual venue where people can dance if they want to. I have friends who might disagree, who think, "Hey, there are several lindy hop/west coast swing/Argentine tango dances a week." That's not what I'm looking for. I'm looking for a place where the music exists whether the dance happens or not, and the option of dancing is exercised because of the music, not because of the dance. I want to go, listen to some good music, and groove with someone random without them looking at me funny because I'm touching their hand when I'm dancing with them, not grinding hips.
It's tough. As I think about art forms that I have participated in, a great deal of them are dead, dying, or just plain snickered at these days.
I am an ex-raver/ex-DJ. In the United States, the rave scene is dead. If you want to listen to electronic music, you have to go to clubs with Armani clad hipsters who are thinking, "Are you really wearing that?" That fun, welcoming, sweaty, underground scene that I used to be a part of died sometime around seven years ago. There are no more colorful flyers at record stores telling you that these twelve DJs will be playing here at this warehouse until six in the morning. There are no longer any active online rave bulletin boards or hotlines to call. The fun is gone.
The music is still there, both new and old. I listen to it often and want to jump around with kids in bright clothes who suck on pacifiers. By kids, I mean people over eighteen years old. I have friends who have babies who wear bright clothes and suck on pacifiers.
There are festivals around the world who cater to electronic music, but nothing you can find on any given day off. I remember a day when there were at least seven parties in a week that were all well attended by all sorts of folk, just showing up to dance to the music. Now I'd be lucky if I could find a decent club night once a month.
The truth of the matter is that though I say these art forms are dead or are dying, they're really just underground where they're just not as accessible, or they've changed to something less organic. Sure, I can go to Winter Music Conference in Miami in March to jump around to some killer DJs, but I want it where I live... continuously. And, sure, I could either go to a night to dance a specific step to specific music, or I could grab someone random out of the crowd at a concert hall to dance, but I don't want to feel like the only reason I'm there is to dance, or that I'm the only one who wants to dance like that.
I guess that's what it comes down to is organics. I want things to happen naturally. I want to groove with a girl, because the music moves us both, and we can move together in a natural, non-contrived way. I want to go to parties where the crowd comes together for the love of the music, not the love of the scene, the love of the booze or the love of the pills.
So, anyways, I had this thing that I wanted to tie in about how the art of dating is lost, but I think I've said enough about music and dancing. But, if you do like Raphael Saadiq and plan on going to see his show, and you do catch the groove and want to dance, I'll be there. If you don't know, here are a few clips of him.
Bear with the sound quality. It gets better.
Friday, November 6, 2009
Day 180: Serially Involved, Socially Un
Listening: I'm a monster, walking these streets, crawling these walls, whatever it takes to get to you.
What's my problem? I'm overly involved in serial dramas.
The internet is a wonderful thing to have when you don't work a nine to five and don't have a DVR. There are all of these wonderful sites where I can watch all of my serial dramas that I dig and some of my reality TV programs with slightly less than desirable resolution. I follow a number of shows. I probably spend more than ten or fifteen hours watching television on my computer. I'm lucky though. If I watched it on actual television, I would spend another few hours a week just waiting through the commercials.
Just to give you a clue of what I'm dealing with as far as my addiction to serials, I'll give you a list of all of the shows I'm following that are currently in season: "How I Met Your Mother," "Heroes," "Glee," "Top Chef," "The Ultimate Fighter: Heavyweights," "Grey's Anatomy," "Private Practice," "Survivor," "Smallville," "Dollhouse," and "Californication."
See, that's a lot of shows. I am dead tired right now from getting up at the crack of dawn to get back to the island for work, but instead of going to sleep, I caught up on shows that aired today.
I have to say that today's episodes were extraordinarily well written. Well, I don't know if they were actually that well written, but I really dug today's episodes. It could just be that I have watched these shows for so long that I have gotten to care about the characters, as fictional as I know they are. You dig what the writers do, and you realize that, even though these aren't real people, the characters become living breathing ideas that can evolve and can be killed off. A good writer can get people to care about characters, and I really think that the writers of "Grey's Anatomy" have done just that. Aside from the show's namesake, I really dig all of the characters. I think the namesake should be killed off.
It's so weird. I get involved in character and plots. The stories get emotional reactions from me whether it's laughter or (very manly) mild teariness. However, back in the real world, as I work on this island, I am incredibly insulated from everything. Nothing's really happening on the island and there's nothing really increasing my own personal drama here, so I walk around unaffected.
I was filling out an application for something, and it asked what is one word that other people would use to describe me. I asked the intern. He said, "indifferent." I had to think about that for a moment. Here, on the island, I am kind of indifferent to people and what's happening on the island. I think it could be because I don't necessarily feel like I fit in here on the island. I do what I do, and I could care less about what other people think about it (with the exception of my superiors). I'm somewhat self-alienated.
That self-alienation is a weird thing to think about when you think about who I am, where I am, and where I have been. I'm an American in what technically qualifies as America, yet I don't identify with most of the people who live in the same thirty mile radius. Earlier this year, I was an American, not in America, in a place where I don't speak the language, know what to order, or anything like that, but I found places to fit in. I have yet to find a place to fit in here on the island, so I guess that may be why I choose to hole up in my room, while the weather has become cold, and watch my little serial dramas. Though I don't find I "fit in" on any of these serial dramas, it gives me more to care about than just the food that I put up every night.
Anyhow, those were just some thoughts running through my head. The other news in my life is that while I was in Boston this past "weekend," I weighed myself. It turns out that I'm now a hundred and fifty pounds. A HUNDRED AND FIFTY POUNDS. I think that it's the most I've weighed in my life. It's so weird. I don't feel heavier. I look in the mirror and say to myself, "God DAMN, you're a sexy beast!" still. Well, truthfully, I never say that, but I have been known to say, "Yeah. I look good." A bit of narcissism. What more could you expect from a regular blogger. A bit of megalomaniacalness too perhaps?
It's cool. I can accept that. But for now, my eyes are starting to burn. I don't know if it's from staring at my computer while watching my shows, from my lack of sleep or both. I think I'll drift off to sleep while listening to Henry Rollins' "Black Coffee Blues" spoken word CD that I have finally re-ripped onto my iTunes after months of thinking about it and forgetting to do it. There's just something soothing about good ol' Hank's voice as he reads journal entries that he wrote while touring Europe with Black Flag in a crappy van. Some of the stuff that comes out of that man's mouth is genius that no one else can come up with. Makes me wish that I could drop knowledge about my life like he does his. Maybe I do, but I just don't recognize it because I'm too close to the project. For now, I'll just focus on his words and drift off to some much needed sleep.
What's my problem? I'm overly involved in serial dramas.
The internet is a wonderful thing to have when you don't work a nine to five and don't have a DVR. There are all of these wonderful sites where I can watch all of my serial dramas that I dig and some of my reality TV programs with slightly less than desirable resolution. I follow a number of shows. I probably spend more than ten or fifteen hours watching television on my computer. I'm lucky though. If I watched it on actual television, I would spend another few hours a week just waiting through the commercials.
Just to give you a clue of what I'm dealing with as far as my addiction to serials, I'll give you a list of all of the shows I'm following that are currently in season: "How I Met Your Mother," "Heroes," "Glee," "Top Chef," "The Ultimate Fighter: Heavyweights," "Grey's Anatomy," "Private Practice," "Survivor," "Smallville," "Dollhouse," and "Californication."
See, that's a lot of shows. I am dead tired right now from getting up at the crack of dawn to get back to the island for work, but instead of going to sleep, I caught up on shows that aired today.
I have to say that today's episodes were extraordinarily well written. Well, I don't know if they were actually that well written, but I really dug today's episodes. It could just be that I have watched these shows for so long that I have gotten to care about the characters, as fictional as I know they are. You dig what the writers do, and you realize that, even though these aren't real people, the characters become living breathing ideas that can evolve and can be killed off. A good writer can get people to care about characters, and I really think that the writers of "Grey's Anatomy" have done just that. Aside from the show's namesake, I really dig all of the characters. I think the namesake should be killed off.
It's so weird. I get involved in character and plots. The stories get emotional reactions from me whether it's laughter or (very manly) mild teariness. However, back in the real world, as I work on this island, I am incredibly insulated from everything. Nothing's really happening on the island and there's nothing really increasing my own personal drama here, so I walk around unaffected.
I was filling out an application for something, and it asked what is one word that other people would use to describe me. I asked the intern. He said, "indifferent." I had to think about that for a moment. Here, on the island, I am kind of indifferent to people and what's happening on the island. I think it could be because I don't necessarily feel like I fit in here on the island. I do what I do, and I could care less about what other people think about it (with the exception of my superiors). I'm somewhat self-alienated.
That self-alienation is a weird thing to think about when you think about who I am, where I am, and where I have been. I'm an American in what technically qualifies as America, yet I don't identify with most of the people who live in the same thirty mile radius. Earlier this year, I was an American, not in America, in a place where I don't speak the language, know what to order, or anything like that, but I found places to fit in. I have yet to find a place to fit in here on the island, so I guess that may be why I choose to hole up in my room, while the weather has become cold, and watch my little serial dramas. Though I don't find I "fit in" on any of these serial dramas, it gives me more to care about than just the food that I put up every night.
Anyhow, those were just some thoughts running through my head. The other news in my life is that while I was in Boston this past "weekend," I weighed myself. It turns out that I'm now a hundred and fifty pounds. A HUNDRED AND FIFTY POUNDS. I think that it's the most I've weighed in my life. It's so weird. I don't feel heavier. I look in the mirror and say to myself, "God DAMN, you're a sexy beast!" still. Well, truthfully, I never say that, but I have been known to say, "Yeah. I look good." A bit of narcissism. What more could you expect from a regular blogger. A bit of megalomaniacalness too perhaps?
It's cool. I can accept that. But for now, my eyes are starting to burn. I don't know if it's from staring at my computer while watching my shows, from my lack of sleep or both. I think I'll drift off to sleep while listening to Henry Rollins' "Black Coffee Blues" spoken word CD that I have finally re-ripped onto my iTunes after months of thinking about it and forgetting to do it. There's just something soothing about good ol' Hank's voice as he reads journal entries that he wrote while touring Europe with Black Flag in a crappy van. Some of the stuff that comes out of that man's mouth is genius that no one else can come up with. Makes me wish that I could drop knowledge about my life like he does his. Maybe I do, but I just don't recognize it because I'm too close to the project. For now, I'll just focus on his words and drift off to some much needed sleep.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Day 174: Restless
Listening: But there's no release. Mo peace. I toss and turn without cease. Like a curse, open my eyes and rise like yeast.
What's my problem? I can't get no sleep.
Yeah. I can't get no sleep. It's been months since I was asleep before three. Now I'm riding right around half past four when I can even get somewhere in the general realm of rest. It's usually around half past five when I actually lose consciousness. I can't get no sleep.
Two weekends ago (my weekends, not 9-5ers weekends), I was up in Boston, in my own wonderfully comfortable bed, warm and surrounded by pillows, and I still couldn't sleep. I closed my eyes and turned off my music. Then when that wouldn't work, I turned on my music. After an hour of that, I turned it off again and turned on the TV. I ended up not getting to sleep until what I think was around an hour and fifteen minutes before the alarm went off telling me to get my ass in gear so that I could catch the bus back down to Hyannis.
I'm not entirely sure what I should do about my little bit of insomnia that I have. I don't really know what's been bringing it on, or rather, what's been taking it from being a simple night owl to becoming a full blown vampire. Sure, like everyone, I have things on my mind from work to personal. Nothing's new. I just wish I could get to sleep.
To top off the sleep deprivation, I woke up on my "Saturday" with a crick in my neck that's still here on my "Monday" night. I need a massage something fierce. A few years ago, I don't think I would have ever said that. Now, I just want a tiny Thai chick to crack all of my joints for the sum of 200 Baht ($6).
Anyhow, in other news, this past Tuesday was the staff party. Although there was a lot of drunken debauchery, including a "who has the biggest belly" competition and people eating sweetbreads on top of mashed potatoes with a veal bolognese sauce (really who orders that, let alone puts it on the menu... I understand the components, but putting them together is just wrong), and long-winded drunken speeches. Luckily I didn't partake of any of the debauchery, but I did witness most of it.
Normally, on a night like that one, I would have imbibed a little bit, and I did have a couple of beers and a couple of glasses of wine, but I was by far the most sober employee, save the intern who is just... well, strange. However, that day was the day one of the neck crick, so I opted out of drinking enough to get me the JT drunk walk as my pal Junko would call it. I probably had the least eventful night out of everyone there, which was fine, because I was still having a good time.
These days at the restaurant, though, have become increasingly more slow. I spent most of last Monday's prep time making dumplings. This time they were pork and foie pot stickers. Everything was from scratch down to the wrappers. When I cooked a few of them up, they were perfect. Pan seared and then steamed. I sat and wrapped sixty eight of them. It felt like it took me forever, but it was well worth it. I have pictures of all of my soldiers lined up in rows. We sent some of them out to VIPs as little treats.
Other things that I have been doing to keep myself occupied include making desserts for staff meal. I made a tart tatin one day and individual pear tarts another day. I've put my stamp on a few of the entree specials, naturally taking them in an Asian direction.
I'm still trying to figure out what's going to happen to me post-island. I know I'll be down in the ATL around Christmas, but after that I have no clue. My New Years plans are kind of up in the air, and I don't know if I'll be going on vacation or getting a job come January.
I have money in the bank right now, but I didn't bank as much money as I thought that I would this summer. I can't really justify depleting my savings for another three month trip unless I know for sure that I'll be stepping right into some work when I get back. And, if I do go on a three month trip, it means I'm no closer to taking my year off to travel.
I've also been getting back into listening to my electronic music. I had put it down for a little while, but I have been listening to it again. It was because of this that I thought about taking a little vacation at the end of March in order to go to the Winter Music Conference in Miami.
I miss going to see DJs. I miss the raves and losing myself as I bounce up and down to a fierce bass beat. Come to think of it, the anonymity that you have is a lot like the anonymity that you have traveling abroad. You're in a room with all sorts of different people with different cultures and understandings of what's going on around them. You all bond together with a shared experience of the music or the "Lost In Translation" moment that you all are having. I miss that.
So, I think that I might like to go to Winter Music Conference and the Ultra Music Festival. I think that seeing DJs again might be nice. I think that dancing until my knees hurt may be mentally therapeutic, and, yes, that means that I think that I need some mental therapy right now.
Anyhow, it's three in the morning. I'm going to go try to do some reading. I want to give a shout out to Manni who was the first to get back to me about my travel journal. He gave me a lot of good feedback, and a good place to start gathering writing samples. Hopefully I'll hear from more of y'all. Until then, some of y'all get some winks for me. 'Cause I know I ain't getting many these days.
What's my problem? I can't get no sleep.
Yeah. I can't get no sleep. It's been months since I was asleep before three. Now I'm riding right around half past four when I can even get somewhere in the general realm of rest. It's usually around half past five when I actually lose consciousness. I can't get no sleep.
Two weekends ago (my weekends, not 9-5ers weekends), I was up in Boston, in my own wonderfully comfortable bed, warm and surrounded by pillows, and I still couldn't sleep. I closed my eyes and turned off my music. Then when that wouldn't work, I turned on my music. After an hour of that, I turned it off again and turned on the TV. I ended up not getting to sleep until what I think was around an hour and fifteen minutes before the alarm went off telling me to get my ass in gear so that I could catch the bus back down to Hyannis.
I'm not entirely sure what I should do about my little bit of insomnia that I have. I don't really know what's been bringing it on, or rather, what's been taking it from being a simple night owl to becoming a full blown vampire. Sure, like everyone, I have things on my mind from work to personal. Nothing's new. I just wish I could get to sleep.
To top off the sleep deprivation, I woke up on my "Saturday" with a crick in my neck that's still here on my "Monday" night. I need a massage something fierce. A few years ago, I don't think I would have ever said that. Now, I just want a tiny Thai chick to crack all of my joints for the sum of 200 Baht ($6).
Anyhow, in other news, this past Tuesday was the staff party. Although there was a lot of drunken debauchery, including a "who has the biggest belly" competition and people eating sweetbreads on top of mashed potatoes with a veal bolognese sauce (really who orders that, let alone puts it on the menu... I understand the components, but putting them together is just wrong), and long-winded drunken speeches. Luckily I didn't partake of any of the debauchery, but I did witness most of it.
Normally, on a night like that one, I would have imbibed a little bit, and I did have a couple of beers and a couple of glasses of wine, but I was by far the most sober employee, save the intern who is just... well, strange. However, that day was the day one of the neck crick, so I opted out of drinking enough to get me the JT drunk walk as my pal Junko would call it. I probably had the least eventful night out of everyone there, which was fine, because I was still having a good time.
These days at the restaurant, though, have become increasingly more slow. I spent most of last Monday's prep time making dumplings. This time they were pork and foie pot stickers. Everything was from scratch down to the wrappers. When I cooked a few of them up, they were perfect. Pan seared and then steamed. I sat and wrapped sixty eight of them. It felt like it took me forever, but it was well worth it. I have pictures of all of my soldiers lined up in rows. We sent some of them out to VIPs as little treats.
Other things that I have been doing to keep myself occupied include making desserts for staff meal. I made a tart tatin one day and individual pear tarts another day. I've put my stamp on a few of the entree specials, naturally taking them in an Asian direction.
I'm still trying to figure out what's going to happen to me post-island. I know I'll be down in the ATL around Christmas, but after that I have no clue. My New Years plans are kind of up in the air, and I don't know if I'll be going on vacation or getting a job come January.
I have money in the bank right now, but I didn't bank as much money as I thought that I would this summer. I can't really justify depleting my savings for another three month trip unless I know for sure that I'll be stepping right into some work when I get back. And, if I do go on a three month trip, it means I'm no closer to taking my year off to travel.
I've also been getting back into listening to my electronic music. I had put it down for a little while, but I have been listening to it again. It was because of this that I thought about taking a little vacation at the end of March in order to go to the Winter Music Conference in Miami.
I miss going to see DJs. I miss the raves and losing myself as I bounce up and down to a fierce bass beat. Come to think of it, the anonymity that you have is a lot like the anonymity that you have traveling abroad. You're in a room with all sorts of different people with different cultures and understandings of what's going on around them. You all bond together with a shared experience of the music or the "Lost In Translation" moment that you all are having. I miss that.
So, I think that I might like to go to Winter Music Conference and the Ultra Music Festival. I think that seeing DJs again might be nice. I think that dancing until my knees hurt may be mentally therapeutic, and, yes, that means that I think that I need some mental therapy right now.
Anyhow, it's three in the morning. I'm going to go try to do some reading. I want to give a shout out to Manni who was the first to get back to me about my travel journal. He gave me a lot of good feedback, and a good place to start gathering writing samples. Hopefully I'll hear from more of y'all. Until then, some of y'all get some winks for me. 'Cause I know I ain't getting many these days.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Day 158: Hog Wild!
Listening: Just when I thought I said all I could say, my chick on the side said she got one on the way. These are my confessions. Man, I'm thrown and I don't know what to do.
What's my problem? It's starting to get cold.
It's the end of days. By that, I mean that we're slowing down SERIOUSLY, and we're going from six day workweeks down to five day work weeks as of next week. Two of the interns have taken off. The last one was supposed to take off next Monday, but because of the way the internship had to be completed, he has to stay until the ninth of November. We've gone from having consistently over sixty diners a night to between twenty five, which we had last night, to forty, which we had two nights ago.
The bonus to it slowing down is that the sous-chef, the saute guy and I have started doing rounds. We'll all prep our home stations, but we'll work service on other stations. I'm working grill two nights a week and I'll be running a couple of days on saute and a day on the plating station a week or one day on saute and two on plating.
Yesterday I worked my first day on the plating station since last year. I'll be honest, I don't always make the prettiest plates. Sometimes I have a hard time gauging how to wing sauce off of a spoon and make it look nice when it hits the plate. I get nervous when I'm not comfortable on a station, which makes it harder for me to get it right. It's not like I shake like a leaf, but I definitely beat myself up when things don't end up looking like I want it to look like. I figure it'll take me a few more shifts before I get comfortable again.
What I really want to happen, probably won't. See if Chef would be willing to work the saute and the plating station, we could do a complete round robin. We could each take a day on the other three stations and work the weekends on our home stations. Chef pretty much sticks to hot apps or grill if he NEEDS to. The saute guy has expressed interest in working hot apps, and I enjoy my time on hot apps, whether I get buried or not. There's just something satisfying about seeing a perfectly browned, seared scallop. Then again, there's something satisfying about eating a perfectly browned, seared scallop as well.
In other news, the restaurant is holding its first annual Hogtoberfest weekend. Chef Matt Jennings from Providence's La Laiterie to run a few classes with my own Chef and Pastry Chef over this coming weekend, and will culminate in a Nose to Tail six course dinner with wine and/or beer pairings. It sounds like it's going to be pretty bangin'. We've got some jowls hanging in the walk in, tails in the brine, and ears already poached in addition to the house cured ham, mortadella and other tasty treats that Chef Jennings has in store. I strongly urge anyone who can make it down to Nantucket for this coming Sunday to book a reservation for the dinner.
Actually, I found the menu, and this is roughly what it's going to look like. We might tweak it a bit. In addition, if you're in the industry, you get the beer tasting cost for free.
Food:
Snacks
Fresh Ham & Cheddar Cheese Biscuits, Pork Rillette with Sweet Chili Jam, Pigs Ear Poutine.
1st
House Made Charcuterie & Assorted Favorite Garnishes
2nd
Boudin Noir & Smoked Jowl With Poached Pears, Arugala & Crispy Poached Duck Egg
3rd
Cast Iron Seared & Slow Roasted ginger Beer Pork Belly with Anson Mills Buttermilk Grits & Pickled Apple
4th
Pork Pie: Savory pork Shoulder & kidney Tart With Confit of Root Vegetables, Mustard & Parmesan Reggiano Cream
5th
Three Little Pigs Grilled Loin of Pork, Braised Pork Cheek & Crispy Tail with a Maple Parsnip Puree, Drunk Plums & Caramelized Brussels Sprouts
6th
“The King” Peanut Butter, Chocolate, Bacon & Jelly
$95 for Food
$120 food & Beer
$135 food, Wine & Beer
I also want to tell you that the pigs' ear fries are RIDICULOUS. Fucking RIDICULOUS. Makes me want to cry like a baby.
In other news, there isn't much other news. I told Chef that I would be dressing up as a ninja on Halloween. That's right. I'm going to look like a ninja on the line. Halloween is on a Saturday night, which means that it's going to be a crazy slow Saturday. I figure a ninja on the line might provide some comedy. What would be even better is if I could find a Storm Shadow costume. I mean, he already wears white...
Anyhow, finally, I'm still on the hunt for proper writing samples. I've decided to cut and paste all of my entries into a Word document in an attempt to clean them up and edit them a bit. I am still looking on feedback from my entries and which ones people particularly liked and which ones people didn't and why. So if you're reading, check it out and let me know. Hopefully it'll parlay itself into some sort of work for me. Til' the next entry...
What's my problem? It's starting to get cold.
It's the end of days. By that, I mean that we're slowing down SERIOUSLY, and we're going from six day workweeks down to five day work weeks as of next week. Two of the interns have taken off. The last one was supposed to take off next Monday, but because of the way the internship had to be completed, he has to stay until the ninth of November. We've gone from having consistently over sixty diners a night to between twenty five, which we had last night, to forty, which we had two nights ago.
The bonus to it slowing down is that the sous-chef, the saute guy and I have started doing rounds. We'll all prep our home stations, but we'll work service on other stations. I'm working grill two nights a week and I'll be running a couple of days on saute and a day on the plating station a week or one day on saute and two on plating.
Yesterday I worked my first day on the plating station since last year. I'll be honest, I don't always make the prettiest plates. Sometimes I have a hard time gauging how to wing sauce off of a spoon and make it look nice when it hits the plate. I get nervous when I'm not comfortable on a station, which makes it harder for me to get it right. It's not like I shake like a leaf, but I definitely beat myself up when things don't end up looking like I want it to look like. I figure it'll take me a few more shifts before I get comfortable again.
What I really want to happen, probably won't. See if Chef would be willing to work the saute and the plating station, we could do a complete round robin. We could each take a day on the other three stations and work the weekends on our home stations. Chef pretty much sticks to hot apps or grill if he NEEDS to. The saute guy has expressed interest in working hot apps, and I enjoy my time on hot apps, whether I get buried or not. There's just something satisfying about seeing a perfectly browned, seared scallop. Then again, there's something satisfying about eating a perfectly browned, seared scallop as well.
In other news, the restaurant is holding its first annual Hogtoberfest weekend. Chef Matt Jennings from Providence's La Laiterie to run a few classes with my own Chef and Pastry Chef over this coming weekend, and will culminate in a Nose to Tail six course dinner with wine and/or beer pairings. It sounds like it's going to be pretty bangin'. We've got some jowls hanging in the walk in, tails in the brine, and ears already poached in addition to the house cured ham, mortadella and other tasty treats that Chef Jennings has in store. I strongly urge anyone who can make it down to Nantucket for this coming Sunday to book a reservation for the dinner.
Actually, I found the menu, and this is roughly what it's going to look like. We might tweak it a bit. In addition, if you're in the industry, you get the beer tasting cost for free.
Food:
Snacks
Fresh Ham & Cheddar Cheese Biscuits, Pork Rillette with Sweet Chili Jam, Pigs Ear Poutine.
1st
House Made Charcuterie & Assorted Favorite Garnishes
2nd
Boudin Noir & Smoked Jowl With Poached Pears, Arugala & Crispy Poached Duck Egg
3rd
Cast Iron Seared & Slow Roasted ginger Beer Pork Belly with Anson Mills Buttermilk Grits & Pickled Apple
4th
Pork Pie: Savory pork Shoulder & kidney Tart With Confit of Root Vegetables, Mustard & Parmesan Reggiano Cream
5th
Three Little Pigs Grilled Loin of Pork, Braised Pork Cheek & Crispy Tail with a Maple Parsnip Puree, Drunk Plums & Caramelized Brussels Sprouts
6th
“The King” Peanut Butter, Chocolate, Bacon & Jelly
$95 for Food
$120 food & Beer
$135 food, Wine & Beer
I also want to tell you that the pigs' ear fries are RIDICULOUS. Fucking RIDICULOUS. Makes me want to cry like a baby.
In other news, there isn't much other news. I told Chef that I would be dressing up as a ninja on Halloween. That's right. I'm going to look like a ninja on the line. Halloween is on a Saturday night, which means that it's going to be a crazy slow Saturday. I figure a ninja on the line might provide some comedy. What would be even better is if I could find a Storm Shadow costume. I mean, he already wears white...
Anyhow, finally, I'm still on the hunt for proper writing samples. I've decided to cut and paste all of my entries into a Word document in an attempt to clean them up and edit them a bit. I am still looking on feedback from my entries and which ones people particularly liked and which ones people didn't and why. So if you're reading, check it out and let me know. Hopefully it'll parlay itself into some sort of work for me. Til' the next entry...
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Day 150: Electonically Ressurected
Listening: I love the feeling of being slightly lost, to find new spaces, new routes, new areas.... I love the lack of logic. I love the feeling of being slightly lost.
What's my problem? Stability doesn't suit me.
I got an e-mail from a friend of mine the other day that said, "its like youre electronically dead over there. i just checked your blog, which i havent done for awhile and you havent updated for a long time." It's true. It's been a whopping fifty-four days since I composed, even tried to compose a blog. I could tell you that I have been really busy, or that my computer broke, but those would both be lies. I have been spending a lot of my time veging out in front of my computer watching TV shows from back episodes of Joss Whedon's "Dollhouse" to the newest in a long line of shows that I liked that are/will be canceled, "Defying Gravity."
The other truths in the matter are that I have been all over the place since my last entry. I was up in Boston for the hell of it, in Maine for a wedding, hanging out with friends who came to the island to visit me, and a host of other things. Also, for a while I was sharing a day off with one of the interns and we'd hang out. That would curtail my alone time to plink out one of these entries.
Probably one of the biggest reasons that recently popped up over why I haven't posted is because I haven't had a day off in about a week and a half. See, the grill cook walked out on the line halfway through prep. That's right. The grill cook took his ball and went home. Let me explain how all of this went down.
Overall, our kitchen is tight. We all get along. We all get the work done. We all put it all down when it comes to everything from the food, to the cleaning to the staff meals we put up every day. We all did, except for the grill cook. He's the forty-three year old line cook. He doesn't scrub much. He puts in the minimal effort for staff meal, and he calls everyone out on anything he can, but can't accept criticism himself. That's how it all went down.
I didn't hear all of the altercation, as I was on the other side of the pass, but my sous-chef ended up calling him out on the fact that he does a half-assed job and that he doesn't really help much with staff meal, that he is the last one to wrap his shit up, the first one to be finished scrubbing (even if the job isn't done), and the first one to pop beers. His response, which I heard clearly, was, "why are you busting my balls?" to which the sous-chef said, essentially, "It's my job to bust your balls." From there, the grill cook said, "If you're gonna bust my balls, then I'm gonna go home."
Now, Chef could have stopped and diffused the situation at any time. But when he heard the grill cook say, "If you're gonna bust my balls, then I'm gonna go home," he decided to let it play out. The sous-chef then said, "Well, fine then, go home." And he did. He walked straight off the line, leaving his beef cheeks searing in the rondeau, and three quarters of his prep list unfinished.
That day I was supposed to work hot apps, and luckily, my prep list was short. At three o'clock on a Saturday (I'll repeat that, a SATURDAY), I had to switch gears, figure out what was going on with the grill station, and finish the prep.
Usually on the days that I work other people's stations (seeing as I have no home station being a rounds cook), I talk to the cooks the night before to figure out what's happening on the station. How much of what they have, what needs to be prepped, what they want set up for them after they get back from a day off. I like to be cooperative with the guys who own the station. I'm just the guest on their station. It's much harder to walk into a station relatively blind. It's totally doable, but it sucks a whole lot more.
I still rocked it out that night, but in that, I became the new grill cook and for the past two weeks, no one has had a day off except for the interns. I'm the new grill cook, and instead of bouncing between hot apps for two nights, saute for three, and grill for one, I'm on grill for at least four nights a week, and saute for two. In the midst of this crisis/wonderful event, I have committed to staying through Christmas Stroll, and will be leaving with the rest of the hot line sometime around December fifteenth.
Now this is both a blessing and a curse all in one. I really wasn't ready to go job searching in two weeks. Of course, my resume is updated, and I could find work if I wanted to. Was I mentally prepared? Not so much. It means that I'll be getting a number of paychecks more before I leave the island, though, and a potential bonus for staying until the end, but you never know. This also means that I could travel for a while this winter.
By finishing the job in the middle of December, I'm pretty much saying that I don't want to work until the beginning of March. Looking for steady work in the months of December, January and February in the restaurant industry is tough. After the New Year's celebrations, everyone goes on diets and stops going out to eat in order to pay back the credit card debt they incurred over the holidays. February has a flash in the pan know as Valentine's Day (gag me), but that's about it. It's when spring fever hits that people start going out again.
So, I've been looking for things to do. Of course, travel is first and foremost on my mind. I always feel a compulsion to leave the country. With reading so much travel literature lately, including anthologies, travel memoirs, and periodicals, I'm slowly realizing that, as much as I love what I'm reading, there's not a lot of travel lit geared towards me.
What I'm looking for is what I can do right now. I want to know how I can make my way right now. A lot of these long form books are great, but they don't tell me how I can do it now and what it's like to travel right now. The magazines are all geared towards desperate housewives and cubicle jockeys that have wet dreams about a cabana on the sand where an impoverished local will rub you down with coconut oil as you sip a frozen libation. Don't get me wrong. In a lot of ways its the same as it is for food lit. Half of it is food porn or unattainable dishes for the home cooks. It tells you what's out there that you can't have at home (for the most part), but it doesn't teach you how to cook right now. By that I mean to say that it'll tell you how to follow a recipe, but it won't teach you how to cook.
The travel that I want to read about deals with the pitfalls and the trials of traveling off the cuff. I don't want to read about hotels that cost over a hundred US dollars a night. I want to hear about the ones that cost ten, but are still nice. I don't want to hear about all inclusive tours and resorts. I want to hear about how someone got lost going from the train station to the hostel/hotel and the people they met along the way. I want to hear about how exactly someone got from point A to point B and what they did in those locations.
One of my pals thinks I should publish a book. I dunno if I'm up for that yet. It seems like too much of a long, drawn-out process. I think I'd be much better writing for a periodical. What kills me is that there isn't really a venue for the types of stories that I would want to write. Conde Nast Traveler and Travel & Leisure cater to the jet set rich folk. They don't want to hear about sleeping on a bare bamboo floor in the middle of the jungle. They need their four hundred count linens. Outside and Backpacker magazines seems to cater more toward the people who want to just go hiking and camping, along with some other adventure sports. I thought about maybe Esquire, GQ, and Playboy, but they all seem to be a little bit high end to enjoy the type of travel that I would be writing about. The options that I came up with were Budget Travel and National Geographic Adventure, although I may be a bit less family friendly than they would like, and possibly a freelance piece for Maxim magazine.
A couple of my friends also said that I should be looking for places to publish online, as magazines are folding left and right (R.I.P. Gourmet). The problem with that is that there are so many lame ass bastards (myself included) writing bullshit and publishing it for their own self-importance. I suppose that I could try to write for a website like nerve.com, which would be fun, but what's most important is that if I write for someone, it's legit. I don't want to put out meaningless content. I want to bring my travel experiences to people who want to know what I've learned through travel, not get someone wet in the knickers over ANOTHER white sand beach, though I do have some stories that would make one wet in the knickers over white sand beaches.
So, my goal is to get my feelers out there by mid November. I want to see if anyone would be willing to subsidize my travel habit, or at least suggest a little methadone.
Anyhow, it's time to finally finish the posting. Hopefully, I'll have more time to post from now until the time I leave the island. Hopefully, my readership hasn't dropped off completely. But, for now, that's all I have.
What's my problem? Stability doesn't suit me.
I got an e-mail from a friend of mine the other day that said, "its like youre electronically dead over there. i just checked your blog, which i havent done for awhile and you havent updated for a long time." It's true. It's been a whopping fifty-four days since I composed, even tried to compose a blog. I could tell you that I have been really busy, or that my computer broke, but those would both be lies. I have been spending a lot of my time veging out in front of my computer watching TV shows from back episodes of Joss Whedon's "Dollhouse" to the newest in a long line of shows that I liked that are/will be canceled, "Defying Gravity."
The other truths in the matter are that I have been all over the place since my last entry. I was up in Boston for the hell of it, in Maine for a wedding, hanging out with friends who came to the island to visit me, and a host of other things. Also, for a while I was sharing a day off with one of the interns and we'd hang out. That would curtail my alone time to plink out one of these entries.
Probably one of the biggest reasons that recently popped up over why I haven't posted is because I haven't had a day off in about a week and a half. See, the grill cook walked out on the line halfway through prep. That's right. The grill cook took his ball and went home. Let me explain how all of this went down.
Overall, our kitchen is tight. We all get along. We all get the work done. We all put it all down when it comes to everything from the food, to the cleaning to the staff meals we put up every day. We all did, except for the grill cook. He's the forty-three year old line cook. He doesn't scrub much. He puts in the minimal effort for staff meal, and he calls everyone out on anything he can, but can't accept criticism himself. That's how it all went down.
I didn't hear all of the altercation, as I was on the other side of the pass, but my sous-chef ended up calling him out on the fact that he does a half-assed job and that he doesn't really help much with staff meal, that he is the last one to wrap his shit up, the first one to be finished scrubbing (even if the job isn't done), and the first one to pop beers. His response, which I heard clearly, was, "why are you busting my balls?" to which the sous-chef said, essentially, "It's my job to bust your balls." From there, the grill cook said, "If you're gonna bust my balls, then I'm gonna go home."
Now, Chef could have stopped and diffused the situation at any time. But when he heard the grill cook say, "If you're gonna bust my balls, then I'm gonna go home," he decided to let it play out. The sous-chef then said, "Well, fine then, go home." And he did. He walked straight off the line, leaving his beef cheeks searing in the rondeau, and three quarters of his prep list unfinished.
That day I was supposed to work hot apps, and luckily, my prep list was short. At three o'clock on a Saturday (I'll repeat that, a SATURDAY), I had to switch gears, figure out what was going on with the grill station, and finish the prep.
Usually on the days that I work other people's stations (seeing as I have no home station being a rounds cook), I talk to the cooks the night before to figure out what's happening on the station. How much of what they have, what needs to be prepped, what they want set up for them after they get back from a day off. I like to be cooperative with the guys who own the station. I'm just the guest on their station. It's much harder to walk into a station relatively blind. It's totally doable, but it sucks a whole lot more.
I still rocked it out that night, but in that, I became the new grill cook and for the past two weeks, no one has had a day off except for the interns. I'm the new grill cook, and instead of bouncing between hot apps for two nights, saute for three, and grill for one, I'm on grill for at least four nights a week, and saute for two. In the midst of this crisis/wonderful event, I have committed to staying through Christmas Stroll, and will be leaving with the rest of the hot line sometime around December fifteenth.
Now this is both a blessing and a curse all in one. I really wasn't ready to go job searching in two weeks. Of course, my resume is updated, and I could find work if I wanted to. Was I mentally prepared? Not so much. It means that I'll be getting a number of paychecks more before I leave the island, though, and a potential bonus for staying until the end, but you never know. This also means that I could travel for a while this winter.
By finishing the job in the middle of December, I'm pretty much saying that I don't want to work until the beginning of March. Looking for steady work in the months of December, January and February in the restaurant industry is tough. After the New Year's celebrations, everyone goes on diets and stops going out to eat in order to pay back the credit card debt they incurred over the holidays. February has a flash in the pan know as Valentine's Day (gag me), but that's about it. It's when spring fever hits that people start going out again.
So, I've been looking for things to do. Of course, travel is first and foremost on my mind. I always feel a compulsion to leave the country. With reading so much travel literature lately, including anthologies, travel memoirs, and periodicals, I'm slowly realizing that, as much as I love what I'm reading, there's not a lot of travel lit geared towards me.
What I'm looking for is what I can do right now. I want to know how I can make my way right now. A lot of these long form books are great, but they don't tell me how I can do it now and what it's like to travel right now. The magazines are all geared towards desperate housewives and cubicle jockeys that have wet dreams about a cabana on the sand where an impoverished local will rub you down with coconut oil as you sip a frozen libation. Don't get me wrong. In a lot of ways its the same as it is for food lit. Half of it is food porn or unattainable dishes for the home cooks. It tells you what's out there that you can't have at home (for the most part), but it doesn't teach you how to cook right now. By that I mean to say that it'll tell you how to follow a recipe, but it won't teach you how to cook.
The travel that I want to read about deals with the pitfalls and the trials of traveling off the cuff. I don't want to read about hotels that cost over a hundred US dollars a night. I want to hear about the ones that cost ten, but are still nice. I don't want to hear about all inclusive tours and resorts. I want to hear about how someone got lost going from the train station to the hostel/hotel and the people they met along the way. I want to hear about how exactly someone got from point A to point B and what they did in those locations.
One of my pals thinks I should publish a book. I dunno if I'm up for that yet. It seems like too much of a long, drawn-out process. I think I'd be much better writing for a periodical. What kills me is that there isn't really a venue for the types of stories that I would want to write. Conde Nast Traveler and Travel & Leisure cater to the jet set rich folk. They don't want to hear about sleeping on a bare bamboo floor in the middle of the jungle. They need their four hundred count linens. Outside and Backpacker magazines seems to cater more toward the people who want to just go hiking and camping, along with some other adventure sports. I thought about maybe Esquire, GQ, and Playboy, but they all seem to be a little bit high end to enjoy the type of travel that I would be writing about. The options that I came up with were Budget Travel and National Geographic Adventure, although I may be a bit less family friendly than they would like, and possibly a freelance piece for Maxim magazine.
A couple of my friends also said that I should be looking for places to publish online, as magazines are folding left and right (R.I.P. Gourmet). The problem with that is that there are so many lame ass bastards (myself included) writing bullshit and publishing it for their own self-importance. I suppose that I could try to write for a website like nerve.com, which would be fun, but what's most important is that if I write for someone, it's legit. I don't want to put out meaningless content. I want to bring my travel experiences to people who want to know what I've learned through travel, not get someone wet in the knickers over ANOTHER white sand beach, though I do have some stories that would make one wet in the knickers over white sand beaches.
So, my goal is to get my feelers out there by mid November. I want to see if anyone would be willing to subsidize my travel habit, or at least suggest a little methadone.
Anyhow, it's time to finally finish the posting. Hopefully, I'll have more time to post from now until the time I leave the island. Hopefully, my readership hasn't dropped off completely. But, for now, that's all I have.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
