Listening: You can't always get what you want. But if you try sometimes, you might find you get what you need.
What's my problem? Do I take it?
Wouldn't you know it.... The day after I publish my post about my stage at Salts, I get a call from Marsoir. It turns out that the guy who was working garde manager was planning on quitting that day, and if he didn't quit, the chef was planning on firing him anyways. The chef told Marsoir that he liked the way that I gelled in the kitchen and wanted to get me in there.
As I said in my last post, I have some reservations about working at Salts. I just don't know if I'm up to it yet. In a lot of ways, I feel like taking the job might be setting myself up to go down in epically gigantic flames.
When I came to my current place of employment, I thought I knew a lot. I have always known that I don't know everything, but I thought that I knew a lot. My friends and colleagues have always pumped me up, telling me that I was a great cook and so on and so forth. I believed it. I still believe it, but what happened over the past year and a half is that I also realized that I'm nowhere near where I want to be in the kitchen yet. I don't have the skills to pay the bills, so to speak. Managerially and mentally, I think I'm ready to be a first cook or a sous chef, but after the past two seasons, I have learned that my body hasn't caught up with my mind yet.
So, if I walk into Salts knowing what I know in my brain and potentially not being able to deliver physically, what does that mean?
I told Marsoir about my reservations, and he said that he would convey them to the chef. But I also told Marsoir that I would do whatever I could to help him out wherever he was. This meant that if they're a man down when I get off the island, I'll step in and work until they break for the Christmas/New Years holiday, and maybe even stay on until they find someone permanent.
Everyone that I've talked to has said that I should take the job. I know that it would be a fantastic place to have on my resume. Am I ready for it? I don't know. Half of me wants to hold out and see if East By Northeast gets back to me, because, really, those flavors are what I'm most interested in learning more about right now. French food and technique will always be there, but the finer Asian places are few and far between.
Fuck. What to do... What to do....
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Day 193: In Over My Head
Listening: Let's rearrange. I wish you were a stranger I could disengage. Just say that we agree and then never change. Soften a bit until we all just get along, but that's disregard. Find another friend and you discard.
What's my problem? I know where I am in my skill level.
I'm on the "Thursday" of my five day break from the island. The time has dragged and has flown by at the same time. I have spent the time largely by myself, getting out of bed late and into bed rather early. I think that two of the past three nights I was in my sleepwear before midnight. Normally, I would watch TV in bed or plink around on the internet, but the cable is out and the wireless router is on the fritz too, so there's really nothing to do in my room besides sleep, read or listen to music. It's not a bad life, but it's hell when you want to check your e-mail and the signal from the neighbor's router is awful.
A big part of this break for me was to start the hunt for potential jobs, just to flesh out my options for the next year. Do I go back to the island for one more season? Do I try to get a steady/non-seasonal job in Boston? Where do I find said steady job?
One of the reasons that I'm looking at jobs back on the mainland is because, after two seasons on the island, I don't feel any closer to "going native." I don't feel like I speak the language of the island. I don't hold the same values of either the residents, the workers, or the vacationers there.
I love working for my chef. He's a great boss to have, as is his wife who handles the front of the house. After a hard first season of people quitting, walking out, butting heads, and nearly passing out on the line, I came back with a new mindset. I think I set aside my ego (which a lot of people who know me would think impossible), and set my mind on focusing on what was in front of me. I was focused on being the best cook that I could be in that very moment. I was determined to live up to my moniker and be ZEN!!! in the kitchen.
I think that I achieved a lot of my goals this summer. I think that I improved on doing what was right in front of me. Sometimes I walked away from extra projects just so that I could make sure that what I had was tight.
What makes me want to stay on the island for another season is the fact that the familiarity of the setting and the people might make it easier for me to progress and improve upon myself in a number of aspects. The things that I am constantly improving on are rudimentary things such as speed and precision. In this kitchen, as it is with almost any kitchen, I would undoubtedly have an opportunity to work on my speed, both in line work as well as in prep work.
Precision is another story. We do nice food or food that looks nice. However, we don't have a lot of precision cuts on our dishes. We don't have obvious fine brunoise. A lot of our knife cuts are hidden by the composition of the dishes. There's never a point where a plate hits the table and someone instantly thinks, "Holy shit! That's a whole bunch of tiny, perfect cubes of vegetable!" I've eaten at places where I've thought that. I've produced cuts close to that, but never as consistently as I would like to.
This brings us to the question of "Where would I go if I don't go back to the island?" Well, so far, I have dropped my resume at two places and have staged at another one. The three places are all in Cambridge, which should be of no surprise. The first place that I dropped my resume, is a place called Hungry Mother. It's a great place near Kendall Square that specializes in southern cuisine. The reasons that I would love to work at Hungry Mother is because I am familiar with, and I love eating southern cuisine. I love the collard greens and the smoked pork products. I love cornbread and barbecue sauces. Furthermore, the restaurant isn't just a down-home southern joint. The chef there has been in fine dining for a long time, so it's homestyle food done nice.
The place that I staged was Salts. See, my pal, Marsoir, recently got a job there. My friend Brook has been working there for the past few years. When I asked Marsoir if I could use him as a reference, he asked if I wanted to come and check Salts out. I thought it was going to be one of those, "Oh, hey! Come and check out what I'm doing!" kinds of stages. Instead, when I walked in the door, I found out that they were hiring.
Salts isn't a place that should be taken lightly. Gabriel Bremer was named as one of Food And Wine's Best New Chefs of 2007. He's doing bangin' food out of a tiny kitchen in a tiny restaurant in Cambridge. Both Marsoir and Brook are monsters. They kill it in the kitchen. Right now, I honestly believe that they are ten times the cook that I am.
So, when I walked into the kitchen in my whites and went to work, I was much more careful doing everything that I was asked to do. This slowed me down. I kept my eyes open, watching my pals as they rocked it out and as they were in the weeds. Prep at Salts is intense. It was more intense than anywhere else that I have ever worked. Chef Bremer does all of the pastry himself. They have an immersion circulator, a piece of equipment that I have never used before, to sous vide, a method of cooking that I have never done. There was no fryer, no grill, and no tongs. There were food additives (not crazy stuff, chemically, but things like xantham gum, agar agar, soy lecithin, different root derivatives), some of which I was familiar with, others that I was not. It was extremely intimidating.
I thought that I would just be watching service, but when they had to pick up an eighteen person party, I was told by Brook to plate up the veg dishes. I was plating and saucing and garnishing for Gabriel Bremer. I got it done and did a good job, but I was still kind of in shell shock. I just didn't expect to be plating that man's food. I'm not as shocked as I would have been if, say TK or Grant Achatz asked me to plate up on a one day stage.
To be honest, I think that if I were to go work at Salts, I would be a bit in over my head. I would probably be in the weeds day in and day out. And worst of all, I fear that I would end up disappointing Marsoir, a guy who has had my back and has been a great supporter of my culinary growth. I would never want to disappoint him. On the flip side of the coin, a place like that would really push me to be better if I could actually keep my head, or possibly only my nose above water. It is really nice food.
The final place that I dropped off my resume is probably the place that I want the job the most. It's the place East by Northeast, the Chinese inspired fine dining joint that's slated to open in Inman Square early next year. I met the chef when I went in to drop off the resume. He was alone in the space sanding tables. Covered by sawdust, we talked about my experience, his experience, the restaurant, what he thought it would end up looking like, and about travels.
The space is only going to be twenty or thirty seats, a size that really appeals to me. I can see a very small kitchen staff and some really nice food being rocked out. The chef doesn't know exactly how he's going to staff his kitchen. He doesn't know if he's going to hire another qualified line cook other than him and his sous, or if he's going to hire a dum dum to just fold dumplings. I hope he hires me. I really want to be working with the flavors and the ingredients that he plans on using. I think that the learning curve there would be steep. I'm excited just thinking about it.
Anyhow, that's what I'm looking at. We'll see what happens.
Right now it's late (and five days from when I started writing this post). It's time for me to crash out so I can get some work done tomorrow. I'm making lobster potstickers for the Christmast Stroll menu. I have to fold and freeze a hundred of them so they're ready to go for a week from Friday. It should be fun.
What's my problem? I know where I am in my skill level.
I'm on the "Thursday" of my five day break from the island. The time has dragged and has flown by at the same time. I have spent the time largely by myself, getting out of bed late and into bed rather early. I think that two of the past three nights I was in my sleepwear before midnight. Normally, I would watch TV in bed or plink around on the internet, but the cable is out and the wireless router is on the fritz too, so there's really nothing to do in my room besides sleep, read or listen to music. It's not a bad life, but it's hell when you want to check your e-mail and the signal from the neighbor's router is awful.
A big part of this break for me was to start the hunt for potential jobs, just to flesh out my options for the next year. Do I go back to the island for one more season? Do I try to get a steady/non-seasonal job in Boston? Where do I find said steady job?
One of the reasons that I'm looking at jobs back on the mainland is because, after two seasons on the island, I don't feel any closer to "going native." I don't feel like I speak the language of the island. I don't hold the same values of either the residents, the workers, or the vacationers there.
I love working for my chef. He's a great boss to have, as is his wife who handles the front of the house. After a hard first season of people quitting, walking out, butting heads, and nearly passing out on the line, I came back with a new mindset. I think I set aside my ego (which a lot of people who know me would think impossible), and set my mind on focusing on what was in front of me. I was focused on being the best cook that I could be in that very moment. I was determined to live up to my moniker and be ZEN!!! in the kitchen.
I think that I achieved a lot of my goals this summer. I think that I improved on doing what was right in front of me. Sometimes I walked away from extra projects just so that I could make sure that what I had was tight.
What makes me want to stay on the island for another season is the fact that the familiarity of the setting and the people might make it easier for me to progress and improve upon myself in a number of aspects. The things that I am constantly improving on are rudimentary things such as speed and precision. In this kitchen, as it is with almost any kitchen, I would undoubtedly have an opportunity to work on my speed, both in line work as well as in prep work.
Precision is another story. We do nice food or food that looks nice. However, we don't have a lot of precision cuts on our dishes. We don't have obvious fine brunoise. A lot of our knife cuts are hidden by the composition of the dishes. There's never a point where a plate hits the table and someone instantly thinks, "Holy shit! That's a whole bunch of tiny, perfect cubes of vegetable!" I've eaten at places where I've thought that. I've produced cuts close to that, but never as consistently as I would like to.
This brings us to the question of "Where would I go if I don't go back to the island?" Well, so far, I have dropped my resume at two places and have staged at another one. The three places are all in Cambridge, which should be of no surprise. The first place that I dropped my resume, is a place called Hungry Mother. It's a great place near Kendall Square that specializes in southern cuisine. The reasons that I would love to work at Hungry Mother is because I am familiar with, and I love eating southern cuisine. I love the collard greens and the smoked pork products. I love cornbread and barbecue sauces. Furthermore, the restaurant isn't just a down-home southern joint. The chef there has been in fine dining for a long time, so it's homestyle food done nice.
The place that I staged was Salts. See, my pal, Marsoir, recently got a job there. My friend Brook has been working there for the past few years. When I asked Marsoir if I could use him as a reference, he asked if I wanted to come and check Salts out. I thought it was going to be one of those, "Oh, hey! Come and check out what I'm doing!" kinds of stages. Instead, when I walked in the door, I found out that they were hiring.
Salts isn't a place that should be taken lightly. Gabriel Bremer was named as one of Food And Wine's Best New Chefs of 2007. He's doing bangin' food out of a tiny kitchen in a tiny restaurant in Cambridge. Both Marsoir and Brook are monsters. They kill it in the kitchen. Right now, I honestly believe that they are ten times the cook that I am.
So, when I walked into the kitchen in my whites and went to work, I was much more careful doing everything that I was asked to do. This slowed me down. I kept my eyes open, watching my pals as they rocked it out and as they were in the weeds. Prep at Salts is intense. It was more intense than anywhere else that I have ever worked. Chef Bremer does all of the pastry himself. They have an immersion circulator, a piece of equipment that I have never used before, to sous vide, a method of cooking that I have never done. There was no fryer, no grill, and no tongs. There were food additives (not crazy stuff, chemically, but things like xantham gum, agar agar, soy lecithin, different root derivatives), some of which I was familiar with, others that I was not. It was extremely intimidating.
I thought that I would just be watching service, but when they had to pick up an eighteen person party, I was told by Brook to plate up the veg dishes. I was plating and saucing and garnishing for Gabriel Bremer. I got it done and did a good job, but I was still kind of in shell shock. I just didn't expect to be plating that man's food. I'm not as shocked as I would have been if, say TK or Grant Achatz asked me to plate up on a one day stage.
To be honest, I think that if I were to go work at Salts, I would be a bit in over my head. I would probably be in the weeds day in and day out. And worst of all, I fear that I would end up disappointing Marsoir, a guy who has had my back and has been a great supporter of my culinary growth. I would never want to disappoint him. On the flip side of the coin, a place like that would really push me to be better if I could actually keep my head, or possibly only my nose above water. It is really nice food.
The final place that I dropped off my resume is probably the place that I want the job the most. It's the place East by Northeast, the Chinese inspired fine dining joint that's slated to open in Inman Square early next year. I met the chef when I went in to drop off the resume. He was alone in the space sanding tables. Covered by sawdust, we talked about my experience, his experience, the restaurant, what he thought it would end up looking like, and about travels.
The space is only going to be twenty or thirty seats, a size that really appeals to me. I can see a very small kitchen staff and some really nice food being rocked out. The chef doesn't know exactly how he's going to staff his kitchen. He doesn't know if he's going to hire another qualified line cook other than him and his sous, or if he's going to hire a dum dum to just fold dumplings. I hope he hires me. I really want to be working with the flavors and the ingredients that he plans on using. I think that the learning curve there would be steep. I'm excited just thinking about it.
Anyhow, that's what I'm looking at. We'll see what happens.
Right now it's late (and five days from when I started writing this post). It's time for me to crash out so I can get some work done tomorrow. I'm making lobster potstickers for the Christmast Stroll menu. I have to fold and freeze a hundred of them so they're ready to go for a week from Friday. It should be fun.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Day 186: Identity
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.
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.
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.
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