One of the finest lessons I ever learned in my life was from my
grandmother, "Mamie." We were having dinner at Harry's Bar in Venice
many years ago on a warm summer night in July. My parents had given me,
as a graduation gift from high school, a month in Europe. I had gone
through numerous brochures and found the perfect trip, 10 countries in
28 days. I was exhausted on day 22 but Mamie was quick to remind me, as
I was slouched in my chair, my head nodding dangerously towards what is
probably the most expensive spaghetti in the world, that most people
would break their left arm to have the opportunity to have dinner on a
Saturday night at Harry's Bar in Venice. I sat up straight in my chair
and have always remembered her poignant words.
Travel
Travel
Easy Travel to Other Countries
I have a horny wanderlust, always insatiable, perpetually unrequited. Oh sure, I’ve had my trips on locations: from the gentler parallel reality of Canada to the third world intensity of Jamaica. And vacations to the usual European locales — Italy, Ireland, Scotland, England, France for business and pleasure. But I want moooore! Although currently landlocked until the dollar heals, business prospers, travel improves, and fuel cheapens, I can best trip out by visiting friends from other cultures.
On the Roadfood
This past summer my boyfriend and I set out on a cross-country road
trip from Boston to L.A, a drive whose route would transverse America,
and take us to countless places we’d never been before. With only a
few changes of clothes, two sleeping bags and a cooler, we left the
East Coast energetic and idealistic about the trip. The things most
looked forward to: upstate New York in August, the peak of wild flower
season, wheat fields in Iowa and the Rockies once out west, stretched
out ahead of us for weeks on end. I can honestly say that we did see
these things, all of them. Unfortunately, I wasn’t paying much
attention… far too busy reading the Sterns.
My cover of the Sterns’ 2005 edition of “Roadfood” features a close-up of an oozing triple-decker grilled cheese sandwich, the evidence of whose butter-fried preparation proclaims itself from each crispy edge of toast and glistening golden burnt bit. The bread appears to be highly refined, and the cheese orangey processed. In other words: the cover-sandwich looks criminally delicious, the kind you’d find in a favorite diner, or perhaps in one of the 600 odd restaurants, spanning 48 states, that the Sterns describes within. Snappily written reviews of places chosen for their honest cooking, lack of pretense and use of ingredients rated high to higher on the bad-for-you index, make for an addictive read. It’s also a really fun book for sickos to pour over when the trail mix runs out, and the only work of non-fiction I packed on my person when leaving for The Big Move out west.
Tea in Seoul
We couldn’t have picked a better day to immerse ourselves in Korean
tea shops than a day filled with brisk temperatures and a slight chilly
rain. It made our check ins of tea houses much more cozy even though we
were on a seriously ambitious mission to sip and sit in a combination of
traditional and modern establishments.
We started at Miss Lee, a colorful and playful tea house washed in bright colors and natural woods. If I was looking for a quiet austere place for tea this sure wasn’t it! We arrived for an early lunch of bento boxes with a variety of teas. There’s something to know about the world of Korean tea: it’s not necessarily always based on traditional tea plants and their leaves. It’s a world that encompasses fruits, seeds, twigs, roots and leaves, not to mention some grains and barley and rice.
The flavors of a rainbow are all here, from sour and astringent to candy-like and sweet. One of my favorites was Omijacha, made from the dried berries of the Schisandra chinensis and called the Five Flavors tea because it has sweet, salty, bitter, sour and pungent notes. Served either hot or cold, Korean teas are consumed for health and vitality but to me some are just plain fun: give me a cup of Yujacha (citron) any day for dessert and I’d be a happy man.
Last Supper in Paris
Alas it was time for my vacation in France to end with the new year
in full bloom and my duties back in New York City calling. I had a
farewell dinner with my father at a little
bistro run by a very young chef. My father is a voracious reader of all
the Parisian publications and came upon a review of the burgeoning
restaurant Jadis. Various newspapers have lauded it as the best of its
kind in the fifteenth and possibly the city. The meal was very good in
a classic bistro fare sort of way though I feel it is a stretch to call
it one of the best in Paris let alone the very best. The food offered
was mostly updated classics and reinvented French conventions. The
cuisine could be called new wave French I suppose, archetypal though
innovative.
The food was mostly game oriented and incorporated every part of the animal from kidneys and entrails, to feet and brain. My father ended up being the bolder of the two of us, ordering two dishes that I loved tasting but would rarely order myself. He began with the pied d’agneau or lamb trotter. The round white bowl that appeared contained a strange looking soupy ragout with chunks of lamb foot meat, snails, button mushrooms, and sliced cardoons. It sounds more like a bizarre sorcerer’s potion but those were in fact the ingredients and they worked surprisingly well. The lamb trotter tasted like fatty pieces of roast leg of lamb and the saltiness of the sautéed snails matched well with the texture of the mushrooms. My father was overjoyed with the dish; naturally a big fan of organ meats given his French heritage. I tried two or three bites and would have gladly accepted my own serving.
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