The Cheeky Chef Convention

Yesterday I spent the day exercising willpower at Milano's Identita Gelosa.
A chef centered event where they hammer fresh vegetables to the walls, but offer exclusively glutenous samples, one tablespoon at a time.

Actually, I am more certain that it was a space for top male chefs to posture on-camera while their female or twenty-something stagehands frantically fired up gourmet miracles with all the fixings in fifteen minute intervals.

I spent the time -- all 8 hours of my contractually obligated time -- hallucinating between vendor stands as my waning willpower wheeled me around this aromatic space of things I must not have.
In between the blurred bits, I managed to catch some highlights.

Chef Kobe Desramaults split the skull of a skinned goat's head to teach us to reconnect with the animals we eat...Aaand also so that he could pull out the brains, cook them in kidney fat and place them back in the skull. Now it's a serving dish, guys!

Massimo Bottura gave shade to "young" Massimiliano Alajmo for not saying "traditional" when referencing Modena's balsamic vinegar, which we all know is sugar water unless it is proper aged. We know that, right? Like, everyone?

Massimiliano Alajmo then threw shade at Davide Cassi, the guy he was supposed to be honoring, when he rebounded a question about why "young" chefs are not appreciated to him. Seriously, why does everyone in Italy think 33 is the new 17? Must have something to do with their parents paying their rent until they are 35 -- jusss saying though.

Luigi Salomone backhanded his sponsor when he very mindfully muttered "quote, un-quote 'serious presentation'" while referencing the work he was asked to do for a certain national beer company. I think he was more mad that he wasn't on the main stage throwing shade with the big boys and sippin out of lamb skulls.

And that concludes my account of the event.
If I had been double-fisting cheese samples and inhaling native Thai dishes instead of choking down oat bran in a dark corner I might have had an entirely different day to share. But, it is what it is.

3 weeks down, 5 weeks to go. Hash-tag: cleansing

HHH

Banh Mi Battle

I have just come back for a 10-month sabbatical in a country where cilantro was an exotic jungle vine-- hard to say and impossible to find -- and salted bread marked regional rebels who sparked political flames with their culinary noncompliance.

Now I am back, and every inch of my tortured tongue craves the tangy, spicy, savory, crunchy, and oddly creamy bundle of that South East Asian piquant perfection, banh mi; or even better known as the Vietnamese sandwich.

Vietnamese sandwiches for me, have always been up there with Subway, Jamba Juice and all the usual fast, fresh, and cheap junk food alternatives, but never had I had the patience to explore any sandwich stead outside the 5-mile radius of my front door (I don't dare say their name). While I am completely aware that they, temptingly accessible and successfully marketable, are not the gold standard for all things banh mi, they do offer for the hurried, hungry and lazy the quickest fix.

But enough with apologies and excuses of the past. Today is a new beginning. The beginning of...

Battle of the Best Banh Mi: San Jose edition

Round 1: Huong Lan vs Lee's Sandwiches

Fight!

Bank: $2.75... Seriously, tax included

Weight/Height: about 8 inches or so, not super full

Bread: soft on the inside flaky on the outside (doesn't scrape off the first layer of skin on the roof of one's mouth)

Veggies: the pickled daikon and carrots were a little bland to me. Not so tangy or sweet.

Meat: tender, savory, delicious. could have been more, but still a quality ingredient.

Condiments: a little heavy on the mayo (two salty things without a buffer is no good)

Two-Cents: while the maintaining that the quality of meat was great for a sub $3 sandwich, I still miss the lightly sweetened baguette and the crisp and tangy pickles from Lee's.

Seoul Food

At least once a week I make a pilgrimage to the land of hybrids and urban hippies; that great West Coast hipster haven called San Francisco. Seeing as I work part-time at both a suburban, hilltop golf club and an exclusive country club, it is imperative that I atone for my societal sins to maintain my self-proclaimed, non-elitist persona.

This Sabbatical journey usually includes hours at an industrial arts non-profit in a notoriously violent inner city locale, where I answer phones for free and refresh myself with free-trade chai tea lattes from our specialty vending machine. After this saintly act of goodwill, I scurry to my car using my $15 thrift store peacoat to hide my $100, leather bound Fossil laptop tote. I then take a 40-minute drive over a 2-mile bridge to treat myself to an authentic Bay Area meal.

An authentic Bay Area meal can be a number of things.

1. A pricey organic meal in a restaurant practicing sustainable business methods.
2. Hole-in-the-wall eatery characterized by mediocre food, unconventional themes (sushi in a 50's diner), and the neighborhood patrons that support it (drunks, hipsters, bored college students).
   
3. Ethnic food served in a place where all communication is done with hand gestures and head nodding (except the suspiciously enunciated price).
4. A regular American meal plus avocado.

On this particular pilgrimage I went with option #2.

The place was called Toyose. We found it on a deserted street lined with Frisco's signature low-income, double stacked, cubby hole housing. The visible shoreline drive to Toyose suggested fine-dining superiority; the neighboring plastic signboard liquor stores insisted otherwise.

We opened what seemed to be a garage sidedoor and entered what appeared to be an East Asian countryside hut. A corridor of attractive wooden booths lined either side of the chic shoe box of a diner, and the back opened up slightly to a section walled with mirrors, lined with similar booths, and topped with a faux gazebo-esque roof strung with lights. -- O holy and chic Zion, grace us with thy victual blessings -- At the time my guest and I were the only ones seated; however, judging from the cutesy powder pink and blue posters featuring unnaturally fresh-faced foreign models I could tell who would inevitably be joining us.

Moments later, small groups of soju-sipping Korean twenty-somethings piled in, and by that time we had already broken bread -- crispy squid tempura, egg-topped kimchi fried rice, and assorted Korean pickles and starters. The food was good, but not great; a strong indicator of a classic Option #2 meal. There was also no dessert available, which is unacceptable, but the overall experience was satisfying.

We finished up the meal with several rounds of pacifying hot tea, let out a sigh of contentedness and reverence, and headed home.

A relatively relevant link...Black Jesus. You're welcome.

How I Can Just Kill A....Cookie

Yes, that was a Rage Against the Machine reference. And yes, this entry is going to feature the careless concoction of a kitchen catastrophe called "cookie". I was going to use this space to express my disdain in the usual manner (wordy and alliterate), but since rants are criticized and poems are patronized I will try the lyrical approach.

Get those crisp-ity, crumbly cardboard cookies out of my face.

A mix between candy-coated crackers and burnt flaky cake
Culinary sophistication only a 5-year-old should create.
And when is a cookie ever appropriate to plate?
Never seen a snickerdoodle on a $100 date.

And why are they so dry and bland?
Take a lesson from M&Ms,
Melt in my mouth, not corrode in my hand.
With every bite, coating my clothes like sugary sand
Doubling as exfoliate for dry flaky hands.

And if you're asking me,
I say there's something obscene
About a pastry making me feign for animal fat and liquid protein
Lady Fingers, Wafers, Biscotti and Tim Tams
Sounds like the names of washed out 80's bands.
Let's call them Blondie or Duran Duran
And hope they fade away and quickly disband

Kebbler Elf, keep your crap off my shelf,
Or I'll have your creamy center ripped out and splattered myself
Chips Ahoy,
Oh, boy...
Get your chocolate chips scattered by the clips from my semi-automatic "toy"
And Gingerbread Man?
You better run while you can
Cause you'll never escape my pistol-whipped backhand.

Get those crisp-ity, crumbly cardboard cookies out of my face.
(Unless they are white chocolate macadamia, I kinda like how they taste.)

Original, innocent photo found here.

I feel this song is appropriate. Have to thank my friend for reminding me how much I like it.

Pistol Grip Pump - Rage Against The Machine

My Favorite STD....

...VD (or Valentine's Day). No cynical implications applied; it really is one of my favorite foodie days. Aside from societal pressures, crowded dining rooms, and tasteless decor (hot pink, satin red, and bleach white -- why?), the 14th of February is a perfect excuse to creatively expand one's culinary awareness. Because of many factors (primarily financial -- shaking fist at failed federal monetary plan), I decided to taste-test my city's top patisseries, Panaderia Rosas and Aki's Bakery.

Panaderia Rosas
Temptations: Gelatin Parfait, Chocolate-Vanilla Marble Cake, Coconut Empanada
Bank: ♥ (only $2.89 for all three, don't ask me how)
Sexiness: ♥♥♥ (there's an extra heart in there only because of the coconut, otherwise these rate as deceptively bland)
Yumminess: ♥♥♥♥
Sketchiness: ♥ (empanada was on the thirsty side)
Two Cents: Definitely would bring box fulls to any brunch. Cheap, delicate flavors, traditional favorites, perfect texture, and freshness were apparent in each dessert.

Aki's Bakery
Tempations: Guava Cake Parfait
Bank: ♥♥♥
($7 for both, not bad if I'm not paying)
Sexiness: ♥♥♥♥
(anything tropical usually does it for me)
Yumminess: ♥♥♥♥
(mellow sweetness and true guava flavoring)
Sketchiness: ♥♥
(not enough depth. fluff + cake = yawn)
Two Cents: Unique. Signature flavor is worth having again, but maybe as a birthday cake, not a cup full of whipped cream

Jealous?


Below is a seasonal soundtrack to soothe whatever kind of soul you might be.

1. Sappy: Mighty Joe - Ms. One
2. Silly: Pigeon John - Money Back Guarantee
3. Sinister: Tantrum - Love Track

Happy Valentine's Day

VD

Glamour-less Gluttony

While I advocate safe and necessary indulgences (holiday hoarding, specialty splurges, PMS pampering, and anything coconut), this type of gluttony is spilling into tacky.

Take special note of the "sloppy joe on a krispy kreme"....How dare they.

**Special thanks to blogger ZavyZaveZavi for bring this backward binging to light.


Music Selection: Veggie Tales - My Cheeseburger
Christian vegetable rap - good for the heart, body and the mainstream American conservative soul

Eat your roughage readers...

veggie

Sweet Defeat

I am well aware that I have no business buying any kind of frozen anything mid-winter and with a cold, but I think with my eyes and reason with my stomach when it comes to sugar.

Sweet Retreat, my favorite neighborhood ice cream shop. Open 'til 11. Closed for nothing. They offer giant servings of real frozen yogurt made with your choice of whole fruit made-to-order.



Drove home eating it the way I always eat cupped ice cream (clock-wise, outside in -- It prevents melting), and I found a hair. (ugh) freaking a--...so..NASSSty...God! why, why, why, why....I wanna kill...everything...please, WHY... Winced from disgust and genuine anger, pulled over, flicked a spoonful of ice cream and that hair into the street, visualized PG-13 places a short-and-curly could fall from, then finished my ice cream.

Stupid hair. Stupid irrational appetite for sugar.






Music choice: Bitter Sweet Symphony. Has the word "sweet" in it and I like it. It's reason enough

Bitter Sweet Symphony - The Verve

Dear Dr. Drugdealer: Dueces

So I was going to write about the hit-and-misses I taste-tested from a southeast Asian bakery, but unfortunately for me (and the infected host I plan to physically assault) I'm sick.

Enlight of my crippling condition, I thought I'd gather the strength to share some of my hipster (read: pseudo-elitist -- we went over this) food remedies for cold symptoms.

All of the following foods were chosen because I like them and I actively search for random reasons to put them in my mouth. This list is in no way comprehensive, convenient, cheap or even appetizing. It is, however, a healthy alternative to corn syrup flavored crack, and yet another way to annoy mainstream America at large. Two birds, one tiny, little pretentious stone.

So here it is...



Symptom: Scratchy/swollen throat
Savory Solution: Honey
Reasoning: Honey is naturally antibacterial and anti-inflammatory.
Prescription: I usually take a spoonful all at once and let it slowly coat my throat at various times throughout the day.





Symptom: Congested chest, wheezing, mucus build-up
Savory Solution: Ginger root
Reasoning: The burning sensation ginger produces literally melts (loosens) the phlegm/mucus in your body enough for you to cough it up.
Prescription: I recommend Reeds Ginger Brew or Altoid's Ginger Mints. (I have also tried making my own ginger root/honey concoction, but despite my love for ginger, I had to claw my forearm to distract from the nausea of "drinking" it.)
Special Note: Do this in private. You will be hacking harder than a 70-year-old chain smoker once it starts working.




Symptom: Early onset of a cold
Savory Solution: Zinc
Reasoning: Boosts weak immune systems
Prescription: Just take supplements. If you want it sweet, try Coldeez.
Special Note: I denounced Vitamin C as the cold supplement after a near-death experience involving candy-flavored vitamin tablets and an insatiable sweet tooth.




Symptom: All of the Above
Savory Solution: Echinacea
Reasoning: Echinacea prevents the onset of colds and flu. It is antibacterial, anti-inflammatory, anti-viral, and boosts the immune system.
Prescription: Drink Sobe Green Tea. It contains 125 mg of echinacea and tastes heavenly.





Do this and it will likely take two times longer to recover than with modern medicines. I like to live a difficult life. It builds character.

Now, excuse me, while I take my infected self to a hipster's haven: the underground hip-hop show.


I'll be listening in-person, you can listen here. My favorite five-foot femcee at the moment, Hopie Spitshard.

Hopie Spitshard - Yummy

Hopie

Breakfast and Beatniks

This food adventure starts off the same way most do--with a phone call.

Penelope ( I'm naming her this because she looks like a younger Penelope Cruz...and because she hates when people say so.): Hey! What are you doing??

Me: Nothing.

Penelope: Have you eaten, yet?

Trick question. I've always just eaten. Why doesn't she know this?

Me: uhhh......no?

Penelope: OK. I'm picking you up. I'll be there in 5 minutes.

Me: Crap!.....Ok...(It's mid-morning. I put food in my mouth before I put pants on my legs. It's just who I am.) I need to change. Bye.


Ten minutes later we're driving and I get informed that we're going to eat falafels. I'm shocked -- not at thought of falafels, but that any of my friends entertain the idea of eating anything other than burritos or pho without it being someone's birthday. She told me it was a place featured on the Food Network and she wanted to try it. (Friends have been more eager and adventurous when it comes to food now that I have started this blog and another position I'll mention another day.)

We get there and I realize it's a place I've eaten from before, but never visited. It is the humble home of the place that made my very first falafel, The Falafel Drive-In. It is everything it's name implies. A small, run-down building resembling those old-fashioned, roadside A&W eateries from the 1950's (or the Outkast video for "Roses"). A great American relic...owned by Middle Easterners - oh, America.

We gaze up at the menu, and I'm immediately disgusted. It's cheap. Ridiculously, impossibly, cheap.

Gyros, falafel, baklava.... specials, salads, desserts, burritos (because it's California, and to not feature burritos is to intentionally ignore the very obvious fact that this state is the first-world extension of Mexico). I'm getting greedy, and now my friend and I are publicly announcing the various combinations we'll shortly be inhaling.

"The special, no, yea...Large falafel, banana shake...and fries. Wait, no! Ok, no, fries."

I'm next.

"Small gyros, baklava."

We managed to order with our logic, not our gut.




We ate.

It was everything I remembered it to be: pockets of pita bread stuffed so generously that after two and a half bites it burst under the pressure of my anxious hands, crunchy veggies tossed evenly with a thick, white sauce that perfectly paired with the spiced outer layer of the tender gyros. And the freshly whipped topping on this metaphorical cake?? ....a homemade creation of tangy deliciousness. (Try to imagine a spiced and seasoned ketchup.)

My only gripe... the pieces of gyros were too big. (I like to take lady-like bites as I ravage my food like a rabid hyena.)

As I sat, -- cautiously flicking my tongue at my crispy baklava (it's the only way I can handle any amount of honey)-- I was suddenly proud; proud of the Food Network, and all the people sitting around me for that matter.

Who says you need a 5-star restaurant or indoor restrooms to enjoy good food? Who says "authentic" ethnic food can only be found situated between a loose-leaf tea shop and a Korean-owned sushi bar? Here we were -- Pink Poodle, the neighborhood strip club, around the corner and Korean Palace, Korean "restaurant" that never has its lights on or "open" sign up, to the left -- basking in the mid-winter sun, eating our fill for $7 or less on top of dirty picnic tables (and possibly a stolen Taco Bell bench).

Sometimes it is good to be pedestrian.

For those who think otherwise, well, this song is for you...



Artsy - The Grouch

H - Words

If you are not one of the many people I force-fed this url to, I'd like to take this opportunity to introduce myself and the nature of this blog. First off, Hungry Hungry Hipster was basically born from the template Hungry Hungry H - word. The alternatives were "hobbit" and "hoe cake"; naturally I opted for "hipster". That said, I am not a hipster. I'm more so a hungry hungry human with pseudo-elitist tendencies.

Instances of trendiness:

• Vegan Meat Substitutes (Coconut is my other white meat)
• Skinny Jeans (They are four years old. How was I supposed to know they'd come back?)
• Pop Princess Bob (It accents my jawline. Sue me.)

Mainly this blog is about food. About the raw emotions that bubble from deep within my being when the right concoction of crushed sediments, refined roughage, and murdered animal carcasses combine to create a palate pleasing alchemy. It is about the friends and loved ones who come together over exotic courses or home-styled classics to politick, bond, and pick up the check. Really it's about experiencing life through the bloated stomach of a foodie.

Because I can't virtually share with you extacy of eating, I'll do my best to recreate the experience here with vaguely relating music links and poorly photoshopped pictures of entrees I'll probably misspell.

Thanks for indulging.