Pile of Coconuts!

No Place for Love in the Kitchen!

I was reading this article in the New York Times about couple-dynamics in the kitchen. The article maintains that often the better cook becomes the "Alpha Chef" while the "Beta Chef" is often the victim of criticism and the usual (Professional Kitchen) hierarchy and abuse.
I started disseminating the cooking relationships in my life.
I have been in relationships with two chefs. The first chef was a much better cook than I, and I happily let him cook most nights, while I assisted or made something nearer to my abilities: Baking. We ate a lot, we gained weight, and although we mostly ate at the restaurants of our employ, I think we had an easiness in the kitchen. After all, we had met in culinary school and had first been attracted to each other because of our instant easy working chemistry. I learned a lot from him, and although we have been parted for quite a few years, we follow each others careers, and the other day he called me in a panic for a tart dough recipe.
My recent ex-boyfriend is also an excellent chef. He used to come over with groceries and prepare wonderful meals. He also used to ask my advice on subjects I knew better than he: Baking, rolling sushi, food history and the like... But he also used to drink too much and then lecture me on my chopping technique, and he would be overwhelmed with guilt when he inadvertently broke something.
I loved this article, because I have often found ice cream to be a metaphor in a relationship: Share a pint or scoop into bowls? Equal portions? Flavors? Who gets to choose the flavors? Who holds the pint? Separate spoons or shared spoons?
I had one ex with whom I couldn't share ice cream: We were too competitive. I had another ex who liked to wear the ice cream. That was fun. But messy! I once predicted the breakup of a couple due to anger and repressed sexual tension: They shared a pint and a spoon, and passed it back and forth by stabbing the spoon viciously into the pint.
It is often said that you can taste the love in a dish, as if we are all living in a scene from "Like Water for Chocolate" or something. But sometimes other emotions are involved: Jealousy, Control, Competitiveness, Sexual tension, and pre-existing relationship power dynamics. Sometimes the meal isn't about lovingly providing for your family's health. Sometimes it is for praise, revenge, or power.
Watch what you communicate, and watch what you eat!

Goat Cheese

Yay! The Journal posted my last review, of the Hawaii Island Goat Dairy, on it's website! You can find it here, or by following the sidebar link.
Check out the website for the Dairy, as well.

Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to you all!
I began Christmas morning making crepes for my family. I used one of my brand-new, work gift-exchange non-stick skillets! I love the rhythm of making crepes: That moment when the pan is exactly hot enough and seasoned, and the crepes just smooth out over the bottom, are cooked and flipped and end up light and fluffy and lacey. We filled them with nutella, homemade lemoncurd, and ham and cheese.
Next I made pies for my mother's party later in the day. Have yet to hear how they went.
Thanks to my parents, who bought me lucious copper-bottomed stainless steel pots for my brand-new stove! (What does it mean when your parents start buying you traditional wedding gifts for Christmas? Have they given up?)

Just One

The bounty at the farmers market can sometimes be overwhelming: Mountains of greens, tumbling heads of lettuce, heaps of avocados. A veritable horn of plenty offered by our local farmers. I love it: A pocketful of bills and a few spare grocery bags can turn into a weeks worth of vegetables, an awesomely local and healthy meal, a celebration of the labors and talents of our local small farms.
Last Saturday I was purchasing heads of ruffley lettuce from Honopua Farms when I witnessed the following transaction:
Ron: All the lettuce is 2.50 per pound.
Shopper hands Ron one head of lettuce and $2.50.
Ron: Oh no, that is too much. It's 2.50 per pound...
Shopper: But it's only me.
Ron: One head of lettuce is only like 50 cents...
Shopper: But it's only me...

It was sad to me that this shopper felt she should almost apologize for cooking only for herself, should almost have to pay the per pound rate yet only take one small head of lettuce. Like feeding yourself well, like only buying what you need, is somehow not acceptable. I think we are constantly encouraged towards overbuying in huge quantities. Costco and package stores convince us we need massive amounts of things, food is in huge portions or super-sized, and a lone diner is not expected to treat themselves well.
My biggest pet peeve in restaurants occurs when I walk in the door, unaccompanied by a date, husband, or family, and am stared up and down by the hostess. With a sneer, she asks, "JUST One?" I feel immediately judged, like I must be such a loser to come in alone, dateless. Or that I must be some sort of glutton who will sit at a table, pig out, and leave the waiter with a reduced income at a "wasted" table. None of this is true, of course. I very often dine alone because I enjoy it. I don't have to make conversation, I don't have to abide dining companions who want to "help" me with my criticism, and I don't have to shell out cash to lug along a date just so the hostess won't give me that look. (I also go to movies alone).
As a point of advice: Hosts can still do their job, greet a customer, and find out about a reservation without being so judgmental. The problem lies solely in the use of the word, "Just". That small qualifier doles out the judgment! Instead, I offer, "One for dinner?" and the always useful, "Is there a reservation I can check in?" Both statements find out information and acknowledge the customer, without the accompanying judgment.
Incidentally, as a single diner, I tend to tip my waiter more, because I am aware that a single diner may not yield as much income as a table with more diners (of course, I often order the monetary equivalent of multiple diners...). And I know that in all the fine dining establishment in which I have worked, the single diner is treated with extra care: Often their entrees are hurried, or more staff make an effort to stop by and chat. All of this is appreciated.
Perhaps the problem here is loneliness. As singles (and re-singles), we often feel the glances full of pity or judgment when we do things alone. Or we feel the need to explain ourselves, "No really, I'm not sad and dateless, I'm here alone by choice, and dammit I only need one tiny head of lettuce! And I have people in my life who love me! Really!"
Sadly, it is more acceptable to drown loneliness by over-indulging. That same host would probably totally get it if I stayed home alone and fed my emotional loneliness with a costco sized tub of iced cream while perched in front of the television. But no!
Singles Everywhere! You are worth a dinner out! You are worth going to see the movie YOU want to see! And you don't have to over-buy out of guilt or explanation! Look at all the money and cupboard space we can save: Raise your tiny single-serving lettuce heads in pride!

I concede.

I hereby concede my "Pastry Queen" crown to Maria. She blows me out of the water for addictive and beautiful desserts, and the girl can make a damn good cupcake.
And I usually hate buttercream!

Earthquake!!!

Hawai'i earthquake, right near where I live. 6.7! And plenty of aftershocks! This is what my house looks like after the Earthquake that hit today (okay, we stacked those 3 boxes on the right while searching for the cat). Shelves empty, all glass broken, drawers open, pictures off the wall, cracks in the plaster, door doesn't shut right, and cat headin' for the hills! No electricity, gas shut off, no water...no cable TV but since my television did a faceplant onto my wood floor, it's not like I can notice. Outside it is even stranger: Several cracks across roads and bridges, huge landslides and boulders in the roads, broken water mains flooding the streets. All the streetlights are out (Drive with Aloha people! And an out streetlight means a four-way stop!) but since there are only 3 streetlights in town, we are doing okay.
My mother and I went through the 1989 earthquake in Northern California, so we are jaded Californians about it. When the shaking started, we knew instantly what it was, and for the first few seconds it is a bit of a fun ride. Then the knowledge kicks in, and in our heads we go through the following thought process: "Earthquake! This is fun!...Wait, this is strong! Wait, this is going on too long! Okay, fine, I'll get up and head away from the windows...Hmmm...About a 6, maybe 7..." Funny how I didn't notice things falling. I moved away from the walls and windows, and I watched the walls shake. I guess the structure was more of a worry than the falling items. Immediately afterwards, I went outside, of course. Checked on the neighbors, all whom were looking for pets. The first aftershock came while I was outside, the ground surging in P-waves, like dirt surfing, under my feet.
Ironically, my big strong father is taking it the worst. He was away during the 89 earthquake, and maintains this was the worst earthquake he has felt in his life: Stronger than any in California or Japan. My mother and I set to work cleaning up the glass, but since we have moved alot, been through earthquakes, and, well, we are both pretty clumsy, we had experience in briefly mourning and throwing out the broken shards of favorite things. These items are just possesions. They are with you for awhile and then they break and you move onwards.
What is more important is the blessing of everyone's safety, and family and friends are fine. Utilities are back on, our service-people in safety and utilities sprang to work, and I hear we are under a state of emergency. The beauty of it is how everyone pulls together, sits outside, waves at cars, calls all their friends to make sure everyone is okay. Thank you to everyone who called, emailed, texted, and checked or commented on this site! What aloha!

Writing Going Live!

Check it out! The Hawaii Island Journal is slowly but surely publishing more articles online! Included is my last restaurant review of Tommy Bahama's.

The Esquire

My friend says goodbye to a beloved watering hole here. Beautiful post. Please check it out.
Although he is not technically a food writer, and this is a bar and not a restaurant, he has managed to acheive what I always strive for: He made me feel like I was there, with only his words. I am sad for the closing of a bar I have never actually been to.

Violence in Thailand

From the New York Times:

Jesse Lee Daniel had just called for mustard for his chicken burger when the first bomb went off with a thud strong enough to shake the Swan Bar, where he was sitting in the southern city of Hat Yai.
After the second bomb last Saturday evening, 100 yards away at the Odeon department store, he hurried out with other foreign teachers who had been eating at the bar to take a look.
He was standing in front of the New Cherry Ancient Massage parlor, in a crowd of onlookers and masseuses, when the third bomb exploded on a motorbike parked at the curb beside them.
Mr. Daniel, a Canadian, died instantly, apparently the first Western victim of the almost daily violence that has taken more than 1,700 lives since the start of 2004 in Thailand’s largely Muslim south.
(snip)
The next morning, when Boonmi Ngoeichai, 27, returned to the Swan Bar, where she works as a waitress, she discovered that the manager had saved Mr. Daniel’s chicken burger, still unsure why he had not returned to eat it.
When he learned that Mr. Daniel had been killed, the manager threw it away. But he immediately regretted what he had done, she said.
“Oh, I wish I hadn’t done that,” the manager said. “I wish I’d saved it, and I could have taken it out to feed his spirit.”