The Vinyl Frontier

For the record, a-hem, I'm not a hipster nor do I have any visible, or invisible tattoos or a special record carrying bag (though I'm not opposed to that idea) but I have been drawn to the idea of going back to vinyl for about the last decade. About a year ago I decided I wanted to go back to a more live, active listening experience...read...divorce and more time on my hands. Believe me the merits of the compressed audiophile unfriendly sound of the last five piece of shit iPods I've had which we're returnable for about the equivalent of Barry Manilow's Copacabana on vinyl have been contributing factors.

The reality is that many of today's serious artists whether you like Wilco, Interpol or the Black-Eyed Peas have recognized the lost art that is vinyl. And used record stores have become a social gathering place. At this point, people still can't be bothered which is great! Let them download all the available shite from iTunes. But finding a near mint condition vinyl copy of Little Feat's Waiting For Columbus for $5.00 feels great! I actually found a mint copy of Zevon's Excitable Boy for $2.00. Made me simultaneously happy and sad. I think the previous owner paid ten bucks and thought he'd made a huge error and held the thing for years out of spite.

The downside: yes, life is never perfect. You need to get off your ass every 15-20 minutes to change the record...not for everybody at every listening occasion. Other bad news...good turntables and the necessary accessories...like a great tube amp and pre-amp and speakers are expensive but you can build over time. The vinyl is the important thing. The good news is check out all the great artists that are re-mastering and putting out classic records in either 180 or 200 gram vinyl. In case you're not familiar, remember those Frisbees we had as kids that would break you pinkie finger if you didn't catch it properly? These records are nearly as thick and much more high fidelity...

Arigatou Gozaimasu

Hard to believe I haven't written anything, aside for the associated corporate drudgery of PowerPoint decks for nearly a year. I really want to thank everybody for the words of encouragement especially my Japanese fans...with a few notable exceptions. I'm not sure what it was about the truffle posting which brought forth such a litany of offers for discount Viagra, Cialis, and other performance-enhancing salves, tinctures, and ointments available for such bargain Yen pricing. I truly appreciate the kind offers but will prefer to leave arousal to the company of beautiful women, great conversation and perhaps a bottle of Turley.

Truffled out

Been a bit out of this space for awhile so apologies to all you faithful readers. Thanks for your encouraging words and clever uses of sarcasm and double entendre in my absence. I've come to a few conclusions recently about truffles. Not the fancy chocolate items rather the ones that grow underground and are technically the fruiting bodies (ascocarps) of mycorrhizal ascomycetous fungi. If you're not familiar, you've probably been busy enjoying your can of Chunky Soup straight out of the can and irritated that despite the name this blog does not contain adult content. Sorry...The flavors are earthy and complex with an exceptional savory quality while the aromas are pungent and unmistakably specific.

The fresh, whole white and black specimens often hail from Italy or France and are incredibly rare and expensive. Whites are grown primarily near Alba and the Piedmont region while the majority of black truffles come from the Perigord region in the southeast of France. As a result of the cost and scarcity, the market for truffle-flavored items such as oils, salts, butters, desert toppings, lotions, candles, floor wax...etc, has got a bit out of control as has the number of items seasoned with some vague essence of truffle. Because of the strength and concentration of many high quality white and black truffle oils, a little does indeed go a long way. Can there be too much of a good thing? Yeah, I think so. It seems that truffles or their cachet and delightful flavor have now reached the esteemed cliched heights of tiramisu in the 80's or tuna tartare in the last decade.

Don't get me wrong, I like truffles alot. I even own one of those ridiculous slicing devices and regularly use the Bartolini oils on fresh green beans and make a mean truffle risotto when I can afford to procure a freshly imported one from Seattle Caviar. Within the last few months however I've seen the growing ubiquity of truffle mac-and-cheese, truffle popcorn, truffle ice cream, and even truffle lollipops. Really? We need truffle lollipops? Note to the clever and talented chefs out there. Go easy with the truffle...it's exotic and sensual and deserves more than being relegated to a popcorn flavor additive...

Cooking is Manly

For me there is nothing more enjoyable than cooking for people. Well, maybe one more thing...That would be hanging out with my daughter. I know what you were thinking...degenerates. I've always thought that being a chef would be an amazing vocation but I'm pretty sure that this activity is best enjoyed as a hobby. The long hours, constant pressure, difficult patrons...no thanks.

For me and my gluttonous circle of friends, cooking elaborate and often thematic meals for one another is the highlight of the week. I'd like to give myself the credit for being so culinarily clever but the truth is growing up my parents hosted elaborate monthly parties with their circle of friends and dubbed the group "Gourmet" in a nod to the magazine. As a kid I was blown away with the painstaking and authentic culinary and cultural detail involved...and at times the brazen drunkenness that accompanied the events when they were held at our house. The 1970's were indeed a different time.

A French friend of mine said that for a man cooking can be a pleasurable hobby and for the women, it is often just another task to be performed on a long list of daily drudgery. Not sure about that but the theory is interesting. I recently cooked dinner for an old friend and one of her lovely friends who I've come to fancy as the Brits would say. I'm pretty convinced that women like it when a man knows his way around the kitchen. Or at least his way around the dishwasher.

Fortunately, the idea that cooking is unmanly seems to have vanished. It is indeed a noble job from the line cook to the sous and executive chef. A couple of years ago I met Jacques Pepin, and let me just say, the guy is more manly than most construction workers I met working demolition when I lived in California.

Terminal Bliss

Been on the road a bit lately and it strikes me how much I really enjoy the airport. Yeah, I know this may be a sign of early dementia but the escapism associated with a trip is better than anything Walt Disney ever cooked up. We all have jobs, family, spouses, etc. but let's face it getting the hell away from it/them/her/him is a little indulgence which is hard to beat. Fine, don't believe me, but you're deluding yourself or have a prescription for some medication that I need.

I've come to the conclusion that I love a good airport terminal. You really have it all in front of you: human drama...family reunions, lovers saying goodbye, kids being kids, stressed out families, business travelers making deals or acting important, young adults on spring break, retirees finally making that trip to Europe that they've always dreamed of.

As an observer, it never grows tiresome. Of course being your loyal glutton, this voyeuristic nonsense can only be appreciated from the perch of a bar stool or restaurant serving fine food and drink. This unfortunately is not as predictable as the unavoidable human condition present at every airport. I could probably dedicate many pages to which terminals and airports are good and bad so consider this the first installment. I just got back from a three city European trip so allow me to rate the facilities involved.

Departure Seattle: S-Gates. All restaurants and one "under construction" bar close at 6:30 p.m. approximately 1.5 hours before the flight time of the last departure in the terminal. The faux Mexican food was delicious with my $7 Heineken. Such hospitality, and welcoming spirit! "Welcome to Seattle, we don't want your money...now get out". I was actually glad to board the plane to escape the grim environs of Seatac.

Departure Kastrup,Copenhagen: main terminal. "Hi, yes we're Scandinavian and numerous, beautiful blond women live here, are you envious?" Well, yes to be honest but I get over it because you have a Caviar House & Prunier Seafood Bar in the terminal. Bavik salmon sampler with a Tuborg? Don't mind if I do. Also in your Dwell-magazine space I can wander about and buy electronics and a Samsonite Black Label bag for the high end wines and Daim candy bars I purchased for no apparent reason. Then I can relax in the SAS lounge, grab a shower, have nice food and a Carlsberg on tap.

Departure Amsterdam: Schipol. "We've tried to make it better so now you can buy wooden shoes and tulip bulbs in only 75% of the shops. What else do you want from us? Oh yes, how about a bowling ball sized hunk of our Gouda cheese? Really you don't like Gouda?...then have a crouquette and a Heineken because we're hiding all the Grolsch for ourselves."

Departure Heathrow: Terminal 5. I know BA is really proud of this expensive debacle but my first experience here was grim. My bag was overweight, go repack it, go to the next agent. Seriously, security clearance took over an hour and no signage was present to even help. Many of the employees even seemed confused as to where to direct me. And I'm a veteran traveler with patience! What about the average tourist? Crikey! The terminal, once I got in there was pretty nice. Great shopping with all the big players represented. Thanks Paul Smith for the great shop which extricated another hundred pounds from my wallet.

Departure Geneva: The more things change, the more they stay the same in Switzerland. This former Luftwaffe stopover hasn't changed since the 1970's. OK, that's not a nice thing to say about my former home airport but seriously. How about a wardrobe change to this facility? "Come on in we're neutral and have lots of watches for sale...no they're cheaper here. Don't look at your iPhone and check U.S. prices. Don't you believe us? OK, fine just go to one of our ski villages and then get out. And yes we speak English, but we're pretending we don't because it's our national sport. Now leave."

So the winner of the glutton airport sweepstakes...Kastrup, Copenhagen.

Tsukiji dreams

Sorry about the absence of posts lately been concentrating on staying employed...no small feat these days. I realized I'm not quite done with Japan yet because I failed to talk about a place so special that I've dragged my shochu-addled, hungover body out of bed in the middle of the night to check out, twice. A place so full of blood, knife wielding lunatics, and frenzied activity that sensory overload is unavoidable.

I first visited the Tokyo's Tsukiji Market with a Japanese friend and her American husband who live in the city. I'm not sure they actually believed my enthusiasm for seeing this legendary fish market which dates back to the 16th century and the beginning of the Edo period. OK, I'll admit it I saw the place on Bourdain's first show on the Food Network but that doesn't make it any less interesting.

Arriving just before before 5:30 a.m. to the tuna auction was a highlight. Beautiful, glistening and at times gigantic yellowfin, bluefin, and big eye tuna were being sampled and bought and sold by serious men representing fishing vessels, seafood companies, restaurants, processors, exporters, and other middlemen. They've actually cracked down a bit on tourism at the auction as morons (like yours truly) with gaping expressions jostling for a great camera shot get in the way of these guys doing their jobs.

The market itself is divided up into various sections of fish stalls and there's literally an uni section, unagi section, tuna section, etc. The middlemen here can be seen slicing and sorting and preparing their specialties for sale. I didn't see many individual buyers sort of picking up the evenings supplies but rather larger buyers likely representing restaurants, shops, etc...On the periphery of the market merchants sell everything from cookery to cutlery to bonito flakes. On one visit I bought a beautiful hand-forged, high carbon stainless steel chef's knife which I use pretty much every day.

Perhaps the highlight of that first visit though was breakfast which involved eating some of the freshest sushi imaginable...all before 6:30 a.m. I remember this one tuna preparation which I've still not been able to find elsewhere called aburi chutoro. The tuna is actually lightly seared with a blow torch then lightly seasoned with salt and pepper and drizzled with a light soy with citrus or light ponzu sauce. I ate about ten pieces of this dish easily making it the best breakfast sushi ever. It's a haul to get there and you've gotta get up pretty early but Tsukiji is worth it.

Turning Japanese

I've got an admission to make here: I'm in love with Japan. I'm pretty sure it's unrequited although being 6' 3" and bald may make me at least a Gaijin curiosity worth staring at. I was in Japan last week for work marking my 10th trip over in since 2002. The culture, precision, and appreciation for tradition and quality make Japan a place I can't get enough of. I'm far from an expert on the country but feel compelled to share some experiences since every trip has involved some sort of high quality gluttony, or at least low quality karaoke.

My exposure to the country outside of brief stops in Osaka, Kyoto, and Yokohama has largely been in Tokyo. Sort of like basing an opinion of the U.S. on visiting Pittsburgh, Tacoma and New York City. Since my opinions are virtually flawless if not laughable, I'm hopeful you'll allow me some latitude.

In retrospect, I've consumed some seriously odd food and drink while visiting Japan. As a tourist and visiting company colleague the quantity of random food that my incredibly hospitable hosts have put in front of me is staggering. There is a reason though: I'll eat and drink any weird shit these men and women are willing to put down their own gullets.

I've eaten various forms of "nankatsu" also known as soft bone. This is usually a meat item with some sort of bone still involved which you're expected to eat. Is it juvenile to admit I blushed when when of my more attractive female hosts asked..."Scott San do you like the soft bone?" The chicken nankatsu is sometimes found in yakitori restaurants and is pretty gag-inducing if you don't know what you're in for. I actually ate some sort of chicken sashimi once too. Better have an alcohol-based beverage handy...

Speaking of which, Japanese beer is a good accompaniment and dry and innocuous enough but the real libation worth checking out is Shocho, a clear distilled spirit in theory vodka-like. The primary difference between sake and shochu is that sake is brewed while shochu is distilled. Shochu is distilled from various ingredients which have some form of fermentable sugar to be converted to alcohol before the distillation process. Typical shochus are made from potato, rice, wheat, and barley. Without getting too technical, there are two types of shochu: Otsurui (single distilled leaving good flavor of source ingredient and served straight) and Korui (distilled multiple times and usually used in cocktails).

This beverage is fantastic and isn't quite as strong as gin or vodka and has amazing flavor and usually comes served with one or two giant, carved, pure ice cubes. Shochu came in handy last week when I ate one of the more odd items I've consumed at a sushi-oriented restaurant. No it wasn't some uni-infused item, highly overrated fugu or saba liver sashimi rather it was ika no oduri gui...live or dancing squid from the Izu Peninsula, 60 miles south of Tokyo.

The squid was brought to the table still alive with part of its flesh cut up and placed on it back. It was still breathing at this point, its tail and eyes still actively moving. I have to admit as your loyal glutton, this was weird as hell and for a fleeting moment I felt bad. After we ate the delicious top layer the plate was removed and the balance of the sea creature came back later delicately fried with panko. Fantastic! The night ended in Rappongi district with the requisite karaoke which is always a highlight.