Pop-Up is Coming

We have a pop-up happening at the end of this month. Possibly. It was supposed to be this weekend but we were are so unprepared it's pushed to the next available Sunday. Decided to stick to my original idea and do simple dishes, executed well. I decided to toss out the 18-course tasting menu and do a prix fixe with 10 dishes. The past month of planning and re-planning the menu was taking me nowhere. Without noticing it at first, I was being guided by fear again. Fear that it would bore the foodie folk. It's impossible to please everyone and I need to do what feels right to me. You do you, I do me.

It's going to be prix fixe. No artisan craft this or other micro gastronomical what-nots, at least not for now. Eventually, it would be awesome to work with local foragers and get some fresh matsutake or jellify things that aren't naturally jello-ed. But for now I want the dishes to speak fresh, subtle, lingering.

My decision was reaffirmed when Julius (a family friend, mentor, and amazing sous chef of Myopia Hunt Club who will probably be mentioned here a lot) came over to cook lunch for our restaurant family. A week before, he brought in huge brick of ribeye from Fowles. The thing was legit 4 inches thick!

 Seasoned with just salt and pepper! Should've done a size comparison to my fist (which would be dwarfed by this monster). This thing could fill 2/3 of that saucepan on the right in terms of height

 The ribeye, I thought it couldn't be med-rare. Half of it is going to be too well-done and tough. But he did it! Grilled first, being careful to not touch it at all aside from turning and shifting when necessary, and finishing it in the pan w/ oil (we didn't have butter). With the fond, he made gravy and brightened it up w/ a dash of fresh lemon juice. Finishing it with a layer of pepper jelly, it was hands down the best steak I had ever had in my life.

This week he made watermelon-octopus salad with feta and lemon vinaigrette, sausage and brussel sprout pasta, and roasted then fried chicken wings

No, I don't know the exact recipes for these guys and can't post them, but I'll say that I remember thinking, "What...that's it? Where are all the other seasonings‽". But because he understands food and techniques, he really brought out the personality of each ingredient so damn well. And he told me, "It's not about shocking the tasters with strong flavor that disappears right away. You want it to be subtle, and linger, so they want to take another bite, and another to explore the tastes and textures." It becomes an experience.

I'm more sure now that I'm on the right track, and can't wait to get back in the kitchen tomorrow!

Kaoru in Boston

Places Visited:
Mike's Pastry, North End
Quincy Market/Faneuil Hall
Boston Common, Public Garden
Boston Public Library

Maybe love was in this kitchen all along

 Wirt (Over the Garden Wall) - The indecisive, pessimistic realist I totally relate to

Decided today to commit time in the restaurant kitchen, surrounded by food and family. Building upon my father's legacy.

Those who have experience in restaurants know what this entails. Keeping mental note of the incoming orders during lunch and dinner rush while you're alone in the kitchen. Lifting 50lbs of chicken from to prep for the week. Appetizers need to be out 10 minutes from order in, entrees no later than 20. Take-out for Debra is due in 4 minutes. Staying late to wash dishes on nights without a kitchen aid. How little sleep can I function on so I can squeeze in some writing for that manual tonight and go shopping for produce in the morning?

Restaurant work is the only occupation I can think of that is both mentally AND physically demanding. You commit to a lifestyle where it seems you are married to your work. It never seems to end. But I grew up with it and am used to seeing it for what is it. It was never a glamorous thing for me as it is presented now in shows and films. The rewards are real though. The strong bond you develop with the "family" that is the restaurant team. The deep appreciation for good food made with good ingredients. The satisfaction one feels when a server comes back to send table 2's compliments to the cook.

You learn about business, you learn about passion. You learn to be humble and understand work is work. Ego doesn't belongs in the kitchen. You learn that love is the key to surviving and thriving. Our place isn't hip nor is it upscale, but that doesn't mean we're not serious about our food and taking care of our patrons. Our food is honest. Our service is sincere. My father started cooking so he could connect to people, with dishes he grew up with. He always wanted the best he could do, offering nothing less than his whole heart.

Am I devastated in knowing I may never win a bike race, work for Cartoon Network, or travel as a photographer? Yes. Am I afraid that I will go into my prime having not accomplished any of my life goals? Yes.


Hell. Fucking. Yes.


It's terrifying. Growing up and facing adulthood is terrifying. Well, I'm probably considered old for going through this "coming-of-age"phase at age 26 (Maybe it's a quarter-life crisis! The new mid-life crisis).  I'm done being wishy-washy and need to start taking responsibility.

I know that I love food, a lot. And I love my family even more. I loved my father so much and will make him proud of what I could do, without holding back in fear of both possible failure and success. It may lead to becoming a chef. It may lead to other unrelated things. But I'll let the universe guide. I've been searching for a starting point everywhere else. Maybe love was in this kitchen all along. No more being afraid of living.

So, current status: 1:54am. Knees numb, back aching, fingers sliced bandaged, arms burnt. Manual progress: 4 pages. Good day. Not great, but good. My photography career is on indefinite hold, but I'll keep my site up as a portfolio of what I do anyways. Because sometimes I need a reminder that I done good. It might change direction from "Women's Contemporary Portraiture" to "Food I Make Beautiful". It might not. We'll see. As the song goes,

"Que sera sera,

Whatever will be, will be.

The future's not ours to see,

Que sera sera"

Wood between worlds

While cycling today I kept encountering beautiful scenes like this. Phone snap doesn't do it justice! Reminded me of the wood between worlds in Chronicles of Narnia: Magician's Nephew.

Hiatus

This has been a difficult post to write.

My father passed away suddenly, just over a month ago now. I can't believe so much time has passed, it seems like it was only a few days ago we buried him. Doesn't seem long ago when I was chatting to him the day we booked our first real family vacation in nearly 10 years.. But he's gone... I can't even bring myself to mention him using past tense. It's too painful.

For now, I must tend to what needs my attention - the well being of myself, my family and their stability during this difficult time. Therefore my photography business will be on an indefinite hiatus. It doesn't mean I'll stop taking photos - I'll still be blogging here, posting on Instagram, doing personal projects, etc. Just not actively taking work since I feel being melancholy would show in the photos which is not what I want for paying clients.

Thank you for understanding.

Moderation leads to Mediocrity. Intensity leads to Excellence.

♪♫Ryuichi Sakamoto - Oto♪♫

I am lost, purposeless and generally directionless. Of course, there's photography, as work and lately as therapy.

Taking the advice of Ira Glass, trying to focus on creating volumes of work in order to get better. For a while I've gone through the motions. Learned from workshops, shot, made money. My images improved and then, plateaued. While I got poses down, what I discovered is missing was soul, so I started reading literature, poetry, watching films. I've started immersing myself in little known sub-cultures and ignoring rules.

Julia Margaret Cameron, Neil Gaiman, Shostakovich, Dorothy Parker, This American Life. Long walks in search of lines, shapes and patterns. And life. Arthur Rackham, Issuu, binaural beats, David Byrne, Young Adam.

Am I moving forward? Getting lost again. What is it I want? Where is happiness? I've been asleep so long in the Doldrums, and I'm still here in its comfort of numbness, not allowing myself to feel or think, though really, pain is certainly there (yes, an actual ache in the chest). I'm nudging back, gradually turning into a shove. I am not out yet but the strength is building. Can't ignore the fact time keeps moving forward no matter how hard I close my eyes, how long I hold my breath. Like the recurring dreams. Running in molasses, drained of energy, trying desperately to escape. Trying to fight it by being present. Forcing myself to keep turning that page, run that extra quarter mile, pick up that pencil, push that shutter. Depression is a beast no one wants to believe in and excuses are his talons.

"But you don't have a degree, you're not poetic, those inspirational quotes are stupid, you don't deserve...you can't..."

No, shut up shut up SHUT UP! Your time has expired long ago. No more time to be reasonable. What was that quote about doing things in moderation? Oh yes..

"Moderation? It's mediocrity, fear, and confusion in disguise. It's the devil's dilemma. It's neither doing nor not doing. It's the wobbling compromise that makes no one happy. Moderation is for the bland, the apologetic, for the fence-sitters of the world afraid to take a stand. It's for those afraid to laugh or cry, for those afraid to live or die. Moderation...is lukewarm tea, the devil's own brew." - Dan Millman (Way of the Peaceful Warrior)

Keep exploring, keep open, keep going. Depression is its own entity. It has motivation powered by its own purpose and he may never leave. I acknowledge its presence, but can't let it destroy my entire being, which may or may not be its goal. Who knows, I cannot ask. Anyways, again. Keep exploring, keep being curious, and above all,

Don't Fucking Stop.

Listen to Ira. Listen to Neil. Keep going.

Do it.
One step at a time. Keep going.
Finish it.
Fix it.
Laugh.
Repeat.

That's all. No more drama. Ok, not going to lie. Sometimes I just need to cry and scream about it into my pillow. Just for a moment let me indulge in this drug called self pity. Alright, I'm looking back down at my feet now, time to keep going.

Shino - Tests

♪♫David Byrne - Speechless♪♫ 

Album: Lead Us Not Into Temptation

(Soundtrack of film Young Adam)

Suppose - E. E. Cummings 

suppose

Life is an old man carrying flowers on his head.

young death sits in a café

smiling,a piece of money held between

his thumb and first finger

(i say “will he buy flowers” to you

and “Death is young

life wears velour trousers

life totters,life has a beard” i

say to you who are silent.—”Do you see

Life?he is there and here,

or that, or this

or nothing or an old man 3 thirds

asleep,on his head

flowers,always crying

to nobody something about les

roses les bluets

                    yes,

                              will He buy?

Les belles bottes—oh hear

,pas chères”)

and my love slowly answered I think so.  But

I think I see someone else

there is a lady,whose name is Afterwards

she is sitting beside young death,is slender;

likes flowers.