Archive | February, 2008

Aventures en Thailande

27 Feb

Living in the Bay, in San Francisco, we are spoiled as fuck. We got all kinds of top notch food. And if u couldnt tell by now, i LOVE food. But yea, we got the latino, the asian, european, everything. I imagine its from being a port town in the beginning. Either way, there is some real solid thai out in the sco. So, my homesick and adventurous ass decided to say fuck it and make some curry myself. The recipe was simple enough.. i added some personal touches (shout out to Osha) added some red bells and some onions. Started things off by sautéeing some curry paste and throwing in the coconut cream. Apparently, if u keep ur coco milk cold, it will separate and the thick part will surface, which is the cream. Then add the chicken, get the flavor going. Then is the gastronomical transfer, move the chicken and the sauce over to a pot with the rest of the milk and alotta salt. Thats wear i went for the pre boiled potatoes and the onions or shallots. I added the peppers just before the dish was done so that they were still a lil crispy. Served it with some jasmine rice. I also made a lil cucumber salad on side, real easy. Boil some white vinegar with some salt and a decent amount of sugar and then cool. throw that on the chopped cucs and some thinly sliced onions. The whole thing turned out pretty good and made for some fun cookin, but if anyone has any suggestions on bettering the recipe, please comment them. Bon Apetit!

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The OR I GI NA TOR

23 Feb

I woke up the other day with a strong feeling of withdrawal. No, not crack! not even ciggs, since i dont smoke. It was shoes. I had not been to a shoe store in more then a month. With that being said, that time period was filled with void and anguish. Upon a lil research on the internet, i found the names of a couple sneaker stores over by St. Denis. As i embarked on my adventure, filled with angst, i was completely ignorant of the fact that was i going to be privy to the sight of the birth of one of my dominating factors in my life.

I get off the train at Chatelet, met up with a college crony from the states, and set out to find as many cool kicks (not kids) as i could find. The first store i hit was Sneaker Gallery. Judging by the name alone, i had the impression that i was going to be disappointed, but i ended up being pleasantly surprised. Nice layout, cool black wall paint, and a rather deep collection of Reeboks and Lacoste sneakers i had never seen b4. From there i moved on down St. Denis, which is a crazy place to say the least. Shops with very cheap poorly made clothes, young tecktonik kids with nutty hair cuts grabassing, literally, and sex shops. Yea, an eclectic place to say the least. I even ran into a guy with a jerry curl; needless to say, i was forced to take a picture.

The next stop was groundbreaking. For a little background, i have been collecting shoes, namely jordans, since i was in the 9th grade. Despite the multitude of ventures and encounters i have had with the world of sneakers and sneaker culture itself, i had never came across a legit collection like the one found within the glass doors at Opium. OG Jordan 1s, Hares, Bordeaux, USA Basketball Running Shoes, Air Raids, all kinds of shoes i didnt even know existed. Very impressive. The monumental nature of all this being that the original jordan 1, the source of fine after fine while Mike played in kicks that went against the league dress code, was the beginning of everything. That shoe lead to the other jordans, which lead to more hype for jordan, which lead to me loving them as sneakers (not to neglect the play of the man himself), which lead to my love for fashion, which inspired my creativity and is a large part of my person now, which lead inadvertently to this blog, as another form of expression. The path of connections is crazy, and i was standing in front of the fountain, the source. Anyways, they also had the cooling duffel i have ever seen that looked like an old school boom box. All in all, they are EATING…

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Gastronomical Invasion!

13 Feb

Long my weeks of being here, I have tasted many great things, and, to my surprise, not many not so great things, though that might just be because i have made safe choices. Either way, i cannot say that i have been dissatisfied with the taste of the food our here in paris (portion size ≠ giant, but ok). With this being said, after a couple weeks, my palette, as liberal and accepting as it might be, started throwing a fit. Therefore, I took some time, made an appointment, to see wat was wrong with my palette. Subsequently, my palette informed me that if i didnt find it something to eat that it knew, it was going to go on strike. And no one wants a palette strike going on. Terrible consequences can ensue, lack of taste in anything one eats to start, but maybe, the palette gets the stomach down with the strike and then the throat or the immune system and next thing you know you find yourself throwing up all the while being sick as a dog. NO NO NO. i was not going to let that happen, i like my palette way too much.

So, with the goal of satiating my lowly and confused palette, i set out for Breakfast in America. I was informed by a friend a few days before that this culinary sanctuary for those who fancy american things like pancakes and skippy peanut butter existed, and was in fact supposed to be a real american diner. This seemed like the greatest solution, being that i love diner food, and i should be able to get a large portion as well. Nachos, chicken wings, eggs, CHEDDAR! they had it all. I settled for my usual, BBQ chicken sandwich with cheddar and onions, both grilled and raw. I even threw in some chicken wings on the side. The wings came first, and with them the first reminder that , despite the diner decor and the booth seating, i was still in france. They came with no sauce on them (the
people at Original Buffalo Wings would have been pissed) and just a lil bbq on the side. They were good, but not as messy or Buffalo-y as the wings that i have grown to love. Then the chicken burger. Usually, when i have a chicken burger, i have to commit to eating the whole thing once i pick it up because there are so many things falling on to my hands that i must wash them after (brings to mind the old Carl’s Jr. slogan: “If it doesnt get all over the place, it doesnt belong in your face.”) This one was not such. There was a teaspoonful of sauce, and it came on a brioche bun. it was much cuter then it was massive (or American). I had a friend who ordered breakfast that did come with some nice pancakes though. In all, my palette left satisfied and my stomach, as it has been for these last weeks, left without a full tank. I would recommend BIA because i did feel at home and did have a good meal, but dont over gas yourself into thinking your going all the way back to America as you step through the door.

PS: confession: ill b back there within the next two weeks ;)

Diner Look

tha Giant… still eating French sized Portions

His Milkshake Tasted just like US

Cakes

To Tokyo… all in a metro ride

11 Feb

At the Palais de Tokyo, once i finally made it past my appreciations on the way there, i was privy to some very nice artwork on the inside. The way i walked around the museum had me start with some cubist Picasso and end with some very interesting *cough*weird*cough* videos (not that video art is not great, but at the same time i dont always understand what ppl are going for). In between i did stumble upon a great number of gems, a series of which brought tattoo art to mind. I have a great affinity towards tattoos so i figured i would share these WWII inspired pieces to give you a glimpse into the cartoon realistic mesh that blends very well in tattoos. Not to neglect the fact that this art is ridic in and of itself, but this style would also look great on a sleeve or on someone’s back. But, at the end of the day, art in all forms is a means of leaving one’s reality and entering the reality of the artform, even this writing. Dont call it the simple life again. HA

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I also peeped this nice blue painting. I liked how they used the numbers for the living things in on the canvas because otherwise i would never have seen the tiger hiding in the grass… Im blue

Three Way Sport

8 Feb

Last weekend I decided to add something artistic to my day and visit the Museum at the Palais de Tokyo. Its a Modern Art Museum on Ave de President Wilson, which was funny enough for me because its one of the many things around Paris named after American Presidents. Apparently we had a rather big influence on France (chuckle). Anyways, as im walking in through the lieu of the legacy of past Presidents, thinking about current and future ones as well, the complexity of the racially charged thoughts that were running through my mind were brought to a halt by the simplicity of life: children playing football. And by football, i mean soccer. I was instantly brought back like a nostalgic scene from a movie, violins playing a Yann Tiersen score in the background, recorded on a personal video camera in very poor quality, to my childhood and myriad of hours i spent playing football on the shit field adjacent to the public pool in San Francisco’s Balboa Park. Back to a time where life seemed so simple, where i found myself unaware of prejudice and politics and money, though all these things were right in front of my nose. Anyways, with that being said, it doesn’t get much better then children playing sports for fun in the street.

As i continued towards my cultured destination i arrived to the milieu for my second appreciative moment of the day (which both occured b4 i even saw the Picassos and Matisses that where inside the Palais). I happened to stumble upon a rather large group of skaters, both inline and on boards. To give some
background to my appreciation for skating, i will mention the first and last time my 6’3” 200+ pound frame attempted to get onto a skateboard, eager and excited and with one touch of my Globe to the ground my butt, head, arm, back and chest proceeded to hit the ground, in an order that i could not figure out, but finalized my skateboarding career. My initial reaction was of great excitement because i felt the vibe of the embarcadero in SF, street skating, great views, one being the bay and the bridges and the other being the seine and the Tour Eiffel. Secondarily, i realized that there were no anti-skate clamps and things stopping people from doing grinds or anything. In some why i expected the police to show up and kick people out but, in actuality, no one came. And the skaters, they were from the age of 7 to 40, all type and creeds, truely a beautiful thing to occur in the courtyard of a museum.

Finally, the third sport, was Graffiti. Now, im perfectly aware of the fact that graffiti is not really considered a sport but i feel like, at least, there is definitely some athleticism involved, especially when the tags that i found where yards off the ground and i still cannot figure out how the artists got up there in the first place. Though these werent the most elaborate tags ive been by far, i appreciated them for their location. See for yourself and enjoy.

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Skateration

the Close Up

The Totality

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PS: saw an artistic graffitied car on the way back home so i figured if throw it up for u guys (no pun intended)

Uno, Dos, Tres… back at home

7 Feb

By definition, home cooked meals should make you feel at home. But, especially when your not at your home when you eat said meal, be it at some restaurant or at some one else’s house, sometimes the result of a home cooked meal is making you feel like your at home, just not at YOUR home. I was fortunate enough to be able to bring my little corner kitchen at my Place de Clichy apt back to San Francisco’s Mission district where my latino roommates at my mother’s house and my father’s West Indian influence intersect. Fajitas and fried plantains, sometimes it really gets no better. Moreover, meal came together naturally but end up being a true representation of myself that i only realized in hindsight. We have got the melange of the time my mother spent inefficiently cooking dinner, because i had to help and we all know that kids slow EVERYTHING down, and the Latino atmosphere of my Mission district residence and the Guyanese influence in the choice of the side dish. This one will def be a hit because it pretty much covers all bases. Its simple enough to cook but still complicated enough that people will be impressed when you tell them what your making, and to top those two things off its got some real authenticity and comfort to it. Plus anything you can eat with your hands is a plus in my book.

Anyways, to the recipe. I always start with the seasoning. SPPCG (SaltPepperPaprikaCayenneGarlic dry rub, like my pops taught me). While the chicken sits, seasoned, just cut up some plantains and and fry them in some veggie oil. Then cut up some red and yellow peppers, white and yellow onions and throw them in bowl. Chicken in the pan… and ur a cookin and ur a cookin {can’t help the eddie murphy raw references} throw in first the onions till they are clear and then the peppers just for an instant so they are still a lil crispy. Then to some salsa. Since im in France and i do not have access to most Latino cuisine items, i figured id just spice up some store bought salsa. Chop up fresh tomtoms and a lil white onion and mix it in with that salsa, then ur ready to go. You have no idea how much of a difference it makes till you try it. Then heat up some tortillas on the stove [makes a huge difference] cut up some avocados and its chomping time. Bon Apetit.

PanningOUT

49ers

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GRUBaDUBdub
Even got matt feeling at home :)

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