Sunday, December 28, 2014

Im writing a new column here called....'Nothing Beats'

nothing beats:

Getting home from a long night to that Too Shy12" version.

here's your boy beggs on that catchy thumb work.

sorry, bout that nipple all you homophobic anti-Semite, neo-nazi, crackers.

Friday, December 12, 2014

Is there a way to make a beat/song-hook your title?

In many ways my life was never really complete until i had conquered the self imposed mysticism i put around academics and arithmetic.

i like a good nap / sit on a stump from time to time. But when the constructs of youth bound long hours of arrested sitting and academia, surely I was aghast.

Now I'm just a genius.
fuck you, amigo. Yeah , you.

Monday, December 8, 2014

The shit list

"It is what it is"
"That just happened"
" Well this is happening"
" Sunday Funday " (when you say this, we aren't friends or acquaintances for the sake of private affairs anymore)

Monday, November 24, 2014

There's Flesh and Blood!

" Take the heat off with the godamn Oingo Boing sometimes, man. "
- Garrett

A true sign of the mellowing with age has to be the lax feeling i'm having knowing that everything I wrote below came from a place of idiocy -overall. Also, my grammar and syntax are terrible.

Oh yeah, I miss Michael Jackson a lot lately.

Sunday, November 9, 2014

Wednesday, October 29, 2014

She said that to me too!

I love that feeling of having food move through my gut. It's a good warm comfort knowing that this gear's cranking, and it never ends in any acrimony or tears no matter what we do. And who's having more fun ?

Isn't this a sensation that we could connect with that isn't so akin the to articulation of say, sexual orgasm which tends to be taboo? Something we cant talk about in front of children? Could we argue that somewhere the feeling of digestion is common conversation? We get somewhere close when we describe the olfactory sensations of consuming some foods, true.  It might be fascinating to hear how perhaps say a brewer feels digesting bread, knowing that his system is perhaps replete with wild yeast and enzyme. Or maybe how some babe might feel wrapping lips around some wagyu brisket and rice.

i bet its something like:

"Well, it was nothing but salty and greasy ecstasy before i eased it down. Now it is a bit burny and rough on my chest [ as i bet meat can get quite acidic in action], must've been all that punch. Its been raising hell for over a half-hour now".

Maybe some people are expressive non-verbally with foods that cause flatulence.

Now, let's just say you've been saying something like "that's what she said", "it is what it is", or raised rhymes like "Sunday funday" in a real serious context( you might as well be dead, to me). These were social cues engineered to bring people together, I know. These things save time, let everyone know you're listening, and have enough free-time/socio-economic girth to own and watch a television?

How can i be a part of that? What the fuck is "Sunday funday" exactly?

yeah buddy. That was major panic at some point.

.  What's next on the menu?

Monday, October 13, 2014

Some obscure foot pain

In general, Ive got a recurring daydream skating a handrail. I thought i would have done away with all that years ago, but..they have a mellow rail at the Alga park. I gotta tempt fate!

Update : i want to note here after some months of recover that I've eaten some serious shit off handrails. 

Monday, October 6, 2014


I'm seeing some YouTube ads for a new Flash (note: not Flash Gordon , which would be way cooler) TV series.  I don't think I recall the protagonists origins as is depicted in his original comic. However, the ad makes the young lad out to be a reluctant hero, a pussy, who sprouts into a raw, genuine superhero.

I feel like this is the answer to some sort of beta-male identity crisis that this generation is having. Seems like based on his body type, shrill voice, and mannerism, this character should be appealing to me. It's impressive  to behold in this era of specialization, Hollywood is willing to cater to me finally.

Anyway, this guy has it all wrong, and should quit dilllying around. Take up the knife and apron already!

Saturday, June 21, 2014

Earliest Food Memory + Father's Day special.

Here, so i can at least defer to something I scripted when I hit it 'Pete-Gabriel-big-time' and "what is your premier food memory?" becomes a common interview question for me.

'sonly a matter of months now I can feel it.

My first food memory, or perhaps most recognizable food memory is also my first musical memory.

I can recall being about three years old at my old North Park residence now. It's 1994.

My dad's a huge fan of old and smelly music. He's a huge Pink Floyd fan, a huge Who fan, and an even worse Buddy Holly, Elvis Costello, Chris Isaak junkie. He still listens to that shit today. Anyways...

I can remember that at round seven o' clock, once my dad had gotten back from work he'd cue up his latest purchases. For some reason my mom and sister weren't present (i think my sister had gymnastics by this time and mom was her chaperone).

We had free reign on the volume and usually things were blaring --although at that time i suspected that was just typical settings for most people.  We'd scoot through some tracks while he pilaf'd some long rice. I'd either draw or play around with some toy-cars while he scrambled up some eggs. Eventually things would wind down.

Around this time Pink Floyd had dropped 'The Division Bell'. A distillate of modern work following a huge tour during the late 80's for the band.

I can recall the build up on "What Do You Want From Me".
Nothing can beat this. There's no amount of money.
 There's a nice lingering breakdown and juicy rounded bass that works into a instantly funky groove. The retro atmosphere is backed by the Wright organ-synth that places a jazzy hook.

Simultaneously, dad would be on the delivery. My supper-dish would be hovering just before Gilmoure's shreddy intro.


The two would hit in a energizing crescendo that would send us into a quivering, spine-jarring dinner smack-down. We'd lock eyes here and there, peer out into the setting sun on our back door porch, and munch...probably both imaging ourselves in other places thanks to the Nick Mason, Rick Wright, and David Gilmoure assemblage.


We'd wreck some rice underneath tuna-fortified mushroom sauce. Usually garnished with some diced broccoli, diced-up celery, carrots, and peas. Super salty. I remember waking up sweaty later in the night. Usually finish things up with some homemade corn bread and a glass of milk.

I dunno how we handled it at all back then.

On one separate occasion, i remember getting a little older and critiquing my dad's cooking. While i was never overly objective about any one item, i remember being struck by the eggs he'd fire up once in a while.

I said "hey, i think the eggs are very good" and he looked at me slightly irritated and said "Everything is good!"


Tuesday, June 3, 2014

NOw a question for you!!

Is smoking as convivial as eating with someone?
new birds beak for this artichoke season 2014

Saturday, May 31, 2014

Do you remember?

Wait, before that....let's preface that I'm no licensed doctor (you knew that). I'm only speaking here from a perch of infinitely long and sensitive experience with my own thoughts on a day to day basis.

i've so far only been a retail clerk and a chef, professionally. That is, we can only validate that experience because I received payment.

A common held belief is that our minds become more and more stagnant with age. This is true in my opinion because of a few tangible and abstract stimulants on that condition that we are exposed to at length as we grow older.

to name a few:

i. hard mineral content in our water and foods (American specifically)

ii. hard wired patterns influenced by dopamine response

iii. economic adversity that affects the above


we unleash the alcohol on our brains at age 21. Open the door on smoking at 18.

These vices have a huge deleterious effect on our physiology. I believe they are meant to be implemented as tools to repress emotions that are the result of what we see, hear, eat. However, their habitual use destroys our brain.

In order to learn like we did in adolescence, we have to first ween ourselves from the vices that adulthood has presented us. Stuff that mom wouldn't be happy to hear about your practicing. Replace the intake. Then, give it a four years minimum.

Unless you're totally satisfied with how things are going.

I gauge my plasticity on the likeness that my dishes have with people of  the modern culinary age (2000-on)

Saturday, April 26, 2014

Why was i spared?

Carl's pissed.

I haven't caught the end of any of his icy stares. Haven't had to answer him directly all day. He did call us the 'b-team' but that's just a gimme'.

Coasted through the afternoon's prep' because ignorance is of course: bliss.

So , while some things changed the two days I spent in class, I'm  already seeing the light.

I'm turning laps between the printer, the reach in, the low-boy, our makeshift hot-app' section, ( an induction burner next to an icy 400' with some mise') and the convection oven in the back. These moves are simple, this eighteen year old version of myself is limber and nimble as ever, no sweat.

How the hot-line dudes might be faring, I have no clue. I'm still in that self-centered-teenage phase and cant spare a second helping our my brethren even when it might help me indirectly as I'll see later.

[Well, maybe I'll grab a container full of snapper or some herbs for them every once in a while.]

Then the link breaks off.

In one of my ballistic peeks into my reach-in inventory I catch a glance of the soufflé stock.

I've got two left and it's eight o' clock.

We've obviously doubled up the size of the souffle in the past week. My station partner made a batch earlier for sure. Excuses accounted for, it's still looking like I'm toast. I'm gonna run out of soufflé.

To trip this cue is surely death.

In the five seconds since opening the refrigerator door I've now entered mental deliberation over how I'm gonna deal with this. I can : come clean and get reamed or play it coy, hope for the best and see if i can wait out the service?

I say 'FUCK IT' - somehow i've figured i've got nothing to lose.

I throw some butter in a pan and get that roux moving. Justin gets a look at what I'm doing - he understands the situation instantly and while we lock eyes he says 'uh oh'.

Thanks man.
this photo is shot in 2013, so things haven't changed much for this item.

I drop that milk into the roux, throw it into low heat. Plate a caesar, separate the eggs, throw down on some beets , toss some point-reyes into roux, pull it, and run to the walk in and start whipping.

I whip the average bowl of whites in record time, alone in the cold.

It's 2007, I haven't gotten a hold of youtube yet, haven't spent hours listening to a Roger Taylor kick drum, haven't taken up juicing full-time, barely exercise. I'm still a lanky, near autistic strand of life. Hair's super long and out of place for the restaurant I'm at.  The current state of affairs means that if it weren't for my first-hand familiarity with the recipe, the taste in my mouth would be 100% despair!

If anyone opens the walk-in, i'm exposed and the boss is gonna lose it!

But I make it out in record time, fold yolks, then the whites into the roux and toss that mix into the walk in while I butter and flour ramekins like i'm stressed or something.

The soufflés make it in the oven. But I've been running around for the better part of ten minutes. So...everyone already knows I'm fucked.

In fact, since i was in the walk in, my station partner already told people we're running out of soufflé.

Pretty soon i get the question "hey, Rake. Where are you!?"

"Just cooking up some soufflé"

"Fuck man, cmon".

I somehow missed a verbal lashing.

I'm stressed but the souffle's been in for a bit, I'm home free.

I send away those lost two soufflés, scratch a couple more salads, a few apps. I get that ticket for a four-top where two people need some blue-cheese soufflé.

Carl's eyes shift to our section again, and we wait out those babies cooking. No one's opened the oven door yet.

Six minutes later, it's show time. Barry, Rachel, and I peer around one of my freshly baked. Rachel pops it out of the ramekin easily, it's solid, light, fluffy, nutty.

She sets it gingerly on a square plate. It's a premium soufflé , identical to any that were labored over for an extended twenty-minutes.

"Jesus man, you gotta go know how many of those you need!"

Tuesday, April 15, 2014

I like that you're reading, but try not to get lost on your phone!

chief influences that come to mind. ..

I wouldn't call them idols, but these are the people that I observe(d) regularly.

Heath Kirchart (skateboarder) -  I wrote an essay about Heath's skating in middle school that focused on the way he points his fingers and arms while aerial. It was a large dissertation on his form and style (that's the word) that was making a big impact on me at the time. That's kind of like an examination of modern dance in ways, but I wasn't connecting the likeness until years later. He's like a graceful and powerful hawk on the board.

The fact that Heath is a pioneer in big rail skating is well documented too, you can read someone else's blog about that.

Good outwear too, I appreciate all the marketing that goes along with being a professional.

Hiramasa featuring Malort  by Carlson c. 2011
Michael Carlson (chef) - A technical virtuoso who twists conventional offerings. His work is a proper example of what you do to stand out from the herd of chefs busy with trend. I ,however ,feel that his venue is sorely in need of some updating, but what do i know? Carlson works in a restaurant with a kitchen staff of maybe five people total. It rings similar to the situation at The Wine Vault and
Bistro ( with respects to the level of maturity i suppose).

Interesting to behold the challenge in tempering the chef's whim versus the public's demand without an owner to show objectivity regularly. That's supreme confidence in ability, no?

I like San Diego chefs too, it's difficult being creative and standing up to the global stage when the lifestyle here is this laid back.

 All these people are dead, by the way (RIP):

Mick seen here with the Travis-Been aluminum neck. 
Mick Karn (bass player) - A genius who was revelatory because of the melodic approach to bass playing that is his crowning achievement, and contribution to popular music of the early 80's. He's probably the only person that made the fretless-bass even sound like a remotely good idea. I think some purist will argue that Jaco is the fretless king and that's pretty nerdy to even bring up. His techniques brought his band to proper focus although the rhythm section of 'Japan' was sometimes overshadowed by vocals - that's quite  common usually. Karn's presence on stage is hugely understated but a hallmark of the band's live act.

Mick On the Right next to Nona Hendryx and David Sylvian. Just an all around cool motherfucker. 

Norman Walker /// Bernard Jansen (doctors) - Their outlook on diet and nutrition is focused on the mid-20th century. This is an era marked by a huge disconnect in computer technology that we have today. This tends to have me believing that Americans of that era were much stronger physically, pardon the focus on Americans.  There's also an entertaining archaic styling to way they wrote about the subject matter that is always entertaining.

Tylenol, please.

Monday, April 7, 2014

Til' I get it right.

Has this iPhone5 been enough trouble yet? Replaced battery, replaced charging port, inflamed battery, and another replaced battery says 'yes'. iPhone is like an extension of Chris' family. So while he might whine about the extended care that the little groove-tube brings into the picture, he could never neglect it to any sort of end.

In 2011, 2012, 2013 - I was enamoured with the affect of a fruitarian diet. The high carbohydrate and quickly digested lifestyle served the enduro-marathon of the level of chiefdom I had on the table at the time.  At the time - as I recall - I had a certain economic outlook that kept me from attaining more of the integral elements of my current diet/intake. I'll write about that outlook in the future....

If i recall, i enjoyed the lightweight, clean burning feel.

 If I'm honest though, I can say that I was experiencing a level of neurosis and to a greater extent orthorexia simultaneously.

Fat is the buffer between your nervous system and the harsh reality of the world around it.

You can fuel your body with sugar to good effect. However, the habit of spiking your blood-sugar is unsustainable and leads to a lack of fortification in mental facilities, later physical expression.

At this point, I can only advocate consumption of easily digested fat coupled with plenty of vegetable/fruit fiber. Nixed the cereals, hopefully most people know why by now.

Couple that with the consumption of plenty of herbal tonics to propel the absorption of nutrients, excretion of toxins, and education of the immune system.