This once was a place that I expressed cultural revelations, decant tales of life and the fruits of the world, ideals of what perfection could be. Now I realize that it is all futile. Exploring the world and tasting lavish meals was great, but what has it really added to my life? A higher sense of what could be, a dream,  a desire for more...a fantasy? Life, as food starts out as is raw. As much as we try to alter it, change it, manipulate the molecular structure of it, it all is just a raw piece of meat, ripped from bone, stripped of sinew and presented on a pretty little plate in hopes of acceptance and to pull off that one impossible ideal. Perfection. Nothing is perfect, nothing is painless, one can't occur without the other at the very fucking least.

Life is a fucking plate of previously frozen popcorn shrimp, beet salad, sous vide pork and microwaved broccoli.

Change

As I find my way out of my twenties and into a completely new "chapter" in life, I have reflected. Life has been filled with rough times, blissful moments and more questions than answers. I went from thinking that I knew everything to now feeling that I know nothing. So much has changed! The way I think, my reactions and confidence, my body (goodbye metabolism!), priorities and drive have all changed and morphed into something so far from what I expected. It is neither a good or bad change, but it is certainly a change that is taking a lot of adjusting to.
I had an idea of where I would be at this point in my life, how I would feel about my family, my partner, my job, about myself. It just makes me believe even stronger that things just change, even if we don't want them to. It is just how life is. It has taken me almost 30 years to figure this out, I just fear now how much longer it will take to accept these ever changing changes. When is it that we find peace, true peace, in our lives?
I am optimistic that it will come. But scared that when it does, it will be too late. That I have already made the wrong decisions and can't go back. I feel that I'm already in that place sometimes.

Reflection

As I enter the second half of my young journey in culinary school, let me take a few seconds to just look back. It has, in the grand scheme of time, been very short. But has the staying power of my first flesh searing burn from the overheated sauté pan which has branded my right arm for the rest of time. It was a very random, spur of the moment decision to embark in this new direction. One day I realized that food was my true passion and in a blink of an eye I was making my way across the Pacific to Los Angeles from the reassuring warmth of my beautiful home, Hawaii. Culinary school was my destination. A completely new life was about to unfold before me. It was a new home, new town, new lifestyle, new culture and new people. I was intimidated, to put it lightly. Ok, I was mortified. But I soldiered on in pursuit of discipline, strength, and a few good meals! I, coming from the middle of nowhere in the world, felt that I couldn't compete with the likes of these Los Angeles folk. But I just wanted to learn, this was definitely the place to do so. I was lost, confused and felt so out of my element and in over my head every second of my first term. Knife cuts to attempt with precision, kitchen equipment to memorize, impatient Chefs to please and trying not to look petrified all the while. It was exhausting; it broke me a few times. I thought of giving up many times in those first few weeks. But it got better, much better. We moved on to actual cooking, making complete dishes, stocks, sauces, fabricating meats, poultry and fish. It started to become exhilarating. The challenge of a time crunch, the adrenalin, the sweat, bloodshed and 3^rd degree burns….ah yes, I felt alive! I actually knew what I was doing (most of the time); I had the confidence to shine a little. A mutual respect and a real sense of camaraderie with my fellow classmates was starting to blossom. It really has been a great time, trying for sure, but great. I know I will look back on this short time and smile and feel good about it. Did culinary school teach me what I expected so far? No. It has not taught me how to be an amazing Chef according to what I cook and how I cook it, given me that amazing, "Signature dish" that will rake in thousands or even secured me a job. But what it has given me are the steps to become an amazing Chef and person through hard work, discipline, team work, appreciation, and a balance between humility and confidence. What do I expect for the next 6 months? More burns, more cuts, more yelling hard-ass instructors, maybe a few more tears….I hope!

Mitch’s Fish Market and Sushi Bar

Tucked away in the somewhat drab industrial district of Honolulu, a bright light shines from Mitch's Sushi Restaurant. Being just minutes from the airport, it is easy to understand how such an unassuming place can have the best and freshest products available as they are flown in everyday.

I walked up to this very hard to find restaurant, I was very skeptical (to put it nicely). It was dark, in the middle of nowhere and pretty much resembled someone's garage; not a superior (or even decent) sushi restaurant! But as I had heard a few encouraging reviews about this place, I nervously and anxiously soldiered on down the dark street to give it a try. They state on their website that reservations are recommended; I quickly understood why when I walked through the startling air curtain and saw only three tables and a short, 6 person sushi bar. Luckily I did have reservations. I was quickly walked outside where there were various forklifts, wooden pallets, and boxes lit up by bright fluorescent lighting. My skepticism of this place only grew greater. I was lead into a small "tea house" type room; removed my shoes and saw four tables with drop down floor seating. Posters of various varieties of fish and a chalk board with the daily specials listed and what was just flown in made me excited for what was to come. It was a very quaint environment and soon my reluctance completely faded away.

The menu was very straight forward, they serve fish and seafood…that's it. No crazy "specialty" rolls with ridiculous sauces and fancy presentations. This was the real thing. They took their product and its freshness very seriously. Notably the spiny lobster sashimi ($55), they bring it to you, live, for your approval. A few minutes later it's tail and meat is presented to you on a bed of shredded daikon and a shiso leaf. It is addictive. Tender, crunchy, mild in flavor, sweet and delicate all at the same time. As I wanted to try an assortment of their fresh products, the friendly waitress recommended the Chirashi Deluxe ($38), an assortment of fresh sashimi. Just as I was finishing the lobster, a beautiful array of freshly sliced fish and seafood arrived. A colorful display of salmon, fatty tuna, tuna, mackerel, uni, scallops, giant clam and salmon roe arrived on top of a bed of perfectly cooked sushi rice and pickled mushrooms. I was happy, really really happy. No one thing failed to excite me, I tried and devoured every last piece as they all just melted in my mouth. One last unexpected treat was at the end of the meal, they make a miso soup with the lobster previously ordered. The shells and head are simmered in a hot broth and served so that you may pick out the extra good bits from the lobster's shell. It was a fulfilling and balanced end to the meal.

This just proves that if you are willing to step off the beaten path and go for something with a little less "sparkle," its likely you will find that diamond in the rough. Mitch's needs not to be anything but that lovable hole-in-the wall place that you want to keep your guilty little secret. It's a real place, their passion for the highest possible quality and freshness of product is obvious. They set an impossible standard for anyone to try to compete with and they stay true to their customers by always providing the best possible food and service.

A Step in the Right Direction

I would consider myself to be a fairly knowledgeable gourmet with a well experienced palate. I have a thirst for new culinary adventures and an eagerness to learn as much as I can about food, ingredients and preparation techniques. It has not always been this way however, I would have to say not even close. The early part of my life was filled with endlessly insipid meals consisting of my mothers' "cooking." It was never something that was lovingly prepared over the stove or carefully placed in the oven. Why? There was always a way to prepare absolutely anything in the microwave! Potatoes especially played a monotonous role in my everyday eating. Plain old Russets, I can still hear her stabbing away at that poor potato to make "ventilation" holes. Nothing could or ever did help that pathetic spud from turning into a flavorless, dried up, overcooked rubbery piece of shoe leather. Another jaw tiring dish would be the dreaded microwave chicken. Packed in sodium laced water then frozen chicken tenderloins from a 10 pound zip top bag purchased from Sam's Club. They were placed frozen, unseasoned and unattended in the microwave until it adequately resembled my golden retriever's chew toy after a rough day in the yard. And let's not forget what was used to enhance, or shall I say mask these culinary abominations. Prego, by the gallon, also purchased at the dreaded Sam's Club. Jars and jars of the stuff were ladled straight from the jar onto whatever unfortunate, overcooked concoction she so proudly displayed before us. Now it's making more and more sense to me why my sister is a vegetarian! Nothing ever really tasted or looked like anything but dull, dried out chewy toys covered in that room temperature red sauce that was always curiously and annoyingly sweet. That was all I knew and really, I had no problem with that. My naive palate had no clue of the flavors and textures the world had in store for me.

My curiosity was awoken by something not very complex, fancy or unattainable actually. On a day that I was on my own, foraging for food with a friend I was asked if I ate Hawaiian food. I had known about it, tried it a few times but never with a person that could coach me on what was good and how to maximize the full pleasures this humble cuisine had to offer. I wasn't too sure about it though; it was a whole lot of soupy, strange smelling and oddly colored stuff made with ingredients that were quite the deviation from the somewhat "vanilla" fare I had been choking down up to that point. It was at that time that I was hearing my grandmother's voice in my head saying "You neva know if you no like um if you neva go try um....so go, try um go!" Yes, I was pensive about eating this foreign goo but I figured it couldn't be worse than whatever was lodged in my system from the many years of gnawing at my mothers' grub. So there I was, staring down this plate of completely foreign and unknown food, kind of feeling unsure and nervous actually. It was a plate consisting of poi, a carefully steamed then hand pounded taro root; lau lau, taro leaves filled with butterfish, chicken and a delicious cube of pork fat; kalua pig, an entire pig rubbed with Hawaiian sea salt then placed in the ground to steam with hot rocks then covered with bamboo leaves and burlap bags cooked for hours and hours. Lomi salmon, chicken long rice, haupia and rice were also a part of this culinary voyage. I took my first bite and I tried everything individually and was quickly corrected. It was the combining of the different items that made it "broke da mouth" or so delicious apparently. I dipped a succulent strip of the warm shredded pork into the cool, pasty and slightly soured poi. With a deep breath, I placed it gently in my mouth. The combination of salty, sweet and sour, the hot and cold, the gooey poi and the melt-in-your-mouth pork...it was amazing. What my grandmother had been preaching to me all that time about trying new things was completely true. I then tried a few other combinations with what I had on my plate. Lau lau with poi, lau lau with rice, long rice and pork, pork and lomi salmon, rice with long rice. It was what seemed to be an endless array of flavors, textures and sensations all from one plate of food. It was a very foreign concept to me, but I realized that just as there was care put into preparing the food and maximizing the ingredient, there seemed to be thought put into somehow allowing them to marry and complement one another. It was a cohesive plate, not a disjointed dish, it just made sense.

This experience made me think about food for the first time as being more than just a means to fill me up and provide me with energy. I somehow connected with food as if it had saved me from resembling the food I had previously been eating. Food for me was a metaphor for life and by no means did I want to be a dry, stiff, overdone person that relied on monotony for life to be palatable. I wanted adventure, challenge, excitement and passion.

All this from a singular meal served in a generic styrofoam take-out box, eaten with splintering wooden chopsticks on a park bench? Not necessarily. But that was the starting point for me; the gateway to my need to always challenge myself and never become stale or rigid. It was an identity I could be happy with and that has always driven me forward.

Offal Good

Stew of pig's nose and stomach, pig's feet, monkey brain and duck liver. Sounds tasty, right? Yes! To some it may seem like something you would only eat if you were offered large amounts of cash, but to others it is a tasty treat. Use of the entire animal has been practiced by many cultures throughout history. This is the wonderful, somewhat misunderstood world of Offal.

Offal comes from the German word, "Abfall" which literally means off fall. This refers to the parts of the animal that fall out when butchered. Later offal became the all encompassing word for the parts considered "throw away" meats. These parts of the animal are not necessarily your choice cuts, but when prepared properly, they can be almost better than your most expensive steak. The origins of this delicacy dates back to when people raised their own animals and wasted nothing. As animals were difficult and expensive to raise, everything was used for something. Bones were used for stocks and soups, fats were rendered down and provided cooking fat, internal organs, hooves and snouts provided flavor and texture to dishes. Offal was later utilized by the poor that couldn't afford to buy the higher quality meats. It was then that they had to become a little creative to make these previously thought of inedible cuts of meat, edible and on top of that desirable.

There are many cultures around the world that utilize these cuts of meat, and truly appreciate and celebrate these dishes. These aren't just dishes that are used by the poor or exclusively in the household, these ingredients are highly celebrated in many classes of restaurant from your neighborhood pub to a fine dining setting. There are restaurants that solely specialize in these ingredients and the flexibility and challenge they offer to the culinary professional. A few countries that are making the most of these ingredients are Italy with its stewed brain, Britain with haggis and blood pudding, and we cannot forget about France with its amazingly delicate and unctuous Foie Gras. Asia also utilizes these ingredients in such a wide array of preparations not only in edibles, but believing that certain animals possessed a quality that has the ability to heal a wide array of ailments. Examples of the dishes prepared would include braised pork ear strips as a cold appetizer in China, monkey brain is a highly prized dish in Vietnam, chicken skin and innards skewered and grilled in Japan, and Blood stew with pig intestines and cheek in the Philippines. And then we have America, the "New Country" where offal isn't as revered and utilized. As there has been no real shortage of meat and food, there hasn't been the necessity to make the most of these variety meats. Some applications used in the U.S. are chitterlings, chicken gizzards and liver in the South. Others include rocky mountain oysters and fried brain specifically in Ohio. Most of the utilization of offal in America has been from the influence of immigrants from other countries.

I know that it seems now that any meat, organ and entrail is edible, but there are some that need special handling or should be avoided all together. Fugu, for instance is a very poisonous fish served in Japan that, if not prepared properly can be deadly. Also there is a concern with sanitation and bacteria growth, especially with intestines if they are not properly and thoroughly cleaned of undigested food. But if the necessary precautions are taken, a lot of these ingredients can in fact be very healthful providing protein and possibly healing qualities, not to mention a whole new array of flavors and textures to intrigue the palate.

So the next time you find that mysterious bag of giblets in your poultry, don't just throw it away, you now know that there are great edible possibilities. Or if you see that menu item that has always intrigued and scared you, give it a try. For years and years, these unexpected ingredients have been utilized and made into highly complex and refined dishes. Offal offers a wide variety of flavors and textures we have possibly never experienced….As Andrew Zimmerin says "if it looks good, eat it!"

 

The Perfect Heirloom Tomato

Such a simple thing it is, a tomato. But how wonderfully satisfying it can be. I'm not just talking about your average supermarket tomato, but an Heirloom. Their wide array of intense colors span from deep dusky rose to purple, dark red and bright yellows. Its natural free-form shapes come in so many sizes, from the small cherry tomato to the oversized "Mortgage Lifter". With its smooth, soft skin and uneven bulges left and right they are a feast for the eyes. Their subtly sweet yet tart fragrance is almost intoxicating. Heirloom tomatoes have a quality I have never experienced in the "everyday" tomato, its flavors are intense and concentrated for such an unassuming fruit. Although this fruit is the perfect companion to almost any dish, they can stand on their own. Their firm meaty texture and sweet taste joined with the slight bite of tartness needs nothing to accompany it…especially that would mask or overpower it. This is a very simple pleasure in life, the perfect tomato. But it is something we should all stop to appreciate every now and again. There is nothing quite like a simple summer afternoon, eating a fresh sliced heirloom tomato placed between two pieces of artisan bread and a nice cold drink.