Why Vietnamese Sandwiches are the Best Thing Ever
1. Rice flour bread. It's crunchy and light with a soft center... uber-yum factor
2. Shredded pickled carrots. Wow... yummers, on the dente side of aldente, great sweet/sour interplay
3. Pickled onions... same as above, but with oniony goodness
4. Spicy peppers... need I say more? When you've got the acidity from the pickles keepin' the spice on it's toes... and then there's
5. Cilantro. Much maligned, I know, but... just when those peppers are threatening to do in the carrots and just take over, you bite into fresh cilantro and wam! Palate cleansing/cooling grassy interplay with the other three condiments... and we haven't even gotten to the
6. Liver Pate. Yup, that's right. Take liver, cook it up, add some asian shallots, drop it all in a blender with some cream, pulse into mushy. Transfer said mush into a ramekin, chill for 12 hours. Slice, warm up and stuff in to a sandwich. So it plays off of the crunch from the bread, the acidity of the pickles just highlights why liver is soooo good, it coats your mouth with creamy, livery goodness just in time to reduce the duration of the serious hot factor from the peppers. And it reduces the cilantro factor just enough so that even if you don't like cilantro, you'll still love this sandwich.
It's a mouthgasme.
If you've never had one, get one NOW
*We now return to our normal programming*
Friday, March 27, 2009
Thursday, March 26, 2009
In Transition
Impressions of San Francisco Part 1
1. It's odd that even though I am still in what should be considered "a familiar civilization," the traffic here scares the shit out of me (no joke, my bowels are loose and it's not the water).
2. In Canada, we're used to thinking of ourselves as multi-cultural. Vancouver has nothing on this town. In a four block radius around my rooming house I could have a fully halal breakfast made by Pakistanis, walk around the corner for dim sum, go up a flight of stairs for gefeltefish (for lunch). And then I could go down an alley-way for a Vietnamese dinner, and then down the street for dessert at an artisanal ice cream place. And this in the sketchy part of town. While on said food bender, I'd be listening to a mix of gentrified English, ebonix, Chinese, Korean, Vietnamese, Spanish, Persian and Urdu. Like I said, Vancouver has nothing on this town.
3. It's really big.
4. It's fucking warm; 15 Celsius at 7:30am in March... who does that?
5. Things are cheap. Food, beer, coffee, smokes. This morning for breakfast I got a sticky bun and a large americano for under $3... Who does that?
1. It's odd that even though I am still in what should be considered "a familiar civilization," the traffic here scares the shit out of me (no joke, my bowels are loose and it's not the water).
2. In Canada, we're used to thinking of ourselves as multi-cultural. Vancouver has nothing on this town. In a four block radius around my rooming house I could have a fully halal breakfast made by Pakistanis, walk around the corner for dim sum, go up a flight of stairs for gefeltefish (for lunch). And then I could go down an alley-way for a Vietnamese dinner, and then down the street for dessert at an artisanal ice cream place. And this in the sketchy part of town. While on said food bender, I'd be listening to a mix of gentrified English, ebonix, Chinese, Korean, Vietnamese, Spanish, Persian and Urdu. Like I said, Vancouver has nothing on this town.
3. It's really big.
4. It's fucking warm; 15 Celsius at 7:30am in March... who does that?
5. Things are cheap. Food, beer, coffee, smokes. This morning for breakfast I got a sticky bun and a large americano for under $3... Who does that?
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Time to go; travel day 1
I think I've discovered the reason that Kelowna sucks you in.
Kelowna does not change.
On the surface it does: new buildings; no Willow; a new bridge, but fundamentally, the town stays exactly the way it always has.. I can't really explain it better than that.
But... I said my goodbyes for the enth time last night, and as I left the bar, the wril of conversation that escaped with me out into the night, sounded exactly like the same conversation I've always heard as I leave... life just... goes on. In Kelowna, it never changes.
I think the heart of the reason that Kelowna sucks so many people in lies in the fact that it really does feel timeless, maybe it's all the old people that go there to hover on the edge of eternity. Or maybe it's like Vegas... you go there to live, but goddamn, you don't want to live there because none of it is real. Nevertheless, there is something fundamentally reassuring about being able to visit somewhere and say to oneself: This will never change.
* * *
The thing I really don't like about flying is waiting: sitting in airports; sitting on the tarmac; line ups for customers, shit like that.
The act of taking an airplane - beyond the fact that it is extraordinarily difficult for someone of my stature to feel comfortable sleeping in a plane - is one that I am completely indifferent to.
3 hours later
That being said, taking a plane full of certain Types of people. You know who I mean. Those idiots with no volume control, who don't shut up, and don't know a damn thing.
This older lady - a resident of SF - was complaining to her seat partner that they are not allowed to exploit all the natural resources in the US, and she thought that it was bad policy... and anyways, it's not like it's going to run out... we've got at least another 300 years worth of oil; and she doesn't like it that the price of a barrel of crude is bottoming out, because that means that they coula actually use it (presumably the Barbarians at the Gates, though I doubt she could have voiced it in so articulate a manner).
What. The. Fuck?
I felt like standing up and yelling accross the 5 isles that seperated us:
"A: the reason you don't exploit your own resources is because you exploit everyone elses, so that when the shit hits the fan, you'll have depleted the whole planet except for your own shit! and B. The only reason you don't care about resource depletion in the first place is because you're old, with no grand kids, and so don't care if they'll be able to live on this planet after you're gone. And C. What. The. Fuck.
Axe that. I don't hate flying. I hate people
Kelowna does not change.
On the surface it does: new buildings; no Willow; a new bridge, but fundamentally, the town stays exactly the way it always has.. I can't really explain it better than that.
But... I said my goodbyes for the enth time last night, and as I left the bar, the wril of conversation that escaped with me out into the night, sounded exactly like the same conversation I've always heard as I leave... life just... goes on. In Kelowna, it never changes.
I think the heart of the reason that Kelowna sucks so many people in lies in the fact that it really does feel timeless, maybe it's all the old people that go there to hover on the edge of eternity. Or maybe it's like Vegas... you go there to live, but goddamn, you don't want to live there because none of it is real. Nevertheless, there is something fundamentally reassuring about being able to visit somewhere and say to oneself: This will never change.
* * *
The thing I really don't like about flying is waiting: sitting in airports; sitting on the tarmac; line ups for customers, shit like that.
The act of taking an airplane - beyond the fact that it is extraordinarily difficult for someone of my stature to feel comfortable sleeping in a plane - is one that I am completely indifferent to.
3 hours later
That being said, taking a plane full of certain Types of people. You know who I mean. Those idiots with no volume control, who don't shut up, and don't know a damn thing.
This older lady - a resident of SF - was complaining to her seat partner that they are not allowed to exploit all the natural resources in the US, and she thought that it was bad policy... and anyways, it's not like it's going to run out... we've got at least another 300 years worth of oil; and she doesn't like it that the price of a barrel of crude is bottoming out, because that means that they coula actually use it (presumably the Barbarians at the Gates, though I doubt she could have voiced it in so articulate a manner).
What. The. Fuck?
I felt like standing up and yelling accross the 5 isles that seperated us:
"A: the reason you don't exploit your own resources is because you exploit everyone elses, so that when the shit hits the fan, you'll have depleted the whole planet except for your own shit! and B. The only reason you don't care about resource depletion in the first place is because you're old, with no grand kids, and so don't care if they'll be able to live on this planet after you're gone. And C. What. The. Fuck.
Axe that. I don't hate flying. I hate people
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Work
Now that I have two days left of work,
The things that didn't bug me
Now drive me fucking nuts.
I'm having a hard time not being rude to customers.
There will be a rant, very shortly
The things that didn't bug me
Now drive me fucking nuts.
I'm having a hard time not being rude to customers.
There will be a rant, very shortly
Random Thoughts on Leaving
T minus 4 days.
Tegan and sarah on the speakers at the Beanscene.
Whenever I travel I find that this is one of the places that I miss the most. The old hardwood floor that feels so interesting beneath bear feet; protruding nails near the door, and the polish worn away by hundreds of feet. The old couches, you know the ones that you don't really want to think about how clean they are, and who's done what on them.
The sounds of the coffee grinder and the barrista steaming milk. The often surreal conversations of the staff. The smell of brewing coffee, of espresso and locally baked food.
The brick walls, chipped and worn.
And the coffee, the wonderful locally roasted coffee.
When I come here, I know I'm in Kelowna
* * *
Going through my notes, I just found my schedual - or what I've been told my day will look like once I'm over there:
10-12 am - Contact/teaching time
1-3 pm - "English Corner"
4 pm - "Testing hour"
I don't actually need to be there for testing hour most of the time, though for verbal exams I do.
I think I will actually miss the smell of patchouli.
Tegan and sarah on the speakers at the Beanscene.
Whenever I travel I find that this is one of the places that I miss the most. The old hardwood floor that feels so interesting beneath bear feet; protruding nails near the door, and the polish worn away by hundreds of feet. The old couches, you know the ones that you don't really want to think about how clean they are, and who's done what on them.
The sounds of the coffee grinder and the barrista steaming milk. The often surreal conversations of the staff. The smell of brewing coffee, of espresso and locally baked food.
The brick walls, chipped and worn.
And the coffee, the wonderful locally roasted coffee.
When I come here, I know I'm in Kelowna
* * *
Going through my notes, I just found my schedual - or what I've been told my day will look like once I'm over there:
10-12 am - Contact/teaching time
1-3 pm - "English Corner"
4 pm - "Testing hour"
I don't actually need to be there for testing hour most of the time, though for verbal exams I do.
I think I will actually miss the smell of patchouli.
Friday, March 20, 2009
Sun in an Empty Room
Now that the furniture's
Returning to its Goodwill home,
with dishes in last week's papers
rumours and elections,
crosswords, an unending war
that blacken our fingers,
smear their prints on every door pulled shut.
Now that the last month's rent
is scheming with the damage deposit,
take this moment to decide if we meant it,
Sun in an empty room
if we tried, or felt around for far too much
Sun in an empty room
from things that accidentally touched.
Sun in an empty room
The hands that we nearly hold with pennies for the GST,
the shoulders we lean our shoulders into on the subway, mutter an apology.
The shins that we kick beneath the table, that reflexive cry.
The faces we meet one awkward beat too long and terrify,
know that the things we need to say
Sun in an empty room
have been said already anyway,
Sun in an empty room
by parallelograms of light
Sun in an empty room
on walls that we repainted white.
Sun in an empty room
Sun in an empty room
So take eight minutes
and divide by ninety million lonely miles,
and watch a shadow cross the floor.
We don't live here anymore.
--John K. Sampson
---The Weakerthans
I'm pretty much fully moved out; and John just hits it on the head. Thought I'd share that.
Returning to its Goodwill home,
with dishes in last week's papers
rumours and elections,
crosswords, an unending war
that blacken our fingers,
smear their prints on every door pulled shut.
Now that the last month's rent
is scheming with the damage deposit,
take this moment to decide if we meant it,
Sun in an empty room
if we tried, or felt around for far too much
Sun in an empty room
from things that accidentally touched.
Sun in an empty room
The hands that we nearly hold with pennies for the GST,
the shoulders we lean our shoulders into on the subway, mutter an apology.
The shins that we kick beneath the table, that reflexive cry.
The faces we meet one awkward beat too long and terrify,
know that the things we need to say
Sun in an empty room
have been said already anyway,
Sun in an empty room
by parallelograms of light
Sun in an empty room
on walls that we repainted white.
Sun in an empty room
Sun in an empty room
So take eight minutes
and divide by ninety million lonely miles,
and watch a shadow cross the floor.
We don't live here anymore.
--John K. Sampson
---The Weakerthans
I'm pretty much fully moved out; and John just hits it on the head. Thought I'd share that.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Today
Yesterday I got my tickets to GZ, my visa and my hotel confirmation in SF.
I must confess to being a little bit worried about money; I'm sure it'll be alright... my life has had a golden hue to it of late.
Can't really sleep, but that's to be expected
T minus 6 days
I must confess to being a little bit worried about money; I'm sure it'll be alright... my life has had a golden hue to it of late.
Can't really sleep, but that's to be expected
T minus 6 days
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