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We went to a dinner party at our friends 100+ year old house with new kitted out kitchen and were excited to try something new, Japanese okonomiyaki. This grilled pancake, ala whoever is making them, gets embellished upon with many ‘toppings’ including: pork, scallops, octopus, dried shrimp, dried white fish, smoked oysters, diced cheddar cheese, tenkasu (tempura bits), nori strips, corn niblets, julienned carrots, spinach, scallions or Japanese pickled ginger.

The savoury pancake batter is made with shredded cabbage, flour, eggs, dashi, grated nagaimo (Japanese mountain yam), this yam is ooey gooey and makes the ingredients stick.

When the batter is on the two flat iron grills, we add our toppings, “get in there everybody, do what ever you want”, so we made 8 different ones! D subconsciously made a ‘pizza’ one with cheese and pork. The best tasting one was the hostess’ who went over the top with toppings, the Asahi gave her the freedom to, “Go big or go home”, is her advice.

It dawned on me that everyone’s toppings were quite telling of their personalities. First there was an over-thought lean one with barely any toppings with one featured ingredient -the architect. Then there was a perfectly balanced veg and seafood pancake, ingredients evenly spaced, a mix of colours -the foodie yoga teacher. The male web developer made a pizza. And the artist trapped in the graphic designers body went overboard with a mountain of flavour, claiming the beer made her do it. What would Jung say?

Sharing okonomiyaki was a fantastic and inclusive social approach to eating, the tenets of old Japanese eating culture bring us back to the family and friends, that made us all very happy.

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Compliments of the chef! Bet you’d never guess that this lovely dish was fish gonands, swimming in a citrus sesame ponzu sauce, with its pale creamy lobes all delicate like. They had the mildest of sea flavours and quite plesant. Dean washed his down with beer really fast, I think it was a mind over matter moment.

Let’s say these gonads were not from a Black Cod but from a different fish, the infamous Puffer Fish, called Fugu in Japan, you may get very sick and probably die from strong neurotoxins (luckily Homer did not).

A pinch of the white powder form, about the amount found in one prime-sized tiger fugu is enough to kill more than 30 people. The estimated lethal dose for an adult, a mere one to two milligrams, could be put on a pinhead. Wow! Don’t eat Fugu gonads!

All fish have the pair of reproductive organs and some are hermaphrodites (that’s handy). So where are these reproductive blobs located in a fish you might want to know, they’re at the top of the gut cavity, just below the fish’s backbone:

Another delicious gonad that some people like to eat and others fake pleasure is uni. Yes folks, you didn’t know you were eating both male and female urchin gonads?

I dove for urchin in the Mediterranean once, opened them up on the beach and ate the salty narrow ‘roe’ fresh as can be, didn’t like them, still don’t but I pretended that I like them and that it was all so adventurous of me, haha.

Ok, on to other seafood now…

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On this nights menu we had having beef and pork Satay with fixins, ketupat(pressed rice), cucumber, onions and a fiery peanut sauce. I’ll tell you that cooking your satay on a charcoal fire is far superior than the bbq, imparting a natural smokiness.

Grandpa Eddie(while sipping on homebrew) also fried up some chicken wings that were marinated in a ‘secret’ powder brought back from Singapore, I think it has blachan in it, giving it a slight not quite recognizable stinky but good dimension.

Mr Creative, my bro, tossed together a watercress and red pepper salad with fish sauce, it was so mouthwatering, we were going back for more.

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For our one night in Seattle we decided to check out Le Pichet for dinner recommended by several of our buddies. I’m a big fan of the rustic neighbourhood French bistro with its low lit wood heavy interiors and long bar seating for dinner or drinks, attracting a somewhat mixed bag of diners. I also kinda like sitting closer to people unlike in most western restos where personal space is expected.

True to my expected ordering and eating ways I went for the confit while the man had steak frites. There was liver in my dish, what a nice surprise, guess i didn’t read the menu fully. The frites were fresh and crispy, steak was topped with a tad of mushrooms, yum. Wine, yes, we had a French one.

As we ate we reminisced of the French restaurants we experience in Vietnam, quaint little places in Hanoi and Saigon, filled with French speaking tourists, expats and some locals. Clicking of wine glasses, food that made you relax and go ahhhh, some times there would be a faint smell of after diner cigarette smoke(long gone in Vancouver restaurants) and the chatter in different languages, mostly French.

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In my memory, fav tacos I long for are the ones that leave me with a strong memory of the taste and smells whether it be the crispy battered octopus, rare to find lengua(beef tongue), or the beefy flavour of arracherra tacos with all the additions. The setting, a taco stand by the ferries perhaps, is rarely is a consideration to getting my hands on some, except that these tacos reside where I do not, this is a problem, so all I can do is write about them and plot my next trip.

The latest recurring memory of taco trance is of the arracherra tacos sin queso(no cheese) from Brasilia on Salida a Celaya street in San Miguel de Allende. This is the first time I have ever had skirt steak taste so beefy and tender and smell so glorious. And of course it isn’t any fun if you don’t have the 6 garnishes that are set on your table for you to create that personal tacos. At Brasilia they plunk down small bowls of: hot pickled onion, pico de gallo, limes, smoky chilli salsa, green salsa and guacamole. So yummy its enough to make you plan another vacation in that town, or at least a stopover!

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foreground - Tinga, slow cooked pork

Mexico City, Saturday night, we went down to the concierge to ask for restaurant suggestions. The well turned out señor suggested two places within walking distance of our hotel, Hilton Reforma, as it was already closing in on eight o’clock.

Out and to the right we walk, expecting a breath of fresh night air, there is none, its stale. A few crowded blocks later we came to the first suggestion(to all tourists) the Torres Latino Americano Restaurant which offered ‘international’ fare. We were super surprised and kinda horrified at the condition of the building(tallest in Mexico City in 1959?), rundown and through the windows it seemed that all one could see was stuff strewn up against the grubby windows floor after floor. Next…

Next was the task of finding Café Tucuba, local fare and authentic Mexican said Mr concierge. That was really the the one we were aiming for anyhow.

At Tucuba street now and the sight of a crowd and the lure of drumming took us to the gorgeous Museo de Artes where I’d say about 50 dancers were in a dance that seem to be about saluting the four directions, the elements and freedom(of sorts).

A few more blocks and we see Café Tacuba! From the outside it looked like a small bakery, oh the hesitant momentary disappointment, but, when we went thought the doors, delight and sheer awe of the décor and architecture, Mexican/Spanish to the core, what a hidden gem, I love it! Omg, i think this is going to be good.

Our lovely server Margarita in her nursemaid outfit with her perfectly hairsprayed bleached blond hair with giant bow all of 50 years was a pro you could tell. $2.80 Modelos and we are ready to check out the menu. What to have? Appies, special of the house, ensaladas, sopas…we chose: 4 little things(tamale verde, chicken taquito, enchilada?…), Puerco Oaxaca (con guac, frijoles y tortillas), cheesay chiles rellenos in a rojo sauce, and the boys had crazy garlic soup with poached egg in the middle with cheesy toast.

There was a gang of talented mariachis to top off the vibe.

Ok so we had such a lovely experience we went back the next night and I had Tinga(pictured above), it was a delicious pork and stringy cheese delight!

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MIGRATION FOODS BY ARTISTS DONNING CHEF HATS

feast table at Gudrun

Well we pulled it off! Chez D, part of the Powell Street Festival, was a hit. With a great bunch of fun luvin food luvin artists, we created, sang, cooked, danced and they ate, ate, ate their way through the night. It was a blast I must say!

“Local artists trade their instruments and paint brushes for chef hats in Chez D, where art and cuisine meet in a tantalizing feast for the senses.

For one night only, artists normally accustomed to wowing audiences in theatres and galleries will don their chef hats and coats at Gudrun Tasting Room in Steveston and create new works of edible art celebrating the theme of migration.

Commissioned by the Powell Street Festival, Chez D artists will plate delicacies in a five-course menu that pays homage to ethnic roots, migratory paths (the ‘D’ stands for ‘Diaspora’), new lands, family restaurants and neighbourhood survival foods. As event curator Michael Speier puts it, Chez D presents “a meal full of strong cross currents and pollinations here at the tastebud’s edge of the Pacific Ocean.”

Chez D artists include Open Sesame (Michael Speier), Komodo House (Margaret Gallagher and Angela Wan), Patrick Tubajon (Gudrun Tasting Room), Ari Tomita, and Cynthia Low & Leslie Komori. Each candlelit course will be accompanied by a design element representative of the artist’s discipline, as well as the “mallow dinner music” of local music innovators Guimauves.”

Michael Speier

Not sure why it was surprising to me that it was so fun. I suppose the mind forgets what live music sounds like, how performance and dance can be so fun, how food is better enjoyed at a long feast table with friends and strangers, how all these things combined is ridiculously rare. We just get bogged down in the every day and forget to look up and smell the flowers.

We definately need more of these events in Vancouver, actually we were in Steveston at Patrick Tubajon’s Gudrun Tasting Room. Steveston itself has a varied history of Japanese immigrants living and working, many in the cannery industry. So really, this is a very suitable setting to have the Powell Street Festival event.

The set up was really a well planed migratory guerilla kitchen set up with portable tables, stoves, tents(hey its Vancouver you never know), utensils and containers of food and water. While Margaret and I were plating inside at the bar, the rest of the gang were cooking, steaming and plating outside. It wasn’t all work back there though, I did get to tear away for a minute to have a sip of Mezcal.

In the back-lot kitchen, Ari was painting with mango dressing and plating her Enso Salmon Salad, Michael was chillin keeping one eye on his New World Longboat Tamale (and pouring Tequila and Mezcal for the cooks) but it was the smell of searing venison that got me intoxicated, I found myself standing in the smoky goodness (it tasted sublime!), taking it in. Laughing robustly Cynthia and her sister recall their father bringing home whole venison and hanging the animal from a tree in the city backyard, I hope they had a fence. Their Venison o-nigiri ‘hamburger’ with jicama/beets/daikon ‘fries’ was so fun. And last but not least was Patrick’s dessert course, Isdro’s Drift mango mouse, ever so delicately adorned with chocolate drizzle hat and candy ballet slippers.

Take a look…

Here is the menu.
ChezDmenu

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photos by: flying_designs

This little pasture fed piggy got roasted and devoured.

Our friend decided to bring on the next decade of his life with a full on pig roast party, what wonderful friends we have. This magical animal was a pretty young one judging by its size, it was stuffed with apples and potatoes(not sure why), sewn up then twirled around on the spit for 8 hours, periodically squirted with salt water to crisp up the skin and give flavour.

As guest arrived, their children excitedly ran to see the pig roasting, toddlers pointed at it in wonderment, nobody freaked out or cried, hey animals have heads right? One 3 year old who had never eaten mammal watched for hours then devoured three helpings with his greasy paws right from the carving table.

I can say that this was the freshest and tastiest pork that I have ever eaten!

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home-made spit

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Birthday guy carving

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Overseer

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Photo: Brendita21

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Mariachis Los Dorados at Zocalo Restaurant

The other night, dia de los muertos night at Zocalo Restaurant I heard the familiar music from a memory, el Mariachis! The music and the attire conjure up the images of mariachis my friend and I hung out with in the wistful Oaxaca city zocalo(town square) 10 years ago, before the ‘reno’ of the square and before the intense labour demonstrations.

I love the bigness of music when its live. Its true, its bright, you physically feel the music. Mariachi Los Dorados played loud, played at various tables throughout their set, serenading dinner goers and even had one diner join in to sing a song. Along with the others I swayed from side to side with the music feeling all warm and fuzzy while sipping on some excellent Patron tequila, one of many that proprietor Tanya has to offer from Vancouver’s largest collection.

The food experience is unlike other Mexican restaurants in Vancouver. The dishes are interesting, not the standard burritos or enchiladas, instead they have dishes like Puerco con Chile Ancho – pork, slow cooked in chilies, spices and oranges, served with warm tortillas. I could eat a lot of this. Or Chile en Nougada – Ancho chili stuffed with turkey breast, nuts and sun-dried fruit. Served with pecan crèma.

Another fav is Fish Tacos with habanero mayonnaise. And for some cheesy goodness, Queso Fundido – queso Oaxaca and Monterrey jack, black beans, Mexican chorizo. Served with homemade tortilla chips. You must of course join the most interesting academy and have a Dos Equis.

They use local, in some cases sustainable, ingredients with traditional techniques all made from scratch.

And the Mariachis; I must find out where they play next, got to get another dose of charro outfits and emotional folk songs soon.

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