The Constant Epicurean # 194
Dragon Diaries #18
In Memory of Norm Macdonald 10/17,1959 – 09/14, 2021
A little Constant
I missed my 200th article. It seems a milestone. But I overlooked it somehow. Someone mentioned it the other day, and I thought, “I don’t know.” So I looked at these graphs and charts right. You know those things I’m talking about. Those things, they give you that, that information. So, I was looking at those graphs and charts. And, it turns out it does tell me how many posts. And dagnabit if it doesn’t say 219. I didn’t consider splitting my posts into two series and breaking the 200 posts mark overall—a calculated error. So congratulations to me for reaching that milestone.
I’m pretty proud, you know. I don’t know exactly what I was expecting. I tried not to do too much expecting when I started this endeavor. You know that word, do you? This journey began as a broken soul. I was a man who was trying to find his way. You know that old story of personal discovery and triumph over the past. So often, a tragic tale of “woe” and “is me” sort of thing. But not me, not this guy. I was going to conquer the world. Then Covid hit and blew it all to hell. No, I’m just kidding. It’s been amazing even in the face of yet another epic showdown this heroic knight must face down.
My first post
So I was thinking if I am going to do a unique 200th article celebratory article, that doesn’t sound weird. I was going to need some more of those charts and things. Get more of that information stuff, you know. See if there were any incredible stats, you know those things, stats? Those numbers people make up to make things look either good or bad, you know those things. So, I got some charts and more of those graphs, you know. And, I, and I started compiling information. It turns out, since my first post, I’ve clocked some miles. I mean, really, a real tramp on the sea, land, and in the skies. I get around, this guy. And I’ll get more into that later.
So I wrote my first article. I published it on January 16th, 2019. You know how I know that. Well, do you. See on my computer. You know what that is. Well, it turns out on my website software, that stuff is super intelligent, you know. It tells me things like when I posted an article and all this information. It’s great. And apparently…., apparently I published that first article at 4:18 AM. That’s early. Do you know why I posted it so early? I don’t either I forgot. Short and simple. Far from what they are now. I updated it a few days ago. You can read it below if you can read it. If you can’t read, I have an audio edition. Nah, I’m just kidding. I’m too lazy for that. And anyway, if you can’t read, how did you get this far?
My first post, The Constant Epicurean Ep. 1 Why Do I Travel?
WHY DO I TRAVEL?
Why do I travel? Well, why not? Traveling is different for each individual—some travel to get away, others for business, and yet others to visit family and friends. In addition, we may travel for food or entertainment. However, all of these examples are perfect excuses to hit the roads and skies and explore this beautiful world. However, while the average traveler may get his wanderlust from the simple act of traveling, there is something deeper I’m after.
I searched for quite some time to find the right word to describe the emotion and feeling I was searching to experience. Finally, my search brought me to an old English word that perfectly summed up the feeling I was trying to convey. Fernweh (adj.); It comes from fern (meaning “far”) and weh (defined as “pain,” “misery,” or “woe”). Fernweh, then, is “far sickness” or a “longing for far-off places,” especially those you’ve not yet visited.
Some early pictures from back when I had an actual camera
San Guillermo
I took the above picture in San Guillermo, Guanajuato. Just over 4 hours northeast of Mexico City. As you can see, the health department wasn’t on duty in this part of the world, so sanitation wasn’t in good working order. In case you haven’t guessed, if you said “the bathroom,” you are correct. These are just a few examples of very different and unusual things and practices compared to what we experience in the states. Check out the image gallery for more pictures from rural Mexico.
The point is that though some things were uncomfortable and different, they were terrific also. That sense of being totally out of my element, to take albeit small but genuine risk every time I took a sip of water or placed a morsel of food in my mouth. That’s living, and that’s what I’m after. One week from tomorrow, I’m getting on a plane and chasing it yet again. This time to Central Vietnam. My first trip to Asia, and the farthest from home I’ll have ever been in both distance and culture. Here’s to you, Fernweh! Don’t let me down.
***UPDATE SEPTEMBER 2021***
More Pictures in Mexico since The Article
Wow. The above words are valid, exceptional, and a bit of what is in the core of my soul. However, I could not have known that when I wrote this article almost three years ago, what lay ahead was far greater than any plan I had laid out before me. Since this, my first, short, inconsequential post I published on January 16th, 2019, a life I could not imagine experiencing across a lifetime has unfolded. I only was hoping to scrape a few trips to write about, hone my writing skills. Maybe put some recipes I’ve created over the years. But what happened was far more than I could have ever imagined.
***End 1st published article***
A chat with They
So, I’ve been listening to and watching a lot of Norm Macdonald work lately. You know that guy that just died. You ever heard of him. And I always thought this guy was a comedian, you know, and the most remarkable thing I remember about this guy, this Norm Macdonald, was that he was a comic. And it turns out, not only was he a comic, but he was hilarious. So, I’ve been doing that. We came off lockdown. You know that thing where you can’t go outside until they tell you you can. But, man, I’d like to meet this “They” fella.
They know it all, don’t they? When can we go to the store? When They tell us. Okay. Can we book a flight home? When They tell us. All right. Can we go to the beach, yeah? When They tell us. Man, this They person, I don’t want to assume how They identify, but this They, their, them, something else, you know. I’d like to sit down with this They, give him/her/it/them/ a piece of my mind. I’d say, “They, tell us already, you know. I want to know. Just give me a taste, a little of the truth.” And They will look at me, and I bet They’ll say, “You want some truth, here’s some truth.”
Insane stats
“Just in traveling from a destination to another,” he’ll begin. “Not going for Ice cream or to the porn shop” Wow, wow, wow,” I’ll interrupt. “How dare you imply,” you know. “Imply that I, an upstanding guy, would even consider visiting such vile institutions. I’m offended”. “It’s just hypothetical” They’ll retort. “All right there, They, take it easy,” I’ll snap. “My point is, just getting from destination to destination,” They will say calmingly. They will continue. “Not traveling to work, or to get groceries, just going from one destination to another.” “All right, I got you, continue,” I’d say to They.
“Since that first post was published, you’ve traveled roughly. I’m not omniscient” They will say, ” but, you’ve traveled approximately 116,761.4355289 miles.” “That’s a pretty specific number for approximation,” I’ll say in response. “It’s what my iPhone says,” They will answer. Then I’ll know it’s true. I’ll think, wow, that’s a lot of miles. That’s almost half the distance to the moon or circumnavigating the globe over four and a half times. That’s pretty wild. I’ll have to ask They. I’ll say, “They.” He’ll ask, “yes.” And I’ll you know, I’ll say “They, how do you figure?” “It’s simple, really,” he’ll begin as he steps into those facts thingy’s I was talking about earlier.
The Breakdown
“You’ve traveled 84,483.427 miles by plane. Your ticket history gives me that number, so it’s as accurate as can be.” They will tell me. “What about circling for an approach or avoiding weather patterns?” I’d ask. “It’s hypothetical based on the standard flight path,” They would say in mild irritation. “Okay, okay,” I’ll respond. “Just specific for a hypothetical is all I’m saying, relax They.” “It’s not that serious.” “In addition,” They will continue. “you traveled 6,876 miles by bus, car, or other road transport. 380 miles by train, about 100 nautical miles by sea, and finally”, he’d closeout. “Over 20 miles by Cable car.”
So anyway. I was making instant noodles the other night. You didn’t see that coming. And every step of the way had me filled with philosophical thoughts. A symphony of realizations, observations, and conversations. Mostly with myself. I had to get the refrigerator from our old apartment to our new apartment. Oh, yeah, I guess I didn’t mention that. We moved a few days ago. I didn’t know when we did or that we were looking. I woke up in our old apartment, started work, and went to sleep in our new apartment.
A little Dragon Diaries
Since the last Dragon Diaries, a lot has changed. First, we crushed the curve, and unfortunately, the 9,000 death mark we were working with increased to over 16,000. However, most of those came in the days around September 1st, and we’ve been on a consistent decline since. Second, we went from virtually no vaccines to every major city having well over 90 percent of their adult populations with the first shot—an unprecedented drive including Diem and me. We should get our second in October, early November at the latest. Then it will be the beginning of the beginning. Embassies are opening, and our world is headed towards pre-pandemic life. After our second shot, there will be no additional hurdles to our departure from Vietnam. We knew when the time came. It would come almost without notice. And so it has. To misquote Frank Sinatra, We should be home for Christmas.
Vaccinations
But we wouldn’t get off that lightly. When we came off lockdown, beaches opened. On that morning, the first tropical system to affect Da Nang stalled offshore and dumped rain for days. Only to later make a laboriously slow turn south and come ashore as tropical storm Conson, many miles south of Da Nang. Then, get abruptly smacked back north by the Annamite mountain range. And dump more rain on Da Nang. But then the sun emerged, and it has been just gorgeous days ever since. By this date last year, we had already been hammered by Typhoon Noul, and the beginning of a long tropical storm season was in its infancy.
But today, there are only blue skies and cotton candy sunsets. When Conson was dumping its rain, we had a few minor water issues. Our property managers lived outside the ward. So, during the lockdown, we kept an eye on the building. There were only two other units in the building occupied, and most of the apartments were left open. I’d check that refrigerators were unplugged, let the repairman in when our building’s water pump went out, that sort of thing.
Our new apartment
One of the days, Conson was giving us an absolute drenching. A light fixture was leaking in the lobby. I went to the room above the entrance and found the sliding glass door cracked open, and water was coming in. It was a fabulous apartment. Why had we not known of this place? It overlooked the garden in front of our building. It had a balcony, a massive bathroom with a separate shower, toilet area, and an extended wardrobe and sink area separating them both. A kitchen twice the size, a couch area was facing the balcony window. It was sweet. I took a video of the apartment and showed it to Diem. But I needed to get back to work.
About an hour later, I’m sitting at my computer, and suddenly Diem starts moving clothes and kitchenware out. “What are you doing” I cried out in hopeful anticipation. “We are moving,” she quickly responded. And she was not lying. The owners were so desperate to have tenants and keep the ones they had happy. They offered us the bigger room for the same price. What? Yes, please. And so, we moved in about an afternoon. We were only moving everything about 30 feet if you consider both apartment doors were less than five feet from the elevator.
You know I had to go look
The Refrigerator
So anyway, I was making Instant noodles the other night, and I thought, man, I’m getting old. And not like I’m a dinosaur or anything. Just that my refrigerator showed me what the deal was, that pesky fridge. You see, we own our fridge, just like we own our oven. So when we move, they move. Ovens are unheard of in Apartments in Vietnam. At least not in any I’ve ever stayed or lived in in Vietnam, And most apartments come with a dinky little 5-foot tall fridge that fills with groceries for one meal I might cook. So we have a nice big American fridge. And a countertop convection oven I tote around everywhere with me.
The furnished Vietnamese apartment
Almost every apartment in Vietnam typically comes furnished. Couch, chairs, tables, beds, kitchen appliances, the whole shebang. But when it comes to the kitchen, the shebang is a little lacking. Typically an induction hotplate, an electric kettle, a rice cooker, and usually a microwave. But a better microwave. It’s also an oven kind of. It has an element on top. You can go from element only, high to low microwave with element, a semi-convection mini-oven kind of thing, to just Microwave. It serves its purpose in the cuisine here. Most meat is sliced thin anyway. Chopsticks, a few bowls, and some spoons. One frying pan, a pot, and that pretty much encompass one’s needs in a Vietnamese kitchen. Bread is baked fresh daily, and baguettes can be picked up on almost any street corner from a Banh mi stall. So rice, a piece of pan-fried or poached meat, some fresh vegetables, dipping sauces, and you’ve got a typical at-home Vietnamese meal.
Our current building has an induction range, which I hate. A residential drop-in induction range is the worst investment anyone who likes to cook, or should I say, who knows how to cook, could ever make. When you are primarily making stocks and broths for soup-like noodle dishes, I get it. But pick up your pan for a toss. It shuts off. Lay any utensil with a metal handle against your saute pan, say a pair of tongs or spatula, and the handle rests on the stovetop. It may complete the circuit and start activating buttons. You have it on an excellent high heat saute, lay your utensil on the edge of the pan, grab something out of the fridge, come back, cold pan. I wouldn’t say I like it. It is my nemesis.
The Refrigerator
So anyway, I was making instant noodles the other night, and this fridge was making me feel old. You see, of all the things we moved to our new apartment, the big, robust, substantial, American sized fridge and heavy, heavy American sized fridge was the only thing that wouldn’t fit in the elevator. So I shoved what I could in the dorm fridge and waited for reinforcements the next day. Finally, my brother-in-law, Kevin, and his friend show up mid-day to help me tote this thing up a flight of stairs that looks like a damn M. C. Escher print. You know that guy. Ah, it doesn’t matter.
I love my brother-in-law, but he and his friend weigh a buck 40 combined. I got to see this. So they get the fridge to the first corner, and they get stuck. They can’t get it high enough to clear the corner rail, and they can’t get enough momentum to make progress. I got this. I take the elevator to the second floor. Our refrigerator is blocking the stairs. I have both of them just push up, and I muscle this thing, good posture, lift with the legs, and we get the fridge into the apartment. The next day I felt like I had done a full leg day at the gym for the first time. Like hard to stand up from sitting leg day workout hard. Just not bouncing back like I once did. That refrigerator put me in my place.
What’s my age again
So anyway, I was making these instant noodles, thinking about getting old, then I couldn’t remember how old I was. Do you ever get to the point that you legitimately forget your age? You know what I mean. You’ve got to start doing math, which everyone said you’d never really use in the real world. Remember that. It turns out math is essential. But I never did that math stuff too well. I mean, I know it’s in a three-year range. I’m just not 100 percent on it, you know. So I pull up my trusty age verifier. Facebook. So you pull up the old handy Facebook app on your phone. Have you got into that yet? The old Facebook.
They say that Facebook is now only used primarily by older people. I post daily. You know, for promotional purposes. As most anyone my age says to try to give the impression that they may not be in some way, old. So you pull it up to see how old you are. Then the bell has a number in it, so you check those and go off to chase another bell. Comment on a friend’s post, respond to a comment on one of your posts, log off and get back to those noodles, and you still have no damn idea how old you are. But you’ve just wished four people you’ve never met in your life a Happy Birthday with their age prompted and birthday cake emojis. At least that’s what They told me. I don’t know.
Mise en place
So I’m making these instant noodles the other night, and I’m getting my mise en place together, or as we say in the business, my mise. Which simply means everything in its place. You don’t want to start cooking and realize, “Hey!” “forgot to peel the shrimp or something stupid. So I’m getting my mise together, cutting vegetables for my noodles and such activities. The noodles are instant, but everything else isn’t. I think about my old crews from the restaurants. There are a few qualities that make great cooks, and great cooks make great chefs.
Good cooks. There’s nothing better than a good cook. But cooks, like everything else in this world, have their time, and then they expire. I’m not saying necessarily in the real world, just their time in your kitchen or your time in theirs has been a fate I’ve understood. A good Chef makes himself unneeded. Or at least that should be the goal. If you’re the type of Chef that has to be at every dinner service, is obsessed with the order guide, calls his Sous Chef at midnight to make sure he reached the seafood order before cut off. Or that the extra case of whole unpeeled tenderloins got added to the order for the last-minute private plated dinner that was booked only a couple of days in advance. That Chef will only know the kitchen, and in the end, it will devour you.
A good cook
A good cook is like a damn nuclear submarine. They never seem to stop. But when they break down, well, it’s nuclear. They are often the first candidates to rise to exec. I got my first executive Chef job in my late 20’s. Something I always thought of as an outstanding achievement. But to be a good Chef, you have to be a good cook, an excellent cook. You take more shit from your best cooks simply because they take a dump on you the least. But when it comes, it’s usually painful. A good cook never calls out sick, he never misses a shift, and if he does, he usually has it covered before he calls. Otherwise, he’s going to get a verbal onslaught of #metoo all up in his earpiece.
Chefs are the hardest on their best. If you work for a good Chef, and you screw the pooch on him, and he crawls up your ass worse than an endoscope on your last intestinal exam, then you’re going to be all right. If he ignores you and walks away, it’s because he gave you a task that wasn’t that important anyway, and you’re already on your way out, and the Chef’s just waiting for the moment when he can find a warm body to replace your sorry ass. It’s filled with disappointment when the good ones screw up because you know they are better than that.
Is guacamole that damn important
I received a call from a fine line cook and a good man one morning at about 5 am, maybe earlier. He was one of my full-time night cooks. I only had enough. He tells me he’s been up all night, and he has a problem, and he needs help. He’s been heading out after work and, more than not during dinner service, snorting copious amounts of cocaine. I thought those rushes to the bathroom between pops were due to the water pills and tea he always drank. He was always keen to make sure I knew that tea was a diuretic and had blood issues. “He can’t remember the last time ha had a good night’s sleep,” he tells me. I could feel his teeth chattering over the phone.
My selfish Chef immediately says to him, “aw, wild man, you’re just having a crazy night,” I tried to convince. “Just get some sleep, and we’ll talk about it at work tomorrow. “No,” he insists. “I need you to get my shifts covered. I’m going to rehab in California. The bus leaves in a few hours.” “My dad has set it all up. I’m going to kill myself if this doesn’t happen”. I knew then to back off. This is a side of most people you never see in the restaurant business. A cook or waiter that self-aware. Or either they are in absolute denial.
Happy hour
It’s the cook’s happy hour that gets them. Hell, it caught me up in some deep shit a few times. I remember coming to once puking on stripper’s rear end, as she’s waiving at the bouncer to come to get me and whoop my ass. All I remember was a tattoo of the word Angel arched across her back. It was one of my bachelor parties. Probably the best one. I had been in the business long enough to make good friends and some with money. They took me out fed me enough alcohol to kill a mule. If that’s even a thing, I guess it would have to be tequila. I don’t know. Anyway, this was before smartphones were common, and they just kept buying me lapdances while I was passed out next to the stage.
I would honestly take a bullet for two gentlemen today because they saved me from one that night, picked me up, one under each shoulder, and drug me out of the Masters over off of Cheshire Bridge. I remember joker, that’s what we’ll call him, grabbing every glass of water and throe=wing it in my face as we made our exit. It woke me up enough to realize I was leaving but powerless to do anything. Another cook had already pulled his truck around, and they threw me in the bed, and off we went. I remember nothing but the tossing and vomiting as he hauled ass down 75/85 with me in the back.
The code
A solid restaurant crew looks out for each other. I knew at that moment my cook, and my friend needed my help. So I talked to him to bring him down, I guess you’d say. His shifts I covered myself, and he’s a good friend today. More than ten years later. But that happy hour. At lovely kitchens across your closest city, cooks, waitstaff, managers, chefs, support staff, they’re all getting off after midnight, their happy hour, with pockets full of tips and tip-outs. The only establishments open are strip clubs, bars, and 24-hour diners. Clubs and bars often offer industry deals to pack the places after the folks that work bankers hours are long gone—offering free drinks with a check stub for a restaurant or foodservice establishment.
It’s a recipe for a lot of misdemeanors and a few felonies if you get caught, of course. Who goes straight home from an adrenaline-fueled chaotic Saturday night and goes immediately to bed. Noone, that’s who. SNL has long dropped the curtain. Marta’s shutdown, It’s a common problem in the business. Work hard play was the motto. You’d walk into the employee bathroom and have a server too stupid to lock the door, shoves it back in your face because she’s almost done cutting out her line of coke on the countertop. You stand outside and wait. You are just a line cook. She’s one of the best servers with tenure. Everyone knows. No one cares.
Champagne and beer
From connections over the years, you figured out how to live a champagne lifestyle on a beer budget, as we used to say. I worked for a restaurant group that gave their Chef’s and manager’s dining cards for many years. We had a 500 dollar a month budget, and after that, everything in any location was 50% off. And their restaurants are still some of the best in the city. So, I could go out at least four times a month and run up a 300 dollar bill per visit, the best meats, wines, and it would cost me about 350 out of pocket for the month. It was a wonderful time in my life. I learned a lot about life and living.
It was catering pre-season events at Arthur Blank’s old house when Michael Vick was still in a cast—sipping wine on Jane Fonda’s patio—getting paid to watch an Elton John concert. He used to hold an HIV fundraiser at the Tabernacle downtown. There was an old club in the basement called the Cotton Club that had a full kitchen. He was doing a soundcheck and told his manager that he could hear us below the stage in the kitchen. It was messing with his acoustics. He ordered us to stop production. He didn’t care how long after the concert to feed his most distinguished guests and donors downstairs. The building and every brick were his while he was onstage. To ease the burden of our hardship in working later, he invited the entire company to enjoy the concert from the balcony. Most of us were on overtime.
The Refrigerator
So, I was making instant noodles the other night, and I was getting my mise together. Remember that stuff we talked about. Everything is in its place. And I pulled out this Daikon. Do you know what a Daikon is? Yeah, me neither. Naw, I’m just kidding. But, of course, I know what a Daikon is. It’s just not the most usable of vegetables. How could I get by over 20 years in the restaurant business, and this guy doesn’t know what a Daikon is. It’s useless. That’s what it is. So I pulled this old Daoikon out. They were giving them away quite a bit at the produce sidewalk during the lockdown.
We were getting a 2-foot Daikon and a carrot, or a quarter of a cabbage. Maybe a potato or two. And so it was in this last lockdown. It got tight. It was sometimes a struggle on many levels. Especially after They, there They are again, extended it twice, but supplies in the city had already dwindled. About the only thing that seemed never to run out was booze. But, other than a few beers, we kept the hard stuff out of our apartment. It was for the best.
The Daikon
The Daikon is not the veritable cornucopia of coolness when it comes to the variety of its uses. Pickled and fermented are about the most significant I can think of. The pickled is easy enough. But the fermented ain’t nobody got time for that. Cooking it, you might as well eat crispy water. Like a water chestnut. Flavorless yet crispy. A lovely texture, but it just doesn’t add much to a dish. Anyway, I pulled what was left of the Daikon out of the fridge to salvage the center. Cut it away from the barren wasteland of its now spongey shell. Try to use it up in whatever I was making. What was I making again? Huh. Anyway, it was hopeless. So in the trash, it went. Shameful. Just Shameful.
The professional kitchen has become my Daikon. Sure, I’ll take it on a banh mi with some pickled veg or a bowl of bun. I’m just not that interested in it anymore. I love to cook. I think that’s no secret. But I do it because it’s something bigger than all of us. And most of us don’t appreciate the unique importance of cooking is to us and our civilization. It permeates us, binds us, nourishes us, diversifies us, defines us, and even divides us. Food preparation is or has been done by no other creature we have ever known to exist. Accept our ancestors and countless bipedal humanoid cousin branches we’ve had since long before our species birth.
Food Philosophy
To say it sets us apart is an understatement. Millennia of experimentation, courage, necessity, innovation, cooperation, and vision had taken us from the very brutality of life to a species that create fleeting works of art whose sole purpose is to satisfy and satiate us, on a level that is inconceivable when looked at from the outside inward. I am most fascinated that though we manipulate, cook, farm, process, create our foods in an endless array of ways across the planet. Yet, we are not the only herders and farmers here.
There’s fish that farms specific species of algae. The Damselfish is the only fish to farm. It prefers such a particular type is known for its easiness to be overrun by other algae species o it only grows where Damselfish live—ants herd aphids and fungi. Most giant termite mounds are highly organized, climate-controlled, and incredibly complicated fungus farms. Crabs keep an endless supply of food on their claws by growing a specific bacteria they carry constantly. It needs methane to grow, so the crabs take it and wave their feet over deep water vents to feed their food supply—even snails farm.
Beyond farming
So what I’m saying is that we are as simple as snails. But, as innovative as Pâté en Croûte, limitless ice cream, dishes developed across the ages, brought to your home for a few bucks. Within 30 minutes after you decided to get it. Food drives everything. It pushes the envelope before anything. What made the Romans wealthy, olive oil, grapes, wine, and the silk road. Same in China and the middle east. The middle east was middlemen. China supplied silk and spices. Rome, high-quality glass, and luxury items. Everything went on this way from the second century BCE to the fall of Constantinople on May 29th, 1453.
The rise of the Ottoman Empire, and their mighty bronze cannons, ended the walled city. In the Aftermath, the Ottomans, under the rule of Mehmed the Conquerer, would fall upon Greece, Anatolia and Shut Europe from the goods of the silk road. Along with it, its wealth. Thirty-nine years later, Columbus sailed west looking for the spice islands. They missed their spices. The new world, the East India Company, the opium wars, the Boston tea party, no bread in Paris, the world goes insane over food. Revolution, war, death, and destruction all in the name of consistent banana supplies.
There’s something more
But then again, it can also do other things. The way food connects all of us is beyond understanding. Even if they don’t know each other, humans will instinctively feed and care for an injured human being. It brings families together, states, countries. The British have their fish and chips, India, its curries, Thailand, Phad Thai, the French, well they think they have the only thing. The greatest thing you can have someone do with you is, break bread. The only thing a plate of nutritious warm food does to the person you give it to makes them a friend.
Food brings humans together on a level that transcends the physical restrictions and lets in what’s possible. What did Jesus do in the end? He had his last supper. Buddha’s disciples were tending to him with food and drink as he reached parinirvana. The infamous Gregori Rasputin’s poisoned Honey cakes and wine. Is it any coincidence that Socrates met his fate through a poisoned glass, or my personal favorite? The liver, bacon chops, sautéed kidneys in sherry, shirred eggs with cream, and garlic toast with roast tomatoes Napoleon Bonaparte enjoyed on his island oasis after destroying and reshaping the very future of Europe and the world. Food is something else.
I miss it sometimes
Food is something else. Everything on this planet needs something to eat. We take the time to craft it. Cook it, prepare it, hoping that it will be enjoyable because chefs do what they do. There is no better feeling than filling a hungry group of people and making them happy. The expectations are high. Increasing stress levels until the world slows down, and you’ve got six fish on the flat top, two on pickup, a medium steak with one on 35. The pomme frites are coming out of the oil. Where is my salad from the back kitchen for 35? Great, the food runner just hit the expo line with it. A quick wipe, some sauce work, a two-second inspection, and the table is out. The ticket machine is nonstop noise. Onto the following table, please, and now.
Yes, I miss it sometimes. But I was tired. It strained relationships, exhausted me, made me weary, and eventually, I was just broken. I can say I’ve never been happier. The world I’m living in, I can cook whatever I want. And that’s what I loved about being a chef. I learned to cook a lot of things and am still learning. I love that I was a Chef for twenty years and dreamed of being out there. Now I’m out there like a modern-day Indiana Jones. With a career of experience and the ability to interpret so much. I understand far more I see than I otherwise would without a lifetime in kitchens. I see it on a fundamental level. It’s just crazy. Could some part be better? Hell yeah. We all have situations we wish we could change. I miss my children.
The importance of shrimp
Shrimp is just one of those things. Those noodles we are working on, the instant ones. Remember those? I’m using some fresh shrimp for my protein. I begin to peel them, and I remember the countless hours of peeling shrimp. It’s usually the line cook or prep cook. But everyone gets their chance when you’re running out on a Saturday night, and you have a few blocks. Shrimp comes commercially, typically in 5-pound blocks of solid ice. But the shrimp thaw fast under running water, and you get them cleaned and peeled as far as possible.
The markets and fishing boats are back out to sea now, and fresh seafood is flooding the markets again. The shrimp I’m peeling now are so fresh the shell hasn’t even begun to release from the meat. Freezing typically loosens the shell by making the flesh swell slightly. These shells might as well have been glued to the flesh. I caught myself a few times on the sharp heads and pointy tails. I was reminded how I wasn’t fond of peeling shrimp. A jab with a sharp piece of shrimp exoskeleton is the worst. It typically takes the longest to heal of minor kitchen scrapes, cuts, and pokes. It’s the ocean bacteria all over the dead shrimp that get you. It will cause a minor infection every time.
Vietnamese Instant noodles
Not the same type of Ramen and soup packets sold in the states. The noodles in Vietnam can come either from rice or wheat. But the grain is alkalized in the preparation. It gives a more durable noodle. You can make stir fry’s with it, soup, anything. And it holds its firm al dente texture. I continually scour the pantry for half-used packets. I find quite a few. Diem and the girls won’t even eat half a pack, and they are smaller than ramen packets in the states. So we collect the seasoning oils and packets. They sometimes have up to 4 packets in them. Oil, meat, seasoning, vegetables, they can get quite complicated here.
So I gathered all the partial packets and par-cooked them for a couple of minutes to soften. I’m looking for almost a chow mein texture, though not flavor. I giggle and think about life. All these half-used packets. I love it. I love everything. Truly blessed beyond belief. I gather my sauce ingredients, some Vietnamese funky shrimp Xo sauce, sambal, a little sesame oil, chili soy, a dash of msg. Yes, it’s indispensable. Ask Uncle Roger. Seriously YouTube Uncle Roger. I still get a little choked up when I think about Diem talking about helping in the fields as a kid, and a 25 cent pack of instant noodles was a luxury.
Peter Pan Dreams
I know Diem struggles with her self-image sometimes. She has this belief that she is insignificant. But, this is personal, and our life is laid to bear here. She is a divorced woman with children in a country that frowns upon it. I’ve spoken before, fault or not, a divorced woman in Vietnam typically doesn’t fit in a comfortable space in society. Yet, I feel that I’m the lucky one. She asked me once why should she be loved? She’s just a simple country girl from rural Vietnam. I told her because, to me, that is the coolest thing in the world.
I’ve been having these what I call Peter Pan dreams. You know, most people hate it when the Alarm rings and the day starts. Stress, work, struggle, and the Monday blues. I have the opposite. Have you ever seen the movie Hook with Robin Williams? A grown-up Peter played by Robin Williams, Captain Hook captures children. And he must return to his past to save his present. At the end of the movie, He wakes up in the snow, and he sits up frantically and breaths in a deeply relieving breath as he realizes he’s in the here and now.
Escaping the dream
I have these dreams where I’m in my past, with a former partner, or at a specific time. I become aware of the absence of Diem and the girls. I’m always convinced in the dreams that this is the best way, that they are gone. But I can’t remember the trauma that is an international flight from Southeast Asia to Atlanta. I’m convinced I did indeed take the journey. I grow deeply saddened. Things don’t seem to add up. Then suddenly, at some point, I can wake, and I sit up quickly in bed, spinning my head from right to left. I gasp in a deep breath. I realize I’m in Vietnam. Everything is okay. I’m home. She is right there.
“You ever be having a really good dream, and then, uh- right in the middle of the dream you wake up, right in the best part of the dream? And there you are, back in your stinkin’ life again? Man, that’s rough, eh?”
– Norm Macdonald
It’s great to be out again
Water
I need water to cook those noodles. Water is a funny thing in Vietnam. There is conflicting evidence on whether it is safe to drink. I have never seen anyone in my wife’s family drink water from the tap, so I don’t either. Every apartment and home in Vietnam has a water tower. I wouldn’t call it a water cooler, just a tower that holds glasses on the bottom and a five-gallon equivalent water bottle on top. Hot water isn’t always a standard accommodation in kitchens. The apartment we just moved into is the first to have hot water in the kitchen in over two years. Bathrooms have hot water, but it’s not always consistent.
Water is pumped onto the roofs of every house and building in Vietnam and stored in large stainless tanks. Water heating is typically done in giant solar heaters on the roofs as well. On overcast cooler days in the wet season, the water might not get hot at all, and in the summer, you rarely have cold water. I always keep the electric kettle next to the sink with hot water to clean dishes. But 90 percent of the time, the cooler water is appreciated. Take a shower late and early. Take a shower at two o’clock in the summer. It will only be hot.
Vegetables
So I’m making these instant noodles right. And I got to add vegetables, of course. I mean, vegetables go with noodles, right. I did get that test right in the ol’ Culinary School. So I’m cutting and blanching my vegetables. I got the carrots, you know. Do you know those things? Carrots? So I got the carrots, some broccoli, chili, cabbage, and I’m cutting this cabbage. I’m thinking about this thing I remember reading. Did you know that you can grow it yourself? Yeah, I know, right.
Most people think you buy it at the grocery store. But, you see, that is a lie. What really happens is a momma plant, and a daddy plant has sex somehow. I don’t know-how. I’m not an ophthalmologist. But whatever it is they do, they produce a seed together. You plant that seed, I think it’s called gardening, or maybe even farming, or some nonsense like that.
The big lie
So, you plant a seed, right? Hang in there. It’s almost over. That seed then grows, and it makes a bunch of vegetables to eat. Can you believe that? Here we are going to the store and paying for it. And this mini tree broccoli thing. Suppose to be nutrient-dense. You ever heard this term. It means that it is high in fiber and nutrients but low in calories. The crazier thing I was reading is that at one point, it was considered the scientific understanding of the day that a pound of anything had complete equal nutritional value.
Say one pound of ox stomach has the nutritional value of one pound of tree bark. You can quickly understand how famine and disease were so often surprising and not at all expected. Even more surprisingly, it wasn’t until Captain James Cook’s circumnavigation in 1768 that diet was linked to scurvy. However, it was many years later before vitamin C became known as the real preventer. What the hell was I talking about?
The Noodles
I know what you must be thinking, finally. With vegetables blanched, shrimp peeled, the sauce made, and noodles ready, It was time to cook the quick dish—a hot pan, oil, onions when the pan is hot. Then the shrimp, when the shrimp still contain some blue in goes the vegetables, high heat. Toss to heat the blanched vegetables and get a little quick caramelization, sauce desired seasoning noodles, toss, and plate: fresh cilantro and spring onion to garnish.
I sit with my delicious instant noodles, and I watch some Norm Macdonald videos on YouTube. One of my favorite comedians of all time. Top 5. Misunderstood, perfect delivery, and comedic timing. He was just a laugh to watch. I think about my mortality. I’m closer to the age Norm was than I am to 25. That’s always a difficult concept to have in a world of loss. When you stop talking about someone in the now, but now only in the past. The inspiring, the muses, the great people of the world that we cherish. When their stat book has an end, and everything they were, are, ever could be, is always and forever was.
To live forever
So, I sit here and watch Norm Macdonald. It is forever frozen in the past. Everything that is him is now relegated to the realms of history. So to will we all someday. For death is the only thing we can know. We will be here one day and gone another. It’s what you do with that time that is the only thing that counts. Alexander knew it, Caeser knew it, Da Vinci knew it. The key to immortality lies not in what you’ve accomplished but in that it is never forgotten. I guess that’s what I’m doing now and will probably continue until my death.
I have no intention of stopping the adventure, and with the ability to preserve it in writing, who knows. Instead, I may be compiling a natural narrative of life on this planet, at this specific time, in this little part of the universe. It’s not that history is lost frequently. It’s that there was no one there to record it. Maybe one day I’ll join the ranks of Herodotus, Confucius, Tacitus, Cato the Elder, Morco Polo, Anthony Bourdain, people whose journeys and writings preserved life in their time.
Going home
Whether it feels as such or not, the end of the pandemic is near. It won’t be long, and we will be going to the US for a while. It will be close to two years since I’ve been there, and not much in the last three. This is because so much has changed since I was last there. I often quote my favorite author, so bear with me, but he has a great quote about going home after a long time away. And he speaks explicitly to being in a different country away from home.
“There are three things you can’t do in life. You can’t beat the phone company. You can’t make a waiter see you until he is ready to see you, and you can’t go home again.”
– Bill Bryson, Excerpt from “I’m a Stranger here too.”
A different world
The next chapter of the Constant Epicurean will be the girl’s journey to a strange foreign land. For me, it will be a strange new world in many ways also. There was no Pandemic the last time I was in the US. The last great pandemic when I left the last time was the Spanish flu. I hear from many how much life has changed in America in the previous two years. I knew it was coming when I left. China had already announced it. Wuhan was on lockdown, and I was heading to a border country. It was part of the journey. A role that was ordered by providence to unfold.
So in many ways, the questions they have about the things they may see in the US. I have no idea what daily life is like in America anymore. There was barely food delivery, no partitions between you and the cashier, and many things that will be an adjustment for me. And that I’ve gotten so used to life here that the surprise of not going back to the land I left behind will be even more of a shock to the system. So we will experience new things together and be their host to all the wonders and exciting things that the US offers.
Home looms eternal
The three year dream
I remember the first time I held Diem’s hand. In the back of a taxi running across Da Nang. She was wearing a baby blue, pink leather jacket over a yellow flower print summer dress. Whether she knows it or not, I have dreamed of just getting on the airplane and going to the US together from that moment. For me, a homecoming. For her and the girls, the beginning of a story without an ending. Their first time on a major US interstate. The long expansive US highway system can get you across the breadth of Asia in a quarter of the time. The wide-open spaces, the architecture, the way the roads are paved, the traffic signs, the grocery store, how you buy food, and gas, everything will be different to them.
We are on the precipice of returning to the land of my birth. It is coming sooner than later. The adventure will continue. Exploring American life through the eyes of children for the first time. Anf through Diem’s. The entire world knows of American life—the best of everything. But to experience it in person for the first time in your 30’s. Only hearing rumors, truths, and lies, seeing movies and television where everyone is polished. And then to walk down the streets and roads where global cinema is shot and produced. It is going to be unbelievable. I am sure I will be in tears by Doha when we are all finally airborne, visas in hand. It just seemed like a pipe dream a few years ago. Now, the hour is near. But don’t worry, Da Nang, we won’t be gone forever.
What I’ll miss the most
Another adventure is on the horizon, but not mine. Though the journey is never-ending, my experience must pause for a while. Instead, focus on the girl’s adventures, which will be part of my journey also. But there are going to be many things that I am going to miss. Somethings that quite frankly have spoiled me. I am going to miss life on two wheels. I’ve gotten as comfortable on a motorcycle as in a car. They’re more fun. I’m going to miss the fruit growing everywhere, having my face shaved, someone pumping my gas, opening doors. I don’t mean that negatively. I’m not special. Everyone gets the treatment. It’s just life here.
I’m going to miss the Lady Buddha always watching over Da Nang. Son Tra mountain, the bay, the train, the essence of everything here. What living in Vietnam has done for me is indescribable. I’ve gone months without discussing with a fluent English speaker. It sounds isolating, but it’s liberating. Humans share a unique bond. I’m going to miss the people: family and friends. I know I’ve said this many times, the picture changes, but the canvas remains the same. The only things you need to communicate across language are hands and food. Under it all, we are all the same. We desire to be loved, love, eat, learn, be fulfilled, engage in something meaningful. We are all human—the human experience.
I Hate Residential Induction ranges
Did I tell you the story of how much I hate residential induction ranges? Well, I do—those nasty things. So when we in on shut-in, we shut the A/C off, which isn’t an easy decision for a big ol’ American. But I embraced it. I cooked shirtless, took quick rinses in the cool shower to combat the heat, set up the front of the building open to get a breeze through, did everything we could to combat the coming electricity bill from being inside for two weeks solid, and most of the last two months. We haven’t exactly been going out much with the social distancing orders, either. And last month we had a substantial increase. So what in the hell does this have to do with residential induction ranges anyway.
So we get our electricity bill 3 weeks in the old apartment, one week in the new. It’s the same as our rent bill. I’ve been sweating over the stove for weeks. Anyone sees my Facebook. I spent shut-in cooking away. I have the landlord bring out an electrician and everything. Check circuits. I need answers. The induction range has a touch interface. We’ve discussed the annoyance of that. It’s a computer. A computer that pulls a ton of Amps. I went through the apartment with the electrician and checked the load on every socket and appliance. It was that damn induction range. I shut the circuit on it. Screw that. We are back open. We can order fresh food for half the price anyway, have it delivered, pick it up, but not have to cook. And I’m going to get my fill of authentic Vietnamese before I get out of here. Our trip back isn’t scheduled yet. I hate residential induction ranges. There is your answer to everyone who always says, “you have to hate something.” I always say no. But, there’s the truth.
The last thing
I think the main thing I’m going to miss besides family is the food. Never have I lived a life filled with food ranging from exotic to delicate, every day to the extraordinary. Often only a few steps out your front door. So grab some street snacks and throw a blanket on the beach. Da Nang, in its essence, is a foodies beach town. So much variety it is an overload at times. The food is incredibly fresh, using everything the sea offers, light, spicy, delicate, pungent, malodorous, and fragrantly intoxicating all at once, and one by one.
I’ve been around Durian so much that the smell has become alluring. Every time I open the door to a grocery store that has just portioned some for the product display, it is unmistakable—often permeating to a few feet from the doors. I’m going to miss the transport trips across slow country roads, the underlying community here. Vietnamese do not say no, and will not take no for an answer even if they have no intention of doing either. No one expects the other to hold the commitment. So, if a Vietnamese asks you to their house for a gathering, say you are coming whether you are or not. Of course, you can always cancel and have no hard feelings. But if you do go, take fresh fruit. Seriously, if you listen to nothing I have ever said, never go to a Vietnamese home without a gift of fresh fruit.
A farewell to Norm
I tried to be Norm funny in this post at times. Not sure it translates well to the written form. But he was the best. Norm Macdonald closed out David Letterman’s career by being the last comic to perform on Letterman’s last show. The same show Norm Macdonald got his break on 25 years earlier. Already sick and looking internally at his mortality. Norm broke character. Explaining in an interview with Howard Stern a few years later, he let go of the fallacy of comedy, the fact that it’s false by nature, and gave a heartwarming farewell to David Letterman as not only his last comic but also the last guest to ever appear on a David Letterman late-night television show.
Oh, I almost forgot. Here are my instant noodles.
Click here for the second article I ever posted and go through the entire journey.
