I spent the weekend visiting a friend in Boston and as usual I just
had to do the foodie thing.

From boston

I didn’t have much time to really make the rounds but I did get to
taste some pretty fun and exciting food.

While Boston has a lot of history, there is definitely a sense of youth
in the atmosphere and especially the food. We headed over to
Quincy market to grab some authentic Chowder. To be honest the
market was a bit of a let down although the chowder was pretty tasty.

We then headed to Mike’s Pastry to try some of the famous cannoli
which were some of the best I’ve ever tried. The Florentines were
pretty awesome as well.

The real star of the trip was a little bagel shop called bagel rising.
The Tequila sunrise was intense. It’s an egg sandwich with cheese,
tomato, onion and jalapeno cream cheese. Two weeks later and
I’m still craving it. Awesome concept.

Great trip and great to hang out with an old friend. Thanks Hen.

From boston

From boston

From boston

From boston

From boston

Excuse me for being so sporadic.

For dad’s birthday I had just one request; duck.

The menu, per se:

Duck Roasted with nepitella.
Parsnips and shallots chilling in the roast fat.
Leeks braised with duck stock, juniper, anise hyssop, and garlic
Barley risotto with chanterelles.
Creamed spinach, creamed with parsnip puree.
Roasted baby hubbard and carnival squash.
Grilled pizza dough with chanterelles and zaatar.
plenty of beer….

From dads nth birthday

From dads nth birthday

From dads nth birthday

From dads nth birthday

From dads nth birthday

From dads nth birthday

From dads nth birthday

From dads nth birthday

My favorite holiday

From Halloween

“sigh”

I’ve had a lot of time to think recently. It been predominantly my only
action with any importance lately. Since this is a food blog, I’ll keep
it at a reasonable scope. This is not meant to be concise. I
am purposefully blurting in order to give you a more realistic
understanding of why food is so integral to me.

Food. What does it mean to me. I’ll start at the beginning.

The way I see life there is no landmark more important than food
Every major mile marker of my existence is clearly marked by
a well defined and clearly significant food memory. The first
ice cold milkshake I had as an immigrant 5 year old boy was
more than just a delightful indulgence. Those were actually
the first words in English that I learned to say. “Milkshake”

I grew up with food as a background. My first memories of
after school homework took place on top of milk crate, with
the smell of a well fed exhaust fan permeating my clothes.

The smell of pizza was my home.

In essence I new that food was not just sustenance but a
provider sustenance for all the other aspects of my life.

I loved the smell of rising dough. The oil from the risers
sometimes clung to my fingers and left marks on my notebooks.

My fathers baked ziti was almost masterful. His sauce was
pink and creamy. The cheese brown and flavorful. The
feeling was warm, inviting, and heartwarming.

Tea with milk before school? No please I’ve had enough

Maple Syrup is the most incredible thing in the world. Try Bliss,

My first creative memory is adding a slice of lemon to a request
of water at my third year.

Deli scraps stuck to my shoes for what seems life forever. The
dog seems to like them, but I am repulsed. It’s a mix of turkey,
bleach, old rubber and fryer grease.

My first cold beer. Amazing. Something so liquid and
basic could be so mind altering. Liquid courage? No
I think that cold beer at a young age was a liberator.

Mom’s soup dutifully simmering eternally on the stove.
She used a bullion cube, but I was oblivious. It was warm,
easy, and steamy. I hated it but now its home. I love you
for that mom.

French bread pizza was an addiction in middle school. It wasn’t
always feasible, but when it was within my means, all was well.

Taco Bell was my first real experience in fast food culture. I was
with my friend, his parents, and nachos supreme. I will never forget.

I bought chocolates for my crush as a kid. I didn’t have the courage
to give them to her so they melted under my bed for a month until
I hid them in my trash can out of humiliation.

Tom Yung Gai signaled the beginning of my first true love, and
cheap calzones with olives capitalized it. Blue Powerade made
it real.

Mashed potatoes and tarragon gave be a taste of adventure
with a with an equal. Falafel made it eternal.

Wine gave me a sense of the world.

Tomatoes are a passion.

Right now I’m here. With a belly full of peaches and
Vinho Verde thinking where these thoughts came from.
They are real and incomplete but for now they are
all I have and I thank the world for giving them to me.

So maybe you see why food is not a choice for me. Food
Is my culture, passion, existence and identity.

At Whole Foods today I noticed that they had some
locally grown tomatoes. It must be some kind of initiative
that they have in which everything that is grown
reasonably close is labeled as local. The tomatoes
that they had were a mix of slicers, plum and ox heart.

From june 7 09

It’s much too early to see tomatoes, especially around
here. I just planted my tomatoes 3 weeks ago. These must
be started in a greenhouse to get a head start.

From june 7 09

After tasting a couple of them I came to the conclusion that
there is no comparison between these and completely
in season tomatoes. The flavors are subdued and the
sunshine that is evident on a warm fresh picked august
tomato just isn’t there.

From june 7 09

I “enhanced” them with a bit of smoked salt, pepper, Chilean
Asapa olive oil, white balsamic strawberries and a mix of herbs
from the previous post.

From june 7 09