donger need food.

Tinto Campesino

Coffee, brown sugar, cinnamon... Oh how I wish Juan Valdez will open a shop in California.

posted by VirtualErn @ 3:19 PM 0 comments

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Half Life

In about a month I turn 36. When I was about one half that age, in the summer of ‘89, my wonderfully generous parents sent me on a 4 week summer vacation to New York City as a high school graduation gift. It was an amazingly eye-opening experience, giving me my first taste of life outside of home, sparking the fire that burns within me today…that restless need for roaming beyond the confines of a simple boring life at home, a quest to experience the great unknown.

And so to start off this year of the Boar (completing the end of another 12 year cycle), I find myself sitting in United’s “Economy Plus” section, speeding toward the Atlantic seaboard. If I look hard enough at my faint reflection in the window of seat 17F, I can still barely see that young, excited (and sheltered) punk kid wearing his trusty Avia tennis shoes, Minolta Maxxum 7000 in hand, nervously eager to face the big city (and his cousins from the east). But this time, it’s an old and graying punk kid wearing his beat-up K-Swiss, a Nikon D70 in his hand, and a diamond solitaire set in a 2.5mm comfort band stowed in his backpack.

Eighteen years sure is a lot of time. The city is cleaner, my hair is a whole heckuva lot thinner, and I’m about 70 pounds (no wait, make that 75 pounds now) heavier. Armed with Google Maps, 2 guide books, and a salary from a project management job, the trip takes on a different form where I formulate a game plan for each valuable PTO day, like every hour was lined with gold. Compare that to a 4 week vacation fresh out of high school with only a handful of cash? Well…let’s just say my priorities were quite different – rest and relaxation, with no real need (nor desire) to see anything, just “hang out”. I was quite content with laying awake on those hot summer nights in that brownstone in Queens soaking in the sounds of a city so alive.

This short four day (oh wait, make that four & a half day) trip to the Big Apple was off to an incredibly wonderful start, with my beautiful traveling companion passing a major test…roaming the icy frigid cold streets of New York in search of Soup Kitchen International, only to find that he has now branched out, with a location just down the street from our original starting point at the Mariott East Side hotel. Despite the grumbling bellies, despite the endless dead ends and vague instructions scribbled on a piece of paper on the old location, she forgave all upon tasting the amazing soup (it really is pretty darned good)


The night was topped off with the soaring voices of the Soweto Gospel Choir uplifting my soul (and I’m sure hers). It was an incredible night of celebration, an awesome display of vocal and musical talent. Words do no justice to describe the emotion I experienced witnessing a group so committed to the performance. I remember a while back, someone saying, “Leave it all onstage”. I now know what that means.


The cold blast of a 24 degree ambient temperature (Yahoo Weather said: “feels like: 6 degrees”) was not enough to deter us from a late night feasting on Whitecastle burgers. Thank God for thermal underwear.


Thinking back to that sweltering heat in the summer of ’89, I often wonder if I could tolerate life back east. As a foolish child, I couldn’t wait to get back to the moderate climate of sunny San Diego. I remember walking through the annals of Union Station, being flabbergasted at the sight of grown men in full business suits, strolling through the underground oven (it literally felt like an oven in there) while I was sweating bucketloads in my T-shirt and shorts. And after experiencing twenty degree weather, I’m inclined to say that…well… weather alone does not a life-changing decision make.


The entire trip so far was working like clockwork, with nary a hitch (except for the mistakenly cancelled dinner reservations at One If By Land, Two If By Sea that I quickly remedied before boarding the plane – phew…near-disaster averted). The Gray’s Papaya Recession Special lived up to expectations, bursting in flavor with a nice “snap”: fabulous. The Lion King ended as planned, with us out on 46th street about 15 minutes before 5, leaving us plenty of time to hustle to Rockefeller for a view of the city before dinner in Greenwich Village. And an incredibly beautiful view it was, with unbelievably lucky weather (visibility out to about 90 miles)…the Empire State Building highlighted by the sun setting off to the west and all of Manhattan sprawled 70 stories below us. Not that I noticed much, really, being in my nervous-wreck state of mind, until after she said the word I hoped she would: “Yes”.


We were such an (emotional) mess that I completely lost track of time and ended up being 15 minutes late for our reservations. But our table was ready, and our celebratory dinner was wonderful (the Beef Wellington was excellent!). It’s still debatable whether the romantic ambiance of a candlelit dinner in an old carriage house was worth the (in my opinion) overpriced Prix Fixe menu, but she enjoyed the night – and that’s all that mattered.

Although Saturday was definitely the highlight of this short little getaway, Sunday wasn’t too far off, starting with lunch at Katz’s deli. The corned beef was excellent, I just really wished they grilled my Reuben. I would have loved to try the pastrami but in the bewilderment upon entering the place, I wasn’t thinking right and we both ordered the Reuben. (The place is bustling with people, multiple counters, and a strange payment system – all that we soon figured out, thankfully) Definitely go for the experience, it’s quite fascinating. The nice touch: the “cutters” give you a taste of the meat while they make your sandwich.


We spent the afternoon taking a nice stroll in Central Park. And how great is this – a large park in the middle of the city that never sleeps, with all the hustle & bustle fading away in the background, just the clunking sound of your heavy boot-laden footsteps on the concrete path below.


The dinner at Saigon Grill was fantastic, wonderfully fresh ingredients prepared just the way I like it. The company was even better – a reunion of sorts: my cousins older, wiser, but still the same good times that I remember fondly…only now with kids. Leaving the restaurant that night we were treated by a delightful snowfall. I wish the night didn’t have to end.


And so it didn’t…cooped up in the hotel, we were restless (and I wanted redemption for the bad pizza choice I made earlier on Friday) So off we ventured in the wee hours of the morning, in the freezing cold of sleet & snow in search of a good slice of pizza. Half an hour of stumbling around on the snow covered streets, in midtown Manhattan, I had a bout of inspiration and directed us toward the bright lights of Times Square, where we came across an older gentleman carrying a small white pizza box. Score! It must be great to be single in the city that never sleeps…


Our last full day in Manhattan had us (what else?) eating more food. Based on recommendations from my cousin, we opted to cancel the lunchtime reservations at Peter Luger’s steak house (in Brooklyn) for a dinner at Old Homestead steakhouse. For lunch we instead dropped by The Burger Joint in the posh Le Meridien hotel: fantastic. (LaraG, thanks for the recommendation!!) Hidden in the swanky marble-floored, high-ceilinged lobby was this brick & wood paneled back room of a dive. It’s amazing how the wonderful smell of juicy burgers grilling on an open flame fails to make it out into the stuffy and pretentious lobby.


Dinner at Old Homestead was, well, fantastic. Because I’ve been plagued by a string of disappointments, I recently made a switch back to ribeye from my favored NY Strip. Definitely a mistake this time – Shirley’s NY strip was magnificent. Although my 36oz bone-in ribeye was no slouch in the flavor department, the strip was sweeter, and definitely a better steak. I’ll have to come back for the Japanese Kobe (the real thing, imported from Japan!) but at $195 for 10 ounces, definitely something to savor on a most special of special occasions.


And so, 18 years later, my focus has degenerated from ambitious endeavors of photography, music and expensive stereo equipment to the most basic of needs: food. Whereas my last visit had me filled with angst and anticipation for the upcoming college years, this visit to New York again finds me looking forward with nervous excitement to the next chapter of life. But this time, I won’t be alone.

posted by VirtualErn @ 11:32 PM 5 comments

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How Not To Grow Old

The other day, on my way northbound on the 101 after a late night at the office, I realized that my refrigerator was running low on the essentials. So I decided to take a detour and restock at the local Albertson's. It was oh, around 10PM. The strip mall parking lot was pretty much deserted, with a few cars scattered throughout dimly lit by the few overhead lights that were working. I pulled into a lonely spot several spaces away from the entrance, for the (false?) sense of security provided by the lampost above. Stepping out into the crisp night air, I cinch my trusty wool jacket tight (I really need a new jacket) and start the stroll toward the entrance. It's a clear night up above. Up ahead near the entrance I noticed an elderly man just finishing up the loading of his groceries into the trunk of his silver Cadillac coupe parked in the handicapped spot just next to the entrance. "It sure is a nice evening", I thought. The moon was bright up above, and I was still reeling from the excitement of completing that massive 12 hour timing belt job over the weekend. I was excited for the upcoming time off from work and the prospect of competing in an autocross soon.

As I walked closer to the entrance, I started to hear a strange sound...like the sound of a garden hose left running, dribbling a stream of water onto the pavement below. I look to my right, and noticed what appeared to be water splashing on the asphalt near that old guy's open driver door. It took a few seconds for it to click in, but this guy was taking a piss! He was hiding behind his open driver side door and urinating. Pissing. Draining the weasel. Shaking the dew off his lilly.

Sadly, my first instinct was to whip out my pocket camera and start shooting (what is wrong with me!). But instead, I decided to not make a big fuss and move along. He could have a medical problem that precludes him from controlling bodily functions. He could be in the early phases of senility. Whatever the case, it's not something that would've been helped by me screaming out, "Hey! This guy's taking a leak out here!"

So I continued into the store and looked for my turkey, swiss, 12-grain Orowheat, baby spinach, Lactaid, and alfalfa sprouts. And hoped & prayed that I never have to find myself in a situation where I was forced to urinate outside my car in the handicapped space in an Albertson's parking lot.

I really hope the fact that I walked the office that day after forgetting to zip up my pants isn't a precursor of more things to come.

Isn't there some magical pill I can take?

posted by VirtualErn @ 10:10 AM 3 comments

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