And now...

...Umbrella Samurai.

Expect the unexpected

Expectations., at one point or another we all have them, be it “high” ones or “low” ones. Going on blind date? Promotion you’ve been slaving for? Your taste buds waiting for the special of the day. Recently, my expectations went for a roller coaster ride.

It was rainy day July, one of those, ”I wish I brought an extra pair of socks”, kind of days, I was swiveling in my desk chair timing the rain drops to the second hand of my office clock. I had seventeen minutes to go before I could make a break for it. While working here in the land that originated from five drops of water from the tip of a Katana (刀), I have had the uncomfortable pleasure of witnessing sales people coming in droves into the teachers room to solicit their wears. So when a Prudential salesmen came in hocking insurance, it was just a regular day at the office.

Usually one look at my wide brown eyes and a glimpse at my café latte skin is enough for them to ignore and move on. Yet, this guy sat next to me, gave me his card and started chatting.

“Japanese, ok?”
“”
“Where are you from?”
“I am from Puerto Rico.”
“I like hockey”.

Now, normally Puerto Rico is associated with baseball or for that matter basketball, but never hockey. Although my uncle had taken me to a couple of New Jersey Devil’s hockey games during my brief stints in NJ as a kid, I didn’t start playing hockey until I was fifteen and in the continental US to stay. But there was no way of him knowing that, making the question even more peculiar. I told him that I was a huge fan and I loved hockey with a passion. He told me he was a goalie and invited me to play on his team. I was on cloud nine. Haven't not played in years, I was starved for hockey and pleasantly surprised to find such a league in Japan.

A couple of weeks later I show up to my first practice with in-line skates over my shoulder and graphite stick in hand. Everyone else was in quad roller skates and totting sticks that look more like field hockey lumber rather than something that could hit a 90mph slap shot. My heart sank. On top of that, I was asked to use a borrowed pair of quads rather than my shiny new, begging to shred Tours I had brought with me. I had never roller skated in my life. My instincts would tell me to cross over, C-cut, back skates, turn on a dime, but my skates felt glued to the floor. After 30 minutes, I had enough, and sat dejected. One of the league supervisors approached me after practice and told me next time I could use my in-lines, as long as I made an effort to learn to use quads in the future. I was a bit relieved, but that was just the first step in the process.

The next few practices were a series of hard lessons, for me and others who were opposing me, on the rule differences between Hardball/Roller Hockey and In-line/Ice hockey. Hitting and contact is not allowed, so imagine the shock and horror in others faces when I threw a couple of hip checks and shoulder charges. Phrases like, "Luis, no!", and "Foul!!!", were things I got used to hearing on a regular basis. No kicking of the puck, so any of my "soccer passes" or fancy stick/skate trickery was quickly whistled down. Now, although pressure is not illegal, the Japanese take a very technical and fundamental approach to the game. Either team watches the other make their passes and waits for a mistake happen before they take possession of the puck. Also, fore-checking is virtually non-existent. Then I show up skating and chasing every play my stamina allows, and well at that moment they had to adjust to my game. I spent the month of August practicing and training with the team from Kinki University in Osaka and learned a lot from them.

After a couple of months, I adjusted quite well. I still committed some fouls, but now they are in the single digits. A couple of weeks ago my team was in a tournament. I had been learning and practicing the quads, but was nowhere near ready to play on them, so I was allowed to use my in-lines. Growing up I idolized Claude Lemieux {photo} and if my presence on in-line skates wasn't annoyance enough, I tried emulating him in the rink. I taunted in English, Spanish, and Japanese. I put a couple of shoulders in to chests when the referees weren't looking and also kept talking trash during face-offs. I fore-checked which led to getting hooked and/or being picked by players not carrying the puck, which lead to me yelling at the referee, which subsequently lead to my first yellow card. A yellow card in hockey!?! Another first for me. Still, my mouth kept going. Yet un-like Sean Avery, I was able to back-up my constant jabbering with 6 points (2g, 4pa). Granted, not the most sportsman-like way to play but...
Overall, it was a fun day. I made some new friends and some new enemies (not everyone was entertained by my mouth), and my first foray into organized Hardball Hockey was a fruitful experience.

A taste of Italy...maybe.

I really don't remember where I learned this recipe, but it's an easy one I've enjoyed making over the years. Quick, easy and impressively tasty.

Portobello Spinach Bacon Salad

1-2 Portobello mushroom caps

4-6 stalks of spinach

clove of garlic

2-3 strips of bacon (pork/turkey or you can use Prosciutto or Jamon Iberico)

balsamic vinegar

black pepper (optional)

olive oil

In a medium sauce pan pour enough olive oil to cover the bottom of the pan. Slice your garlic and toss in the pan after heating for a couple of minutes on a medium flame. Cut your bacon/ham of choice into small pieces or strips. When the garlic starts to take on a golden color, lower to a low heat and toss in your meat. You can cook the meat to a desired texture, but be careful not to burn the garlic. Wash and chop the spinach. If you have a lettuce spinner, use it to dry the spinach or dry it with a clean kitchen towel (save the paper towels). You can lightly scrub the Portobello with a mushroom/potato/vegetable brush or peel the upper layer on the caps. After, dice it into bite size cubes. When the meat is ready, turn of the heat, toss in the dry mushroom first and then the dry spinach (remember, water will make hot oil splatter and burn you) and cover for a few minutes. Let the Portobello and spinach steam in the heat. Uncover and grind/sprinkle in some black pepper (or not), then pour in a quick splash of balsamic vinegar (I substituted apple vinegar once and enjoyed it as well) and toss around a bit with tongs or a wooden spoon. Turn over in to a salad bowl and serve.

Hope you enjoy it. If whoever taught me or came up with the recipe reads this, please, toss me a comment so I can give credit where its due.

Pot luck or lucky pots?

This past weekend a friend of mine had a Pot Luck dinner at her place with a few friends. Personally, as this blog can testify, any chance I get to test my culinary skills is welcomed with open arms and watered maw agape. Yet, I can help and reminisce about past Pot Luck dinners I have attended or hosted and remember the some the sumptuous and not so sumptuous dishes guests have brought. One that always sticks out in my mind was when a friend of mine told me he was bringing chicken and I told him I was anxious to see what he would show up with. All guests arrived with a wonderful array of prepared entrees and like I film script Lawrence Kasdan couldn’t have written any better himself, my friend is last to arrive, chicken in hand...bucket of chicken in hand... red / white bucket in hand.

What would be an easy, yet impressive dish for me to prepare? The first time I ever had Ceviche, I was a pre-teen in Puerto Rico one of my cousins had just married a Colombian fellow and for some reason or another we were having a big dinner at my Aunt Violet’s house. Not that my family ever needed to have a reason for a banquette and with the abundance of great cooks in my family, I can remember many a gathering with no real cause for celebration other than eating. But Aunt Violet was end all/ be all authority of comida criolla and her house usually the rendezvous point for Rodriguez-es, Algarin-es, and the few Negron-es: Thanksgiving Day feasts, birthdays, the 1984 Los Angeles Olympics (the jet pack guy!), etc. In that house, it was the first time I ever saw ice-cream being made, compliments of barrel shaped contraption purchased through the Home Shopping Network.

This particular day Ceviche was on the menu, suggested and supervised by said Colombian fellow. A man, let alone a foreigner to Borinquen as the main chef was a rare sight, but my aunt conceded part of her kitchen for his sea fairing, citric adventure of To start, all the younger members of the family were ordered to gathered around a giant pot to do one simple task: squeeze as many lemons available into this pot; sounded easy enough until the squeezing began. Citric acid started shooting every where. Lips trembled as shrieks of stinging pain could be heard from our municipality of Juana Diaz to San Juan. More than a few set of eyes were speared with renegade juice beams immediately followed by reaction first, think second eye rubbing, forgetting that the fingers too were coated with the evil nectar. Cuts and hang nails on our hands and fingers revealed themselves and more horror flashed before our eyes, as bodies hit the floor convulsing in pain, misery. No dinner is worth this agony, or is it?

Ceviche
Medium-sized peeled shrimp (jumbo, tiger or popcorn-sized can work too)
meaty white fish (flounder, tuna, mackerel, snapper)
bell peppers (2 or 3 colors if possible)
cilantro / coriander
one whole onion
garlic
apple vinegar (or any vinegar that doesn’t have a strong flavor like balsamic)
4-6 lemons
1 orange
1 grapefruit
orange juice (or any citrus juice)
laurel / bay leaves
cumin
salt and pepper / seasoned salt / herbes de Provence

Now, this is yet another recipe where amount doesn’t matter. So for those of you who need to know exact amounts, don’t panic. The most important thing is that the shrimp and fish are completely submerged in juice at all times. First cut half the onion (anyway is fine, prefer into rings) and lay the onion down in square or round deep plastic container and make a “bed” for your fish and shrimp. Cut the fish into bit size morsels and lay it on its “bed”. The shrimp can be cut our left whole. If you leave them whole they swell up in the marinade and look impressive. Plus, when you bite into them you get a nice burst of flavor. Or, you can chop them up and it stretches the portion a bit more if you’re putting it out for a party. Lay the shrimp to rest with the fish.

Now, scatter 3 or 4 laurel / bay leaves whole among the seafood (remember these are for flavor, not eating). Crush your garlic with the broad side of a knife and scatter it too. Your garlic tolerance level will determine how much you use. Actually, when I made it last week, I forgot the garlic and it still turned out well. Dice your peppers and drop into the container. I like to use at least one red and one green pepper for color and appeal. If available and you have ample dicing time, throw in a yellow or orange one too. Chop the cilantro / coriander and drop it in, but save some of it whole for garnish. Dash your spice of choice to taste.

Next is the juice / marinade part. I’ve made it exclusively with lemon, but in Japan where the price of fruit sometimes calls for financial aid, I’ve had to make adjustments. So again, do it to your liking and particular taste. Just don’t ever use lemon juice from concentrate. I did that once and although the young lady I was trying to impressed honestly (I hope) enjoyed it, the taste of additive and preservatives stick to my tongue to this day. Keep it fresh, keep it real. Sticking to this recipe, squeeze your citrus into the container. You could try and remove the pips from the fruits, use a strainer or just warn your guests. I use a strainer, but I scoop out any wayward pulp and add it to the mix. Leave the fruit juice and vinegar (a small amount of vinegar should do) to top off the seafood so that it’s completely submerged in the marinade. Of course, you can play with the marinade and try different combos for flavor variety. Top of with a few more dashes of spice.

Store it in the refrigerator. How long you ask? Over night is best, but in a pinch, at least two hours should do the trick, especially if you also cut the shrimp. Take out at least 20 minutes before serving to shake out the chill, serve in a mid-sized bowl with a small ladle or a big spoon and garnish with the cilantro / coriander and some lemon / lime wheels. It’s a great choice to have as an appetizer, on a buffet table or that elusive third or fourth date at your place. Have it over salad or with toasted baguette.

The party folk enjoyed it and I got some compliments. There were no red and white buckets in sight.

Nomad, Sakke and Me

I’ve done plays, television, dance recitals, and even won a game show once (it was a pilot, so in reality didn’t get the trip to Bermuda, just some cash and stale donuts). One time on stage I had disrobed down to my bare as…piring to be an actor can be a difficult road. Yet, none of that prepared me for the evening of September 23rd. I was the “intermission” talent at a night of sake and bossa nova. My stomach was in knots and my head pounded like a chain gang. An opportunity to play with fantastic, professional musicians, who are on the cusp of releasing their fourth full studio album and I was lying in the bathroom floor enjoying the cool tiles on my skin. If my hands could stop shaking long enough to play, I’d be fine.

The setting was a popular sakke brewery in Kobe, Shushinkan, that has converted one of their old warehouses in to a live house, daunting space but with a great wood feel and pleasant scent all around and more than ample acoustics. Nomad, Yuu Nakai and Keiko Yamamoto , came out and rocked the house with their brand of jazz, Japanese folk and bossa nova. My back tensed, but surprisingly no sweat dripped anywhere on my body. Between sets, the guests were treated to a sakke demonstration and tasting. I paced the wooden floor boards near my dressing room. Then, it was my turn.

Yukari, the cheerful and pleasant host/event planner, who was great at reducing my nerves a bit, introduced and I sauntered on to the stage. I always hear musician say there are good gigs and there are bad gigs, so I thought, ”if it turns out to be a bad one, then chalk it up to experience.” But at the last second I thought instead, “enjoy it”. I did.

My lip quivered as I started to sing These Haze, a song I would later go on to explain is about alcohol and how hard it can be to break away from it’s embrace. By this time, I had calmed down, though my head was still pounding, and was engaging in Engli-nese/Japa-glish with the host and audience. For my last song, I pulled a bit of a trick out my hat. Normally I wouldn’t sing a song that I had just written recently and in no way was I fully confident in playing it. But, 電車で文句　or Complaining on the Train is my first ever Japanese song and wanted to test it out. Pop music, be it American or Japanese, reigns supreme in Japan, but comedy is universal. Complaing on the Train is about my thoughts and musings as I ride the local train everyday. Once I sang my first lyric, ”Did you shower? It’s only 8am, why do you smell that way?” and the audience paid me back with broad laughter, my night was complete and I was relieved.

I didn’t play the song perfectly, even breaking into laughter with the audience a few times, but later on no one commented on the playing. All I heard was, “yeah, that’s true, I hate when people fall asleep on my shoulder!”

Mission accomplished. After, I went back to the cool tile of the bath room floor and closed my eyes.

Break the glass

I closed my eyes despite 2 cups of coffee, and Nick Drake began singing.

The train was zooming, making sure it made it back to Nishi-Kita just in time for me to eat lunch. My stomach is running things now.

I was on the first caboose, or engine or whatever and I started thinking, "what if another train was coming on the same track, what to do?".

I think everyone likes to think they are valient, courageous, always ready to take action even after no sleep and 3 sheets to the wind(I'm not, NOT, drunk). Or are there people out there who know they would run for their life and trample whatever child, elderly or handicapped person stood in their way. Do we know?

I opened my eyes and took inventory: 1 child, 7 women, 4 elderly, 5 men and 1 Puerto Rican(that's me). Ok, I'll grab the kid, and maybe toss as many elderly as I can towards the opposite way. With my left hand, well, I probably need that to brace myself. What could I kick away? Ok, I'll use my legs to run. Matter of seconds people.

Between my legs is my messenger bag. In it, my songbook. All my ideas, songs, music, written in 0.5 lead pencil. Do I leave it behind? Crap.

The train stops. I'm near home and lunch. I chew on guarana gum(caffeine gum, nice).

Courage is a word that is tossed around these days a lot and saying that it has been de-valued is an understatement. Like any virtue that is truly witnessed, each opportune moment to display said virtue has 3 sides to it's story and only one is true. What is truly a display of courage in our world today?

I don't know what I would do on the train, or which way I would run, or would I display courage. I just know that I'm starving and I ...ah...have to...um...do number 2 and my place is still another 10 minute walk away. That's courage in itself. Damn vices.

Crap.

March 16, 2007 - Friday

One of the dumbest moments in history

This summer has been one of the most humid I've ever endured. Showering 3 times a day, and plenty of fluids. I was thirsty yesterday on the way to my train and I stopped, for a bottle of Minaqua, Lime flavor. My train was at 6:30. It was 6:21 when I walked in to the local pharmacy.

6:22: I was in line, with my water and 100 yen coin in hand. The girls ahead of me have a basket full of stuff, including an unhealthy amount of ふりかけ＜furikake＞(Flavored rice flakes) packets. A girl is running the register, a guy is counting, bagging and yelling out the amounts and cost.

6:23: The girls says," I forgot the amount". The register is frozen at 3,232 yen. The guy unpacks everything and starts to do it again.

6:24: The guy says he screwed up and he starts all over again. One of the girls had walked away and was on the way back. She noticed that all I had was bottle of water but didn't say anything, just gave me a half sympathetic glance. Now, any other country I would put the buck on the table and walk, but this is Japan. Every transaction is carried out fully and properly, with a receipt.

6:25: It's a slower pace to make sure it's done right. I'm debating putting the coin down or leaving it on the counter and running.

6:26: One of the girls says,"I think you counted that twice". They were going to start all over again, again.

6:27: I put the bottle back on a random shelf and walked.

6:29 I'm waiting on the train platform, hot and sweaty. I buy an Evian instead. Smaller bottle, more than a coin, but it was from an old lady stand, so support the old ladies I say.

Drink your liquids, stay hydrated, enjoy whats left of summer.

Murphy's, Shinsaibashi, August 19th

Well, it was smaller than I expected. That's no way a knock on Murphy's Pub, I love Irish bars and was happy to swallow a stout and some Bushmill's before I hit the mic. Usually with WhyNotJapan.com events they're usually at bigger venues, but yet with the talent turnout last night, it was perfect size. Including myself, only four performers turned out and cozy, warm buzz fill the pub.
I walked in to a soulful rendition of Redemption Song, and since I got lost twice trying to find the place, it was unfortunately the last song of the first act. A lovely lady with great pipes followed singing in Japanese, Portuguese and French plucking away on a ukulele. The third act was a couple Japanese guys doing pop covers who I had seen at other open mics before.
I was nervous. The turn out was decent for the space and most of the people were there to see me play. I was playing a whole new set, new songs and a new cover(Bare Naked Ladies - Be My Yoko Ono - which went over well), and the jitters were there. Plus being last on the list I was the de facto "Headliner". After playing Doing Time(a song I hadn't played live in 3 years), the jitters subsided and I felt like I was having fun. Thirty minutes later, I left the stage having played the longest set I've ever played live. I still have a lot of work to do and the mountain is still high, but last night felt good. And I followed it up with fish and chips and my first Magner's in ages.
Cheers.

Brown Now How? Cow, Stop That Now!

There's always two questions I always get asked around these parts when people find out that I am Hispanic/Puerto Rican. #1: Is my skin naturally this color? Why yes, I don't tan. I am a natural shade of café latte/au lait/ mocha. And #2: How do I stop aguacate/avocado/アボガド　abogado(it means lawyer in Spanish, but somehow avocado in Japanese) from turning brown?
One way is the fresh lemon juice method, specifically when you make guacamole, squeeze some on top. Yesterday I made a Avocado Burger with homemade Potato Chips and Margaritas. Now, since I only used a couple of slices of aguacate, I had practically to whole halves left to make a salad, or eat local style, soy sauce and a fork. The old Puerto Rican trick that I learned is to leave the pit(big seed) in it. What would naturally keep it fresh and green than it's very own brown stopper. The picture I posted is of the one I cut then stored in the fridge for over night and as you can see, as enticing and edible as it was the day before. Hope this helps and remember, wear your sun block.

What to wear?

No, not what clothes I was going to wear on stage Sunday night when I played at Tin's Hall, Tennoji, Japan. No, what underwear.

First, comfort. I had enough to worry about with singing, playing and always the possible hostile crowd, because of my singing and playing.(Kidding, I do well up there). I didn't want to be shifting and fidgeting on my feet. I tried on about 5-6 pairs before I settled on a kind blue tye-dye-ish model I just got at the Gap. Good fit and support, and with no bra to match('cause I'm a guy, not cause I didn't buy or have a clean one or...got it?), the blue went well with my shirt and shoes. Boy's gotta match, no?

Before I sang, I took part in a little banter in Japanese with the MC of the event. Mind you, I went after a guy who air guitar-ed to "Danger Zone"(yep, Kenny Loggins, Tom Cruise, Val Kilmer, you know buddy). I was calm.

After some pleasantries, the MC said something in Japanese, that left me aghast. Sighting the bit shock to my face, Mr. MC, in his best english translated for me, "You are very cute!"

Oh, I understood, in both languages. I guess the underwear worked.

Take it where you can kids, take it where you can.

April, 2007

Up coming Hanibal live events.

Just a quick note on when I'm playing next.

Next gigs: doing WhynotJapan.com open mic at Murphy's in Shinsaibashi on 8/19 and opening for a Bossa/Jazz band Nomad(great band and very nice folk) at Shushinkan Brewery in Kobe on 9/23.

It's hot, get of the house, come down, get a drink or two. Or for some of you, it's hot, get out of the country, we got some good sushi here.

Thanks.

Tarde y sin reservación.

La vida es una mesa larga donde muchos comen, pero pocos disfrutan. O sea, poco saben lo que están comiendo. Algunos piensan que es la calidad de la comida que que es lo mas que importa. Otros la cantidad, mas es mejor. Hay unos que tienen muy poca comida pero aprecian lo que tiene. Para mi es la variedad. La oportunidad de sentarse y poder disfrutar y entender lo que está en mi plato.

Bueno, piense, ¿en que lado de la mesa come usted? ¿Como mide usted el exito o el fracaso que hacido su vida?

(Esto fue una lección para todos, nuncas mezcles hambre, pensamientos de su existencia y vodka rusa. Pero si no tienes remedio, por favor, con moderación. ¿Y yo? Bueno, a seguir mi propio consejo).

Easy, Refreshing Summer Snack

It's hot, humid and sticky in the big "O" and I'm feeling it. Trying to stay cool or just enjoying a healthy snack is a chore. My favorite snack are apples. Unfortunately, they're very expensive and for the price of one here I can buy a bag full back home. But I love apples and when I have the extra scratch , I get an apple or two. When I first got to Japan, I noticed that when ever I was served an apple, it would be peeled, cut and washed in salt. Of course, the salt prevents browning of the apple, but for my taste, not the ideal way. Back home I would wipe my knife with a lime or a lemon, cut the apple, then squeezed more lemon on it after I'm done cutting it. Now, a new twist. The benefits of apple vinegar are endless(some people drink it with some honey everyday) and that got me to experimenting.

Frozen Vinegar Apple
One frozen large Apple
Apple vinegar

Freeze the apple first, then wash in lukewarm water and the rind should come right off. Slice and de-core and place the slices in a bowl. Pour some apple vinegar and eat! The sweetness of the apple and vinegar flavor go great together. And to further make it a summer treat, freeze it in a plastic container and eat when ever. Now you have a frozen, refreshing, tasty treat. Enjoy!

The Alternative White Steak

Making new discoveries. As a child every time I made a new discovery, I could remember the excitement, that "Oh! Wow!" feeling I got. To this day I get that feeling from learning, and in my travels it seems like everyday I get to experience that feeling.
One particular moment of eureka I can recall from my childhood involved none other than pork chops. Allow me elaborate. No better feeling than coming home from school or where ever and no matter what mood I was in, the scent of my mom's pork chops would put a smile to my face and drive my taste buds in to a frenzy. Being the boy or man of the house (loosely used term) I often got an extra chop. I would bite down like on cannibal on a leg and tear every morsel down to the bone. Always satisfied with my lips and finger tips glistening with alternative white meat juices.
Sometime during my teenage years in the US, my family was shopping in one of those big wholesale, giant beef-o-rino stores and found something that would change my life forever. Boneless pork chops. All chop, no bone. A large pack of them no less and at a wholesale price. Granted, skepticism was my initial feeling, no bone, no handle to hold and maneuver during my eating ritual. But, fork and knife in hand attacking at a full meat surface area was also not bad. Needless to say it was all I hoped it would be.
Recently I was craving for a piece of meat and went looking for a nice piece of steak. Beef being a luxury around these parts, I couldn't find a good cut for a decent price. And with a spark of rare genius, I bought boneless pork chops.
In the US, chops for some reason go with apple sauce. Not my cup of tea, but I decided to marinate the chops in apple vinegar.

Apple Vinegar Pork Chops
2-4 boneless pork steak/chop
apple vinegar
shallots/large clove of vinegar
salt
white pepper
paprika

In a metal or glass bowl pour in some apple vinegar and soak the chops. The more vinegar, the more "vinegar-y" the flavor but also the meat becomes more tender. Mongolians would put their meat in a leather sack and put it under their horse's saddle and after riding for a day the meat would be tenderized from the pounding and the sweat of the horse. Now, unless you have a horse and enjoy the flavor of sweaty meat, you can pound the meat with a kitchen mallet to soften it. I prefer not to pound it down because I like a thick cut. After you soak it a bit in the vinegar (you can do it overnight or for several hours in the fridge), dash your salt, pepper (I like white on pork, but black is ok too) and paprika on it. Cut your shallot(or garlic, but for me the shallot works best) and lay the large slices on the chops.
Heat a fry pan on med-high flame with either light olive oil or I found this great no cholesterol soybean oil, drop the chops in and cover quickly(the vinegar might make the oil splatter, but you want that initial shock of heat to cook the chops). After a few minutes, the vinegar will dry up and you can take off the lid and turn the chops over. Lower the heat to low-med flame, cover and let the chops cook for 5-8 minutes so that they cook through. Remember like chicken, you have to cook pork well, but once the meat starts curling up on the edges, you've cooked it too long.
Uncover, bring the heat back to med-high and try to get a little "golden color" on your chops and on the shallot/garlic. Once they get a bit gold, turn heat off and that's it. Serve it with potatoes(mashed or Puerto Rican style: boiled then served with olive oil and spice). I made sauteed zucchini and asparagus in olive oil, salt and red pepper flakes and after the green veggies were done made a quick tomato "paste" with a large, cut beefsteak tomato in the same pan while it was still hot. I also cut a side of avocado (aguacate in Spanish or abogado in Japanese) with light olive oil, pepper and soy sauce. I served it with a German cherry wine, that was not as sweet as it sound, but very tasty.
Now, nothing beats mom and home cooking, but bringing a little blast from the past to where ever I am in the world, takes me back home to my teenage years, where the chops would be waiting in a brown tinted glass, Corningware frying pan.
Enjoy.

Persistance of Time

It's been a stretch, but the pictures in my head have been playing other videos, and well, blogging wasn't in the credits.

I'll tell you this: take a look at Marco Polo and read a little about him. Add some apple vinegar to your life and salads. Eat some beef and tofu, its easy to make and flavor it however you want, even with cheese. Read something about the octopus. Leave early, skip the express and take the local with a music player or a book. Lay on your back and put your legs up in the air. Skip tomato sauce, cut a tomato, warm it up with olive oil and eat it with some bow tie pasta and oregano.

Take a little time sometimes.

The baby powder, so you don't smell sour.

My elbows are ashy. It’s spring and the weather has been strange to say the least. One day it’s t-shirt weather, the next I’m cursing the fact that I left my gloves at home. But one thing remains constant: I will shower twice, sometimes three times in a day, even if it is the dead of winter. The threat of offensive body odor is a constant phobia of mine and should be yours too. Allow me to elaborate.
Remember that bad hair cut? Bad perm? Business in the front, party in the back? Hold that thought.
OK, now think about culottes, parachute pants, spandex.
From New York to Japan we all remember bad choices we have made in our personal style (who honestly likes their high school yearbook picture) and marvel at the badly lit Polaroids or Kodak paper 3x5s that line shoe boxes in our closets.
Here’s the thing: both fixable. In fact, they can lead to opportunities to mold and die cast your future style that hopefully will transcend any fads that are waiting to slim your wallet. Of course, you have to shimmy through a Goth phase, punk phase, hip-hop, mod, prep, valley, leisure suits, and may lighting strike you, a cowboy complete with 10 gallon hat phase. That’s not to mention Mohawk, buzz cut, high’s and lows, Afros and colors galore. But again, there are antidotes. When it comes to your look, you have many chances to make a first impression.
Now think. Who do you know that smells? Oh-ho-ho, you know, I know, we all know. Now, do you remember when you ran into that person again or saw them at work or whatever, did they smell then also? You don’t know. Why? ‘Cause you furred your brow, wrinkled your nose and held your breath or even avoided them completely. You see, once you are classified as smelly, no matter what you do after, that bad odor is permanently etched and burned into people’s olfactory senses, no escape. You think that cute guy or girl is going to give you another chance? Get that second interview? Get a hug? I can recall headaches that some people have given me due to their incredible odor. Some of them even took on lives of there own, sipping coffee while reading stock quotes. Ever been on a Japanese train during the after work rush? A plethora of nasal stimuli.
Here’s a tip for men and women who wear suits. Unfortunately, constant dry cleaning can ruin suits due to all the chemicals in the process. But when you are at work, unless you absolutely have to have it on, hang up your jacket. At home, as soon as you get home, hang it up and if not raining hang it outside (never in the sun), air it out. A suit in constant use should be dry cleaned about every 2 months or so, barring any spills, stains or unbearable scents.
What’s that now? You absolutely don’t recall anyone of this sort? Have you smelled yourself lately? Make sure it’s not you and grab a quick shower.
Now the big market is men’s body spray. OK, can work when used properly, but think about it: what are the chances that most guys are actually taking a shower, putting on fresh undies, spritzing once or twice in to the, walking through it and then throwing on their clean digs, ready to step out? Or, did not make enough time to shower (because his time management sucks) kept the same jeans on, sprayed on half a can of the miracle human Febreeze, grabbed a shirt which he has worn maybe once this week and ran out the door. Which is the more likely scenario? Watch the ads. They guarantee droves of women chasing you if you spray it on, but no disclaimer at the bottom of the screen reminding you what steps to take before spraying. Let’s save our noses for home-made cookies and flowers. Speaking of which…
I still have dry skin after showering. Hmmm…what can I put on that will make me as smooth as a stripper pole, but won’t leave me smelling like guest bathroom soap that never, ever gets used. Whatever, I rather smell like a bouquet than wet dog. I’ll go with lavender/honey. Maybe she’ll think I’m sensitive. No, I’m not, my skin is, and it smells great…for now.

Trying to find a parking spot.

The vigor that comes with hand made coffee sweetened with condensed milk. In Spain they call it a "bon-bon", I call it a prescription for the cloudy gloomy day that hovers this morning.
I never thought I would be following someone who had their keys out so I could take their spot. No, not trolling on the opposite side of the road these days. No, I'm talking about bike parking.
She didn't leave, she just put something in her basket. It's just before noon and it's like the Mall of America, but of course with bikes. People are hovering all over, looking for a spot.
Here, people get parking stickers and park in special lots for bicycles. I don't have a sticker, so I have to slum it with the rest of the shoppers at my local grocery store. Luckily, I have a very small bike (actually you can fold it for storage) and it only needs a sliver of daylight for its parking needs. Well I found a spot and just in time too. That bon-bon tasted great on the way down, but now it's screaming to exit.

The Spice of life

I like to cook. Yet, what I really take pride in is my spice rack. I consider it part of my vanity and arrogance, to be able to at any given time cook any style I like. Spanish? Garlic powder, sea salt, paprika, cumin. Indian? Cumin again, turmeric, an assortment of curry powders. Italian? Garlic, basil, oregano, red pepper flakes. Simple continental? A variety of salts and peppers from coarse to fine. I traced back my affinity for spices to when I moved permanently to New Jersey in my teens.
The catalyst? Ketchup. Or my hatred of ketchup. Ketchup is the condiment of the devil(no, I don’t claim that he exists, but if he or she does and has a condiment preference, it might as well be ketchup for all the evil that it brings). I lie awake at night, images of burgers, eggs, kitsch, poor, defenseless food drowning in vats of this vile oozing liquid. I can still hear the cries at night, in the distance. I swore that anything I made would never, ever get treated that way. My food would be adorned with flavor and dignity. Don’t get me started on the whole “green” and “purple” ketchup campaign. Horrific.

Next time you make a beautiful, sunny side up fried egg throw a dash of cumin on. Try the summer barbecue burgers first, off the grill, savor it, and then if it’s too bland, dash the salt and pepper, maybe some garlic. But, please, please, save the food.
Here are some basic spice suggestions that won’t break the bank and can impress him or her on the 3rd or 4th date.

Salt: Have your regular, fine grain table salt available and a course grain like sea salt not only to flavor food but give good texture and appeal to your food. Think of potato wedges with some nice granules of salt on it. Looks great and gives it a nice crunchy texture. Remember, don’t go dousing your food in it, your body only needs less than a teaspoon of salt(sodium) a day to function, plus many things we eat that are not fresh carry tons of it already. Once, I made a great pseudo-Asian meal with just the right amount of ginger that everyone was enjoying. A late arriving guest sat down and proceeded to drown it in salt, without even tasting it first. He was never invited again.

Black pepper: Again, same as above, fine grade for cooking, a course one for look and flavor. Pepper mills are great, but spend money on a decent one if you are going to use it often. Want to have a wild card in your deck? Bring in cayenne pepper, red and spicy, if your buds can handle it. I know some people get hives from pepper, so try a white pepper (or pepper corn for the mill), it tends to be milder. Also, pepper is a great for first aid.

Cumin： Very versatile and can spice up anything from meats to morning eggs to salads. Get some, especially if you like curry, guacamole, stew and Spanish style seafood.

Cinnamon: Another versatile entry. On oatmeal, pancakes, ice cream, rice pudding and surprise, surprise meats! With cumin and oregano I put in ground beef and meatballs. Great contrast of flavor with the other spices in the meat. Throw some in your fresh coffee grounds before brewing your java in the morning. Plus, it has some health benefits.

Paprika and Parsley: The “Spice Girls” if you will of the rack. When dry and powered, both have a little or no flavor, but give great color to anything. Try both on those potato wedges with your sea salt.

Oregano and Basil: Soups, salads, chicken, fish and any Italian food. Or on those lazy Fridays, pizza!

Garlic: Powered, but I also have dry flakes. Another in the “jack of all trades” mold, flavor anything from anywhere with it. Of course, throw it on that aforementioned pizza too. I once had garlic ice cream at a fantastic restaurant back in Jersey, but some of you might not be ready for that yet, if ever. I don't need to remind the garlic it's role in our body's armies of inner conflict.

There you have it, honestly, all you really need in the kitchen. Of course, there are tons more and I am discovering new ones all the time, but this will get you by. Combine them, different amounts, discover new flavors on favorite dishes. Remember, especially with salt, always start with less and spice up from there. Too much, and everyone will be jockeying for the bread and water. Just ask Agador Spartacus.
Now, how do I rid the world of ketchup without hurting the tomato crop?

Blame it on the Rain.

The rain can make the superior species do silly things.

It can make...

...them think that cardboard is going to keep them dry for ten blocks.

...women roll up their jeans while tip-toeing the shallow end of a puddle with pink open-toe stilettos that frame their bespeckled pedicures, all the while yelping and screeching with each consequent step.

...teenagers fall off bikes while trying to hold an umbrella with one hand and a duffel bag with the other.

...teased-hair, smeared eye-liner, seven hundred bracelet adorned, cowboy boot totting, precision ripped jean wearing macho men scurry while their 10-inch healed, slime green prom dress, every little girl's dream under the Christmas tree Barbie Doll Bust Aquanet hair stacked 3 stories high girlfriend stands in the middle of the intersection wailing like a seagull fighting a vulture for the ocean front property carcass of a boat propellered manatee (the vulture was on vacation, please save the manatee).

...the Saturday night, half in the bag, completely in the funk, no upper lip, wing-tipped brethren use their leather brief cases as umbrellas.

...three university girlfriends share a medium sized Cynthia Rowley, lilac emblazoned parasol when in actuality the owner and holder of last year's mom's birthday present is standing in the back getting soaked.

...a poor soul to forget to sweep back his salt/peppered comb over. Instead, letting it hang like the fringes of heaven. Trust, I wanted to take the pic, but it just seemed like a bad idea to rile up a train full of rain soaked, cosmetics down their cheeks , (OK, some had water proof) squishy shoed folks. I ain't crazy. Being Japan, I wouldn't get mobbed, but man, those cold stares would pierce right through me like an icicle through a terrorist eye in a sequel film to a Bruce Willis film where the original took place in...Nakatomi plaza. It was the '80's, Japanese corporate take overs, Nintendo/Sega wars. Ah, when Sega was king. Fond memories.

It kept raining all night. I threw on a pair of Audio Technica headphones and let Horse Feathers take me to a land where in the rain, there just might be less clothing and hopefully shaved armpits.

How did I get home? Totes black umbrella, 8 inches in length, about a quarter pound in weight. Compact, fits anywhere. Never leave home with out it.

My New Balance sneaks got wet. I didn't yelp, screech or wail. I just laughed.

A meal means steak and wine.

What can cure my ails? Lately, Diner by Martin Sexton and Einstein on the Beach by the Counting Crows, with a little Sufjan, Drake, and Keys. A bit of my music and Beastie Boys. That's what dominates the Pod these days. Yep, got one. Black. 8gb. You get used to it I guess.

Last night was a bit of a drag down night. So I flip the Pod into a bit of pace tunes and start making the Japanese uncomfortable on the last leg of my train ride. Governator by Green Day takes me to my bike, where I meet up with Adam Duritz.

I had a nice Cabernet that I have been waiting to crack, a gift From Mr. Kubo, coolest Japanese teacher I have met. A 2000, read it up. This the last year to drink it and it looks to be a cherry.

What came to mind to pull me out of the doldrums? Garlic steak with Sauteed Spinach. Steak in Japan ain't cheap, but I got a bit of a deal and cooked nice.

Luis's Garlic steak with Sauteed Spinach:
Nice steak
Nice Bottle of Red (not Merlot!, something with body)
Spinach
Garlic (fresh clove and minced)
Olive Oil
Salt
Pepper
Dry Basil

Over medium heat, warm some oil and throw in the garlic clove after you've sliced it up. Turn off at light brown color for the garlic. Wait til the oil completely cools or it wil splatter and burn you. Add half a cup of water, and the chopped spinach. Med flame again, cover and let simmer. When the spinach starts wilting, add some minced garlic (buy a little jar). Add any more seasoning to taste ( I like red pepper flakes). Cook spinach to desired firmness or mushiness ( I like a bit crisp with some wilting).

Meanwhile, rub salt, basil and pepper (or not) with the back of a medium sized spoon. Lower the flame again on the pan and place the steak on top of the spinach, cover. Cook until you can't see pink on both sides(works with any steak but remember the thicker and bigger, the more time to cook).

Now 2 choices: I have a broiler. Broil it, and keep watching it and turning it with a good pair of metal thongs (your best friend and tool in the kitchen) until how you like it(did mine medium). Or if you don't have a broiler, mid-high flame, a little bit of oil and flip the steak in there. Be careful with the amount of oil and any wetness on the steak from the spinach.

There you have it, enjoy. You can do the same thing with fish(less cooking time), but chicken takes to long and too much bacteria when it's still half raw. Also, large slices of eggplant for a vegetarian style, add a little apple vinegar for flavor on the eggplant.

What to wear?

No, not what clothes I was going to wear on stage Sunday night when I played at Tin's Hall, Tennoji, Japan. No, what underwear.

First, comfort. I had enough to worry about with singing, playing and always the possible hostile crowd, because of my singing and playing.(Kidding, I do well up there). I didn't want to be shifting and fidgeting on my feet. I tried on about 5-6 pairs before I settled on a kind blue tye-dye-ish model I just got at the Gap. Good fit and support, and with no bra to match('cause I'm a guy, not cause I didn't buy or have a clean one or...got it?), the blue went well with my shirt and shoes. Boy's gotta match, no?

Before I sang, I took part in a little banter in Japanese with the MC of the event. Mind you, I went after a guy who air guitar-ed to "Dangerzone"(yep, Kenny Loggins, Tom Cruise, Val Kilmer, you know buddy). I was calm.

After some pleasantries, the MC said something in Japanese, that left me aghast. Sighting the bit shock to my face, Mr. MC, in his best english translated for me, "You are very cute!"

Oh, I understood, in both languages. I guess the underwear worked.

Take it where you can kids, take it where you can.

Welcome to me.

Richard Thompson sings Tempted.

Aren't we all.

Last Friday marked 2 years since I've been in the land of the rising sun, yet it wasn't cause for celebration. Not that I haven't enjoyed my time here, on the contrary, it's been a humanizing experience for me. Yes, I wasn't very human before.

Instead of doing a memory montage in my head of the past 2 years, I found myself thinking of wishes. I don't particularly have any outstanding wishes at the moment, but I traced back to when I was a kid. Mine were always moderate wishes. With the standard issue 3, #1 would be rid the world of acne. No more white heads, black heads, pot marked faces, red blemishes. Boom. All gone. But, now I think, well that would probably cause some kind of herd problems for the human race. We're talking about perpetuating the species here. Maybe acne cures some kind of chance of "mixing" or something.

#2, Mental disabilities. I grew up with an autistic sister and it's something that I think about every day. One of the reasons I took so many damn psychology classes at uni, (a couple I got bored and skipped a bit, but a c passes). But again, that would also probably cause an imbalance, and probably many jobs would be lost, just and un-just ones. And I love my sis for who I know, not for she could be. The laughs we've had together, I would never trade that.

#3, $100,000. Not a lot, no? Just enough to pay off some debts and the rest to make it realize some dream. Too much money can materialize too many dreams or dreams too quickly. But, you have just enough, you walk it up the stairs or fall flat on your face. You did it, either way, to yourself. That one still has some merit.

I just dropped a pen on the floor. Dust. I just vacuumed 2 days ago, and seems like I never did. I hate dust. You want a wish? No more dust and allergies. There goes the Claritins and cleaning products industries.

I'll, take a maid for now.

Welcome to me.