Call it Span-ese…

…or Japan-ish, I don’t know what. Regardless, I had bought too many tomatoes last week (forgot to check the fridge before shopping) and decided it was time for some gazpacho.

As I’ve posted before, gazpacho requires bread and unlike most recipes I prefer to make fresh croutons rather than using stale bread. But that was just it. Although I had tallied a bunch of tomatoes, the only bread I had was multi-grain black sesame bread. Oh well, why not.

Black Sesame / Multi-Grain Gazpacho

2 large tomatoes

4 hearty slices of multi grain and or black sesame bread

1/2 a cup of black sesame seeds (if you are using regular multi grain bread or like me, like to add some more)

Handful of chopped coriander/cilantro

Salt/pepper/cumin to taste

1 lemon (depends on how much you are making; my rule of thumb: half a lemon per whole tomato)

Boil tomatoes until the skin comes off. Discard the skin and mash the tomatoes to sauce like consistency. Cut the bread into croutons and toast to a slight golden color. Squeeze in lemon, add seasoning and croutons. Now you have to ways to go: mash and mix in the croutons or if you have a blender/mixer, blend until smooth. Chill for a couple of hours. Serve cold, garnish with some parsley or fresh coriander/cilantro.

Enjoy!

Friend or Foe?

Alien or marine? Decorative or edible?

A few years back I was asking myself these questions in the middle of the kitchen of a restaurant I was working at. The oddity in question was romanesco, and it was on display as a part 1 of 3 possible new entrées for our winter menu. For reasons I can’t recall, it never made past the prying sampling forks of the wait staff, but the image of said “veggie” was forever burned in my noggin.

Fast forward a few years and a few countries later and a friend hands me one and says,”Ever see one of these?” Like any TV or film grainy, strobe-like flashback sequence, the images came flooding back. The alien rock, sea anemone, whachacallit sat on my counter while I searched for ways to cook it.

Most recipes I found basically said to cook it like broccoli or cauliflower: cheese it, bread it, fry it, you know, fatten it up. So instead, I washed it, chopped and sauteed it in olive oil with herb de provence, cayenne and red pepper. Served it as a side to baked parmesan salmon.

Tis the season for romanesco, so keep an out for it in your local grocery, or deep sea exp

edition, or crop circle.

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.