Food and politics – Salad or Stew? Butter or Marge?

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Here’s a bit of silliness that combines my two casual interests: food and politics (via Serious Eats). Suffice to say, it’s demographics gone mad. Or maybe not. Consider the food preference of the “likely” McCain supporter: high-fibre cereal, protein bars, energy drinks are all foods I would previously have associated with a certain demographic of caucasian, middle-aged, fairly affluent gym-going males. But in California, I’ve met younger males and females who are die-hard Obama supporters who have similar shopping cart contents. Let’s take a look at the food profile of potential Hillary Clinton supporters: also high-fibre cereal, energy bars and energy drinks, but all of “trendier” brands that are associated with shoppers at the more expensive supermarkets (typified by Whole Foods). Hmm, I’m beginning to see a trend here… OK, final look at the third major-party candidate: Barack Obama. Oooh, he bucks the trend with granola and sparkling juice, but retains energy bars.

I think I’ll make one parabolic observation from this NY Times article: Americans like their high-fibre/healthy cereal, buy power/energy/protein bars and energy drinks, and have shopping carts that look nothing like mine¹.

[/tongue-in-cheek]

¹ I concede that the intention of the micro-targeting is to categorise the brand choices of the electorate; there is a certain trendiness to the list made for Barack Obama, which makes me suspect the writer of the sidebar of this NY Times article favours him over the other candidates, who have been made out to draw in an older crowd of supporters. The main article, on the other hand, makes a few good points about candidates and the different aspirations of their potential voters.

My usual disclaimer here: I’m not American, I can’t vote in the US elections, and I wasn’t sure who I’d vote for anyway even if I could, but hmm McCain supporters are more likely to go fishing? Sign me up..

Super-speedy Sesame-sprinkled Somen with Kimchi

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Sashiburi de, interwebs.

I return to report on what will become a staple super-fast dinner in my household: kimchi noodles¹. It’s not often that I have all the ingredients in the pantry for Serious Eats’ Dinner Tonight column, but in our recent East Asian phase, we have stocked up on kimchi and a variety of dried noodles, like udon and somen. Furthermore, there are almost always green onions in the fridge, and sesame oil, rice vinegar and sugar in the cupboards. So, ingredients: check!

Let’s see now, it took all of 30 seconds to decant half a jar of kimchi on the chopping board and a further 30 seconds to julienne the squares of napa cabbage/leaf. A further 30 second period was invested in thinly slicing a stalk of spring onions (aka scallions). It took about a minute² to extricate the large mixing bowl from its tall stack of precariously balanced dishes and mix in the kimchi, scallions, 1 tsp of rice vinegar and 1 tsp of sugar. All this time, the water for the noodles was boiling in the kettle, so I spent a further minute or two preparing the pot, colander, bowls and chopsticks. Choosing somen, from boiling water to finished product (2 min), rinsed under the tap till cool, was another time-saving choice. All the chopping, slicing, boiling, cooling and tossing of the noods in kimchi and a sploosh of sesame ooil took under 10 min. There was even time to prepare some kinugoshi (silken) tofu by topping half a block with a yuzu miso paste and more finely sliced green onions. So, speed: check!

Taste: check, check, check! It passes the D and P taste test. Depending on the kimchi you start with, of course. It’s taken me a while to find a mild kimchi that doesn’t disagree with the super-fussy stomach in P’s pathetic peritoneum, but still stimulates our tastebuds: K.J’s MSG-free Napa Kimchee. Made in Carson, California, so it passes the locavore test too. We definitely like the fish paste in our kimchi but not too sweet and no MSG, so recommendations welcomed.

No doubt, these kimchi noodles fail any Korean authenticity test, but so does pesto pasta another alliterative speedy carb-based mid-week meal. My two online sources of Korean foodology are pretty keen on what must be the original that inspired this super-fast take. Zenkimchi describes his search for the perfect summer dish: naengmyeon and thedelicious mentions cucumbers and pears in her bibim naeng myun, which is something to try next time.

Something else on the list of things to try is a Korean restaurant that does not specialise in soondubu or galbi… Again, recommendations will be appreciated.

Until my next sporadic spouting, mata ne.

¹Nae photos again. The trusty little Nikon 775 is with the boss. What he’s doing with it, I don’t want to know…

² It only took so long because the cupboards are filled to the gills and need to be emptied whenever I want something stashed at the back. Oh how I long for revolving Ikea shelves…

Dystonic Dystopia

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Apologies for the choppiness of the following post. It has sat in the Drafts folder for too many months, and just needs to be out there in the cyber world gathering a different type of pixellated dust than nagging me every time I log on.

At the pre-concert lecture for the third installation of the Concrete Frequency series, I was very amused to hear an anecdote of how in the early days of film, because of the way copyright worked then, photos were printed of individual stills. And these photographs survived while the nitrate-based film rotted away. And animation technology then had to be used to reanimate the individual stills. Amazing! Retro-tech…

The Concrete Frequency series was the brainchild of David Robertson, whose aim was to create a visual and aural impression of urban life. Very appropriately, my friend (who kindly chummed a P-less me) and I had a short walking tour (visual: check! aural: check! nasal: check!) of the neighbourhood before the concert, having misjudged how quickly the 10 moves on a Sunday afternoon (yes, I attended a Sunday matinée concert; I am officially OLD). Having only been in Downtown LA a handful of times in the day, it finally occurred to me how ridiculous the Angels Flight railway looks from above. I’d only seen it from near the Central Market before, and always thought it continued beyond my viewpoint from below. Something else faintly surreal was the complete lack of people outside of the WDCH, Music Centre and MOCA complex. This part of Downtown LA is completely dead outside of working hours, just like Canary Wharf and possibly every other business district in the world. It’s kind of sad when you think of the hustle and bustle around, say, the Jewelry [sic] District or even Little Tokyo. The demographic segregation is more apparent to me here than, say, Westwood, where it’s just students vs everyone else. LA is a funny little city…

The whole point of dragging myself eastwards on a Sunday afternoon was to see Concrete Frequency I, which opened with a pre-WWII urban planning film about how life in America was changing as more people moved to the cities, and when suburban living was put forth as a utopia where village life could continue in the presence of the concrete jungle. It was, to current eyes, a rather naïve view of the future, but ultimately optimistic. The film was scored by Aaron Copland, who paired busy strings and woodwinds with the speed of walking and eating in the city, and contrasted that with an idyllic soundscape to sell the idea of boys cycling to school in the country-like suburbs. I really liked what Copland did, even if it was a bit fantastical. However much of a realist I am, I still love how others can dream of a Utopia even if they know deep down that it is unattainable. There was, despite the frustration that modern life was too furious, an underlying feeling of hope in the music. Perhaps this motif is also present in other very modern works but I have been too negative to hear it.

An eclectic program, including a composition by Frank Zappa, followed. I have to confess to zoning out on Dupree’s Paradise. My attention span is somewhat like an OAP’s on a Sunday afternoon – in desperate need of a nap. Crumb’s Haunted Landscape was, unsurprisingly, an eerie piece, evoking for me the feel of a Chinese cemetery at night: not scary, but other-worldly. Nothing insightful to say about that piece either. As with Varèse’s Amérique, I was too captivated by the enormous range of percussion to pay any attention to the big picture. I noticed it was noisy, but was way too taken with the sleigh bells to care about anything else.You may despair of my phillistine nature. I don’t care; sleigh bells are my next instrument to get.

Fast forward to the end of the week, missing out the weekday pop interludes, for Concrete Frequency III, the world premiere of a music and video collaboration between Michael Gordon and Bill Morrison – Dystopia.

Dystopia opens as its name suggests, a mess of noise flying at you no time to stop for a breather all instruments are go but no one tune reigns supreme and alongside it runs a frenetic movie of the rubble from demolished buildings being sorted into piles of categorised crap by a team of face-masked workers who spend all day picking out their responsible material from the conveyor belt of rubbish. But slowly, as the piece moves on, motifs from each section of the orchestra can be discerned. The percussion plays the theme of build-up and pause of traffic flow – the typical scene on an over-crowded freeway. Archival footage showed that even as far back as the 60s, traffic jams were the norm. Not much has changed then. There was even footage of the Angels Flight railway in its heyday: ferrying people (through buildings!) to the top of Bunker Hill.

Footage of traffic coming and going on Bunker Hill, where WDCH is located in Downtown LA, was at times accompanied by a wash of flowing music. But as P pointed out, when percussion joined in, the eyes would then pick out individual cars and trucks. And instead of a constant stream, one could see punctuations. For me, this was true of Dystopia. Every now and again your senses were allowed to recover from the loudness, and you could pick out the motifs, the punctuation, the punctate bursts of chord changes more reminiscent of rock music than classical. The basses were joined by an electric bass, tying in to their role as the chord holders for the orchestra in that rock sense. This may be the first contemporary composition that I feel capable of understanding and enjoying.

…explosante-fixe… by Boulez before did not make nearly as great an impression on me, but it was, in a sense, a precursor to the start-big-end-small structure of Dystopia. It was nothing but noise to begin with, which gradually petered down to understandable snippets of memories? emotions? Glimpses of the goings on of a dimly-lit room through the flash of a camera. Or some random crap like that.

Although I am not the most enthusiastic person when it comes to modern compositions, these two concerts helped me realise that the noisy soundscapes that are more or less expected of modern composers can be enjoyable too. Critically, a glass of wine prior to listening should be consumed. Furthermore, one should derive much enjoyment and amusement from the flowery and overly intellectual description of the music in the program notes. But most importantly, one should attend the pre-concert talks, where someone knowledgable, and hopefully also possessing a sense of humour, will explain what the crap you’re about to hear is really all about.

Better Butter

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Recent correspondence with tsogb sparked by Susan’s meal at Manresa started me thinking about a new type of party I have yet to explore. I’ve recently hosted a few wine tasting parties, which have all degenerated into drinking binges despite best efforts to create tasting flights. Quite often, many are on the Syrah before I’ve even finished pouring the Roussanne. And since most of these parties are on Fridays to accommodate everyone else’s busy weekend schedules, we usually go the cheese and bread option to line the stomach. In LA, this is also not the financially-wise menu, with the average small piece of cheese costing anywhere from $6 to $20. Oh for a Tesco selection of cheap and cheerfuls. While we don’t begrudge sharing our favourite luxuries with our labs, populated by equally financially-challenged grad students and post-docs, the last round really wiped us out (physically too). Add to that the whisky “tasting” and cocktail nights, and I’m all tuckered out carting heavy bottles of alky around town. The next big party has to be a little lighter on all fronts. Bring forth: the butter tasting party.

My favourite butter of the moment is from Isigny Ste Mère, also home to one of my favourite hard snacking cheeses – the Mimolette. It has a crisp quality with a hint of salt that doesn’t overwhelm. And my first taste of it following an impulse purchase¹ a decade ago was a revelation. Wow, butter can be more than just fat in baking. And it doesn’t have to be the semi-melted parcel found in most restaurant bread baskets to be eaten as is. My butter tastes have not developed much since then, but perhaps the time has come to enlighten my fatty tastebuds and try some other butters out

Courtesy of Santos: the ultimate butter page. I can see I have a long way to go. Of the butters listed, I’ve only knowingly had a few: Lurpak (my mother’s baking butter), Kerrygold (my baking butter in the UK), Anchor (the butter of my childhood ‘cos it was slightly cheaper than Lurpak – the preserve of baking), the Devonshire, Isigny, and Échiré². Of American butters, I have to confess to only using pasturised, unsalted butter from Horizon, the Whole Foods and Trader Joes own brands, mainly for baking. There is a whole unexplored world of butter out there, beckoning us with globules of pristine saturated fat.

My next party just has to be butter-themed. But how many will accept the invitation?

¹ When I first realised that shopping in Sainsbury’s was not necessarily going to kill my bank account. Oh boy was I wrong!² I think it was the Beurre Échiré we had at the Ludo Bites evening, but I may be wrong.

Neverwhat? Neverwhy, Neverwhen, Neverhow, Neverwho, Neverwhere

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One of my favourite authors, who is close to being favourite author of all time if he keeps being so cool, is releasing one of his already published books on the interwebs for free. For real, gratis. This is all in honour of his blog’s 7th birthday. He has put up an online poll to help decide which book to upload. For free1! So, if you’ve never read Neil Gaiman’s work, and think you’ll enjoy being dazzled by spectacular displays of imagination and excellent execution of writing to tell a story, head on over and vote.

So far, American Gods leads the list. I really enjoyed American Gods. Every time I read it, something new and wonderfully interesting grabs my attention and asks why I didn’t spot it before. That’s not to say the previous reads were difficult or tortuous, just that I’ve probably learned something new in real life and thus finally understand the significance of some detail in the book. Another thing I love about American Gods is that P read it recently and loved it. Couldn’t put it down, in fact. It has been hard work finding books that he is willing to read more than a chapter of. He started this back-arsed, with Anansi Boys2 first and back-tracking to American Gods because he found the concept of Anansi so wonderful and mysterious. It may be too much at present to ask him to write a book review. But just you wait; soon he’ll be all evangelical about the books he’s read and loved.

In addition to American Gods and Anansi Boys, six other books were chosen from Gaiman’s growing back catalogue, all of which I heartily recommend to any- and everyone. Two (Coraline and M is for Magic) would be suitable for children, Stardust for “young adults”, and the two other short story collections for those with slightly shorter attention spans (or anyone who suffers from needing to get to the next part of the story even though it’s past 1 am). The final book, currently ranked second in the poll, is the one I voted for (am I allowed to declare my vote?). Mainly because in the words of Neil Gaiman:

Which book, though…? Ah, that’s up to you.

What I want you to do is think — not about which of the books below is your favourite, but if you were giving one away to a friend who had never read anything of mine, what would it be? Where would you want them to start?

Of all the books in my library, two stand out. They are ever-changing. I keep having to buy the latest version, usually in paperback, as cheaply as I can. Why? Not because I want every single edition of these books. I’m a reader, not a collector, after all. I love these two books and read them again and again because they give me considerable pleasure. But I can’t seem to hang on to them. These are the books that I lend to folk who just want something to read. They aren’t usually avid readers themselves, but for some reason or other, usually involving coach/train/air travel, need a book to amuse them for several hours. So, I lend out one of these two books. And NEVER get them back! Never! Not once!3. One is the fantabulous Good Omens (not up for grabs in the current give-away). The second is the book that started out life as a TV series: Neverwhere, the book I would like you to read.

If you have ever lived in or visited a city, and turned down an alley one day and had that spooky feeling that you were entering some secret underbelly that was nothing like the city street you just turned off, then this is the book for you. If you’ve ever been alone on the platform waiting for the Tube/Metro/subway, and your imagination wanders off into eerie-land, you’ll love this book. If you’ve ever wondered why there are so many stray cats everywhere, you may find the answer here. It would be unfair and inaccurate to say this is Neil Gaiman’s best work, because that belongs to the special work of love that is the Sandman comic/graphic novel series4. But I really think Neverwhere is where someone new to the strange and wonderful workings of Neil Gaiman’s written imagination should start. Full-on weirdness anchored in reality.

Neverwhere is currently 2nd in the poll. If you trust my recommendation, vote for it. I won’t be overly upset if it doesn’t win, because the other 7 are truly marvellous creations too. But I’d be sad that you didn’t get to read Neverwhere for free. Well, you still can if you borrow it off me.

1 There are loads of other amazing works available on his website for free. A few short stories, also found in his own or other anthologies, are there, along with more eclectic things like Crazy Hair and the explanation of the origins of Scary Trousers.

2 A sort-of sequel, but perfectly perfect as a stand-alone.

3 Well, apart from P, of course, who I can tickle until he puts the book back on the shelf.

4 Or American Gods or Stardust or Coraline or Wolves in the Walls or any of his other brilliant works, many of which he probably hasn’t even put to paper yet. I won’t argue with you because I just can’t decide either.

Granola thumbprints

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It’s been a wasted weekend. Work and sleeping off the effects of a cold have fettered my precious free time. That and 285 posts on the RSS reader. Must streamline. First to go will be the Scotsman feed; too much repetition. I’d already thrown out the right-of-centre blogs a few months ago, but was sucked into reading their recent froths about the COE’s archbishop’s radio interview. Bad idea; even worse, I read some of the comments.

And to top it all, we are out of biscuits/cookies in the house. This is never a good state at the weekend. What exactly am I supposed to have with my tea if not a biscuit? And I was craving jammy dodgers. So it made sense to bake thumbprint cookies, which are just cookies in which you stick your thumb and fill the resulting indentation with jam. No recipe this time; it just wasn’t good enough. Note to self: putting granola in baking only makes it all taste like health food1.

Jammy Thumbprints

Oh, they weren’t awful per se. Just chunky when what I wanted were slightly crisper biscuits, not chewy cookies.

1 Might as well eat one of these.

Pesky pre-primary pussyfooting

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Any semi-regular reader (that’s you, you and you over there who reads the food posts) can guess on which arm of the political spectrum I lie. (Or quadrant, if left and right are too simple for you.) So you must have been rather pleased that I haven’t been inundating these pages1 with posts about the current drive to select the US presidential candidates who will be duking it out in the final contest this November. It’s not that I’m not interested. It’s just that, as a foreigner, I can’t vote. But I can tell you who I would have voted for last Tuesday if I could have. Or would have wanted to vote for if s|he existed.

Quite simply, I would have voted for someone who is/was opposed to invading Iraq, has plans for getting Iraq back to civility, is pro-Social Security, can keep an open mind on stem cell research, supports choice in schools, leans towards fair trade, is pro-labour (the workers, not the UK party), is pro-choice, pro-gay partnership/marriage, anti-death penalty, will bring in gun-control legislation, will act on environmental concerns, fix the crazy US health care system, and isn’t a complete nutjob.

According to one of the very many presidential selection tools out there2, such a candidate DOES NOT EXIST. Hmm, funny that. If this were the UK, quite a few possibilities would have flagged up on all issues except that most important qualifier of not being a nutjob. But, of the US contenders, Dennis Kuchinich came up tops, followed closely by Barack Obama, then Hillary Clinton and John Edwards. No need to even ask where any of the Republican candidates came in. If akatsukira ran the world, those guys would be given a small island in the middle of nowhere3 and told to just get on with it.

So, now you know. Wish you hadn’t started reading, eh?


1 Quite unlike the blog diarrhoea I subjected you to in 2005 then.

2 Ones that compare policy and not hair styles.

3 Kiribati, anyone?

Brill Breakfast Burrito

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Nae baking the last two weekends. Hair cuts, new guitar and work have eaten up all my free time. But I’d like to take a moment to sing the praises of my favourite LaLaLand breakfast food: the breakfast burrito. Viewers of my photoblog on Flickr may remember the first burrito I had in LA, ship-sinker that it was. I have not exactly been enamoured of huge floppy burritos that can feed an entire football team since. But one particular burrito has warmed the cockles of my cold anti-burrito soul: the Ketchy’s II breakfast burrito.

Our favourite breakfast burrito

It is a fried breakfast lover’s dream come true: a perfectly fried omelette, rolled up with fresh lettuce, tomatoes, and streaky bacon in an easy-to-hold wheat tortilla origami creation. Breakfast-to-go. Or, in our case, linger after our bi-monthly haircut1.

Ketchy’s II2
Sawtelle3
11270 La Grange Ave (just behind the shabu shabu restau Mizu)
Los Angeles CA 90025
+1 310 481 0799

1 Tip for those who wish to sit and eat: the tables outside don’t usually get much sun. But if you’re there sometime between 11am and noon, there are two little tables under the trees that get nice and warm. There. It’s taken me 2 1/2 years, but I’ve finally picked up a few insider tips and tricks. And share them with you.

2 There’s a bit of history behind the Ketchy name. I think it used to be a taco stand, which was unfortunately smashed by a truck. At any rate, it’s now a hole-in-the-wall, and the fry-cook (ala Spongebob) is a super omelette fryer. I live for my haircuts now…

3 Not only do we not leave the Westside much, we don’t even venture much further east than just west of the 405. Sad.