Yeah, it's been awhile

So I've been back from India since January 24, 2009, and I'm finally getting around to fill out the next installment of this blog...It's been a busy Winter, Spring, and now Summer around here. It involved three more trips (twice to The Big Easy, where I'm currently located, and Peru, which didn't go so well from a culinary POV, but that's another story), the Phish Reunion, and first leg of their Summer tour, three triathlons (2 half Ironman's, 1 Olympic), a move to Washington, D.C., a kitchen renovation and rekindling of a past romance that never quite went away. In any event, I'm going to keep this last India post short (even though I originally thought I'd do 4), with two highlights, the first being from what would become my favorite restaurant in India, and the second being my favorite street vendor.

The Spice Route is located in the Imperial Hotel in New Delhi. Now, I've stayed at the Four Seasons Maui, the Four Seasons Kona, the Del Coronado in San Diego, and several other hotel heavyweights around the U.S., but I have to say the Imperial Hotel was beyond impressive, with a regal feel consistent with it's name. It oozed class. And on the night I dined at the finest of its seven restaurants (Conde Nast Traveler has it ranked as one of the top 10 restaurants in the world), outside in its courtyard was the Indian of the Year awards ceremony, which only added to the ambience. Countless 1940's era white limousines lined the driveway to the place. Luckily for me all the celebs and VIP's were being fed outdoors, so I had no problem securing a 7:30 reservation with a call the day before.

The cuisine is Southeast Asian, and it's decorated as an homage "designed to reflect the journey of spices from the Malabar Coast in Kerala through Sri Lanka, Malaysia and Indonesia to Thailand and Vietnam." I've never been to any of those places, but it sure seemed accurate. There were Hindu and Buddhist frescoes, along with red sandstone walls. The lighting was warm candlelight, like being outside at dusk.

I began my meal with Por Pia Chae, Thai "por pia" skin wrapped vegetables, fried crisp and served with a sweet chili and plum sauce. Excellent. This was followed by Sate Bali, an Indonesian chicken satay served with a traditional peanut butter sauce. The finest PB sauce I've ever had. I accompanied the apps with a glass of 2002 Chateau Clauzet Sant-Estephe Cru Bourgeois Superior, from Bordeaux. This mild and oaky red did a good job enhancing the flavor of the food. My main dish was Karuva Pulli Vattu Curry, roasted duck cooked with Kerala spices and fresh crushed and roasted black pepper. Out of this world. I like duck, although I don't eat it often, and this was the best I've ever had. It melted on my tongue like warm chocolate. I added two sides: Malabar Parontha, wholewheat layered bread from the South of India, and Khao Neow, a sticky rice from Thailand. Both the bread and rice were put to good use soaking up the curry sauce. I accompanied the main course with a glass of 2005 Accademia dei Racemi "Dunicox Primitivo" from Puglia, Italy, a magnificent red.

My dessert was called Chocolate Addicted, which I am. It was Three (!) scoops of double rich chocolate chips, chocolate ice cream (of course), warm fudge sauce and chocolate truffles. Oh Baby!! Other menu items included Sri Lankan-style calamari called Dhallo Temperadu, which was prepared with garlic and curry leaves; Cha Gio, a Vietnamese minced pork and prawn spring roll served with a spicy sauce, as well as other traditional Thai faves.

All in all, The Spice Route delivered on all accounts. The service was superb. I was given a table for two with views of the main dining area that allowed a lot of solid people watching. I highly recommend it!

Anyone that knows me knows that I don't stand on ceremony, and when it comes to food, i'm consistent with this philosophy. And that's why my absolute favorite food in India came from a kiosk no bigger than an NYC corner newstand. It's called Aloo Chaat. And it's been perfected at Pappu Chaat Bhander, opposite 19, Surya Kiran Bldg, K.G. Marg., it's about 2 buildings down on the opposite side of the street from the American Center/Embassy just off of Connaught Place. Look for the crowds. It's so popular (numerous newspaper articles adorn the outside of the kiosk), that bankers in the adjacent building ran two phone lines from 4th story windows to a table next to the kiosk so that they can continue doing business while getting in a mid-day snack or lunch. Allu (or aloo, I've seen it spelled both ways), is Hindi for potato. Aloo chaat is simply fried potato cubes, like big home fries, in a spicy brownish green chutney. Absolutely to die for. It's the only thing in India that I went back for second's (and by that I mean, two orders on two consecutive days!). Get the aloo chaat, which is just potatoes, and a mixed fruit version, which includes potatoes, and assorted fresh fruit (papaya, mango, apple, banana, etc). Ask for it spicy if you like real spicy. It only cost 30 rupees for two orders. The owner is super friendly, which is amazing considering he's sitting cross-legged (I hesitate using the term "Indian-style" when describing an Indian vs. a Native American!), for 10 hours a day in super hot conditions cutting up fruit and mixing each order himself. But that's one of those things I admired most about the Indian people: their overwhelmingly good-natured spirit.

Anyway I posted a photo of the owner, hard at work, along with the dish at the top.

I hope you enjoyed India, you should go!

Greetings from India (Rajdhani Express and Darjeeling)-Part 2

So I'm back from India, but I wasn't able to find a cyber-cafe with adequate security, so I've waited until I returned home to post the rest of my trip. Almost all the public computers have pirated Windows operating systems (confirmed by a young Indian tech-savvy friend I made while travelling), so it's not the best place to do anything online that you deem important. [Do you think Bill Gates, with his new found spare time is searching the web for anecdotal evidence to start a WTO case against piracy? Let's hope curing world poverty is a higher priority.]

Last time I posted, I had just arrived in Darjeeling. So let me tell you all about how I arrived there. I took the Rajdhani Express train from Mumbai to Delhi (Uttar Pradesh State), and then another one from Delhi to New Jalpaiguri (West Bengal State). Rajdhani translates to "The Capital", and you can learn more about this wonderful train here. It's called The Capital because this train line emanates from Delhi, and goes to all the major cities. I travelled in AC First class, which was just wonderful. I was on this train three times, and each leg was about 20 hours, so you can see why first class, air-conditioned was the only way to go. The service was very good going from Mumbai to Delhi, below-average for Delhi to New Jalpaiguri, and good from New Jalpaiguri back to Delhi. Of course, since it was India that meant that the butler we had for our berth from Mumbai to Delhi was more than gracious with the collective tip of Rps 400 we gave (about $8 for 22 hours of first class service), and never solicited a tip from us, while the slacker butler we had from Delhi to New Jalpaiguri, who was the first person besides the swarms of begging children that I encountered to directly solicit money, complained repeatedly that the Rps 150 tip was meager for him and his porter. The butler and porter that I had on my return trip back to Delhi secured a private two-person berth for me, so I tipped them for both the service and the accomodations.

In any event, the food was really good. One of the best legacies of British Colonial rule in India is their extensive railway network. Yet another shame of the United States' marriage to the auto industry for the last 80 years: a developing nation like India with a GDP of less than 1/20th of ours has a far more reliable and comfortable rail network. You can get anywhere you'd want to go in India via train (thank Tricky Dick, and successive Detroit-beholden Administrations). For $370 I had reservations on five trains while in India totally approximately 70 hours and 7000 kms. In addition, as opposed to packaged junk food ala Amtrak's beverage/food car that you additionally have to pay for, on my three full-day, overnight journey's my fare included breakfast, lunch and dinner, as well as two snacks, and all the tea and bottled water I wanted. Lunch and dinner consisted of a traditional thali (multiple small dishes; photo attached) that included alloo gobi (potato and cauliflower in a spicy sauce), daal (a lentil dish), paneer masala (Indian cheese in spicy red sauce), whole wheat roti/chapati (indian-style pita bread), raw vegetables, pepper pickles. This was the vegetarian option, and there is a non-vegetarian option as well. Breakfast consisted of a masala omelette (eggs with red, green and jalapeno peppers), Indian corn flakes (forgettable), and something else I'm forgetting. We also had a mid-afternoon snack of a traditional Indian cheese and white bread sandwich, and ice cream for dessert. Indian Railways (which consists of separate sub-entities of Western, Northern and Central divisions) prepare the foods, and we pick it up fresh at certain stations along our journey. Some chefs are better than others, but all were at least above-average. Our butler on the Mumbai/Delhi route even brought us second helpings of anything we wanted! In fact, while I'm not complaining, there actually was too much food to eat. It seemed at times that we were in a food-eating contest.

On my Delhi-New Jalpaiguri route, I shared a berth with four people including an Indian Army officer and an American woman named Chonyi (not her given name). Chonyi and I decided that instead of wasting all the excess food, we would re-wrap any leftovers in the tin foil that covered each dish, or whatever we could find, and began giving the leftovers away to the ubiquitous, homeless, starving children that wandered the platforms at the train stations we stopped at. This was very rewarding to say the least, and something I kept up my entire trip. The look of love in their eyes from a stranger, especially a foreigner, was something I will never forget. Side note: India is NOT for the faint-at-heart. If you've had a chance to see Slumdog Millionaire, do so, it's accurate I'm told. Two things in particular are hard for most Westerners (or anyone with a heart): the poverty and the stray dogs. Both are ever-present. The malnutrition is rampant among both. The signs are everywhere. Hair that should be brown or black is reddish or rust-colored. The emaciated legs. The gaunt faces. Unforgettable. So many stray dogs, almost all of which are nearly identical in size: stunted around 24-30 inches tall from lack of adequate food. Unfortunately, Indian mafia force many children into begging (which is actually illegal in India), and so much of the money that they collect goes to someone else. It's a highly organized racket with most children on the train platforms holding the same tin plates with the same prayer book. Seriously, it's obvious they didn't purchase these themselves. So in order to avoid giving money that doesn't go to the needy, I gave the extra food. In addition, while waiting for a couple trains, I also purchased a dozen or so juice boxes (Rps 15 each, or $0.30), and passed them out. I recommend any traveller do the same. These kids need food, juice and water, not rupees.

I arrived in New Jalpaiguri (NJP) with Chonyi on a Wednesday around noon. Chonyi is probably in her upper 50's, and has two grown children. I don't know her given name, but I noticed the name on her bags didn't say Chonyi. Whatever, it's not important. What's important is her story. She's from San Francisco, but has spent the bulk of the last 15 years living a bohemian life trekking (almost entirely alone) through Central and Southeast Asia. She began in 1994. Some of her journey's included 3 months through Northeastern Pakistan, Kashmir, Nepal and Bhutan trekking alone from village to village, crossing borders (sometimes illegally), through some of the most rustic places on earth. She'll go months without seeing another English-speaking person. She was returning to India after 5 months of being back in the U.S. for some medical treatment, and some R n' R. She was travelling with two enormous duffel bags, and had decided to stay in Siliguri (next town north of NJP), but had no reservations anywhere. Let me describe Siliguri for you: Bogota, circa 1989. This place looked and felt rough. But it had a lot of activity going on. It's also the central location of an independence movement that many of the local hill towns are seeking; a new state called Gorkhaland. The people in this region aren't really Indian. They are an amalgam of Nepalese, Tibetan, Sikkh (former Kingdom, now Indian State of Sikkim), Chinese, and Bengali. And they have been lobbying peacefully, and at times violently for a new country. They have painted over many Indian government signs and replaced the wording with Gorkhaland. There were protests that turned violent in June 2008 that have had a marked affect on local tourism (the only road from NJP to the hill towns leading to the Nepal/Himalayan border, of which Darjeeling in the largest and most popular runs through Siliguri). We'll return to this saga later. Anyways, Chonyi's son, who lives in Austin, came over for a couple weeks, and befriended a local, who helped arrange for his mom to stay at a Buddhist monastery for 5 months. Pretty cool. He met us at the train station, and we all jumped into the SUV that my hotel had sent for me. After dropping them off (and getting to shake hands with my first Buddhist monks!), I was on my way solo again. We passed through the rest of Siliguri, and one of the Gorkhaland leaders (a woman, no less) was giving a passionate speech along the way near a statue of Darjeeling and National Hero, Sherpa Tenzing Norgay. We entered tea country, passed through an army base, and up into the Himalayan foothills. It's about a 50 mile drive to Darjeeling from NJP, but it takes about 2.5-3 hours because it's all one-lane each way (and sometimes less), switchbacks up the mountain. The pavement is potholed in many places. We passed through several other hill towns, and arrived in Darjeeling mid-afternoon. Wow. I mean, WOW! This place felt like another world. It's more Nepal, than India. The majority of the people are definitely not Indian descendants. Do you remember the place Harrison Ford met Karen Allen in the beginning of Raiders of the Lost Ark? Well, minus the blizzard and the Nazi's, that's what this town felt like. I checked into my hotel, and immediately wandered out to explore. First stop, the Dekevas Restaurant, which Frommer's had recommended as a great place for Tibetan food, especially their momos (Tibetan dumplings). I have to hand it to Frommer's on this one, while not always an entirely accurate description from my perspective (remember the reports are written by people, all of whom have different tastes), the reporter for this place was dead on. This was the best Tibetan food I had in Darjeeling. The vegetable soup and the vegetable fried rice were also amazing.

Other places I ate at in Darjeeling were Glenary's, a Darjeeling institution since 1935. It has a definite British theme, including a red, London telephone booth. They have a pub called The Buzz in the basement level, a bakery (with EXCELLENT pastries), internet cafe and diner on the main level, and a restaurant on the top level. Good food, good service, great views from the diner area. Order the Indian specialties at the upstairs restaurant. It was the best aloo gobi I had the entire trip. Unfortunately, these were the only two places I got to eat at during my trip. Lemon Grass (aka The Park), was closed for three weeks while the proprietors vacationed. But that's only a small part of the reason. The main reason was that on Friday morning, in that friendly town of Siliguri, the peaceful political protests again turned violent. Five killed, many people, including over a dozen police officers, hospitalized. I had eaten breakfast at Glenary's Friday morning, and walked the 2+ miles out of town to visit the Darjeeling zoo and the Himalayan Mountaineering Insitute (which share the same entrance). Both were very cool, and are must-see's when visiting the area. The zoo is the only place in the world that has been successful at breeding red pandas (see photo) as well as snow leopards.

The Mountaineering Institute was established in 1954 following Sherpa Tenzing Norgay and Sir Edmund Hillary's first ascent of Everest in 1953. Norgay lived in Darjeeling until his death in the late-80's. The Institute also included a separate Everest museum, which was waaaay cool. So much information, old and modern gear, etc. They are a well-respected climbing school, with Everest, as well as many other, ascents by their former pupils and staff. And you can understand why the Himalaya's are so important when you look at the photo of Mount Kanchenjunga, the 3rd tallest peak in the world behind Everest (29,029) and K2 (28,251), located about 50 miles north of town and sitting watch over Darjeeling. It tops out at 28,169 feet, and has 5 peaks! To give you some perspective, it lies above Darjeeling like Mt. Rainier does to Seattle. But Rainier is only 14,203 feet. So this has a surface elevation of almost twice that.

By the time I returned back to town it was early afternoon, and I noticed that many restaurants and shops were closing for business. Since it was a Friday afternoon, I thought maybe it was normal to cut out early. I stopped in Glenary's, had a quick lunch, but noticed the service was rushed, and they were closing the doors behind me. Still it didn't strike me as all that odd. This was a foreign land, and no one seemed to be at all agitated walking along the streets. I headed back to my hotel for a nap. I was greeted by a warm hello and a smile when I returned. I got up around 4pm to shower and grab some dinner (dinner usually is served from 4:30-8pm in Darjeeling. When the sun goes down, the town usually shuts down, with only a couple places open until 11pm). I headed out, and again, nothing said from the front desk. But as soon as I got outside I realized something was up. Nothing was open, and the crowds from Wednesday and Thursday nights were non-existent. There were two general stores still open, and after realizing that there were no other dinner options I headed over to one. I asked one of the employees why everything was closed, no answer, but his eyes scanned to the other employees. I asked another one, he motioned me closer. Uh oh. He asked if I'd heard about the protests in Siliguri earlier. I said no. He said they got out of hand, and the protesters closed the mountain road just north of Siliguri. Nothing in to the hill country (Darjeeling included). The road was open to people travelling out, but only until 6pm Friday. And as a sign of solidarity, the shop keepers and restaurant owners in Darjeeling were closed up after lunch as well. Alrighty!!! Here was my taste of everything my parents and some friends were concerned about before I left. Political unrest in India, about as common as the Mumbai smog. No panic on my part though. The employee said the protests never got violent in Darjeeling. I purchased some crackers and Oreo's, and a large bottle of water, and headed back to my hotel. However, Saturday morning I awoke to the sounds of protest on the streets outside my hotel. Oh boy. The morning paper was delivered with the front page reports of what had gone down Friday morning in Siliguri. Ok, now I was a little more concerned. First time in my life I was actually worried about my safety. Fortunately, the employee had been correct the night before, and nothing bad happened in Darjeeling. I was scheduled to depart Sunday morning at 8am, and the protesters called a truce as of midnight Saturday. So I confirmed the taxi ride back to NJP, and all was set. But still no restaurants or stores. Luckily the hotel's satellite tv worked fine. I ordered some tea, and chilled out, spending some time chatting with the British couple next door to me. However, I had my first illness Saturday. The packaged food from the general store had apparently expired (by about a year), but hey, I had no other options. I would up spending most of Saturday with a stomach illness. It passed by Sunday morning, but it wasn't pretty. I made it back to NJP, and onto the train for the return trip to Delhi.

This was so much more than just a vacation. It was an adventure. And this isn't a food blog, it's a travel-food blog. So I hope you're enjoying the ride. I know I did! I'll post Agra and Delhi in separate posts in the next few days. Until then, cheers.

Greetings from India (Mumbai)-Part 1

Well i've been in India for a week now, and it is more than I could have dreamed. Mumbai (most of the locals still call it Bombay) is the NYC of India, and I've been describing it to some friends as: if you could imagine all five boroughs of NYC crammed onto Manhattan island. It is so densely packed. Rich and poor together on top of each other. I have not yet seen Slumdog Millionaire, but a couple people that I spoke to here have, and they said it is a stunningly accurate portrait. I look forward to seeing it when I get home. As I figured going in, it was much safer than we would believe in the West, although signs of 26/11 (days before months here) abound, with constant newspaper coverage of the international political repercussions. I stayed in the Fort section of the city, which borders the Colaba section. My hotel was across the street from the glorious Victoria Terminus rail station. It looks like the Banff Springs Chateau, and not Grand Central. This was one of the main sites for the terrorist attacks, and security was tight. My hotel was clean and well appointed. It was about a 15 minute walk south into Colaba, past the Mumbai stock exchange, to the Gateway of India monument, which sits on the harbor. This is where the terrorists disembarked. The Taj Hotel was across the street, and you could still see the affects. Security was like a military base, and the first floor is still boarded up, but they are taking guests. The southeast corner roof still has the fire damage. It was moving to say the least.

The media in India appears to be significantly more free than the U.S. corporately-owned press. Journalists here offer much more scathing critiques of politicians and businessman than virtually all of the U.S. media, with the exception of maybe a Vanity Fair. There are many an Anderson Cooper here. I've been amazed at the voracity of the editorials and normal columnists. Anyways, on a less somber note, I spent the weekend in Mumbai and it was wonderful. Walking around the streets seeing the Raj-era buildings, you can see the British influence everywhere. But the city is so alive. From the moment I stepped off the plane I could feel the energy. This is the second city that never sleeps. Literally, the activity dampens from about 4:30-5:00 am and that's it. You get used to the incessant honking, and the throngs of people. When I get home I'll upload some photos, but I can't now.

As for the food. OMG. I ate at Indigo (photo above) the first night, this is an uber-trendy restaurant that Conde Nast ranks as number 58 on the world's best restuarants. It has a cool bar, lit up with soft blue and violet neon. Fully stocked (Guiness included), with anything you could want. I started with a Kingfisher, the Indian national beer. Repeat after me: Anheuser Busch, you are not even close to being the King of Beers. Kingfisher killed it, and that's just India's entry. Italy's Peroni, or the Caribbean's (correct?) el Presidente, the list goes on and on. The food was international, and it did not disappoint. I started with an appetizer special: goat cheese gnocchi with roasted garlic and pinenut butter. It melted on my tongue. My main course was a lobster risotto with black olive tapenade, it had a peppery flavor that was exquisite. As my brother and sister-in-law joke, of course I had the risotto. It's one of my faves and combined with the tapenade, also a favorite, it was a match made in culinary heaven. My dessert was a hot cappaccino souffle, and it was one of the top five best desserts I've ever had. It was prepared and served to perfection. The menu offers other apps such as pan seared confit duck leg, lobster bisque with crab ravioli, and a cured salmon and cream cheese torte with tangerine oil and caper berries. Other main dishes included a saffron risotto of roasted pumpkin with shallots and walnut cream, grilled tiger prawns with fennel and saffron dressing with watercress salad, tobiko and caviar, and a beef tenderloin glazed with radish, chickpea mash and kalamata olives. Other desserts included a rasberry marscapone tart with canola bean sabayon, chocolate plum fudge, and a Bailey's chocolate mousse with of course Bailey's cream poured over it. Hungry yet? The service was impeccable.

The next night I had dinner at Khyber (145 Mahatma Gandhi Rd), something of a Colaba institution, having been open for about 70 years. It is The place for Northern Indian cuisine (what, you thought I was going to come all the way here and not focus on local cuisine?). This place is decorated with a Moroccan feel. There is no sign out front, save for a small statue. But it's located on the corner right across an alley from the Rhythm House music store. They are known for their kabobs. They put out a starter with three bowls including baby red onions, mint/basil chutney and Indian pepper pickles. The pickles were amazing, and I soon found out were common with most Indian meals. Several different types of pickles are sliced, and then red carrot sticks are added to a spicy red chili sauce. Unbelievable. I started with a kabob of prawns tikka, that was 'r u kidding me good'. Spicy, and charred just right. The garlic naan was also broiled to perfection, and absolutely dripping with butter and garlic. My main dish was a paneer marshawala. Paneer is the Indian word for cheese. It has a tofu texture, and was prepared in a mild red sauce. I needed to order a second basket of naan to soak up all the sauce. My dessert was a caramel kulfi (indian ice cream) and a cinnamon coffee. Again, the food and service were exceptional. The only unfortunate item was ordering a mojito. It was poorly made, and I ordered it against my better judgement, but a couple next to me had also ordered them, and it sounded good in 90 degree weather. Whatever.

I went for breakfast at the famous Leopold's Cafe (hey if you go to NYC you're going to the Carnegie deli right?). As advertised, it was filled with westerners. But since it was the eponymous moniker of the cafe in Shantaram, and also the scene of carnage on 26/11, I wanted to partake, as well as pay respects. It's really a glorified diner with a bunch of American posters, including several of the ones with Humphrey Bogart, Marilyn Monroe, James Dean and Elvis situated in classic paintings. There was one with them crossing Abbey Road like the Beatles. But the service was good, and the western breakfast was well done. I had a masala omelette (i've since had several of these, and this was about middle of the pack; masala implies it's got peppers and onions), toast and jam, and tea. I also picked up a liter of water for my day of siteseeing. Breakfast was cheap and good which is what it should be. If you want extravagence, you're talking brunch. I paid for breakfast, and made a donation to the fund for families of the terrorist attack victims since several employees were killed.

The next morning I had breakfast at Monty's (Cafe Mondegar). This was similar to Leopold's, but I liked the atmosphere better. It also catered to westerners, with a black and white checkerboard, 1920's motif. Breakfast was about the same as Leopold's. You might ask why I headed to a similar place (and they are located 2 blocks from each other), and the answer is that I wanted to do a little shopping, and both are located in an area with lots of vendors. And there were few other options for a 'safe' breakfast. The service here was slow, and back home I'd add 'painfully' to that description, but on this trip, time meant nothing.

As for the street food, against the advice of Passport Health, I had a few samosas throughout the day. Mmmm. And no GI issues, so just make sure you're watching them cook them so that they are fresh out of the boiling oil and you should be fine.

The one unfortunate food issue was the fact that after trekking about 2 miles through a very crowded district, in a humid 90 degrees, the Parsi Dairy Farm on Princess Street was closed. It was Sunday, but everything else in the area was open. This was supposed to be one of the best ice cream places in Mumbai, and I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to partake.

Anyways, I'm in Darjeeling now, and I'm eager to continue exploring. I'll try and get to Part II of my series, which will cover both overnight train rides (Mumbai to Delhi, and Delhi to New Jalgaipuri). Both were memorable.

Later friends,
MT

It's always cold and windy in San Francisco

Mmmmmm, Pork Store

I just absolutely love the weather in San Francisco. Cool, windy, overcast with occassional sunshine. You can walk around outside for hours without breaking a sweat, and then come inside and eat. And oh, how we ate.

I met my oldest and dearest friends in San Francisco for a bunch of days around New Year's. Two of my closest friends moved out there from New York a couple years ago, so it was the first time that the six of us had been together in nearly two years. They live a couple blocks from the Pacific Ocean in a world totally different than Downtown San Francisco. From the numbers in the water, it's a surfer's paradise.

We spent the nights of the 30th and 31st at a club called Mezzanine downtown. It's a cool place to see live music, and I highly recommend it. We saw Tea Leaf Green both nights, the next generation of great live rock n' roll jam band. Think young Phish. Bottles of bourbon, vodka, and a special NYE treat, Veuve Clicquot Rose were enjoyed by all.

There were two restaurants of note: Q and The Pork Store. Q was described as quintessential comfort food (the owner uses the term Funky American Comfort), and it did not fail to deliver. It's located at 225 Clement Street in the Richmond District. The place was jammed for dinner on New Year's Day, as expected, and after negotiating with the amiable hostess, we crammed into the street front window booth. The wine list was standard, but consistent with the comfort food, it was the beer list that impressed. As opposed to the now fairly common practice of overwhelming number of choices, Q sticks with quality. Any establishment serving Chimay and Hoegaarden gets my attention. But I decided to try the Deschutes Black Butte Porter and I was not disappointed. We started our feast with several apps: Fried Calamari with chile-lime aoli, wings (grilled) with tropical fruit-habanero dipping sauce (fantastic), Tate R Tots (perfectly fried), and the baked Cypress Grove goat cheese on mixed greens with roasted peppers, roasted garlic and and grilled focaccia. This was scrumptious. Unfortunately they were out of my first choice, the Southern Fried Fulton Valley Natural Chicken, but alas, second choice was out of this world: Smilin' Andy's Applewood Smoked Pork Spare Ribs, served with Mom's Baked Beans, garlic fries and spicy slaw. I ordered this on the spicy side, and I was not disappointed. It was a bbq heaven of the first order. Others in the group enjoyed the burger, the Portabello Risotto, and the Grilled Loch Duart Salmon. We topped it off with homemade chocolate cookies and whipped cream, and a cold glass of milk. Comfort food indeed. Next time I think I'll try the Grilled Harris Ranch Angus meatloaf or the Macaroni n Cheesy with tots.

Saturday morning my friend H promised me a great breakfast at this greasy spoon in the Haight, and The Pork Store Cafe at 1451 Haight was a winner. It's not much on decor, which is exactly what a breakfast/lunch joint should be: functionally decorated with good food. And despite the name, there were plenty of vegetarian options as well. I had a broccoli and feta omelet with avocado. I said it at breakfast, and I'll repeat it, the avocado rules and California is it's kingdom. I love how you can get avocado with just about anything in California. The square, large, warm, oven fresh bisquits that accompanied the omelet melted in your mouth.

And the hash browns, OMG. Hash browns should not be that difficult to perfect, but rarely is it accomplished. The potato needs to be fried crispy, but not burnt. The Pork Store has perfected them. Somehow greasy and crispy at once. H enjoyed his chicken fried steak, and someone else got the Chorizo special. We rolled out onto Haight with the meat sweats. What a way to start a Saturday of NFL playoffs!

Another two places to note if you are going to be around the Zoo or the beach were the new Java Beach Cafe on Sloat at 45th across from the zoo, and John's Ocean Beach Cafe at 47th and Sloat. Our friends live a couple blocks away, and we stayed at a hotel around the corner, so the first morning stop (and several late afternoon ones too!) were made at Java Beach. Loved the staff, the coffee and hot chocolate is great, and so is the food. John's was a classic diner decorated like a 50's basement with old movie posters, but the multiple benedict options were wonderful.

It was good eats in San Francisco indeed. I'm back home, and packing for India, which I leave for on the 8th. I'm hoping to post several times while I'm there, I just need to figure out the mobile posting stuff. Bon appetit and Happy New Year.

Ham Day 2008

Hello gastro travel fans. I'm up in the NYC area for my family's holiday celebration, Ham Day. It's a little bit of Festivus, a lot of Hannukah, with a twist of Easter. Legend has it that when the our family, which had been under seige in the Temple by the Greek Army, went looking for rations they only found one pork-based product, and it wasn't bacon. It was only one honey-glazed spiral ham. But this ham lasted eight days, and fed the agnostics through the seige until New Years Day reinforcements arrived. The miracle of the ham was acknowledged by all. And every year we celebrate Ham Day. Like all Jewish holidays, it moves around the calendar. Sometimes it's late, sometimes early, but always welcomed.

Unfortunately a Nor'easter passed through the region late Saturday night into Sunday morning, and we had to cancel the festivities. Some would say that if you're gonna serve ham for Hannukah chances are someone (the old man in the sky for instance) is not going to like it. Those people are insane. Do you honestly think that a transcontinental weather system was created by an omnipotent, omniscient being who, when finished creating the universe, decided that a small extended family's celebration in the NYC suburbs was worth its time? But I digress.

So instead of Ham Day, my brother and sister-in-law and I went to DeCicco's Market in New City, NY to stock up on snowstorm supplies. I highly recommend a visit to this family-owned culinary paradise. Included in our loot was fresh smoked mozzarella, fontina, manchego, fresh mozzarella and asiago, pizza dough, fresh marinara, hot sopressata and pepperoni. We were gonna hunker down with homemade pizza. We thought Corsendonk and Chimay would be perfect to complement the pizza. There was a four cheese and a meat pizza. Yummy. My sister-in-law had made truffles filled with crumbled oreo cookies for Ham Day, which we devoured.

Anyway, we're watching the Travel Channel right now, which I'm addicted to. It's a "paradise" marathon. The first episode was on donuts, the next on ice cream, and currently it's about subs and delicatessen's. It's time to eat. Happy holiday's, I'm headed to San Francisco for New Year's to visit some of my closest friends. I'll let you know what we ate. Bon appetit.

Welcome Message

Hi, I'm Matt. My friends call me Tex, or "lucky bastard," because i'm a former banker, and now a graduate student/aspiring world traveller. Over the next year I'll be visiting India, Greece, Egypt, and Peru in a vain attempt to make up for over a decade of travel neglect. And I'm gonna try a lot of different foods and libations. So if you're interested in travel or food, or both, come on board with me. You just might learn a little, be repulsed somewhat (ala Andrew Zimmern), or even laugh at my mishaps. In the end all I care about is that you walk away with an appreciation for exploration, whether it's your own backyard, the next town over, or the end of a 20-hour flight.