The Chicken Wall

New Site

2008-12-05T20:11:00.001-08:00

We're now blogging at http://quarteryear.wordpress.com
Our food blog is at http://thechickenwall.wordpress.com

See you there!

Mike & Azure

Kauai Produce

2008-09-28T11:58:00.001-07:00

Okra, green beans, lychees and pineapples.

Murder sandwiches!

2008-09-14T22:38:00.000-07:00

My fam went crabbing in the San Juans this summer and I documented the process from bait to table.

Sister Kate holding a female dungeness. One of these ladies would be thrown into the sea. You're only allowed to keep male crabs, so that the females can do the egg thing. You can tell the gender by the little patch that Kate's touching with her left middle finger - it's shaped like a wide U. On males it's much more narrow, like a V. Similar to our species, actually.

Baiting the trap. For the first time my dad used frozen chicken as bait because the salmon at the store was too expensive. It worked really well - the pots were full each time. The cage has four trap doors - one on each side - and the pot is lowered into about 30-50 feet of water. The rope is attached to a buoy that my dad marks on his GPS unit so we can find it when we go back out to collect the souls.

Hours later, a full pot. We pull the boat up to the buoy and Kate snags it, then hauls up the pot. This one was mostly full, probably 15 crabs total. The limit was 5 per license per day, and the season is only a few specific days each week, a few weeks a year. They seem to change it every year. The pot isn't too heavy, but if everyone rushes over to look at the surfacing pot then the boat tilts alarmingly and the puller-upper screams at everyone. In this picture, Kate's got the pot to the surface and is about to haul it into the boat.

Chaos ensues! Not really. The cage goes onto the floor of the boat and my dad opens one of the sides. Crabs are sometimes stubborn and will clamp down on the cage. Sometimes one will try to make a run for it and chaos ensues! Throughout the process my dad directs traffic. Everyone crowds around to see how many keepers we got. That's Autsy on the left in blue, then my mom, Craig (Kate's boyf), my dad and Kate. Az and I stayed out of the way as to, you know, avoid helping.

Dad measures the crab. As you can see on the crab measuring thing (which we've had for years and years), different states have different size restrictions. The first thing we look for is whether a crab is a male or a female. If it's female, it's goes back in the water. Then we measure to see if it's legal. Finally, if the shell is still soft, then it goes back also. A soft shell might mean that the crab is immature, I don't remember, but it definitely means that the meat isn't very good.

A crab. With barnacles. You can tell dungenesses by that dope-ass design on their backs. Might be a good tattoo idea. They're a good eating crab, though I think this particular one was that female Kate was holding, so she went into the sea (from whence she came).

Dungeness Dungeon. All keepers are tossed into the baitwell until we get back. After the cage is empty, Dad puts more frozen chicken in the trap and we toss it back in the water. We usually move about 500 yards away so we're hopefully not catching the same non-keepers over and over. I imagine the bottom of the sea here to be a blanket of these nasty little creatures.

The crew.

Back to the harbor to process the catch. This part of Decatur Island is a planned living community along the lines of the Dharma Initiative in Lost. There aren't any cars and all the homeowners contribute to the upkeep of all the blah blah blah. It's amazing that Decatur is such a little-known island in the SJs because it's actually pretty huge, as far as my concept of islands goes. It's kinda really idyllic.

**TRAUMA ALERT!**

So you get the crab out of the baitwell exactly as you imagine - just kinda reach in and hope you don't get pinched.

Grab a crab... Here's my dad's method for cleaning a crab: 1) Calm the crab.

Steady... 2) Grab the crab's left legs and claws. With your right hand you grab the left side of the shell.

Yikes! 3) In one swift motion, you tear the crab's shell right off, I swear to god. I've never really gotten used to watching this.

It gets worse. 4) You then pick the crab up by its legs and claws (it can still get you, even when it's dead) and put your thumbs under its midsection...

Oh snap! 5) You snap the crab in half, then shake out the guts into the water/side of the boat. Little dock fish gather below to eat it up.

These guys are next.

Halved. This is the pile of crab halves after they'd all been cleaned by the crew. Kate did a lot of the work here, I don't really remember because I was off somewhere avoiding the work. Slash, filling the pot with water.

Ready to boil. One of the things that redeems this whole mass murder is that we cook the crabs right there on the dock. It turns the event into a Thai fisherman kind of situation, except without the "need it to survive" justification.

A watched pot finally boils. We take that little holy bucked (I'm sure someone knows the name of this thing) from above and put it into the boiling seawater (how fresh is that?). Apparently there's some disagreement about how long it takes to cook crab - one of my dad's friends says "20 minutes, anything less is suicide," and another says, "anything more than 3 minutes is a waste of propane and overcooks the meat." So Dad opts for 10 minutes, worst of both worlds, and we hang out on the dock.

10 minutes later... Craig pretends to not severely burn his hands while removing the holy bucket from the pot.

Houston, we have a crab bucket. And we're ready to go! The crab is dumped into a bucket and we walk up the hill to the house.

Just explained this in the last paragraph.

Shelling. Back at the house, Azure has covered the table with newspaper. We didn't have any crab crackers, so we just grabbed rocks from outside and smashed the shells open. Most of the meat is in the crab "breast," and there's a lot in the claws. While we shell, we occasionally dip the meat in something savory as a snack.

My favorite picture. The legs have joints like human fingers and Azure and I were talking about whether you should take the time to get the little meat at the end of the last joint. I thought you should, "What, do you have somewhere to go?" Decatur is really slow-paced. A few minutes later my dad came over and saw us fishing for that little meat and he said, "Life's too short for that." So it goes. In this picture you can see the rocks. You can also see the headlines, including a feature story called: "Email? E-FAIL!"

Autsy ecstatic. Here's the end product of all that killing. Two bowls of crab meat! I don't know exactly how much this would be worth, but a good amount. It was a half-day of semi-active work for 7 people, though it could have been done by 2 (or even one).

Plenty. Whenever my parents go to Decatur they always come back and give us way too much crab meat. We try to use it wherever we can, but we're not always successful. This is one of the better photos from the trip.

Yes! Later that evening we made these little half-sandwich things, after which this post is named. It's just an English muffin, tomato, crab and Tillamook cheddar, plus salt and pepper. We probably could have done it lobster-roll-style, but this was pretty really good.

The payoff. Dad does most of the work (notice who took all the photos... can't have crabby hands when holding a camera) but we all enjoy the result. Just like that one cartoon about the chicken and the Great Depression... what was that?

Lamb would be so nice

2008-03-23T10:12:00.000-07:00

I love how the cheap options here are some of the exotic things at home. As we would eat chicken and beef, rabbit and lamb is just as easily as accessible and the same price as the other options. Last night, mom and I split a black truffle fetuccini alfredo and rack of lamb with roasted potatos. The lamb was so undercooked, that it seemed raw, just as I love it. If I had the opportunity to eat all meats raw without the fear of food-born illnesses, I would probably do it.

Two nights ago we found a cute place away from the Duomo, meaning smaller and more local, we got a three course meal with wine for 12E each. I had the legume soup with rabbit and a salad, mom had ravioli with beef and spinach and Jamie had spicey maccaroni, which is one of the highlight pastas from our trip, with chicken and spinach. The food has not dissappointed, but has expanded our waistline just a little bit. I assume we'll just take care of that issue later.

Our quest for fish

2008-01-28T04:40:00.000-08:00

When arriving in any new touristy beach town, the most pressing question one usually wonders is where´s the fried seafood? We asked the girl at the hostel the first night if we could find fried fish and fries anywhere, of course making up our favorite, fish and chips. She pointed us in the direction of the most touristy sit down place in the whole city, the one with the wood carved fisherman outside and all the photos on the wall of the celebs that had been there, you know the one. The place gave us neither fried fish nor fried squid, so we tried again the next day at another place, having seen it at another place, we went there only to be told that they were out of both fried squid and fries. Their partner place hooked us up with some delish calamari rings, but where was the fish?

While walking back to our hostel after the descent calamari rings from La Barra, we saw a wagon that seemed to be handing out mass quantities of fried foods. The conversation then went like this...

Lady in wagon: What would you like?
me: Is there fried fish here?
LIW: Yes, would you like some?
me: Is there fried squid here?
LIW: Si, todo es frita, meaning everything is fried!

**MOMENT OF PURE JOY**

I walk away and tell Mike and Autsy that everything is fried.

We order one of each.

However, since we had just consumed a good portion of fried squid at the restarant, we had to give some to the dogs. **MOMENT OF SADNESS**

The moral of the story is, when you are in Puerto Madryn, you get your fried seafood from the fried food wagon, don´t waste your time with the other places, you go straight there! But, make sure you bring your own sauces because they don´t have any.

I couldn't resist

2008-01-15T14:04:00.000-08:00

These pictures were taken on Rob's last night at our favorite parilla place, Las Cholas. We tried to go to another place because Tom said we would probably feel better about ourselves if we were able to leave BA with the knowledge of more than one restaurant (only a slight exageration). But we couldn't go there because it was closed, so we went to good old Las Cholas. This particular night it was pretty empty even though we got there at 10:30, which is normal dining time. The reason was probably because it was about 100 degrees out. The following photos happened over the course of the 2 hour meal, during which, among other things, Autsy put ice in her headband, I rubbed ice on Rob's chest, Autsy rubbed ice on Mike's chest (because we happened to be sitting next to the other's boyfriend). Here are some classics, don't judge us because we sweat.

Rob and I party with beer and wine!

Mike cries.

Some salvation with the buckets of ice the waiters keep bringing us.

No shame, we exchange ice baths. Mike is happy.

The meal is still tasty, lots of meat, wine and treats.

Salgado

2008-01-08T14:12:00.000-08:00

Salgado, an apparently authentic Italian restaurant (Casa de Pastas, as they call their place) in Buenos Aires. We got there at 4:05 and they closed at 4, but they could tell that we were desperate for food. The owner came out and we told him that we wanted any 4 dishes the chef would make. I tried to take pictures of the other two but they were being consumed before I could get the lens on them. The other two were a long-noodle macaroni with a butter-like sauce, chicken and ham (they called it "Parisian") and a fettucini dish with seafood red sauce.

Chicken ravioli with tomatoes and basil

Action photo! Potato ravioli with a mushroom cream sauce

The food was so good we went back the next day and did the exact same thing. Overall, the raviolis were the best of the bunch, though the Parisian was good for butter's sake. We'll probably go back tomorrow, Rob's last day.

Hola!

2007-12-27T19:44:00.000-08:00

Whaaat?

2007-12-12T14:21:00.000-08:00

Baklava. Wow.

Tom and Maya will make you fat

2007-12-11T19:23:00.000-08:00

If you have been wondering why the blip in blogging for the past week, despite the fast internet connection and access to a computer, the answer can be found in two words: food coma.

Dec. 6--We pull into the city around 9am, sitting in the upper front row of a double decker bus. If you ever get a chance to ride like this, do it. You get to see the whole road. It had been an overnight bus, so of course we smelled like homeless people and of course we had brought a ton of food thinking that we would eat it on the bus. We didn't, we never do. So, we hail a cab because we were too lazy to figure out the metro system and roll up to Tom and Maya's place with all of our smells and old food and bags of dirty clothes. They were so welcoming. They chose to touch us and let us sit on their furniture. We talked for about an hour before we showered and changed into our remaining semi-clean clothing (which meant our "fancy" outfits, since we never wear them). This is when it all began. Since then, our trip to BA has been a series of non-stop lunches and dinners and coffees and breakfasts and grocery shopping trips and snacks and wine and beer and meat. Tons of meat. Had you asked me before the trip what it meant to live in luxury while traveling, I would have said something vaguely like this, but not even close to the actual reality of this lifestyle.

I mean I know we eat well and we go out to eat a lot, but usually in the states we'll get 2 entrees at the most, maybe one entree and one salad or appetizer. Here, you give Tom the menu and wait for the beer and wine and plates of meat followed by more plates of meat filled pastries and then the main course and then always desert. It is so fun. I don't know about other girls, but I have always sort of idealized the days when men ordered for the women, not because I can't order or don't have the brain power to make decisions, but it is just a simply wonderful experience to be surprised and delighted by what is coming to your table next. He always seems to get it just right in the dishes he orders --they are all delicious-- and gets a little (or a lot) too much in what we should be eating as a "normal" portion.

Tonight, as with all the other nights, it was oh maybe we aren't that hungry, but let's go out, oh there is this place, what do we feel like, oh really that kind of food sounds good, oh there is this great place, let's go there. So we go tonight to Middle Eastern food and of course the food is amazing and abundant and there are some things I have never tasted before and so I have to try more, just so maybe I can recreate it one day. Then desert, and I can barely walk to the cab.

It is amazing that all of the family members are so normally shaped and sized, I have already tightened my only pair of jeans in less than a week. But there is really nothing you can do. This is too good of a time and too good of food to worry about tight jeans. That is after all why I brought sweats. Perhaps this is why, as the only self-preserving option we could think of, Mike and I are heading to Uruguay for a week to lay on the beach, so perhaps we will be forced to contemplate what our bodies do and should look like. And, if nothing else, will give us time to recuperate before the next wave of wonderful food and conversation comes our way when we get back to BA.

Brain food

2007-12-04T13:44:00.001-08:00

In, oh, October I noticed that my mind was really clear on a day-to-day basis and that complex words were coming to me easily (for example, ¨articulate.¨ Sometimes I have the hardest time thinking of that word when I need it). Anyway, the reason was that every morning I was having a bowl of whole oatmeal with a bunch of cranberries dumped in and the cranberries were making the ol brain work quicker.

Coming down to South America I asked a girl, ¨Como se dice, cranberry, en espanol?¨ ¨Um, there aren´t cranberries down here.¨ NO! I don´t want to get dumber!

I´m trying to figure out if there´s a similar food product that will have the same effect. Here are my options: red wine, chocolate, strawberries, cherries, avocadoes. I know all of those are good, but which is the best? Does anything touch cranberries in this respect?

On the other side of things, cheese and red meat make me feel like I´m thinking through mud.

Eating time

2007-12-04T11:15:00.000-08:00

Every year before we leave, we get the usual questions about our trip (no offense if you asked them, they are great questions) where are you going, for how long, what will you do while you are there, etc. The first two are always easy to answer because we usually have our tickets by then and are locked in to a location and duration, but I sometimes get stuck on the ¨what will we do¨ question. I usually answer something like, ¨I dunno, eat and hang out¨. It wasn´t until the last few days that I realized why this is so important. I know that the actual act of eating is something that I really love. I love trying new foods that will ¨push me¨ and love eating slowly prepared meals either by me or someone else, but above all that, food and the ability to enjoy food as an activity rather than a passing necessity represents how much time we truly have. At home, I usually have to skip breakfast when I go to work and eat lunch on a break and am tired for dinner and usually end up going out. At home, when you eat dinner with friends, often times people have to get to bed early for work the next day or have another commitment. When you are travelling, you are locking people in to a shared experience that can last hours or days. Not that I want to trap anyone, but I do. I love anything that lasts for a long time. My favorite novel, Lonesome Dove is over 900 pages and it was great because it was such a commitment. I got to be with those characters for 900 pages, more if you include the sub-par sequel and prequels. When you are travelling, you don´t have to miss a meal. You can actually plan your day around meals and look forward to things you have seem while walking by a restaurant. Today for us was about finding shoes. We had a great breakfast and then set out to find these certain shoes that all the hip people have. We got to sit here in an internet cafe and then we get to go to lunch or dinner. Whatever. There can be as much or as little to a day as we want.

It always takes a while to leave real life and enter travelling life. I am starting to get there though, I feel myself starting to notice more about the people and their habits. I am getting a little better at communicating and I am starting to understand that people here don´t walk very fast--usually because they are holding hands or in some cases gyrating in the park with their sig. other. Life is slowing down for me and I like it. I like knowing that I still have 3 months of this slow, bonding, infinite time with Mike and anyone else whom we spend time with (Autsy, Rob, Kenny, Mike´s cousins Maya and Tom to name a few). I like that I get to be here now and for a while every year when I get back, I bring this feeling with me to Seattle. I feel closer to those I love and life stays slow for a while before I fall back in to the husle of commitments. Every year I try not to stop living slow, but I haven´t found a way to combine it with my responsibilities at home. Until I can, I can be happy knowing that I will have it for at least a quarter of every year.

Slipping us the tongue

2007-12-04T10:49:00.000-08:00

We are extremely lazy. When it comes to preparing or putting in the extra effort to do something right, we will not. I mean why take 5 minutes to walk back to your room and get your old water bottle when you can buy another one at this convenience store. Now you have 2 bottles, or in our case, 13. Same goes for the things that we carry. At home, I check wallet, keys, cell phone. Here it is important documents, Mike´s wallet, key and an either/and/ or of the following our books, translation books, water, journal etc.

When we were in Valparaiso, Chile, we went downstair to the restaurant directly below our room to get dinner at what we considered to be an authentic and local place, which it turned out to be. On this particular night, we had none of the optional items, only cash and a key. The menu was all in spanish of course, which usually wans´t a problem, except there weren´t any words that I understood except pollo because I think all of the other ones were names of dishes that I didn´t know. Not wanting to walk up the stairs to our room, we decided to ask what our waitress recommended, except my spanish is so bad that some people don´t even know that I am talking to them when I try to attempt it. I had to ask ¨what do you like¨ instead of ¨what do you recommend¨ which is better. Anyway, she is hesitant to say anything but points to a few. We decide on the chicken one and another one and she goes to the kitchen. Apparently they are out of whatever it was that we ordered that wasn´t chicken, so we ask her again. She points to the Lengue something or other and Mike so brilliantly points to his tongue and asks if it is tongue. Now experience tells us that when someone laughs at a question and doesn´t really answer, it should mean the answer is no, which is what we always assume, but it always means yes. So, of course she brings out the chicken and a big serving of tongue.

Not knowing what to do, since my spanish is so not passable and having read somewhere that the only way you can politely get out of eating something is to fake an allergy, which I did not have the vocabulary skills to do, we ate the tongue. Not all of it, but between the two of us, most of it. It wasn´t not ok if you could get past the texture and the idea of it, but I couldn´t. I felt so bad because I was such a western snob, but it was actually a little nasty. I am really glad that we were tricked into trying it once, but I will probably steer clear of the Lengue from now on and maybe even get up and grab my translation book next time. But then again, I probably won´t.

Pieces

2007-11-29T17:42:00.001-08:00

I think it was Vonnegut who said this.... even if it wasn't, it should have been. He was talking about a distant planet where everyone goes to the theater and throughout the show a person on stage reveals, then hides, then reveals something behind a sheet. The crowd is on the edge of its seats (he probably worded it differently) and they're salivating, eyes big, a murmur... the performer goes on for a while like this until finally, at the end of the show, he lifts the sheet and reveals a plate of food... and the crowd hoots and hollers.

The parallel Vonnegut was drawing had to do with our fucked up relationship with sex and sexuality, but the metaphor might as well be literal, "What had gone wrong in their culture," he didn't write, "to mess up their relationship with food in such a way?"

In 1998 I had an ah-ha moment with food - it was my first time traveling aloneish, the first international flight out of the nest for this baby bird without my parents conveniently throwing up into my mouth, so to speak. My friends and I arrived in London in the early morning. We were starving, at the core, and exhausted, we had to wait hours for the kitchen to open for breakfast before we could finally eat. We walked around the city, playing soccer on the steps of St. James Cathedral, wandered the empty streets, and eventually returned to the hostel for breakfast.

I understood at that moment - standing in line with someone handing me a hashbrown and eggs - that food wasn't a toy, it's not just for taste, it's not unimportant. It's a tool, it's fuel. Its strengths become my strengths, its weaknesses will hurt me as well.

Maybe this is obvious to others, but it was revolutionary to me. I suppose, though, Ambien does more harm than good. Still lots to learn and improve.

Thanksgiving II Volume IIIII

2007-11-25T23:45:00.000-08:00

In 2000 we started the tradition of Thanksgiving II in an attempt to balance the holiday... it's unfortunate that the official day of giving thanks separates us from the friends who make our daily lives so great! So the new holiday satisfies that need - it's an opportunity to celebrate with the rest of the people closest to us. Just like Thanksgiving, but on a different day. The inaugural TGII culminated in a concussion and two separate 911 calls.

We've since toned it down a little. Tonight doubled as our going-away party and we were once again surrounded by loved ones who provided excellent food and conversation.

Shannon brought this amazing brie with cranberries and other goodies that I'd order on death row (god forbid), and Venessa capped off the feast with her lemon/cranberry meringue pie which was so good my jaw would have dropped to the floor if it hadn't been clenched shut on the spoon while I sucked at every last sugar crystal. Everything in between was a great version of traditional TG fare - we ate so well tonight.

Thank you to Dick & Joanne for hosting the crowd and preparing the feast, and thank you to everyone who made it another memorable night!

Chateau Pigeon

2007-11-10T21:13:00.002-08:00

I decided to resurrect an old picture from when we were staying in the Chateau in St. Julien L'Ars with my cousins, Kim and Adam (circa Dec 2002). The great thing about this picture is that it represents so many new experiences--probably because we were living in a 13th century Chateau in a town of about 50 residents, just the three of us for 3 months.

This particular day three French hunters asked to use the property for the afternoon to hunt quail and other birds. We had pretty much forgotten that they were there when they came up to us with a plastic bag containing this pigeon. Apparently it was the only thing they caught and were giving it to us as a 'thank you' present for letting them use the fields, though more likely they just didn't want to go through the hassle of preparing it.

I, on the other hand had no idea how much work went into cleaning and cooking a pigeon and for so little meat. Although, it's not like I had anything better to do. I do remember having the best time cutting off the head and plucking the feathers and gutting the insides and not because I like dissecting dead animals or have a future career in bird cleaning, but because it was such an amazing feeling to be standing in a kitchen in a chateau in France, thinking while I plucked about how many times life hands you dead pigeons in bags and about how I could never regret accepting them.

Summer

2007-11-05T18:18:00.000-08:00

When our friends were in town from SF we ate well. This particular day we set up a living room in our backyard and cooked the favorites.

The menu
1. Mussels in cream sauce
2. Fresh Mint Juleps
3. BBQ corn on the cob
4. BBQ grilled vegetables (all the usuals plus brussels sprouts-yummy)
5. Tender marinated BBQ chicken
6. Fresh fruit for dessert

I think we live well.

The Pizza of our Labor

2007-11-05T18:09:00.000-08:00

After going out to eat every night for a couple weeks, we decided to stay in and make something with our fresh ingredients. What was created was one of the best pizzas I have ever had. Ever. The secret? A thin layer of sauce, then a layer of basil leaves that covers every bit of crust, a layer of tomatoes done in the same fashion and cheese on top. So fresh. So amazing!

The Fruits

2007-11-05T18:07:00.001-08:00

The crop

2007-11-05T17:57:00.000-08:00

This year we tried our hands at gardening. It turned out to be a very lucrative season. We had 5 variations of tomatoes, some basil, mint, onions, lettuce and even squash. The easiest by far were the squash, which we stuck in the back and neglected, but they still tried to take over the entire garden. Even when you are in the city, there is something fulfilling about working outside in the dirt. The tomatoes were abundant enough that we never had to buy them once the crop started to ripen and even after we ate and baked all we could, there were still enough to make about 2 pounds of tomato sauce to freeze.

Indonesian Independence Day

2007-11-05T17:26:00.001-08:00

New goal: Eat at as many restaurants during their country's independence day as we can. Here was our first. Congratulations to Indonesia for gaining freedom from the tyrannical Netherlands on Aug 17, 1945. And thank you for providing the world with delicious treats like these pre-dinner drinks seen in the photo above. A good reference for independence days is Wikipedia. Often times, restaurants do special set meals on the days of their independence as was the case at this meal.

From Bangkok, With Coconut Milk

2007-11-05T17:02:00.000-08:00

Here's Mango Sticky Rice from Bangkok to keep us going through the cold months.