I'm on a roll, so butter me

Friday, October 29, 2010


I am going to post about my trip to Russia soon, but until then watch this - it's so laid-back weed swag, it's tight.

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

Diamond in the rough

LMFAO! The video stops and he gets his bitch icecream. HAHAH


Thursday, October 14, 2010


Back in ten days.


Autumn means tight vegetables are in season: a whole family of squashes, fuckinnnnn PARSNIPS, and of course the much beloved Brussels Sprout. Yesterday I was at "da sto" as I like to call it, and I seen they had a deal on some lil pumpkins. I was like "Imma make some soup but like instead of using a bowl, I will use...like...a pumpkin." So I did. It was kind of an experiment but I would say it turned out very good, and my roommate enjoyed it so I got someone to back me up on this. You should try to make it too before it's December you and you gotta serve soup out of a grapefruit.

(serves 2)

What you need:
One Medium sized Pumpkin (over here they are called "Hokkaido Kurbis," "kurbis" just being the German word for pumpkin. Actually "kurbiskernel" the word for pumpkin seed is one of my favorites auf deutsch)
Sugar (I only had white but brown would probably be better)

One 14 oz. can of coconut milk
2 tbsp Sambal Olek
2 white potatoes, chopped small
Like 15-20 smaller brussels sprouts, cut in half, or larger ones cut in quarters.
2 medium yellow Onions chopped up
Bout a handful of spinach
One Tomato rough chop
DASH of Tabasco
DASH of soy sauce
Olive oil and butter
Salt and Pepper
Tofu is optional, as is Thai Basil which I could not get a hold of (it's Joey callin, don't answer y'all)

Da Procedure

Firstly you will need to give yourself time to roast the pumpkin properly. Cut that shit in half and take all the seeds and guts out. After you roll your blunt, wait I mean once you have gutted your pumpkin, rub the inside with about a tablespoon (if not more) of butter. Then sprinkle like two pinches of salt and about three pinches of sugar all around. Then put in on that center rack of the oven with a temp of sayyy 275 degrees. This is so that the pumpkin roasts evenly and will not burn the edges while failing to cook the parts closest to the skin. So kill an hour or so listening to Missy Elliot then start making the soup.

So get a nice POT and get some oil nice and hot, then drop in about a tablespoon of butter (this prevents the butter from burning) and then when it starts fizzling drop in all your veggies save the spinach, leaving the heat high, so that the outer leaves of the B-sprouts will blacken and get crispy. This is always nice for texture AND flavor. Stir em around for a bit, then pour in the c-nut milk and about 2 1/2 cups water or vegetable stock (or veal stock, whateva) and lower the heat to like medium, doo. Then add the Sambal and spinach, and lower the heat again and cover and let that shit simmer for 20 minutes or so. Add the DASHES and some salt. When the flesh of the pumpkin is tender you may ladel some soup into them and serve, best when garnished with fresh Thai Basil I'm sure. Here's a not-too-appetizing picture, I think I am a better cook than photographer:The best part is you can scrape the insides of the pumpkin into the soup! We ate it with a nice warm baguette and some Reblochon de Savoie. That's cheese. It was very very good. It has a funny etymology/history as well: (straight from wikipedia y'all got jacked for info)

Reblochon derives from the word 'reblocher' which when literally translated means 'to pinch a cow's udder again'. Although graphic, this refers to the practice of holding back some of the milk from the first milking. During the 14th century, the landowners would tax the mountain farmers according to the amount of milk their herds produced. The farmers would therefore not fully milk the cows until after the landowner had measured the yield. The milk that remains is much richer, and was traditionally used by the dairymaids to make their own cheese.
Also take this USA, "Raw-milk Reblochon is no longer available in the United States due to recent enforcement of laws concerning the pasteurization of soft and semi-soft cheese." HA

Try this for real! It's tight! Someone cook something I TELL YOU TO NOW.

Wednesday, October 6, 2010

I love food in little teigtacshen

Last week I ate a lot of things in teigtaschen ("dough pockets" in German) and i gotta say it is just a really enjoyable way to eat food. Russian Pelmini, Mexican Quesadillas, and Korean Mandu are all different types of what you might call a dumpling. I ate all of these last week and I realize they are all really nice wintertime snacks or starters because the dough locks in heat so well, they can sit out for several minutes but still be steaming hot inside when you break into them. Plus its fun to eat little thangs like that. I mean I would definitely enter a Gyoza eating contest if I could find one, and do you remember Tortellini being your favorite pasta when you were a kid? I do.

Anyway Russian Pelmini are, I guess, in the 'family' of dumplings that might either be called pierogi or include pierogi. Basically they are just like pierogi. My friend recently had a bunch of people over and she made Borscht and pelmini, but I got to help with the pelmini and now I can leak Russian secrets to all my readership in the USA. So, here's how you make them lil Russkie goodies:

For the Dough:
Well basically this was an internet recipe affair I think, so the dough was a ratio type thing. I'd say for every one egg, you would need about 2 cups of flour and a half cup of milk and about a quarter cup of water and a tablespoon of salt. Simply combining these in a mixing bowl and kneading until the dough is mixed and elastic is sufficient, but you may want to wisk together the egg, liquid, and salt together first and then gradually knead that into the flour. Then you should have more flour handy to heavily flour a working surface, then roll out the dough (not necessarily all at once) until its like Charmin ultra-strong thin (or thick, rather). Then you can use a coffee mug as like a cookie cutter or at least a form, running a knife around the rim to cut circles out of the dough, which you will fill with...

For the filling:
2/3 pounds or 300 g Ground beef
One medium white onion chopped
One clove of garlic minced
Some parsley dude
Some salt
An egg might be cool, at least I think so.

Anyway mix all that shit up. Then you take your little circle and put less filling in there than you think cuz you'll probably fuck it up. Then fold the dough over and using the the tips of a fork's tines pinch the edges together and you've got a little dough pocket! My friend had this tool for making pelmeni, you can see it in this picture right next to the red bowl. You just sit the dough in there and put some filling in and then fold the thingy and it would make perfect dumplings. I want one. Did I remember you want to set some water to boiling before starting this whole filling business? Whoops. Well, once you have a pot of water finally going, you can just drop these cute puppies right in and when they floatin they done! Enjoy them with Creme Fraiche and Fresh dill, or fresh cream and dill fraiche.

Thursday, September 30, 2010


A recently received email:


This is some hokey pokey bullshit i think


The last review, of little mexico's complimentary salsa: "it all depends on the jalapeƱos" as if the novelty of inconsistency suddenly became cool? Aren't 8.5's sfogliatelle frozen?

this is a crock of shit list

Friday, September 24, 2010

JUNKIE STATUS/ LA MEJOR BEBIDA/ COOL PICTURES/ "Me llevare su recuerdo, Porque a mi tierra me voy/ WHOOPS BUT I'M NOT SORRY

Aside from the current three-days-and-running warm spell in Berlin it's been pretty autumnal since mid-August. It's THAT SEASON CHANGE when illness abounds as do German leute brazenly blowing their noses in public places, including inches away from my mise en place, and face. However, your boy remains unscathed (and the biggest boss that you've seen) thus far - and I do believe it is because of my new habit, nay, addiction - to the habanero chili. Admittedly I have yet to start eating them whole, but rather in a salsa that I've been less and less cautiously trickling onto my food at work. It's gotten to the point where I need the salsa to feel like I'm tasting what is already a cuisine rich in flavors, esp. from chilies. It's fucked up, I know, but also warding off disease.* Here is a recipe for Salsa de Habanero.

10 Habanero Chilies
1 Carrot
1 Medium Red Onion
1 Tbsp Cider Vinegar

De-stem the chilies and dry-roast them in a cast-iron pan (hyphens!) until at least 2/3 of the skin is black. Shred the carrot and dry-roast that as well. You can do the same with the onions, after chopping them of course, or you can cook the onion in oil on low heat if you want some sweetness. Blend all the cooked ingredients until pureed , adding vinegar and the salt to taste (though i wouldn't go dipping your index finger one knuckle deep in this stuff and then sucking it off to see if there's enough salt, especially if you are doing that in some savory erotic way looking at someone because when you start coughing and convulsing and hiccuping and blood starts pouring from you ears [jk] the moment will be ruined). Needless to say I would start with extremely parsimonious portions on your tacos, burritos, and pizza.

The chili also has regenerative properties (read: "hangover cure") when mixed with Corona and lime juice. Lately I have been drinking a lot of Micheladas at work. This drink is wonderfully refreshing, and can be enjoyed sin culpa at any time of the day. It's summery, yes, but it does bring warmth as well. Here goes:

1 Corona Cervesa (mucho frio)
Juice of one lime
1/2 teaspoon Habanero Salsa
Ice Cubes

So firstly salt the rim of your glass, then put like 4 ice cubes in there and add the lime juice and salsa. Then gently pour in the Corona, and enjoy! SO GOOD

You can enjoy these drinks while reading about or even making or just looking at cool pictures of Terrines in this book which rules. The other day I came home to my roommate doing this:
That's deer meat. He made a biggidy bomb-ass terrine with it surrounded by bacon, it was biggidy-bambi-ass bangin'. But seriously the pictures in that book alone are worth the purchase.

In other news I will, after 19 months in Berlin I will be returning to Los Estados Unidos, possibly para siempre. Berlin is tight, yes, but I'm ready to be out this and cook my ass off back home. I will take many memories with me and hopefully a euro-swag that Virginia girls will find exotic.

A recent browsing of the internet's sphincter (Toytown Berlin, the American forum/message board for ex-pats living in Berlin) I found this about Maria Bonita:

Went with a friend. We had Carnitas and a Taco. The food was good, but the place is sad, small and shabby. There was a guy with an american accent taking orders and another with a spanish accent cooking, both were unfriendly and with a little attitude, which is always kinda ridiculous but even more so in a joint like that. Must be all the hype of the wannabe hipsters of the expat community. At €5.50 for small portions, it's definitely overpriced. Definitely not going back. There are better restaurants serving Mexican and South American food in Schoneberg. Do your homework.

Well, I can only assume that I was the one with the "[A]merican accent" and my Mexican friend Dani is the other guy. I can tear this shit apart but just let me say ersatz restaurant reviewers are below the much disparaged class of subhumans known as "youtube commenters." People need to shut the fuck up. And if we were rude to you it's your fault.

*Don't take medical claims made on this blog seriously at all ever you idiot

Thursday, August 12, 2010


BLAKAKAKAKAKAKAKA I did it. They gave me two more years to have my way with this bitch this bitch being Berlin. Tight. P 2 USA

Wednesday, August 11, 2010


I made these burgers ages ago but they were tight. When I was 18 I got my first job in Richmond at Ipanema, a vegetarian restaurant and I would eat the sweet potato fries off the dirty plates. Gutter Daze.

Sweet Potato fries are really easy to make you just peel them shits and cut em up like fries sposeda be lookin and then fry them in hot oil. Just make sure you don't put too many in becuase the oil will freak out and overflow and then you are fucked. Ok so the recipe portion of this "recipe post" is over complete with precautionary clause so it's time to start bitching.

Speaking of fucked I must once more go through the ordeal of getting a visa to continue to live in Germany. Quite frankly I think anyone should be able to live anywhere, basically that's the deal in Europe anyway but as a U.S. citizen I can't just settle down where I want. I guess that's somewhat fair because the U.S. is the most difficult place for anyone else in the world to take up residence. It makes me want to be an immigration lawyer. If this shit goes south I will be BUMMED OUT. My boy Zach is literally getting married to stay in Europe, unfortunately I don't have a wonderful Danish girlfriend to hold me hostage so that's not an option. Of course I have back up plans but they involve moving all of my shit across an ocean. If I do lose my permission to stay I will blame the restaurant at which I work for not taking the necessary steps to guarantee my renewal, in which case I will post every single fucking recipe on this blog. So stay tuned for misery/excellent Mexican recipes.

Friday, July 30, 2010


July went by pretty damn quick, in fact what the fuck is happening to 2010? Does anyone else feel like this shit is just breezing past behind tinted windows while you stand in the rain wishing you were in on it with like 50 blunts and Veuve Clicquot? I think its time to drop a dime on 2010. I guess flashing back to the year 2000 and the couple years preceding really isn't helping, but since I don't have the luxury of Power 92.1 over here, instead of listening to whatever Usher or Plies bull is chosen for me I get to just go on youtube and listen to the rap I love while looking at stupid blurry-ass album covers or just images of whatever artist in whatever attitude. I literally just sit here and look at my computer while listening to 'Holla Holla' because I'm not downloading Ja Rule onto my computer. There should be a Mexican version called "Hola Hola" that's more cheery like most things Mexican, but I suppose the opportunity is long gone. Anyway I made a youtube playlist it starts with the video above, I think you can even just play it through this blog. Whatever yo just peep the July Status while you sip and get high.

Sunday, July 4, 2010


Dunky and a bottle of Bucky

WELL it's over. We ran the race. It was what we thought it would be: pretty fucking exhausting. For someone who isn't from Scotland there were a some inspirational moments,
like running through a stream (in my head I was thinking about Braveheart), and the bagpiper on top of the penultimate hill in full Scottish garb.
The rest of the time in Edinburgh I spent mostly just kickin it with Duncan and his family at their house. I definitely ate Haggis for the first time and thought it was pretty good. I also tried this British drink called "IRN BLU" which was basically like drinking bubble gum (in a bad way). I also drank a lot of whisky, which I am now "into" but not like some prick that's into whisky. At one point I selected a whisky at random at some pub, after which the bar wench warned me "This one's seven pounds a nip." At that point the baller in me just couldn't say no. The whisky pretty much tasted like whisky. Another traditional British beverage I tried was "Buckfast." Which is some sort of fortified wine with caffeine in it that supposedly is brewed by monks. These monks must be on some high-altitude nefarious shit because Buckfast made me get buck, fast. Supposedly I was teasing a couple of big dudes, one of which already had a taped up split eyebrow that may have still been bleeding. After being steered away from that trouble I urinated on a taxi and of course the driver is standing right there and wants me to give him money to get his taxi washed to which I was just basically like "nah, doo." But it's a good thing I had friends around. Then we went to somesort of club/cave and there was weird 21st century music playing that made us all dance and sort of divide the floor into those feeling our vibe and those who wanted us dead. At some point a complete stranger brought me water.

Paris was cool; they actually like rap after the year 2000, unlike Germany. Walking into a store and hearing "Turn my Swag on" was a trip. I saw Pharrel. I ate five eclairs in as many days. Don't ever go to Versailles. It is one of the worst places in the world, I'm convinced. Imagine throngs of bebackpacked tourists navigating Tokyo-subway-like overcrowded hallways all while staring at the ceiling. I saw a dude eat shit on a Segway though, that was kind of cool.

Whoaaa this album is so good. Start-to-finish a fun listen with so much swag going on just listening to it makes me feel a bit more "yeeeeeahhhhhhhhhhhhh." Cool and creepy Drumma Boy beats but just carried with Gucci rapping about how he is the shit. "Mr. Zone 6" is my favorite song on it for now, becuase the second verse he keeps saying "call me Mr. Zone 6" and it's like not really even rapping, and it sounds like he's like rapping in his sleep with his head on the (Gucci) pillow, but it's sort of a build-up to the end where he says "Rose keep poppin / rose colored rolls royce / actin like she don't notice /no, she SEE ME FLOSSIN" as if awakening from some sort of awesome nightmare.
It just comes off hard as fuck at the end.

In other news related to myself and my job I have finally been announced as Da Boss. That's pretty tight considering I was the dishwasher less than a year ago. I still make the same money and am working 75 hours a week but surprisingly so much anxiety has been relieved, prolly cuz I'm doing everything.

Saturday, June 5, 2010


If it ain't Psycho it's Juju

Thursday, May 20, 2010


High Times call for Desperate Measures

If you made it through the (totally needless) three pages of the New York Time's article about "marijuana fuel[ing] a new kitchen culture" (seriously?) and didn't know from the first sentence that you were going to use it as yet another opportunity to inveigh against the idiotic waste of time (and occasionally paper) of the Dining & Wine Section then I commend your patience, unless you were one of the dullards that decided to email this article to a friend sending it into the top ten emailed list, then...fuck you. If you made it through the first sentence of this blog post then I commend your patience doubly! Really, are these guys serious? Maybe instead of throwing money at D&W to put out this innocuous drivel they can FIRE EVERYONE in that dept. and give it to the newsroom, or better yet to charity.

The foundation of this article is seemingly a five minute conversation with Anthony Bourdain
about smoking marijuana and David Chang. Bourdain makes a Bourdain-ish exaggeration - "everybody smokes dope after work" - and you've got the cover article for D&W. Naturally the article is cautious; peppered with disclaimers and assurances that not all chefs need to smoke weed and potheads aren't cooking your $40 east-village Ny Strip. I mean, this article, for lack of better a better word, is re-fucking-tarded. Don't read it.

I watched an episode of the "Munchies" web-Tv show featuring David Chang, mentioned in the NYT article. Equally uninformative, the episode shows DC and Peter Meehan (he used to write the $25 and Under restaurant reviews for the NYT) and some assistant cavorting about, high or not I really don't know, eating some chicken and then just going to one of the Momofuku restaurants. Chang gets drunk and acts like a jock, which was mildly disheartening for me...then again, he does write for Esquire.

Is this really where interest in food is heading, now that anyone who watches or reads this shit can think themselves a foodie? I really think people just don't even know what they like or want anymore, with what they read about food but also seemingly what they put in their mouths. This take-a-picture-of-whatever-I-eat-and-show-my-friends-how-adventurous/cultured/albeit-cool I am and put it on facebook shit just needs to roll the fuck on. Fuck you and fuck your food blog. More to come after my breathing exercise.

Sunday, May 16, 2010


Recently some European woman was making chit chat with me out somewhere, and I guess one of her go-to English flirt questions she asked me was "What kind of music do you listen to?" Instead of replying "Actually you should ask 'To what kind of music do you listen?'" I just said, "rap" and I guess that made her think that was indeed all the music I like, but I guess these days she wouldn't have been that far off. I listen to a lot of rap, I mean I've listened to rap since whenever "Regulators" was getting regular play on MTV, but currently it pretty much is all I listen to (all to which I listen). I've been working my ass off lately, and listening to rap is all I can do to not lose my fucking mind. Since it's mostly about how working your ass off all the time is gangster as fuck and how if you do work hard and make it you can basically be a tight motherfucking pimp. Delusions of grandeur notwithstanding (Mafia Dons Only) it's better than thinking I'm going to work for someone else for the rest of my life.

Recently this chef who really is just a badass came into where I work to eat tacos before he goes to his restaurant and serves Halibut with sweetbreads and we got to chit chatting. He asked me how many days a week I work and I was all like "Seven motherfucker" in my head but I just said "seven" to which he got all avuncular and told me about how I shouldn't work so much, how I should eat out more and try to have a good time. He said no matter how "hard" I think I am (English is not his first language, but surprisingly perceptive) I will fuck myself up working too much. To back all this up he even went so far as to tell me about his nervous breakdown, which was not really so much an effective deterrent because hey man, I'm not fucking crazy - but it made me think about how I basically just work all the time and sleep when I can, and how that is kind of a bummer, dude. And while it's cool to envision myself as a tight motherfucking pimp lounging between two pillars of ivory I should probably do more shit to justify my existence other than listening to rap on the way to, at, and on the way back from work. So here is some of the shit I do, and you should too if you grind hard.


"Woke up in the morning, fuck it, bought a yellow Aston Martin"

You work a lot, but all your friends loaf about all day eating crackers in bed and then just sweep the crumbs onto the floor, cuz hey, they don't really worry about shit. But don't hate - just step your game up, i.e. buy shit. You work a lot, you make loot. Doing something tight with it is definitely tight. Capricious purchases are the best - being able to say to yourself (out loud, as I do) "Fuck it I'll make this money back in three days" feels great. Buy drinks for your homies, buy your girl something tight (sigh), buy fresh blueberries, whatever. Stimulate the global economy, shine for no apparent reason.

2. Drugs


Actually don't do drugs.

3. Exercise and healthy bullshit

It might seem fucked up to demand of your body that it run 5 miles after making it stand on its feet for 8-10 hours using weird muscles so as not to slip on the wet kitchen floor. It is fucked up, and your body will get pissed at first. But exercise is actually really enjoyable, mostly for expelling pent up mental energy, albeit anguish, from your domepiece. Instead of coming home and just feeling shitty about work and just mentally masturbating on the internet or actually masturbating you can now have something to do, and upon finishing that you instead come home with some pride still intact and ready to focus on other shit. It also helps to justify eating two quesadillas and one burrito in a span of 5 hours or so.

4. Blog like everyone else

Hard at work

Wednesday, April 28, 2010

Sunday, April 25, 2010


George Foreman made it all the way to Berlin

Well the gas got cut off at my house, which has timed up pretty well with my 7-day work week and a dip in temperatures. Luckily there's a shower at Maria Bonita's office, which only adds to the mildly depressing feeling that I live at work. Also recently DFS and I got stoned and started looking at pictures of these hills that we would be running over when we go to Edinburgh in June to do the Seven Hills Race, and that was terrifying; it sort of inspired us to get our act together and cut out booze for at least a little while. So basically we just kick it at home in the kitchen talking about running and our coworkers...and eat. But like, we have not hot water or gas for the stove, so I at least have a renewed love of electrical cooking appliances - the electric kettle, the toaster, the microwave, and of course, the George Foreman Grill.

Mostly it's just been bread and spread(s), we did make hot chocolate in the microwave, but last night was a true treat: gorgonzola and bacon toasties with jam. A "toasty" is the British word for "grilled sandwich." That shit was bangin, if only we had some pears or something we could have gotten real high-class. We were just high, though, so the food tasted good enough! I will keep you all updated on what kind of ill shit we are making with limited wares.

Dead Prez - Hell Yeah Uncensored
Hochgeladen von PeteRock. - Sieh mehr Musikvideos, in HD!

Wednesday, April 14, 2010


DFS, the Quiche, some dish soap

For some reason, even at the height of my illustrious baking career at Cafe CK, pie crust always scared me. I had wanted to make quiches and even maybe a rhubarb peach pie or two with the lattice crust on top, but my ambitions were stunted by my own lack of confidence. I may have been just lazy - all this talk of making it in a cold room, needing a rolling pin (we didn't have one), and the needlessly perpetuated myth that you must have a $300 dollar Kitchen-aid standing mixer to make anything other than an omelet - or just too easily daunted, but last night I got over it quick and managed to make a pretty banging quiche from scratch with my boy Duncan from Scotland.

It was Duncan's one year anniversary of moving to Berlin, so we smoked a blunt. Then we got hungry, and he decided we should make a quiche. After laying out all the stuff on the counter and then standing there and staring at it for way too long, we realized we didn't need to go to the grocery store at all. Except we did anyway to turn in some bottles for money and buy chocolate-covered raisins and a German gossip magazine. But that was after making the pie dough, which was pretty easy - just rubbing butter into flour, dissolving a pinch of salt in some cold water and just barely mixing that with the flour/butter mix. We had to kill some time while the dough rested in the refrigerator - which involved the aforementioned grocery shop shenanigans and a beer on the stoop, and the "I'm too hungry to wait" ten-pieces of fried chicken. But eventually the dough felt like it was ready (???), so I managed to use my old pizza making techniques to press out the dough rather than roll it out (again, no rolling pin). Then I got to do what I had anticipated would be my favorite part, that is putting the dough in the pan, pressing it with baking paper and putting beans in the well to hold the form. It was all I could have asked for, although Duncan seemed to tense up a bit when I put the beans in the pie. So that went in the oven for about ten minutes, and after some urging Duncan made the filling. Obviously there were eggs, but he didn't make it so the quiche would be really eggy, more like half eggs half everything else, everything else being grilled onions, spinach, ricotta cheese, and a nice coat of grated Parmesan on top. The whole bitch went in the oven at about 350, and about twenty minutes later it came out lookin right, and, after some cooling, tastin right. Another success story from Chopped n Stewed. Jouyeux anniversaire D.

100% Flour (preferably pastry flour, but you can use regular flour but add a little more fat if you do)
70% Butter (cold!)
30% Cold Water
some salt

First rub the butter into the flour, into pea-size bits for flaky pie crust

Thursday, April 8, 2010


I gotta say, Fondue is pretty fucking easy to make. What was more difficult last night, although equally rewarding, was moving my roommate Nadja's big-ass television into the kitchen so we could watch a "football match" (soccer game), namely Manchester United vs. Bayern Muenchen. It was a fondue and fuessball night at 195 torstrasse, and the game was exciting enough to keep everyone from slipping into the classic cheese induced comatose where you can really only say things like "fuck," "fuck me," or even "fuuuuuuuuck." With the World Cup approaching, all my (three or four) readers back in the States should take heed and make the effort to enjoy at least one good game with a fondue pot going.

So Nadja bought this fondue set at a flea market here in Berlin and brought it home and then just left it out on the kitchen table, probably wishing that one day she would come home and it would be filled with melted cheese. That's actually kind of what happened (you should have seen the smile on her face) as a series of fortuitous events brought about a pretty special fondue. There's this dude temporarily living in our apt. now named Duncan from Scotland. Duncan from Scotland saw the fondue pot in disarray on the kitchen table, and I guess this image stuck with him when he went to the Austrian alps with a friend from London, because they returned bearing cheese, and lots of it. I think they must have brought back almost three pounds of Austrian mountain cheese (Bergkaese) and that shit stunk to high heaven.

Anyway first we had some soup and watched the first half, Manchester scored two goals in the first ten minutes, which as you should know is shitty because Man U sucks balls. Things looked desperate. But at the half the fondue was made (it really takes like 2 minutes aside from grating all that cheese) and relieved at least a portion of the woe. It was rich, but this helped a lot with pacing yourself and being patient, part of what enjoying the act of playing and really watching soccer is all about. I think it actually took us almost the full 45 minutes of the second half to eat it all. There were plenty of thrills then too: an ejection, Man U playing with only 10 dudes, and three more goals. It was a pretty perfect chill just-gonna-watch-the-game and eat Wednesday night. My kitchen reeked of cheese the next morning though and now there's just a big unplugged tv sitting in the middle of the floor.

RECIPE N SHIET (for like 6-8 people)

A bottle of white wine, cheap and dry

About two pounds of various cheeses that are stanky. I guess we got a variety of
Bergkaeses along with a little Raclette, though Gruyere should be easy to get anywhere
of course, obviously Swiss Cheeses are classic. You could use white cheddar too.

Like two tablespoons of cornstarch dude

Some Schnapps of some sort (we used Brennivin) but this is like, optional doe

Salt and Pepper

A lil garlic

OK SO easy money, for real. First grate all the cheese, and mix it in a bowl with the cornstarch. Just get a nice pot with a thick bottom and rub a cut garlic clove on the inside of it like some sort of weird voodoo ritual. Then mince the garlic and drop it into the pot which can be at about high heat right now. Then I would say pour in about two cups of the wine, and when it starts to simmer, lower the heat to about medium and start adding cheese by the fistful while constantly stirring, letting the cheese melt completely before adding more, then just keep this up, if you need to you can slowly add more wine but you mustn't forget keep stirring. Once everythang is silky smooth you can add a couple tablespoons of schnapps if you got it, then season it with salt and pepper and pour it in that cute little pot with the tiny sterno flame underneath. If you know you are making this a couple days in advance, buy some baguette bread and leave it out to get dry and crunchy, ideally breaking it up already into bit size-ish bits. Also grab some salami to go with the bread and blanch some broccoli and cauliflower florets for dipping as well. Just chill and watch the game!

Saturday, February 27, 2010


Violent Cop was a good movie, I'm glad I surmounted all the obstacles that had stood in the way to watching it. First I had to go to the video store and get over my fear of dealing with anything German and official, i.e. getting a membership. Then I had to find a movie that had English subtitles, as most of the features in the "Asiatische Cinema" are in the original language with subtitles auf Deutsch. I rented Violent Cop and brought it home only to discover that my CD/DVD rom in my computer is having some serious issues and I can't watch DVDs on it. So I had to ask my roommate if I could watch it in his room, whatever. Finally I sit down to see this movie, and the subtitle track is horrendously incomplete. I can barely surmise what's going on, and what's more, the first half an hour or of the movie is more dialogue-ish then violent-cop-ish. So I was just about ready to turn it off when something really cool happens in the movie: Takeshi "Beat" Kitano is in a car with his partner, they've just run down a suspect that hit one of their cop buddies in the head with a baseball bat (cool gore) and Beat's partner thinks that they've killed the guy with their car, and is kind of pissed at Beat, concerned he's just gone all excessive force on this dude. Then Kitano grab's his partner's head and pulls him down as the criminal pops up with the bat and smashes the passenger side window. It's a shock similar to the scene in Godfather Part II when they try to assassinate
Michael Corleone. Anyhoozer from here on out the movie gets really good, the cinematography
really finds its footing, and I felt like even the subtitles improved. To think I was about to give up on this movie! There's a lot of "don't give up" going on in the film - it's full of awkwardly long cuts where Kitano is in some sort of willpower stand-off with his opponent whomever they may be, but the fact that it made me mildly uncomfortable was pleasing, if even the desired effect. The end of the film is so brutal it's kind of hard to see coming, if you make it that far it will be well worth your while. See it.

Sunday, February 14, 2010

36 HOURS: RICHMOND, VIRGINIA (that makes you actually want to visit)

The New York Times' travel article about a weekend in Richmond reads like some sort of CRUEL JOKE in a plot laid against this southern capitol by the Elitist Yankees to deprive the recuperating city of needed tourist income. The poorly composed headline image just screams "REDNECK TOWN" with a woman in a sundress holding a nearly naked baby that I guess people on the upper-west side are supposed to assume is illegitimate and chuckle to themselves before they move on the the Book Review. If they do decide to milk the shit for every laugh they could actually read it and its enticing itinerary: pay someone to let help you climb a tree? Anime, "funky" ballgowns, and local t-shirt designs? SANDWICHES? COME ON! Reading this managed to even cloud over my memories of the rope-swing, running full court in Randolph, and finding that Assuck record for two dollars at Plan Nine. I was totally like, "Fuck that place, fuck that place forever."

But I went back anyway when I returned to the USA for a few weeks, spending about ten days in Richiemond, and I remembered that Richmond is the shit. But maybe I can do a better job of making you want to go than the NYT, and I'll even do it for free. I mean this is basically just what I would do, so, whatever.

If the sun is still shining, I would just immediately go to the North Bank of the James River. If you access this by way of Oregon Hill, stop by 805 China and grab Charlie if he isn't already running amok in the hood getting pepper-sprayed by the mailman. Then walk-down to the O Hill James River overlook and behold the majesty of the less than roaring but altogether chill sounding James. This is a tight spot to contemplate life's mysteries or be on acid when there is a lightning storm across the river. From hear you can go across the Lee bridge to the Buttermilk Trail on the south bank, or cross the suspended pedestrian bridge to Belle Isle and see some lazy sunbathers and tru freeqs. My favorite is to just stay on the north bank and take that trail to Texas Beach and back, but be mindful that TB is a Richmond cruising spot (like, cruising for dick).

GO to MAMA'S KITCHEN for dinner. I truly love this restaurant and everything served there, I guess expect like, Mountain Dew. Mama's is essentially a two-person operation, there's Mama - a REAL Korean mother - and her husband who I just call Mama's husband. So needless to say the food has consistency going for it, as it's just them working everyday lunch and dinner, and its consistently BANGIN. I'm not going to suggest anything because everything is seriously so good.

I guess just buy some PBR and kick it with some homies at the spot. In summer, Richmond has mad front porches that provide a nice public/private interaction interface, plus you can just piss on the fence. I would say pump 92.1, but it won't never be like it used to, so just browse b/n that and 106.5 the BEAT.

Hit a house party, try to get them to bump JAMZ until it gets busted.


If you are just around for the weekend this would be the time to go to Tarrant's Cafe - Saturday around noon. At this point you can order off the entire menu, which is already so abundant it will have you wondering if you got the right thing until you take the first bite of your food, PLUS the lunch specials, PLUS the brunch menu. Any anxieties about your order will be relieved when you start eating and realize Tarrant's does it right, everything tastes great and the portion sizes could even send you home with a mid-afternoon snack. Any other anxieties can be relieved by sprinkling klonopin on your food.

Now would be a good time to do what Richmond facilitates best: loaf about on a bicycle. Richmond is flat for the most part, has decent infrastructure and semi-interesting but not too gripping destinations mottled throughout. You can get all Situationist International with it and let the city itself guide your derive, but do try and hit the portion of Riverside Drive between The Lee and Nickle Bridges (BLOW THAT TOLL).

Grab some coffee, honestly your best bet is Starbucks.

Maybe there is a VCU basketball game, go see it, go Rams!

If you are just hungry, I would hit Croaker's Spot, probably the coolest restaurant in Richmond, I think. Straight up soul-food, great fried trout and without a doubt the best cornbread of all time ever. Cool cocktails too - order a WALA and see what happens. Two Street and Leigh.

So get in your car and drive to the spot, again. Sip a little, then maybe hit a bar. I guess will say I used to like Ipanema a lot, the vibe is a little different now but the ambiance is still alright. Cous-cous I like a lot, you can basically jump between these two for the night. For a slightly more grimy vibe you can hit Helen's. After you are drunk and shit you should definitely hit Aladin's, the dope falafel spot open til like 4 am. CASH ONLY SUCKA.

Sunday morning, uhhh shit man just get an Egg Mcmuffin, be sure to litter with the wrapper before you get to 95 and tip the fuck out.

Best to have an ex-girlfriend you are on good terms with, but if not just start talking to BROS and they will put you up or get your swag and aura up so you don't have to lay lonely.

I do miss Richmond.

Saturday, February 13, 2010

Sunday, January 3, 2010


Ok - The title may be better read as "My favorite rap songs of all time" but why do people start blogs if not to be authoritative? Heeeere we gooo (these may or may not be in order):

1. 'Big Pimpin' - Ok, probably just the tightest rap song of all time. I remember the first time I heard it riding around in this dude Jesse's car smoking a blunt - he had just turned off 'Thong Song' and put in Vol. 3. This beat hit and I basically lost it. This was before it was a radio hit, and I remember saying, "this will be the next hit off this album" and getting really excited. It was; I don't know why they fucked with it for the video. I loved this song so much I played it for my fucking DAD who was at that time pumping Peter Gabriel - anyway he was kind enough to humor me and explain that Ozone "popping" is a natural phenomenon. Timbaland is the shit, UGK is the shit, Jay-Z was tight at this time. "If I wasn't rappin baby/I would still be ridin' Mercedes."

2. 'Back that Thang Up' - In this case I prefer the radio version, because of Manny Fresh's "...brbrbrbrbrbrbrbr drumma chick" line, also Lil Wayne's wobidy wobidy shit. This was when I first realized it's kind of tight when there's alot of high-hat fuckinnnnn...64th notes or whatever - do't forget the handclaps. While 'Ha' has like, the tightest video, BTAU has a nice little Cash-Money-Posse-Portion.

3. 'What's your Fantasy?' - Ummmmm, holy shit - Ludacris at his best - hilarious lyrics with a mildly musical flow approaching sex with the right mix of ruggedness "tag team off the RRRROPE!" and levity "tryna make a brother beg for it/gimme TLC cuz you know I be too proud." Basically every couplet from this song belongs in fucking Bartlet's. Also a hotter than hot beat from Bangladesh, this song belongs on every mixtape/cd/playlist you make for a special female in your life.

4. 'Hoody Hoo' - Well, first let me say this is the 'TRU' song, and not the (also great) OutKast song from Southernplayalisticcadillacmusic. I just love this song because it's got a bangin' beat that comes in hard as fuck, which is reinforced by the 'TRU' screaming at you almost the whole time - but hey it's a No Limit thang.

5. 'Gimme the Loot' - Biggie's best, hard as shit but almost funny "...and the #1 mom pendant!"

Big up, big up, it's a stick up, stick up
and I'm shooting niggaz quick if you hiccup
Don't let me fill my clip up in your back and head piece
The opposite of peace sending Mom Duke a wreath
You're talking to the robbery expert
Stepping to your wake with your blood on my shirt
Don't be a jerk and get smoked over being resistant
'cos when I lick shots the shits is persistent
Huh, goodness gracious the papers
Where the cash at? Where the stash at?
Nigga, pass that before you get your grave dug
from the main thug, .357 slug
And my nigga Biggie got an itchy one grip
One in the chamber, 32 in the clip
Motherfuckers better strip, yeah nigga peel
before you find out how blue steel feel
from the Beretta, putting all the holes in your sweater
The money getter motherfuckers don't have better
Rolex watches and colourful Swatches
I'm digging in pockets, motherfuckers can't stop it
Man, niggaz come through I'm taking high school rings too
Bitches get strangled for they earrings and bangles
and when I rock her and drop her I'm taking her door knockers
And if she's resistant "baka! baka! baka!"
So go get your man bitch he can get robbed too
Tell him Biggie took it, what the fuck he gonna do?
I hope apologetic or I'm a have to set it
and if I set it the cocksucker won't forget it

It's a lot of runners up, if I went further there would be shit on there a tad esoteric for a bold claim like best of all time. go listen and cook something.