So I decided to stop eating fast food. Cold Turkey (lol)
Its a very strange feeling. Usually I get off work and really want a double cheese burger and some fries. Sounds delish, but i just decided i was over it the other day and here I am, two weeks without any at all. Ive begun to start to create little things with the piss poor kitchen i have here. (I wouldnt really call it a kitchen, more so a fridge, microwave and some cabinets. All in all though, ive been feeling pretty good about it. Im not being a snob about it either, if you want your mcdonalds, or taco bell, buy all means get you some.
Usually when I write these things ive either eaten somewhere new that i want to share or want to put someone on blast for killing any hope for the future of food in America. Somehow itll turn into whatever it is that im feeling being thrown at all of you. I apologize  for that. I rarely apologize for anything, but im trying to not be like that anymore. Some chefs/cooks cook emotionlessly, relying on what they know to bring about the magic. I dont. Like the Sith Lords from Star Wars, I embrace my emotions and use them as a powerful force to bring the mutha fucking pain. Cooking like that makes things so much more interesting and allows a different type of creativity. Things could vary with my mood. If im upset or angry, you could get something harsh or spicy. Happy could bring something light or fruity. Loved could bring something delicate to the taste, gently rolling across your tongue like the kiss of that special lover. Thats what makes food so exciting for me. tastes. textures. raw, sexy emotion brought out by all of this. I need it like I need to breath, to sleep and other random things that we do.



Food is Sexy, believe that

Drunken Misadventures in Waikiki....

First of all, id like thank everyone that is reading this. At some point in my life, I decided it would be a good idea to write down some of the interesting things that i do. And if you're here then youre most likely interested in it. So again, from the bottom of my little black heart, Thank you....

    My saturday started like any normal one should, serving breakfast on a warship. I was on day 8 of straight work. Early/late hours, absolutely piss-poor moral, just scrounging for a little bit of free time. I have a secret hiding spot during these times, not totally secret but it seems to do the trick. Plus, its one of the few spots inside the ship that get cell service. Anyways, midway through the day I get a text from my friend Amanda. I dont remember exactly what it said (nor do I care to look) but it was something to the effect of..

"Hey, we're going to Yardhouse tonight and getting really drunk."

to which I threw two middle fingers in the air and said Hell Yeah!

The rest of the day toiled on as usual. 18:30 hit and I flew out of the door like a bat out of hell. After a few beers and a trip across town, I made it to my friends house so we could all depart as one big happy family. Driving across the island of Oahu is definitely a sight to behold. Beautiful shades of orange, yellow, green and blue encompass my view as we head further into honolulu, towards Yardhouse. With the sun already set and the lightshow that is Waikiki taking center stage in the night, we make our way down through the countless tourists and charmingly pleasant hawaiians to our spot. Halfway through this walk Amanda and myself lose our friend Kassie, as she had to go back to find some people. Being an Aries and a general explorer by nature, I (along with Amanda) begin to wander off. 

This leads us to my first discovery of the night, a wonderful little cookie place called the Hawaiian Cookie Company. Serving little shortbread cookies in different, yet delightful flavors, I instantly fell in love with this place. (Plus the free samples didnt hurt either) After Amanda bought a few things we made our way across the busy street to Yardhouse. The first time id ever been there I was beyond drunk, so i dont remember much. This time, I was determined to not to end up in the drunken stupor that I put myself in before. But like last time, I started it the wrong way....

With in the first 5 minutes of being there we had seated ourselves at the bar and had shots on the way. A side note, our group was behind and on the way at this moment, so naturally we fill any free time with alcohol. Jagerbombs and a Sam Adams started my night. Glancing at the menu, Yardhouse appeared to be no more than an expensive tourist restaurant, complete with dark lighting, an open air setting and "insert random sport" playing on every single tv in the place. They had the usual hawaiian fare involving pineapples and or some sort of seafood. Nothing stood out to me as a dish that was a "must have". 

My eyes did happen to catch something different in their Pan Seared Ahi. Now, I usually dont eat tuna outside of a sushi bar that i cant see prepared for myself. Having some sort of knowledge of what good tuna should look like, i just dont subject myself to the disappointment. But tonight was different...

I was buzzed, feeling good and felt like giving in to my primal sushi chef instinct and enjoying this tuna (maybe...). It wasnt till later that I actually read what it was served with, leading me to believe that my drink was spiked by one of the cougars at the bar. Jasmine rice, I understand, makes sense. Asparagus? Not so much. Or the "Chinese blackbean sauce" which really just tasted like a common Ponzu sauce (lemon, lime, sushi vinegar, water and soy sauce). When it finally made its way to our table I was well past buzzed and gingerly walking in the drunk area of the night (many more jagerbombs and a lemon drop or two). The presentation was amazing (aside from the oddly out of place Asparagus). I take my fork two grab a slice of this new venture i was about to indulge myself in, and to my surprise (not really, i wasnt surprised at all), aside from being split in two, this tuna was in very large chunks on my plate. we're talking almost the size of my beer glass. At this point (drunk remember?) I dont give a single fuck about taking this tuna brick and shoving it in my mouth. As I do, and the taste hits my money makers, I get this awful sense that i was just ripped off. Like the chef in the back was laughing his ass off in a giant pool of money while he tosses out garbage to the masses. 

I feel the dark presence of evil course through my veins. My blood slowly begins to boil at this point. I despise packaged tuna. Especially one that is passed off as "fresh". I felt like I had disgraced my family, Yoshie and my entire sushi training by believing that this could be good. Naturally, I began the ceremony to commit honorable suicide, when, like an angel from heaven, my next beer came. I ordered two more and began to stare into oblivion, hoping beer would cure my hunger, rather that this....monstrosity that was before me. In my boredom, I decided it was going to be Amandas birthday. I let the waiter know such and to bring out something good and embarrass the hell out of her. (which i would pay for later) Mr. Waiter dude definitely brought out something great, but no singing. despite my disappointment, the generic chocolate lava cake with icecream thing was good, great almost. After a hefty bill and breaking the seal, we made our way outside. And like usual, on the walk back to the car, Amanda and myself found ourselves at a little bar off the road called Roys. This is where i met my end. A final lemon drop to end the night. 

So, to end this story on a better note, aside from terrible food, i had a great time at the Yardhouse with Amanda and Kassie (and Erika too ^.^) 

Work actually keeps me busy now, so ill try and eat more things and write it down so y'all can feed the hungry beast that is my ego. Love you all <3